Coal Creek Canyon is a really nice ride.
Bill and I decided to run up to Black Hawk on Friday for lunch and some gambling so I got on the CB750 and headed west on Hampden. I soon had one of those encounters that remind you to stay on your toes.
I was in the inside lane and first at the light, stopped at Colorado Boulevard. The east-bound traffic got the green and the turn arrow and I got ready. The light changed and the car in the turn lane seemed to be stopping for the red. I started to pull forward and the car didn’t stop and was going to run full on through the red and turn in front of me. Then she saw me, a very startled look on her face, and she slammed on the brakes.
Yeah. Be careful out there. You never know when some driver is going to do something.
I got to Bill’s and he was figuring to just run up Clear Creek Canyon and come back down Golden Gate Canyon–like he always does. I like variety so I said let’s go up Coal Creek Canyon and then come down Golden Gate. So we did.
Oh man, it’s been a very long time since I’ve gone up Coal Creek Canyon and I had forgotten how nice it is. I mean, I’ve been down it from time to time but going the other direction is like an entirely different road. It was sweet! And it was a beautiful day to ride. Bill agreed enthusiastically.
We got to Black Hawk and ate and then played some machines and both walked out with tidy sums more than we came in with. Nice day!
I knew when we parked in Black Hawk that I was going to be going to Reserve before I got home, and I was right at the mileage where I generally have to shift to Reserve. So I just went ahead and flipped the lever. When we were leaving the bike coughed when starting at first, reminding me I had made the switch. Then it ran fine.
We ran down the canyon and turned our different ways and I headed home, down 93, and C-470, onto US 85, which becomes Hampden. I figured I would do the usual and stop at Costco off Santa Fe for gas. But I got to Costco and I’ve never seen such a long line of people waiting to get gas. What the heck?
I got back on what was now Hampden and pulled in the next gas station, only to find all those pumps busy and people waiting. Really, what the heck? Is something going on that I don’t know about?
No matter. My tripmeter was reading 185 and I know I can get 225 miles out of a full tank of gas on this bike. I would just go home and get gas the next time I take the bike out.
I got to Hampden and Tamarac–exactly one mile from home–and I ran out of gas. ???? How could that be? Did I not fully fill the tank last time? I have no idea. But at this point the tripmeter was still only reading 190.
I rolled off to the side of the road and kept trying to start the bike and this guy in this pick-up behind me starts honking. Like, dude, do you not see that my bike won’t run? I waved him around and then pushed the bike up onto the sidewalk. Thank goodness for those ramps now to accommodate people in wheelchairs.
I was jockeying it around and lost it and the bike fell on the left side. Not all the way down; it came to rest on the peg and the case guard. I know how you’re supposed to pick up a bike but I figured I could just grab it and wrestle it back upright. And I did. Three days later there are no ill effects, like in my back or something. I guess that wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done but apparently neither was it the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.
Being just one mile from home, I called Judy and she brought me gas. Problem totally solved. But why the heck did it run dry at 190? That tank holds 5-1/2 gallons and I get about 45 miles to the gallon. That’s almost 250 miles if you run it totally dry. Now, at least for a while, I’m going to be really paranoid about running out of gas once I get into Reserve. Motorcycles: they’re so wonderful but they sure can be a pain at times, too.
Biker Quote for Today
Motorcycles are like women: Even though they are dangerous we need them in our lives.