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200 MPH on a Motorcycle PDF Print E-mail
Written by dave   
Wednesday, 11 August 2010

How to go 200 MPH on a motorcycle

This is a lesson in goal setting.

Going 200 MPH on a motorcycle as a goal is no different than any other goal you might set in life, assuming it is physically possible to achieve the goal. You start by setting the goal. The goal is set at a level that is beyond anything you have done before that is even close. For example if you drive a Chevy and set a goal to own a Mercedes, that is an extreme jump. If you are making $20000 a year and set a goal to make $100000 a year, that is extreme. If you set a goal to double your sales every year, that is extreme.Don't set goals that are totally impossible. For example don't set a goal to swim 100 yards thru a shark infested tank. You might get eaten! Set goals that are within reach, and that will either enhance life for you and your family or be a great addition to your resume.This is how I set my motorcycle goal. First, I had an idea, in Febrary, 2010. We all have ideas every day about a myriad of things. Most of these ideas come and go just as fast. Some are worthy of writing down and following up. For example, a real estate salesperson could come up with an idea for increasing sales thru some new activity. Ie, calling customers and clients on a regular basis; using a new form of advertising or hiring an assistant.I had an idea-I am going to try to go 200MPH on a motorcycle. Simple, but how? First, I had to convince myself that it was possible. I did this with research on the internet and the media. I discovered that speed runs were done at venues thruout the country as organized events. Therefore, one part of the plan was to find an event, as opposed to going 200 MPH on I-95. I found that venue. I decided to enter the Loring Timing Association speed run on August 1, 2010.The next feat was to figure out what kind of motorcycle would go as fast as I wanted to go. That was relatively easy. There is plenty of information on the web that helped me. I found that there were 2 motorcycles that would do the trick. Now it was time to determine the cost/benefit ratio. A new motorcycle was about $12000, plus the cost of add-ons and equipment to allow me to go that fast. I decided it seemed like a reasonable return.Add to that the cost of getting to the event and staying for a weekend; it seemed ok.  I did sell a bunch of stuff  to offset the cost.! Then, I enlisted the help of experts. I found people on Facebook who had done this. I found other racers and mechanics who knew the details of how to set up the motorcycle to do what I wanted. The goal was started in February and would come to a conclusion on August first. So, I set a time-line to get everything accomplished along the way. This included buying the bike; breaking it in and gradually adding the go-fast parts. Each day was a learning experience as new things were learned, which led to altering course slightly to get to the final setup.I also had to concern myself with clothing to wear. There are rules for clothing and the bike setup that had to be strictly observed. So, I got protective clothing that met the requirements.I rode the motorcycle almost 2000 miles in a couple of months to break it in and to get familiar with the bike. What really was super about this was that the bike that I chose fit perfectly! Confidence had to be achieved before I did the run! To gain confidence, I went on the web and find videos of people doing this sport. Watching those over and over again allowed me to get the feel of what I was about to do. Conversations with other high speed racers allowed me to further learn tips on the proper methods to help gain knowledge and confidence.Came the weekend of the event, and away we went! Bike in the trailer, wife, Anne, by my side and bike mechanic Phil, and daughter-in-law Julie rounded out the pit crew. Julie was official photographer. All this proved to be valuable. The mechanic allowed us to make some critical last minute changes. Having a team cheering was valuable to me to continue to build my confidence. As in all goals, you get to build up to it, and so it was at the rally. First I had to prove I could go 125 MPH; then 150 MPH; and the 175 MPH. I did these with some minor problems. I found that over 150 MPH the visibility becomes limited. This then, caused me to change my glasses so that they would not fly off my head, even under a full face helmet. The 6th and final run that I did with everything I had learned over the 5 month period was 180.187 MPH. I discovered that even with all my planning and expense, I was not going to go 200 MPH. I had reached my limit at just over 180. However, the venture was a complete success! Had I not set the goal, I would never have gone 180.187 MPH. I never considered missing a goal is a bad thing. You set the goal, do all the things to achieve the goal, then go for the goal.Can I achieve 200 MPH on a motorcycle? Of course! Reset the goal, plan and organize and go for it again! Anything can be done by anyone who has the real desire to achieve a goal that is worthwhile.    
Last Updated ( Wednesday, 15 December 2010 )
Written by dave   
Tuesday, 13 July 2010

Warren Boege 



Wriiten by Laura Boege

SURRY, ME– After a month’s hospitalization at Togus, Retired United States Marine Corps Lt. Colonel Warren Robert Boege, 89, signed for discharge against medical advice and died June 18, 2010, immediately upon return to his beloved home on the Union Bay.

Warren was born along with a twin sister, Arlene, on December 1, 1920, in Brooklyn, New York. Shortly after, his parents moved the family to Queens Village, Long Island.

Sickly in childhood, Warren often referred to his encounter with “the Angel of Death,” at the age of two when, suffering from double pneumonia, he stopped breathing. A mystical, diminutive figure came into his room through an open window, sat on his bent knees and beckoned him to go. Before Warren could respond, his mother rushed into the room and resuscitated him, thus saving his life. Warren later learned that the memory served as a helpful presence. The “Angel of Death” imprinted his life with a gift of foreshadowing and a genius for survival.

These gifts first became apparent in art. Warren won a national poster contest in 1933 when his rendering of a fully dressed, armed, battle ready soldier knelt at the foot of the robed, blindfolded Goddess of Justice weighing scales, the soldier begging for mercy. The poster hung at the Metropolitan Museum. The achievement won Warren a full scholarship to Pratt Institute of Art throughout High School and for a two year college degree in Commercial Illustration.

His father, Alsatian, of combined French and German ancestry, sensed that war was imminent and in an effort to protect Warren, pulled strings to get Warren a position at the Brooklyn Navy Yard as an Engineering draftsman in ordinance design. Since Warren had no training in draftsmanship, the draftsmen at the Navy Yard took him under their wing and Warren received a promotion and a raise.

Thus secured for the future, he was at home with his parents on Sunday afternoon, December 7, 1941 when the news of Pearl Harbor came over the radio. The following day Warren and his best friend enlisted together for officer training.

During his pre-flight and early flight training, because of numerous incidents of being a “bad boy,” Warren place himself perilously close to being discharged or, in some instances, near death. His record reads that he was “unregimentable” and “poor officer material.” “I was always marching off my demerits,” he said.

Warren advanced in aviation, however, and at Pensacola Naval Air Station received his officer commission on April 28, 1943. Because he was preeminent in gunnery, the Navy placed cameras in his wings. He described himself as aghast watching a training film and at the end finding his name as the pilot in the credits. Because of his super eminent gunnery record, he was conscripted into the Marine Corps. “Normally you have to volunteer to die,” Warren said.

One fateful day, as leader on a training drill off the coast of Florida, the squadron encountered an Army airplane. It was common practice for Marine Corps pilots to engage Army planes in mock dog fights. So Warren radioed his wing man to take over and kissed his squadron goodbye. He described pulling up alongside the Army airplane and signaling the pilot for a round, but the pilot took no notice and stared fixedly ahead. His reaction only spurred Warren on.

Warren made high side S runs, low side S runs, flew directly under, over and finally brought his plane into a slow roll directly in front of the Army aircraft, creating prop wash. Once more he pulled alongside the pilot to get a reaction, but the pilot “took no evasive action.” Warren concluded he was a “chicken,” (expletive deleted) and returned to base.

A few days later, two MPs took Warren from under each arm to the Command Post. The Commander was holding a letter, shouting unmentionables, and turning shades of read and purple with rage. He flung the letter at Warren, which landed at his feet, and before Warren could pick it up, he noted the Pentagon’s letterhead.

The letter was from Admiral Earnest J. King, Supreme Commander of the South Pacific, who described being flown to a secret meeting in the Bahamas, when the plot of the Wildcat, Fox-49, ‘made numerous passes, all of which came dangerously close.’ Further, the letter stated that this pilot was ‘temperamentally unfit and mentally unadapted for control of an aircraft.’ To conclude Warren should await further orders.

Before the news came, Warren was assigned mail delivery on the coast.  Also he performed test runs for performance checks on aircraft instrumentation at high altitudes and while in terminal velocity dives. Warren described the effects of oxygen deprivation as mind altering, experiences akin to his encounter the “Angel of Death.”

Then the letter arrived. Warren was grounded and sent to Officer Indoctrination in Infantry at the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. After completion of this, where he learned to shout orders across the length of a football field, a trait which became legendary throughout his life, he was sent to Treasure Island, off the California coast, to await his assignment.

The Chief Petty Officer delivering the news greeted Warren in a grandfatherly way. He first asked, in not so many words, “What did you do kid, have an affair with the Admiral’s wife?” He showed Warren an RBZ radio, gear with an antenna sticking up from a strap across the chest. Warren’s job would be as a forward observer with JASCO, the Joint Assault Signal Company, to site targets to communicate to the pilots. “You’ll be going in with the first wave,” the antenna making him an immediate target. “Son, you’ll have a life expectancy of 12 seconds.”

An officer does not have the solace of camaraderie with the enlisted men. Moreover, unlike Warren, most were unprepared for the magnitude of the peril they faced. Warren described his plight: “the mortars came directly at me, but all those around me were killed or lost limbs and died from their wounds.”

Advancing in a crawl on the beach on Saipan, a fellow officer warned Warren that the concussion from the exploding mortars could kill them and that they should keep their chests off the ground. While Warren dug his elbows into the sand to prop himself up, he remembered having the thought, “I can not let him (Admiral King) do this to me.”

His determination, plus a growing camaraderie with the pilots he came to know through radio communications, shaped a confidence so astonishing that later, on Tinian, someone observed Warren assist corpsmen under heavy fire. Warren himself was wounded but did not report it. And his humility prevented him from ever full describing the heroics that reached the Commanding General of the 4th Marine Division, Clifton B. Cates, who awarded Warren a field citation. “Is there anything I can do for you lad?” Such was the gentle way superior officers addressed their juniors. Meekly, Warren asked, “Can I have my flight orders back?”

This objective had been with Warren since Quantico. Every month he would go for a physical and psychiatric evaluation and send a letter to Marine headquarters. “Not Approved,” “Permission Denied,” read the responses.

The General in charge of Marine Aviation was a three star General. On the uniformed Clifton B. Cates, Warren immediately noted four stars. “Rank has its privileges,” Warren surmised and after regaling the General and his Executive Officers with his story, General Cates overrode the Marine headquarters disapproval.

Warren believes that he was the only pilot in the history of Marine Aviation to get his flight orders back and had he not done so, surely he would not have survived as a forward observer in his next mission on the ground.

That mission being Iwo Jima, the Marine Corps determined that Warren, with his observation experience, and because of the established rapport with the pilots, should be trained for the grasshopper squadron called VMO for Combat Military Observation. He was trained at Kahului Naval Air Station on the Hawaiian Island of Maui for what would be a solo flight.

Given a pair of coordinates, he set out in a plane he painted with the face of a buzzard, dubbed “Boege’s Buzzard.” Out he flew over the Pacific with the hope that the vector he was on was established with accuracy.

Upon sighting Mt. Suribachi he saw that the main landing strip was under heavy fire, so he landed on an open area pitted with the holes from the initial aerial bombardment. Again this was a move that saved him. On landing, his plane was destroyed by machine gun fire, hit inches from the cockpit from which Warren dove into a hole where he stayed for a day and a night until the rest of the grasshopper squadron landed.

On Iwo Jima, Warren logged more flight hours than any observation pilot. Perhaps in an effort to regain and make use of his fighter pilot training, he asked the maintenance crew to affix rockets beneath his wings, firing them by a toggle switch the mechanics rigged for him. Warren also fired tracers from the cockpit with his .45 and .38. While firing tracers pointed out enemy positions, they also traced a direct line back to Warren, but being a target was a position he had already grown accustomed to.

Warren’s firing from his cockpit directed the aim of the big guns from the destroyers off shore for direct hits into the pill boxes and caves, an act that was pivotal in the success of taking Iwo Jima.

The din in the cockpit drowned out the sounds of victory from below. Warren’s heart swelled with pride as he flew over and watched from above. “Enemy fire came in at this angle,” he explained, making and arc with one arm. “Our return fire came at a lower angle,” he gestured lower. “I was able to fly right through the middle and watch then raise the flag.” Ever humble, he said, “I don’t want to over do it, but my heart…” he trailed off, his eyes welling with tears.

As a child, before taking up art, his most ardent desire was to fly, expressed in the building of model planes. As a young artist, he expressed feelings about war and the aftermath he would experience before he was conscious he would become the battle ready and later shell shocked Marine.

And his gift of foreshadowing revealed itself again when he received the Distinguished Flying Cross, awarded to him at the place from which he left behind his secure, salaried job as an imposter draftsman at the Brooklyn Navy Yard:

“For extraordinary achievement while participating in aerial flight…on IWO JIMA, VOLCANO ISLANDS, from 19 February to 16 March, 1945. During this period Lieutenant BOEGE flew his slow and unarmored aircraft over hostile lines in the face of antiaircraft and small arms fire. Though his plane was often struck by enemy fire, he continued to fly at low altitudes effectively directing artillery and mortar fire on enemy targets, thereby aiding materially in the destruction of important enemy installations. The skillful maneuvering of his aircraft enabled him to successfully complete twenty-four missions without injury to himself or his observer. His skill and devotion to duty were in keeping the highest traditions of the United States Naval Service.”


After the war, the recurring theme of Warren’s life: completion, lead him into a career in Commercial Illustration as an Art Director. Later, he returned to a career as a flight instructor and owned a flight school, logging 50,000 hours as an instructor. Remarrying in later life was a miraculous fulfillment, a union which brought him full circle back to Maui, to the place where General Clifton B. Cates, JASCO, the battles of Saipan, Tinian, Iwo Jima, the VMO Squadron and all the efforts of the 4th Marine Division are memorialized.

It was our goal together to verify through historical military documentation that Warren believes his was the first plane to land on Iwo Jima; he was the only pilot to get his flight orders back, the only officer of his regiment to survive and he remembered documentation stating he was not only the only pilot of an observation plane awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, but commended for heroism in doing so.

However, battles with health became overwhelming and issues pertaining to untreated Post Traumatic Stress Disorder became more stress than his heart could continue to bear.

Yet, returning home was his final completion. His home Warren enshrined his “Aerie,” where a placard under magnificent statues commemorating the Marine Corps emblem proclaims, “The Eagle has Landed.”

Even in death, Warren came full circle. Death was indeed an Angel, as I was with him as he wanted, and in the same attempt to resuscitate him as his mother did. This time, carried on the wind of my breath, he took to his final flight.

The eagle has landed and is now free.

Last Updated ( Wednesday, 14 July 2010 )
6/29/2010 PDF Print E-mail
Written by dave   
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
The oil continues to gush into the Gulf of Mexico. People are picking up oil off the beaches. People with boats are trying to pick up oil in the water. BP is capturing some of the oil. BUT, the federal government still has not taken the initiative to stop the oil before it gets on shore. Doesn't the EPA have jurisdiction over this? Why aren't they in control and in command? If this course of action does not take a dramatic change in course, the entire Gulf coast may be damaged beyond repair for the lifetime of anyone living now. This is a Dunkirk moment. Unfortunately, there is no Winston Churchill to direct the effort to save the day. This situation needs a hero!
Last Updated ( Sunday, 04 July 2010 )
6/21/2010 PDF Print E-mail
Written by dave   
Monday, 21 June 2010
Additional info on the oil disaster shows that some people and countries did step up to the plate and offer assistance. Obviously the White House did not consider the "problem" serious enough to get all hands on deck and declare war on this oil disaster. Glad that FDR did not wait for committees to respond to the attack at Pearl Harbor after Dec. 7, 1941.
Last Updated ( Sunday, 04 July 2010 )
6/15/2010 PDF Print E-mail
Written by dave   
Tuesday, 15 June 2010
Many thanks to all our allies from all over the world for coming to our rescue as we have 4 states being invaded by foreign oil (British) in the Gulf. In the last 100 years, the United States has rescued the Brits and most of Europe from foreign invaders at a huge cost in money and American lives-more than once! We have sent rescue teams to Haiti and other countries suffering natural disasters. WHERE IS THE HELP FROM OUR FOREIGN PARTNERS? Where is the outcry from all the Hollywood types who are so concerned about carbon pollution???? Where is the Sierra Club and all the environmentalists on this oil catastophy in the gulf???? The silence is deafening!!
6/9/2010 PDF Print E-mail
Written by dave   
Wednesday, 09 June 2010
The Gulf oil spill is set to surpass all expectations. The word "disaster" is no longer sufficient. I think the physics of this is beyond the capability of the engineers to solve in the near term. Here is a worst case scenerio that comes to mind: Suppose the underground oil area is simply collapsing on itself like a giant bladder as oil and methane escape upwards. If this is the case, the huge sea pressure will continue to cause the "bladder" to continue to collapse until it is empty, which could a very long time. If this is happening, it means that the sea floor will be collapsing at the point where the well top is. Is this the case?
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