Part III. (Read Part I and Part II.) I had expected to park next to the GS Chris rode through Cuba on his Mi Moto Fidel trip when I arrived, but I hadn't knows he sold it. "I really really miss it!" he said, looking longingly at the C14. "Now you've made me want to get a bike, now." His choice is the GS Adventure - 1200cc's with a 35" seat height - a bit out of my comfort zone, I thought, but then, I am feeling pretty comfortable on this 1400cc Concours. It's the seat height that daunts me.

We enjoyed a martini and a meal at a trendy, air-conditioned hotel bar-restaurant in town, then sped around under the stars in Chris's little red Porsche convertible, touring the neighborhoods. "This was Liberace's house," Chris said. "You wouldn't believe what they found in there after he died. What debauchery!"

"And here's Liz Taylor's old place, and here Ronald Regan, Lily Tomlin, and Frank Sinatra were next-door neighbors. Sinatra would raise a flag when it was time for martinis."

"There's where Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, and George Clooney stayed when making the Oceans movie . . ."

Then we were passing the Palm Springs Art Museum, "Really a first class museum," Chris said.

The list went on and on. I loved riding around in the open air, the temperature was perfect at around 80 degrees. I'd seen few people walking around town in the daytime, but at night, it was alive. Restaurants flashed neon and sprayed cool mist to attract patrons. We sat on a bench and ate ice cream just people watching, trying to guess who were the residents and who were the tourists. There were many very young couples, looking like first or second dates. In each case, the woman was dressed in skirt and heels, done up with jewelery and makeup, and the man was in shorts or jeans and a t-shirt.

A gaggle of young blond women in identical black dresses tittered by, following the tipsy bride in a short white lace dress and a veil. A Hindu grandmother sat patiently, draped in a bright orange silk sari, as her children and grandchildren, all in Western garb, skittered about trying to chose among restaurants.

The next day we took the Palm Springs Ariel Tramway up to Mount San Jacinto State Park to hike around and look at the views from 85,000 feet. It was also a nice escape from the 100-degree heat in the town far below.

The tram holds 80 passengers and travels at 21 mph to ascend 5,873 feet in 15 minutes. We loaded up and bumped along over five towers, which sent the tram swinging so much that the passengers let out an involuntary "oooh!"

We emerged into a 70-degree oasis, which seemed chilly when we started out onto the most walked of the 54 miles of hiking trails. After about 15 minutes we found a lookout point where we sat on a rock and contemplated the valley below. We were so quiet that lizards scrambled around us and Chris even glimpsed a tarantula spider -- harmless but not looking so.

"If I lived here I'd be up here a few times a week," I said to Chris after a sturdy-looking local strode by with her walking stick. She looked like she hiked the mountain every day.

"I know I should get up here more. It's only when people visit that I remember to."

I think that Palm Springs is probably a great destination for the motorcycle traveler - but not in August! The next morning I rose at 5:30 am to beat the heat on Highway 10 north to San Bernadino and home, and found Chris snoozing on the couch downstairs where he said he usually ends up because he was reading something. "It's actually more comfortable than my bed," he claimed, when I laughed.

A prolific writer and addicted researcher, Chris never seems to rest, juggling half-a-dozen projects at a time.

"When I get my GS, we should think about leading a tour together," he said.

"Yikes! I don't know . . . being responsible for a group? I don't know if I could handle it."

Maybe we'll try it. Don't know where that would be, yet. I'm always exploring new places and am hesitant to repeat journeys, while Chris, a guidebook writer, returns to places again and again.

I took off as the sun was rising, coloring the mountain in front of me a deep orange. The air was cool as I passed the windmills, so much so that I stopped to zip up all the air flow zippers on my jacket. "I should enjoy this," I thought to myself. "Later I'll be steaming."

Next installment: Yep, more motorcycle action than this dispatch -- some fabulolus twisties on Highway 2 through the mountains above San Bernadino, Mojave, Highway 5 (ick) to 101 to Skyline and Highway 1 and home.

Rider Magazine's October issue is essential if you're looking for a sensible bike to save gas for your commute or just having fun, plus "10 Ways to Even Better MPG."

"Fun and Fuelgal" reviews four bikes for superior fuel mileage and five bikes for "fuel-frugal fun." There are some good beginner bikes here as well as sensible town and commuter bikes:

2008 Honda Nighthawk (234cc)
2008 Kawasaki Ninja 250R
2008 Star V Star 250
2008 Suzuki GZ250
2008 Honda Shadow Aero (745cc)
2008 Buell Blast (492cc)
2008 Kawasaki Versys (649cc)
2008 Star V Star Custom (649cc)
2008 Suzuki GS500F

"Miserly Multitaskers" is a review of 250-class dual sports. Which one is for you?

2008 Honda CRF230L
2009 Kawasaki KLX250S
2009 Yamaha XT250

If you're not a Rider Magazine subscriber, you'll have to pick it up at your local newstand.

My friend Brent Miller of Sojourn Chronicles has posted his second review of the V-Strom. Yep - he still love loves loves it! If you're "looking for the one do-all, affordable and economical motorcycle," take a look at Brent's review.

Jim Bryant of MyCJ750.com in Beijing built this cool yellow bike (and matching helmets) for double-Olympic-medal winner Rebecca Adlington's post-competition tour of the city. The bike is featured for only a short time at the beginning of the video, but it's worth watching all the way through. The "birds nest" building is fantastic-looking all lit up in red, and Rebecca is just charming. See it on the BBC website.

Part II. (Read Part I.) 42 miles and 2 hours later I exit Highway 101 and easily locate the LA Times garage. "Susan Carpenter?" says the attendant, with a smile. "Of course. I could have guessed." She points me to the motorcycle parking where I shed my jacket, soak my bandanna at the water fountain, and put it over my face. I'm so hot I could just lie down on the nice, cool concrete garage floor, but if I were Sue I'd probably be a little concerned at my tardiness, so I hustle on over to the building next door. Tall, blond, elegant Sue rushes from the elevator around the reception desk saying, "I knew you were stuck in traffic, it's awful here."
[Photo by Don Kelsen, LA Times.]

We stroll around the corner to a pizza place, modern, windows all around, and very nicely air conditioned. I get a big glass of fresh watermelon juice and we settle into a booth to wait for our orders. And then she breaks the news. "The Throttle Jockey column was cut."

Waah! I sit astounded. "Why? How?" Sue's column was something I really looked forward to: reviews, interviews, industry news and investigation into issues in the power-sports world. And she's a very good writer. She was recruited to the column from the newspaper staff because an editor remembered she rode a motorcycle. 

She shrugs. "You know the publishing business . . . maybe I can still write about motorcycles sometimes. Who knows? Right now I'm writing general articles, floating around, trying to find my niche."

She loved reviewing bikes, making comparisons and recommendations. For example, during our conversation she says, "If someone asks me 'Monster or Shiver,?' I say 'Shiver.' I don't know if Aprilia has the same quality of support, but it's just based on the ride." That kind of insight is valuable, and only comes with experiencing many different bikes, hundreds, and she's ridden them. " (Her most recent stated fave is Ducati's 1098 S.) I'm really going to miss the Throttle Jockey column. But hey, maybe she'll blog! (Hint, hint!)

I suppose being two women whose work and passion is motorcycling we can't help but stay on the topic. I tell her that I'm letting some of my motorcycle magazine subscriptions lapse. "Maybe I'm being too sensitive," I say, "but so many ads, and the tone of so many stories are so obviously sexist, exploitative, sometimes even misogynistic. Maybe I need to wait it out a few more years. Maybe it'll take another generation or two. I mean, do you think they even know they're being insulting?"

"I only flip through them," she admits, "but I know what you mean, and I get that uncomfortable feeling, too."

In my opinion the Scorpion ads are perhaps the worst. Nude women modeling helmets? It reminds me of what the high-tech industry was like in the 80's. Some of it is conscious--like the Scorpion ad managers who indulge the male customer his adolescent fantasies. I won't buy or even try any of their products. For others it's subconscious, and most of the time you can tell from the language that a writer or editor doesn't even know he's being sexist. Sometimes they think they're being cute, like the Progressive Insurance ad that shows a woman walking down the street in a miniskirt--the snapshot shows her from the waist down and the caption excuses the rider for his inattention. It's not awful, but still, it makes me cringe and I won't buy insurance from them. Rider is the perhaps only mainstream consumer motorcycle magazine I know that is conscious of this. They don't run articles or ads that might make a women feel uncomfortable.

"You know, I think it might be because it's just such an easy way to market to men," says Sue. "A no-brainer. Whereas women . . . well, it's a lot harder. There's no one thing that attracts us."

Read an interview with Sue here, and the Throttle Jockey archives, here.

Finally, I wish Sue well in finding her new path at the Times and she tells me the best way to get back to Highway 10 West toward Palm Springs where I'm going to visit my friend Christopher Baker. It's mid-afternoon and even the 24/7 commuter lanes are crawling, so it's two more hours of lanesplitting for me until Ontario when I exit to gas up the bike and drink a lot of water. As soon as I get off the bike I realize that I'm dangerously dehydrated. I'm soaking with sweat, even in my breathable Olympia Moto Sports Cordura suit, and thirstier than I thought and a little woozy. I should have definitely stopped sooner but, you know, I was in the zone.

As I rest in the shade and sip from my water bottle I watch the traffic and many trucks go by. This is obviously a farming hub. In a little while a battered old Ford truck pulls in to gas up and three Mexican guys jump out. One of them walks over and asks, in heavily-accented English, "Is that your motorcycle?"

I smile and nod, laughing a little as he looks around, maybe thinking that  I'm joking and my husband will come walking out of the mini-mart and I'll hop on the back. But then he decides that I really am the rider.

"It looks heavy. How can you hold it up?"

"It is heavy! But it's low, and I have been riding since I was a kid."

He grins. "It is a very beautiful motorcycle," he says, giving me the thumbs up before walking back to his compadres. I guzzle more water, douse my clothes with the rest of the bottle, and fasten my helmet. I smile and wave as I ride by, and they all laugh and wave back.

Palm Springs is another hour away but thankfully traffic is sparse and I zip along enjoying the 70 mph speed limit, playing with the C14's dashboard, which looks much like the dash on my sister's Volvo. It's got a panel that tells me my fuel economy (average and current), my fuel tank's range (which shifts between 160 and 240 depending on if I've got it in one of the low gears or above 5th, in overdrive), tire pressure for front and back (40 cold, 42 hot), and battery charge (14.4).

When a cross-wind starts blowing me around I use my left thumb to adjust the wind screen which raises up to protect my chest all the way up to my neck. I'd had it in its lowest position while pottering through traffic. I love this feature and fool with it all the time. I suppose it'll wear off but, for now, it's irresistible. I show it to everybody who looks at the bike, and it makes them smile, too.

I don't really need the GPS. It's Highway 10 to Highway 111 where it's so windy that hundreds of giant white windmills generating power for Palm Springs stand spinning their heads off. A sudden gust sends a pile of desert sand onto me at speed, and I wonder how that feels to the tank-top clad Harley rider who blows past me

Palm Springs is so charming that, as I'm sightseeing, I miss the turn but enjoy the cruise through town with several other riders who are showing off their brightly-painted custom choppers with loud pipes. Everyone but me is wearing jeans and tank tops and brain buckets. 

Finally, I find Chris's loft. He hears the C14 and comes out to help me inside for a glass of cold water and a cool shower for which I am more grateful than anything I can remember at the moment.

I haven't seen Chris in over a year. The author of hundreds of travel articles, and the motorcycle travel book Mi Moto Fidel, Chris also writes guidebooks to Cuba, Costa Rica, The Dominican Republic and, not surprisingly, has a new Guidebook to Palm Springs coming out this fall.

If your an old automobile aficionado, you'll love his coffee table book Cuba Classics (see it in the carousel, below) His motorcycle travel book Mi Moto Fidel is one of the most well-written accounts of motorcycle travel out there, and I highly recommend it. Here's a review: In 1996, English travel writer and Cuba travel expert Christopher P. Baker set out to explore Cuba astride his 1,000cc BMW Paris-Dakar motorcycle. In three months Baker logged 7,008 miles wheeling from the streets of Havana to old Caribbean colonial outposts and rugged mountain tracts. The Cubans he met often struggled under material scarcity. Belying their hardship was an unbridled sensuality. Passion infused the island, and Baker unabashedly embraced it.

Yep, it's one sexy book, and timely again, as our relationship with Cuba will soon change.

Next: A night on the town in Palm Springs, the tram to 8000 feet and 30 degrees cooler, and on my own again through the Los Angeles and San Bernadino Mountains to Mojave.

1400 cc's and 625 pounds? I had to be coerced to test ride the Kawasaki Concours 14 ABS supersport touring motorcycle. It won Rider magazine's 2008 Motorcycle of the Year award but gads, I toodle around on the likes of Urals and Enfields, and the power in my BMW K75RT is even enough to scare me sometimes. A while back I chose Moto Guzzi's  smaller Breva 750 over the 1100 for my trip around the Adriatic Sea, and it's been my favorite sport touring bike ever since. It's light and nimble, comfortable, has more than enough power for Italian highways, and is sporty enough to attract knee-scraping racers who like the occasional Iron Butt experience. Nope. I didn't sign up for the Concours. I wanted to try the redesigned KLR 650. But noooooo, "The Concours is the most comfortable sport touring bike you'll ever ride," they promised. I said, uh, okay. What was I thinking?

On the short flight from Oakland south to Kawasaki Headquarters in Orange County I was thinking all that; and that the Concours is an unlikely ride for a chick who likes light, nimble bikes. But then, at least I might be able to recommend it to all the big guys I know who like burning up the miles on the freeway: the Gold Wingers who think they might like to put a little sporty spice into their lives, or those racy supersport guys whose wives complain about the tiny pillion seat. Manny, my plumber, is considering buying a cruiser just to keep his marriage together. (Manny, keep reading! I might just have a socially-acceptable alternative for you here.)

In fact, I was so decided that the Concours was going to be overkill that I stopped studying the specs after a horrified glance at the power and weight. Yikes! I figured I'd just launch my 5"7' 130-pound frame up onto the monster and wing it. Wouldn't be the first time.

Assistant PR Manager Rachael picked me up at the airport in the Kawasaki truck after I waved her down the second time around using my helmet as a flag. During the ride to the facilities, this petite pro-biker told me she'd hopped on the Concours for a ride around the parking lot, but at 5"2' it just wasn't the bike for her. Then she looked me up and down. "You'll look tall enough," she concluded. And later, in the spacious, airy offices of Kawasaki Headquarters, Public Relations Manager Jan Plessner told me, "Donya Carlson likes it. But she's got legs up to here."

I suddenly have a bout of self-doubt. Am I too short for the bike? Am I going to have to launch myself on it, really? Perhaps seeing me cringe, Jan quickly adds "You're tall enough. I'm waaay too short for that bike. You'll love it. Really."

Okay, now I feel better. Sort of. I'm still nervous walking through Kawasaki Headquarters, which looks like an airport for motorcycles, ATVs, and jet skis, with so much eye-candy that the Concours, in understated Neutron Silver, was rendered invisible until Rachael pointed it out to me. And ha! It didn't look so dang big. I launched a leg over and settled in to find both my feet flat on the ground and in fact my knees were even bent a little. I whanged it around a little, testing its weight. A bit fat, but it felt like a much lighter, smaller bike.

Even before I started it up I got the feeling that it was based on a sport bike with touring features thrown in instead of a touring bike with sport bike features. Later I discovered I'd been right about that; it's based on the Ninja ZX-14: the biggest, baddest sport bike Kawasaki makes. Woah! I'm glad they didn't tell me that! I ain't no stinkin' sport bike rider, I am a touring bike rider! I will ride for days, weeks, maybe even months at a stretch, piddling my way around a place on backroads, revving it up on freeways, curving through mountains, and navigating the occasional packed dirt to a hidden campsite. No way am I going to be bent forward over some little bitty handlebars rattling my butt on some little bitty seat behind some little bitty windscreen splitting lanes in commuter traffic.

Fast forward two hours: I am bent forward over the gas tank using all my powers of concentration on the LA freeway tailing a little bitty Ninja who is lanesplitting at 20 mph faster than traffic idling along between zero and 5 mph. In these conditions 25 mph is admittedly too fast but it is in self defense--from the heat of the LA sun bouncing off the black asphalt baking me pink and dry--that I trust Ninja Dude to clear me a path.

Eventually though, Ninja Dude fails me, squeezing through a couple of SUVs who won't make room for my wider handlebars and luggage, but unlike the Gold Wing I passed miles back I am at least not stuck baking on black asphalt for long because the next love of my life appears: a big fat tattoed man in jeans and a black tank top riding a big fat tattooed Harley with black tassles on the handlebars. He agressively throttles his certainly-illegally modified pipes at the Frappuccino-sipping SUV drivers who have heretofore been listening to soothing, classical music. They jerk their vehicles over in alarm and following him around is how I enjoy my next half-hour. Then he dumps me. After all, to him I am a mere sportbike chicklet in a matching white textile suit and full face helmet and so he doesn't consider my feelings at all when he exits long before Highway 5 meets 60, 101, and 110 (thank you again Jan for loaning that Garmin zūmo GPS!) and I am on my own again in the gritty LA sunshine, right fingers poised over the brake lever, eyes scanning for non-signalling lane-changers, ready for anything.

At least my butt doesn't hurt. The Concours has a gel seat, of all things, and plenty of wiggle around room, and at the angle I'm tilted I feel properly postured, like a secretary about to take dictation. I'm not hugging the big, curvy 5.8 gallon gas tank and I'm not set back like I'm about to pop a brewski on the couch in front of the TV. Except for the engine heat on my lower legs, I'm about as comfy as as a girl can get in the fabled 24/7 LA traffic jam.

NEXT INSTALLMENT: Lunch with LA Times Throttle Jockey Sue Carpenter, and more lane splitting action to Palm Springs to visit with Christopher Baker, author of the Cuba motorcycle adventure classic, Mi Moto Fidel.

Genevieve is just wonderful to listen to. She's a leading spokesperson on the topic of women and motorcycling, an Emmy-nominated television producer and the first woman to host a weekly motorcycle TV show, and she's also in the Motorcycle Hall of Fame. In 2000, Genevieve launched Woman Rider magazine and, more recently, WomenRidersNow.com about the lifestyle side of motorcycling.

Listen to the Ride! podcast here.

Ooh ooh! Check out the San Diego Adventure Riders, a group of street-legal dual sport riders who do trips to cool places like the Anza Borrego Desert (which I experienced in full bloom a few years ago, and despite getting a cactus thorn in my butt - don't ask - enjoyed very much).

Great weather, fabulous terrain, and looks like a bunch of nice folks to hook up with. They have a forum where you can check out what they're doing next.

Michael Krasney, our most excellent KQED host of Forum here in San Francisco, did a show the other day on motorcycles, accidents, and safety, focusing on the increase of fatalities, with some expert guests and some very interesting and sometimes frightening motorcycle-hating drivers calling in. Listen to it here.

Thanks to organizers Bob Fleischer and Penny Fairfield Fleischer for this early-breaking news. Bookmark this page for updates: http://bmwmotorcycletech.info/USCARally2009.htm

MARK YOUR CALENDARS AND RESERVE YOUR CAMPING SPOT! The United Sidecar Association will have its 2009 National Rally at South Lake Tahoe, California, on June 25-29, 2009. It has been twenty-five years since the 1983 USCA National Rally was held at Lake Tahoe.

Helmet Hair Magazine offers: As our numbers grow as women motorcyclists, so too do the events that celebrate our existence. We gather from near and far to learn from one another, to share our stories, to help out our fellow human beings and simply to connect with other sisters on the road. Here are the rides and rallies that have made that happen over the years. Check the list for one near you.

I've been longing for a Belstaff motorcycle jacket forever. Today I visited their site and was surprised to find much more than the standard waxed navy jacket I've seen in classic movies. Here's the stunning array of women's jackets, but you'll find skirts, trenchcoats, some sexy bustier-swimsuit things with pockets, and lots of men's stuff, too. I don't think I even want to know what the prices are . . .