Passes & Canyons Blog

It’s that time of year when I always look at the odometers on my bikes to see if I can turn over just one more 1,000-mile mark by the end of the year. This year looks like it’s going to be easy.

With the V-Strom I just turned over 42,000 miles. It’s at 42,058 at the moment. No way I’m putting another 942 miles on that bike before the end of December.

With the Concours it’s not quite so cut and dried but still pretty obvious. The odo now sits at 76,309. Theoretically, if I had only one bike and I really got out on it a lot I could reach 77,000 by year’s end, but that’s not the case. I’ve got two other bikes that need to be ridden at least once each month. So no, I’ll just consider that turning over 76,000 hits the mark. If I turned over 76 in May there would be no excuse for not reaching 77, but doing so in October is good enough for this year.

Then we come to the Honda CB750. This is the bike I’ll be choosing on most of my rides for the next seven weeks. This bike is currently sitting at 36,730. That’s only 270 miles from 37,000. That’s doable. In fact, just two more rides like the one we did this past weekend are all it will take. (I do want to make a clarification here for anyone who is new here. This 1980 Honda CB750 Custom does not have only 36,730 on it in all these 42 years. The original speedometer/odometer set broke at about 84,000 and I replaced it with a salvage yard instrument cluster with about 29,000 on it.)

I track the mileage each year on all four of my vehicles, with my eye particularly on the motorcycle miles vs. the car miles. For about the past 10 years I have always put many more miles on my bikes than on my car. That’s the way I like it. I’ll do it again this year, no question. Heck, I’ll probably end the year with more miles on the Suzuki all by itself than on the car. Did I ever tell you I love my motorcycles?

Biker Quote for Today

Why didn’t the motorcycles get in the carpool? Because they didn’t have trunks.

I dropped the Concours and busted the left mirror when we were in Angel Fire so I’ve been looking to get that fixed.

I checked online and a replacement is available from about $95 to $150, depending on if its new or used and who you buy it from. I wondered if I could get a better price from a salvage yard. Time to check with Steele’s. They have a website and on the site they tell you you can send them a message asking if they have what you need. I tried that but after no reply over a week I just got on the CB750 and rode on over there.

First I checked in at the front desk and the guy checked in their computer to see if they had one listed in there. No. So he told me I could go look around the yard myself. He told me not to just take something off one of the wrecks, but to shoot a photo and come back to them and they’d decide who should do what.

I don’t know if you’ve ever walked around in a motorcycle salvage yard but it’s kind of like a fantasy land. In fact, after I’d looked at what they had out front and didn’t find anything I was about to leave when another employee asked me if I’d checked in. Yes I had, but I didn’t find anything. Oh, there’s more, he said. It goes all the way around the building. “Have fun.” So I went and looked further.

I did find three Concourses but they were all in almost totally stripped-down shape. No mirrors, except on one. And these were not the stock mirrors, they were clearly aftermarket. This suggested to me that busting a mirror was not all that uncommon, and some people opted not to replace with stock.

Around back I found shopping cart after shopping cart filled with assorted side panels. Many years ago I did lose one side panel off my Honda but I found a replacement. Still, it is from a different year so it doesn’t actually match, even though it fits. I figured if I came across the real thing I would at least ask what they wanted for it. No dice. Lots and lots of side panels but not the one I want.

Different parts of the yard were devoted to different things. In one section there were lots and lots of wheels. There were great numbers of stripped frames. And there were all kinds of bikes in all kinds of condition just in pieces everywhere you looked.

There were also the proverbial junkyard dogs, although during business hours I guess these guys are friendly enough. They were rough-housing so hard and so obliviously that twice they crashed right into me as they chased each other around, having a ball.

I didn’t find anything. I’ll have to get something online. But it was worth the run over there.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: If your motorcycle doesn’t look good, you can paint it or get better parts.

I was out on my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom last week and I realized I’ve been neglecting this old friend. It’s late in August and I was only getting out on this particular bike for the first time this month. Meanwhile I’ve put a good many miles on the other two.

Not only that, I’ve already taken the V-Strom on a trip of 2,800 miles this summer and in just a couple weeks I’ll be taking the Concours on a 1,500 mile trip. Meanwhile, even after my ride the other day I’ve only put 198 miles on the Honda so far this year. If I really love this bike (and I do!) how can I ignore it like that?

You have to understand, my Honda is not just a motorcycle, it is the physical realization of one of my fondest, most ardent dreams. My dream to own a motorcycle as a teenager was thwarted by my mother and years later when I finally got the CB I was absolutely in heaven.

Then, on top of that, when Judy and I got married she came with three kids who did everything in their power for the first seven years of our marriage to make every single day a living hell. There were two weeks every year when I was not in a constant state of rage. One was the week each year when she would take the kids and they would go off on a road trip, leaving me at home, blissfully alone. The other was the OFMC trip when I was gone, out on the road on my beloved motorcycle.

I remember one day heading out of town on the Honda and throwing my head back and screaming to the skies, “I love my motorcycle!!”

Fortunately, the kids finally all moved out and after a while they even grew up and became human beings. Every one of them now has deep regrets over how they behaved and how they treated us back then. And that’s great, we get along fine. I don’t hold it against them; they’re not the same people they were back then.

Also since then, I have acquired two additional motorcycles. And honestly, although I used to always do long trips on the Honda, the other two really are better suited for that kind of thing. So the Honda sits at home. But I still love that bike. And every time I do get out on it it just reminds me how much fun it is to ride. I just need to do it more.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: You don’t have to take a shower before riding your motorcycle.

Unlike with the Concours when its valve stem went bad, there was no way I could ride my Honda CB750 to the dealer to have the valve stem replaced. I have no idea why that Concours tire still held air but the Honda tire did not. I had already had it towed to my house and was reluctant to have it towed again to the dealer, so the other option would be to remove the wheel and take the wheel to the dealer.

I had never taken a wheel off a bike before. But I looked at it and figured it couldn’t be all that hard, especially if I had someone helping me who knew what they were doing. I called Roy. Roy was very accommodating and came over right away.

The first thing we had to do was put the bike up on its center stand. I knew from when I had a flat on the Concours a few years ago how hard that can be. But that had been a back tire and this was a front tire. It went up easily but then when we tried to jack the bike up high enough to get the tire off it started raising the rear off the ground. The answer was to put a piece of plywood under the center stand, but now it was really hard to get it up. We managed.

Then we needed a block of wood to put between the jack and the crank case. Scraps of wood are something most any guy has laying around but during the Covid lockdown I had done an extensive garage cleaning and had thrown out stuff like stray pieces of wood. I finally came up with a two by four and it was not optimal but it worked. Up on the jack the bike was very unstable so Roy’s job was to hold it steady and give me guidance while I did the work.

It really couldn’t have been much simpler. Remove two bolts and slide the disc brake caliper off, drop the C-clamps at the base of the forks, and disconnect the speedometer. Voila.

I took it to Vickery the next day and a while later they called to say it was ready. I got there and immediately saw they had not put on a 90-degree valve stem, which I had stressed I absolutely had to have. So they got right on it and quickly had it done and I headed home. I should have been clearer on that 90-degree stem but they made it right immediately so I have no complaints.

The next day Roy came over again and we put it all back together. Spread the caliper wide with a couple screw drivers, reassemble the fork ends, reattach the speedo. What I would not have known to do was to compress the shocks a few times to make sure everything set in properly. Roy also warned me not to touch the brakes while it was apart because otherwise they would have needed to have been bled, which would have been an unnecessary pain.

And that was all there was to to it. Great. I love learning how to do new stuff, and this is the kind of thing that may well come in handy in the future.

Biker Quote for Today

My brother recently got into a bikers gang that worships Norse monarchs. They call themselves ‘The Bikings.’

I think I’ve got something figured out here. I have the vague notion that when you have a dealer put a new tire on your bike, they routinely put in a new valve stem. Maybe I’m mistaken, but that’s my notion. Regardless, I’m pretty certain now that Joel, my mechanic, does not. And in the future, any time I have him put on a new tire I will specify that I also want a new valve stem.

I had my first valve stem problem when I was getting ready to leave on the RMMRC‘s Great River Road ride. That necessitated that I take a different bike; not a big deal.

Well now I’ve had a second valve stem problem, and this was a lot bigger pain in the butt.

I’ve been taking some music classes over at Swallow Hill Music and so a couple weeks ago I headed over there on the Honda CB750 Custom, which had yet to be ridden in July. Just a few blocks away I noticed the handling on the bike was not as it should be, and it reminded me of the time when I had a flat back tire on the Concours. I got to Swallow Hill and parked and looked at the rear tire. It was fine. Great. I headed in.

When I came out and returned to the bike it was very obvious that my front tire was flat. Oh, dang. OK, I got here on it, if I can get air in the tire hopefully I can get home on it. I called Judy and asked her to bring my pump, figuring I’d put air in and she could follow me home, stopping if necessary to add more air along the way.

Judy arrived and I hooked the pump up but after way too long the pressure gauge was still showing no increased pressure. I turned it off and was disconnecting it when I heard a hiss at the valve stem. Sure enough, that’s where the problem was. And there was no way this bike was rideable.

I have roadside service through my American Motorcyclist Association membership so I called for a tow. It took a while to get through but I finally reached someone who took all my info and said I would be receiving a text message with the data on the company dispatched and their estimated time of arrival. We knew we had a wait in store.

The first part of the wait was not boring. We were at the corner of Lincoln and Yale, standing by the bike, when we heard tires screeching and a crash. Turning around, there was a Harley on its side, a rider on the ground, and a car stopped, all in the middle of the intersection. Holy crap. I went running to the guy, thinking about my recent crash scene management training.

The guy, an older, very gnarly-looking sort of old school Harley rider, was sitting up and bleeding badly from the left side of his head. The first step in crash scene management is to secure the location, and there were cars stopped in all directions so clearly nobody was going to come driving through and hit someone. The guy asked for a hand up and I hesitated. Another initial point in crash scene management was to do all you can to prevent the person from getting up and riding off, because they may suffer shock and once the adrenaline wears off they may find themselves completely incapable of even standing.

He asked for a hand up and I told him he really ought to just sit there for a few minutes. “F— that” he bellowed and insisted I help him up, which I did. Then he asked me and another guy to help him get the bike up, which we did. I was hoping he just wanted to move it out of the intersection but he climbed on, fired it up and rode away. Meanwhile, we could all see that the lobe of his left ear was almost completely ripped off, hanging by just a slender strip of skin.

Judy’s speculation was that he either had warrants out or else maybe he had been drinking or drugging and either way had no intention of dealing with the police. Who knows. Meanwhile, the young woman driving the car was on the phone with 911. She had not hit him; there had been no contact. I’m not sure what she had been doing, maybe a U-turn in the intersection, definitely not a left turn in front of him. All I got from her was that she was making her turn and he just wouldn’t wait for her to complete it. He must have swerved to avoid her but even that is odd because the bike fell on its right side and he was on the ground on its left. I have no idea what happened. The police were apparently never even dispatched to the scene.

We know this because we were there for another three hours, and they never showed up. After talking to the person I gave the tow request to we were told we would receive text updates and all we got were three messages saying sorry for the delay, we’re still trying to get someone to provide your service. After awhile my phone was going dead and Judy suggested we call again, using her phone, so I did.

Once we got through again I explained the situation and they escalated it to the supervisor and once again we were told we’d be messaged with update info. We finally did get a message, telling us who was coming and that it would probably be an hour and half more. Thank goodness we had Judy’s air conditioned car to sit it because we had no shade and the outside temperature was about 85.

Finally the tow guy showed up and I have to say, he was super nice. We were now late for a birthday party we were supposed to be heading to and he said go ahead to the party, I’ll get the bike safely to your house. Which he did, and then called to tell us he had done so. Nice guy.

So that’s twice now I’ve had valve stem issues. Valve stems are now very much on my radar.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if other people you consider bikers scare you.

At my request the RMMRC group riding the Great River Road made a stop on the outskirts of Cass Lake, Minnesota, so I could get a picture.

“What is the significance of this to you?” Tom asked.

Oh, a lot. This is where it all began.

When I was a teenager my family came up to Cass Lake every summer on vacation, to Camp Unistar out on Star Island in the middle of Cass Lake. (Both the lake and the town are called Cass Lake.) As regulars we got to know the folks running the camp and it was common for the kids of regulars to work as low-paid help in the summers. Spend the whole summer at camp and get paid for it? Sign me up.

I got my turn the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, and when I got there I found that Terry, my bunk-mate for the summer, had come up from his home in Minneapolis on his brand new Honda 305 Scrambler. Totally cool.

What was even cooler is that he hung the bike’s key on a nail in our quarters and told me any time I wanted to ride the bike to just go ahead. Of course, we were out on the island, so we only got in to the mainland now and then, and that was usually on work errands, like going to the grocery store.

Now, I actually had ridden a motorcycle one time previously. Back in those days you could rent a Honda 90 from 7-Eleven for three dollars an hour. That was big money for me so I only did it one time, when one of my friends prodded me to go ahead and pony up the big bucks.

So here I was with a summer to ride for free anytime I wanted (and could get away to do so). Can you say Yahoo!?

And I did. The bike was very torquey and I had no experience driving so I did my best to manage the clutch and throttle but ended up doing any number of wheelies totally without intent. Not a problem, I knew I’d figure it out eventually.

There’s not much of anywhere to go around Cass Lake but I’d just get on the bike and go ride–I didn’t care where. And then it all came to a screeching halt.

One week a family we knew, from Bismarck, North Dakota, came to camp with their two gorgeous daughters, Randi and Sheri. And one day I was taking the boat in to the marina to go pick up a few things at the grocery store. Randi and Sheri asked if they could ride along and I told them sure, and I’ll even take you for rides on Terry’s motorcycle. Of course they were up for that.

As I was getting ready to go I mentioned to Terry that I was going to town and the girls were going along. To my surprise, and to this day I’m not sure why, Terry told me not to take the girls riding. I said OK and left.

So we got to the marina and I fired up the bike and Randi got on and we rode into town. We got the groceries (I don’t remember what but it couldn’t have been much, right?) and went back to the bike. We got on, I fired it up, and just then some local kids came along and called out “Look at the girl on the motorcycle!” She was a beauty and I was understandably pleased to be seen with her on this motorcycle. And then, totally unintentionally, I wheelied away from the curb with her hanging on tightly. Was I a cool dude or what!

We went back to the marina and I left Randi with the groceries and Sheri and I took off on the bike. We rode out of town but there was nothing out there so we just went a little ways and turned around. Then back to the boat and back to camp.

On the way I told the girls that if Terry asked if I took them for rides to say no, and they agreed they would. But when we got back Terry asked me and I’ve always hated lying so I told him yes, I had. He didn’t say a word, but that key was never on that nail ever again and I never rode that motorcycle again.

But for me, that was the beginning. And now here I was on a motorcycle at Cass Lake and I had to stop and get the picture. That, Tom, is the significance.

Biker Quote for Today

She told me to whisper something sexy in her ear, so I whispered “BRAAAPP.”

I’m probably like most long-time motorcycle riders in that starting out my means of carrying things with me on the bike was kludgy at best. As soon as I bought the CB750 I bought a sissy bar with a rack behind and a pouch to stash stuff in. For years I just bunged stuff on.

Then I discovered cargo nets and thought that was beyond great. I soon learned differently. I lost a good atlas one day down by Taos when I stuffed it between the net and the rest of the stuff. I almost lost a sleeping bag, too. And I found that cargo nets, much more so than bungee cords, quickly stretch out and then never stretch back.

For a few of the early OFMC trips I just bungeed my sleeping bag to the seat behind me and strapped my tent and a gym bag of clothes on the rack behind the sissy bar. That worked and it gave me something to lean my back against. It didn’t do anything to block rain, however, so I took to putting these things in plastic bags before strapping them on. Of course then there was the constant flapping of the loose bits of bag it was impossible to completely prevent.

Eventually I found the ultimate, a set of soft sidebags that I could just throw over the bike behind me. But I didn’t feel totally secure with those. Although I could put one velcro strap under the seat to make it harder, nothing would have really stopped anyone either from taking the whole shebang or just opening them and helping themselves. I didn’t worry too much about that, and I never had any reason to as nothing has ever been stolen, but there was still always that feeling of unease in the back of my mind.

Then I got my Concours. This bike had it all. Hard bags standard, and large. And it really did do the job wonderfully. But man, unloading was not wonderful. Unlock both bags from the bike and carry them into the motel, then the helmet, jacket, tank bag, everything else. I became a big fan of those luggage carts hotels have. But it’s OK.

Until it wasn’t quite OK. We were pulling out of a parking lot in Jackson one day, backing out, and I wasn’t watching closely enough. Randy stopped and I rolled back into him. All that hit was my right side bag against his tire, so nothing at all with his bike, but this shoved my bag and the clasp that holds it to the bike all askew and it has never been the same again. More than once I have discovered that the bag is off the rail entirely, floating out over the road held on by only the clasp. That thing must be strong.

So now I wrap a strap around it and through the passenger grab handle. But that makes it a lot more inconvenient for getting into the bag. Plus I lost my first strap coming out of Canada four years ago when we stopped just past customs to get everything arranged properly. And I forgot to reconnect the strap. It occurs to me that, as it worked its way off, if it had gotten wrapped around the axle or through the wheel things might have gone badly.

OK, this has run long and I’m only about half way through so I’m going to stop here and finish this piece in my next post. Sometimes you get started and you just keep going.

Biker Quote for Today

Sorry, out to live. Be back “soon.”

Thinking about my first days with a motorcycle made me think of other things. Like the D.U.M.P. As in Denver Used Motorcycle Parts.

This was an appropriately dumpy little place along Park Avenue West, at about Ogden or Emerson, where it was a parts and gear shop plus they had a small yard with old bikes being parted out. A lot like Steele’s today but much smaller.

I got all my early gear from the D.U.M.P. And I learned a lot.

For instance, I very quickly found that I did not like the blast of the wind at speed. I went to the D.U.M.P. and asked for a windshield. The guy showed me some and along the way I used the word “fairing” interchangeably. He asked me, did I want a windshield or a fairing? I didn’t understand the difference. I bought a windshield.

I already had a helmet, a half-helmet actually, from my days flying a hang-glider. But I wanted a face shield to block the wind. It had three snaps across the front so I looked for snap-on shields. The woman waiting on me at the D.U.M.P. showed me some simple, curved shields but I asked about this one that was like a half bubble. She told me scornfully that yeah, some people used those, but it was clear she did not think highly of them. I liked it and that’s the one I bought.

Later I bought a sissy bar and rack there.

I got my first leather jacket from the D.U.M.P. and my first gauntlet-style gloves and also a similar pair for winter lined with Thinsulate. And then my leather chaps. I was a regular customer at the D.U.M.P.

Of course the name of the place inevitably led to some amusing confusion. I remember a girlfriend asking me where I got something and when I told her I got it, in her hearing, “at the dump” she looked at me with a very weird expression.

And then one day I came by and they were closed. Gone. Now there’s probably some high-rise standing on that piece of land.

That’s something I’ve come to see as a constant: Motorcycle shops come and go. I try to keep my Colorado Motorcycle Dealers and Repair Shops page on the website up to date but at least once a year I go through and click on all the links and remove a bunch that are no longer in existence. Heck, the little shop on Federal where I bought my CB750 closed within a year or two of me buying that bike.

Fortunately, there always seems to be someone else willing to give it a shot. It’s probably not a bad idea if we all support our local motorcycle shops. That’s the only way they’ll be there when we need them.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: Motorcycles last longer.