One Picture. One Story.

[Busy Little Whiner]

There came a young rider from across the boarder to a beach in
Ensenada... where the sand is smooth as glass and moist as slush...
high in the sky rest the sun... the rider goes forward in the ultimate
solitude known as "spinning donuts"... dozens and dozens of feet up
donuts are a source of never ending joy until... the rider spots a
single ray of sun glint off a chrome plated 45 caliber pistol... there
stands a tall figure of a man holding the pistol with both hands... the
man is a hired security guard... he has nothing to do but to protect
the beach... acres and acres of sand perfect for a rider to play on...
the man is mad and the rider's fate hangs in the moment... the rider
gives up... it's the code of the west... he stops to face the man and
the 45... the hammer is cocked... there's a finger on the trigger...
the hands are sweaty... the arms are protruded... the face of the
man is mad... it reads intruder alert on his protected beach... a
heavily accented voice bring forth the charges... "you drive crazy"...
this could be it for the rider... there are no places to run... no places
to hide on an lonely beach in Mexico... the rider gestures with raised
arms "don't shoot me"... the barrel of the chrome 45 comes closer...
the rider moves his head to the left... the barrel pursues left... the
rider moves his head to the right... the barrel pursues right... The
dialogue is one sided... the rider swears to leave this man's beach at
once and shall never return as long as he lives... the man waves the
barrel in the only direction the rider should go... the rider turns his
back and starts the his trusty Husky... the engine answers on the
first kick... the staccato cadence of the two stroke engine is all he
hears roosting the sand but it's the fear of the first crack of a zipping
bullet that keeps the throttle pinned...

[JonS]

Last year, in the very early spring, I finally managed to take a long ride on my brand new Multi. This was really the first time in about 25 years that I bought exactly what I wanted, without compromise. Over the winter I had gone on short outings and tried to become familiar with this completely different sort of machine. The weatherman said that it wouldn't rain so I headed up Hwy 9 from Arlington. There was very little traffic and the road was mostly dry. It was one of those days that felt so peaceful and the motorcycle and I were one.
 This is just a place along the way that I have always liked.

[Meat sac]

Picture not particularly interesting but whadayagonnado?

June 24, 2007, near Ouray, CO. Lowsided in some invisible gravel. I had ridden Red Mountain Pass 5 times over the past 3 days and had seen gravel higher up on the pass, but didn't see anything where I crashed. I was with my dad so I was going quite slow--probably 30 or 35 max. I went down and had no clue why. My dad made it through fine; the rest of the GPz listers made it through fine. I guess I hit the one spot where there was some very fine, road-colored, dusty gravel. I walked back up there and still couldn't see anything until I was standing on it. A very small amount, not what you'd expect when you think of 'gravel in a corner.' 20 years of riding and my first crash. Sigh....

Picked up my bike using the girly method, picked up what I thought was a D-cell battery in the road -- and what I momentarily thought I had hit and what had caused me to crash -- but it was my Throttlemeister which had snapped off. Front brake lever lever was bent down onto the fairing. Tried to bend it up enough for clearance and it snapped off in my hand. Upper fairing rashed, lower rashed, givi rashed, front tursignal broken but bulb okay/functional, motolight snapped off and dangling from the wire. Cut it off, took a Lortab my dad had, tried to start the bike, cranked but no go. Remembered the ZZR forum mentioning a main fuse that sometimes can blow if the key's on but the kill switch is off. Took top inner fairing off and then the side panel, checked every fuse I could see, none were blown. Put it back together, cranked and cranked, no start. Finally said a prayer and told God my wife needed me at home, I had a long way to go and I sure could use some help.

Cranked it and it started up.

Sat on the bike for a couple of minutes; shoulder was very painful in every position except with my hands on the bars. Luckily the throttle worked properly despite the bar being bent and the end snapped off. Decided to try it. Rode for a while, grabbed at air where the front brake lever was 3 or 4 times, but got used to downshifting well before a stop and using only rear brake. Luckily we were almost down to Ouray already and it was pretty flat/straight riding for the rest of the day.

Got to Ridgeway, CO; Dad needed to stop so I bought some ibuprofen and tried not to scream while I removed my stich Darien and put on my armored mesh. 2 cops were standing there watching me so I was afraid if I acted too much like an invalid they'd call an ambulance. Got back on and headed north. Fueled in Fruita, CO, soaked my jacket and took another Lortab. Felt reasonably good as long as I was on the bike. Butt didn't even hurt, LOL.

Fueled in Price, UT and had a late lunch at Grogg's; great burgers. Made it home about 5 p.m. 360 miles in 100+ degree temps after crashing.

Oh. 50-cent piece sized rash and large bruise on right knee (jeans), very small amount of fabric rash on both forearms, minor abrasions on Teknic Violator gloves, haven't really looked at my Oxtar Matrix boots but no injuries to ankles or feet, scrapes all over and small hole in shoulder of Darien, some light rash on helmet. I think the Givi saved my leg. No damage to rear of bike or pipe.


Shoulder not broken... hurts like hell though.  

OMG!!

Glad you're okay but selling you that bike was a bad decision on many levels.

[1Arm]

Sometimes surprising how delightful a lunchbreak consisting of peanutbutter and water can be.

[Lawn Dart]

There's nothing quite like the bond of family.  Love 'em or hate 'em, family is family and always will be.  My Brother is nine years younger than me which means we never really did a whole heck of a lot together as kids.  Well, I got stuck baby-sitting him and by the time he was really old enough to play ball I was off in high school, working a job, and trying without much success to pick up chicks.

Around four years ago my brother got into off-roading.  When the costs of off-roading a truck got in the way he sold his truck and bought a dirt bike.  Hey, it's got two wheels and a motor.  I could only applaud.  And then he decided to upgrade bikes and for a very short period of time my brother had two dirt bikes...

There's nothing like spending time with family.  I got to spend a Saturday with my kid-brother.  Family is precious.  Spending time with family is one of the greatest gifts in the world.

Here's to Family!

[rball5]

I can't let I good thread die... I had been checking this thread daily for awhile; I'm a lurker everywhere I go.  Someone else post up - I enjoy the short story & the good pics associated with 'em.

Willow City Loop:


It was a Friday morning in August and I was supposed to be at work in about 10 minutes...  My commute is an hour long, and the weatherman said temps would be in the 80's (in August, in Texas, that's nice ).  In my worst ever 'sick voice', I called work to inform them I wouldn't be there that day.

There was no plan other than to eat at Coopers BBQ in Llano (voted best in Texas a few times, but it wasn't all that impressive to me).  I headed out along some of my favorite roads in search of new ones along the way - it was that day I found Willow City Loop (which I would later find out had been voted one of the most scenic roads in Texas).  The roads surface isn't all that great, and there are 'Loose Livestock' (along with loose livestock droppings mid-corner...and everywhere else), but the views were great.

As I rode along, I saw lots of signs warning me of possible cows in the road, but until the corner in the picture, I hadn't seen any evidence of said beasts.  Stopping to take this picture stopped me from going around the corner too fast into the waiting bull - yes, a bull standing in the middle of the road doing nothing more than BS'ing... literally.  He stared at me, even spoke to me for a bit when I stopped mid-turn before walking away dropping used food every step of the way.  I've been back to the road a few times now, even taken some people with me - everyone likes seeing the cows walking around.  They're always hanging around on or just inches off the road.

I rode about 450 miles that day... seemed to cure my 'illness'.   

[st2sam]

Ever have a days ride when every part of the day/ride went perfect? Well for me today was that day, perfect, all 380mi. of it, the weather, the roads, the traffic, the ice cream, the lunch (bag of penuts & water ), the people (OK I was by myself  ) but most of all my "state of mind"...Have fun.

[bobmielke]

During my vacation this year I attended A WCRM Sport-Touring rally in Fortuna, CA. This is the home of the Avenue of Giants. I've never seen such magnificant trees. Kinda puts you in your place. I rode with two friends down this stretch of road who stopped to take turns photographing each other with the trees in the background. I now realize how very few photos of me on my bike exist, one.

[heinee]

Spring time on the Sacramento Delta, after breakfast in Isleton. The lovely wife took this photo using my shoulder as a tripod.
p.s. thanks DogBoy for putting the camera in her hands  

[Lucky_Devil]

For some reason I wanted to hunt out "Area 51" out in the Nevada desert... in late June... in my leathers  



By the time I reached Rachel, NV I didn't care any more  

[Z1_NESTer]

I just separated with my wife of less than 2 years (but 6 years total together) and decided on treating myself to a trip. So I rang up my buddy in San Jose, CA a asked if I may fly out, stay with him and his famil and catch The Moto GP a Laguna Seca together. He said "You get the airfare and rental bike, I'll take care of everything else." I said "Great! Sounds like a deal. I'll see you soon".

Got on the internet made my airfare purchase and then searched about motorcycle rentals. Well, knowing I was doing this kind of last minute I figured my rental options were going to be slim. No problem. I know Eagle Rider is one of the largest renters, mostly HDs, so I went ahead and looked at what they had. The San Fran operation said they had an 883 Sporty available and thought that was good enough. I know it doesn't have much in power but it had mid mounted controls and at least it could handle most of the twisty stuff I know I was going to encounter. Perfect. I made the reservation and was looking forward to some good riding, good times and good racing with a friend who is like a brother to me.

I arrive in San Jose on a Thurs. and was greeted by my friend and his son. I was happy to see them and felt good being there and spending some time with them after the whole separation thing. He took me back to to his place, we had our traditional celebratory beer, ate and went to bed looking forward to getting to SF and picking up the Sporty in the morning.

Next morning we get up, eat breakfast, suit up and I then jump on his R1200 GS riding bitch. I'm not ashamed of it, we've done it before in our past while stationed together in Japan. Usually because my bike was broken, crashed or got stolen. Anywho, we get to SF and Eagle Rider and there is a bit of a line as expected. I wait a while for my turn to approach the counter. When I finally was up I gave the man my reservation and goes onto his computer. I hear next was " I'm sorry we're out of Sporties. I'll be upgrading you to a Fat Boy." . "A Fat Boy?" I said. "Yes" he says. "Is there anything similar to the Sporty?" I  ask. He said "No, but we won't charge full price for the Fat Boy upgrade for the inconvenience." My first thought was that the FB (Fat Boy) is long, low, heavy and slow, not that an 883 Sporty was fast but it would handle better. I agreed to it since I really wanted to ride around this area of Cali. and to the races.

They roll out the bike, go over everything, hand me the key and sent me on my merry way. Well, the first thing I do as I pull away and make a left turn following my buddy on his GS, is to put the left floorboard firmly into the well abused SF asphalt, SSSSCCCCCRRRRRRAAAAAAAAPPPEEEEE........ ......... "Shit!" I said in my helmet "I didn't think I made that sharp of a turn, did I?" I knew right then that this was going to be interesting dynamic of a Sportbiker gone STer on a Hardly Fat Boy. Needles to say, it was an adventure.

That first day with the FB my friend took me out to some beautiful curvy, windy, twisting pieces of asphalt. I learned real quick the abilities of the FB. Slow down wwwaaayyy before the corner, use as much road as you can, make smooth inputs, hold your line as steady as possible and only correct when the hard parts really start digging in. BTW, the floorboards on the one I'm riding don't fold. It may be for the best since the crash bars were not far behind.

Before we left SF he said we were going to Alice's Restaurant, a biker's haven in the middle of some great roads. I couldn't wait but will I or the FB or both make it one piece. Well, I did but the FB lost some weight through the thorough wearing of the floorboards. As soon as we parked at Alice's I yelled to my friend "This thing is the biggest piece of shit I ever rode!" As he's laughing a gentlemen came over, an obvious HD fan, and asked "What's wrong with it?" I responded in all of my colorful NY Long Island accent "It doesn't fuckin' turn! It does nuthin' but scrape fuckin' floorboard!" With a surprise look on his face I continue and point at myself in my glorious ATTGATT "Do I look like the the type to ride this thing?" The gentleman promptly leaves without another word. My friend is now in tears and says "So, you must really like it?"

I get my gear off and got my camera and asked my friend to take a pic of me and the FB. Just as he says cheese I show how much I felt about the FB and all it's glinty chrome covered, slow going, no turning, overweight self. But all in all it was a fantastic trip and got to see some great scenery, great roads (especially the PCH) and great racing. The trip was exactly what I needed and will do it except with something better like maybe a Honda Spree...........

[Mrs.BMW-K]

The rain had started the previous day.  As we were riding along in the 45 degree temps, with water beginning to seep into various seams I wondered if the next day would clear up so we could have our first view of Glacier National Park.  By the time we got to Kalispell, I was numb, and every time we stopped water would pour out of my sleeves like a river.  It was quite a sight!
Alas, the following morning proceeded much as the day before.  As we rode towards Glacier, I sent up a brief prayer that despite the rain and lightening we would have the chance to see a little something, but it didn't look good.

Then it happened... every so often as we rode along the clouds would part like a curtain and these beautiful vistas would appear.  It was magical, and lasted all the way to the top with more and more majestic views as we rose (where the road was closed because of a mud slide).  Of course, it only lasted until we got to the top.  As we descended it proceeded to to rain harder and harder until it turned into a downpour and we had to seek shelter; but this picture will always remind me of those moments - those brief beautiful moments that come when you least expect them.

[miles]

I had been kicking around the thought of doing a SS1K ride to get my IBA certification, and it occurred to me that if I stuck to the coast road whenever possible, it would be a thousand miles to Fortuna and the '06 WCRM.  In the lead-up to the WCRM, n2q (Brian) asked if anybody from SoCal were going up on certain dates (keeping it pretty short).  I said that I was, but I was planning on doing it the hard way.  He replied "Sure!  Why not?"
So, we met at the Mexico/US border in San Ysidro, which was an event all by itself.  There had been a shooting by border agaents just a little before we were to meet, so the freeways were closed, so we had to navigate city streets to get there.

Anyhow, we got rolling at 10:00 at night, right when we'd planned.  We rode up I-5 to Malibu, where we dropped in on Highway 1.  The reason for the late start was two-fold.   The more important was that we wanted to hit a relatively populated stretch at night to improve our chances at finding open gas stations (proved to be a good strategy, by the way) and to plan our arrival in Fortuna at dinnertime, more or less.

From the moment we got on the coast highway, it started to drizzle.  We rode in fog, drizzle, and darkness until breakfast in San Luis Obispo.  After that we rode in fog, drizzle and daylight to the San Fransisco peninsula.

We hit quite a few road washouts that had mostly been repaired, but were still giant gravel sections.  When we got to Half-Moon Bay we had to cut inland because the road ahead was non-contiguous (a problem that would rear its ugly head again).  After crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, we cut across to the coast again only to be turned back at Woodville.  We had to backtrack to Stinson Beach, then cut across to Mill Valley and 101.
Did I mention the big gravel sections?  By this time we'd hit dozens.  Oh, and the drizzle had long since turned to steady (but not too heavy) rain.

So, arriving several hours later back at pretty much the same point we'd turned off 101 for the coast, we jumped back on the highway and headed north.  At this point it had become clear to even us that the coast highway was simply no longer a workable strategy, so we figured we'd cruise up 101 to make up time.  With the backtracks and crummy road conditions we were well off our SS1K pace.

Did I mention the rain?  At this point it was a solid downpour.  Not "heavens opening" rain, but heavy nonetheless.  Now it was about five pm, and rush hour traffic was absolutely crawling.  We dropped in behind a local guy and lane-split in the rain at 70mph (twice the speed the cars were travelling at) FOR AN ENTIRE HOUR.  Now that is some kind of adrenaline rush.

 After traffic eased up in Geyserville, we rolled along at a spritely pace on 101 to Fortuna, as the rain continued unabated.  When I say "spritely" I mean a really solid pace.  In the now quite heavy rain.  101 is classified as a freeway for a lot of its length in this section, but it is a twisty, mountainous, tar-snaked chunk of road, to be sure.  Poor Brian told me later he was following me, telling himself that if I made it through a given turn and didn't die, his chances of survival were bound to be good, too...  and praying, and tring to think calming thoughts.
 
We rolled up to the Eel River Brewery at about 7:30 pm, said hello, and jumped back on our bikes.  We we still a few miles shy of our 1K, and damnit, we were not going to work that hard just to be denied at the end.  We cruised through town northbound, then picked up the speed a bit.  
Running a mental calculation, we turned got our reciept and turnd around in Oreck, and buzzed back down.  Running through town, we stopped for gas and our last receipt at 9:57pm.  According to my GPS, it was 1013 miles in 23 hours and 57 minutes.

We rolled back down to the brewery and a few stragglers were still there to congratulate us.

The next day Brian and I did the Lost Coast ride, thankfully in the dry.  No rain.

However, it occurred to us that 1013 miles left very little margin of error, and with our backtracks we might well not be able to prove it, so we decided to do another SS1K ride back to SoCal.

So, sunday, that what we set out to do.  We rode the coast highway north to Crescent City, then cut inland on 199 to Medford, Oregon.  Oh, and it was raining again.  We hit I-5 in Medford, and boogied south at a reasonably high rate of speed.  In the rain.

As we progressed into the Central Valley, things really atarted to get ugly.  The rain was coming down so hard you couldn't see a quarter mile ahead, and so the car and truck traffic, to compensate for the lack of visibility and dangerous conditions, SPED WAY THE FUCK UP.  We passed literally dozens of car wrecks off on the shoulder, while riding at 90+ mph just to keep up with traffic, all while being doused with rain and spray that had all the force of a freakin' fire hose.  It was the most insane thing I have ever seen, and unbelievably frightening.

We were soaked through and through (our rain gear having lost the battle a long time ago) and spooked by all the accidents.  It was getting late and colder and colder.  The Grapevine and Tejon Pass were looming up ahead, along with most likely even worse road conditions, if that could be possible.
Finally we decided that it would be far better to continue to live rather than die in some pileup, and we got a room in Buttonwillow and gave up on the SS1K.

The next morning was beautiful, cool but clear and dry.  Without any deadline, we rode up and over the pass (the photo is from a viewpoint in that area) and on to Lake Elsinore where Brian lived.  I continued on to San Diego, and home.

Looking at the numbers we would have been well in the good on the SS1K if it weren't for the weather on the return leg.  It was over a 1050 miles to Brian's exit from where we'd started, and we had 21 hours riding time (omitting the motel stop, but not the resatuarant dinner immediately before).


As an epilogue, we have never submitted the paperwork for the ride up.  Mapping it out on Mapquest, we can't prove the mileage we lost because of backtracks from road closures.  Those lost 27 miles put us at 986 provable miles.  Ouch.

All in all it was a great experience, but a frustrating one, too.  I guess they say that "Adventure Isn't Fun When You're Having It" and this trip certainly seemed to bear that out.


miles

[Orson]

Bumping an old thread  

At a gas stop in the town of Aritzo in the mountainous Monti del Gennargentu region of Sardinia, tragedy struck my tank bag. As I was filling up, the tank bag fell off to the side of the bike, snapping off one of the straps   I managed to rig the remaining strap so that I could continue to ride, but it would be better if I could get it fixed. At that night's hotel, I asked if there was a cobbler in town. After getting directions through a labrynth of streets (asking two more times) I finally managed to find a tiny shop the size of a small closet.

I showed the old man the problem and he immediately set about fixing it. Within 5 minutes, he had expertly stitched the strap back on. Good as new! What had looked like a dire situation 12 hours earlier, evaporated in the clear morning sunlight! He suggested 1 Euro as compensation. I gave him 10 Euros. I almost had to force him to take it.

Old world craftmanship...

[st2sam]

Thanks Orson, great winter thread. Looking back at the old post it's amazing how things change, time fly's.(Number three post for me. )
 
It's late afternoon on a late summer day only 10-15mi. from home. I started early, solo, riding at a brisk pace. Pushing three hundred miles since early morning, time to slow down and put things back into perspective. Ever notice how every thing seems to be in s l o w motion after a few hours of high speed riding?
 
I'm in a great state, not the highest Mtns., deepest valley's or the smoothest roads.  We have wet Springs, hot Summers,  colorfull Autums, white cold Winters, miles of great winding roads most with awesome vista's. What's not to like? (except a shorter winter )
 I always take my camera, I almost allways stop for a few pics, on this late summer day I'm glad I did.  

My home state, care to guess where?

[Mr.Black]

My home state, care to guess where?

Vermont or Up State N.Y.?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I have been digging through old photos and many are of the old HD days.



In 1990 my wife and I left New England in a blizzard and towed what seemed like my entire garage to the Keys. I rolled the bike off the trailer and immediately found that the master cylinder had failed. Towed the damned thing 1500 miles+ to ride in the sunshine and have to rebuild the brakes upon arrival. Luckily there was a small shop on the Island we were camping on that honed out the cylinder and supplied me with new innards for a decent price. Looking at how I was addressing my lovely wife, I am not surprised we are divorced.






Edit to comply with the thread rules.

[bljakkl]

Hurricane ridge in the Olympic mountains.  I was only a few months removed from a desparation move from Las Vegas to Seattle, a place from my youth.  My wife had decided she'd rather make a life with someone else and I was feeling empty and lost.  I just wanted to be where she was not.  It turned out that you can't go back, all the people I'd known had moved on in life and I was feeling empty and alone in a little one bedroom apartment.
Enter my $700 V65 Sabre.  One thing that had not changed about the pacific northwest was the beauty of the scenery and the assault on the senses during the 4 day long summers they have (sometimes five).  It was not a long trip, but it was during a weekday and traffic was light.  I caught the ferry to Bremerton and headed out.  The smell of the pines and the flowers in bloom gave my soul a lift from the blackness that I'd been embroiled in for the previous several months.  During the ride up to hurricane ridge I was able to release a lot of the anger I'd carried and realize that life was not over and that this was indeed just another beginning.  By no means an epic ride, but one of those moments of epiphany that stay with you.
Oh, and a bowl of Ivars clam chowder at the top.

[Jim Chamberlin]

It was warm once and will be again.
(I like short stories)

[cbolling]

I was hungry.

Greasiest food in the South.

End of Story

[lobo10s]

We started on our first ride together over 5 years ago. Every trip together we take self pics of the two of us. It has become a tradition. We have done many trips in those 5 years and this is one thing that always makes us smile.. Hey it is corny i know.. but oh well.