Passes & Canyons Blog

This time it was my Honda being the one to get towed. Dang those valve stems.

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.

Back in Cass Lake on a motorcycle again after all these years.

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.”

No, that bag doesn’t hang down like that usually. I just didn’t have it set up properly when I shot this picture.

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.”

Yeah, I still have this old windshield on the bike, though it’s cracked from the one time I went down on it.

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.

Accommodations on one of the early OFMC trips.

The story continues as I continue to key in my journal. With a lot of really bad stuff going on in my life my motorcycle was the one thing that brought me pure, unadulterated joy. I was already becoming very attuned to just how great motorcycles are. From January 21, 1989: “Today is supposed to be the world’s most gorgeous day so I’ll be out on my bike.”

Then, in my journal entry for March 20, I remarked, “The motorcycle continues to be one of the few things I have to live for.” That tells you a lot about my state of mind at that time.

Bill was in a bad place at this point, too. His wife had thrown him out and he considered moving in with me. On April 11 I wrote, “Bill said he won’t be moving in. He should be getting his motorcycle Saturday. The weather better be nice because we’re going to want to ride.” Unlike the old, used bikes John and I bought, Bill got a brand new Honda Shadow.

Before I started riding motorcycles I flew hang-gliders. Between the two I chose the bikes. April 26: “Thought I’d sell my glider but the guy found another. Too bad. I need the money to cover the $250 my motorcycle is going to cost for a tune up and a tire.”

In May I told my parents about using money I borrowed from them to buy a bike: “I told them about the motorcycle. Mom was not happy. Dad was cool.”

Our first trip anywhere was over to visit a friend. June 7: “John & Bill & I are taking the bikes over to Fruita this weekend, weather permitting.”

July 12: “John & Bill & I had a wonderful three days on the bikes. Spent one night in Steamboat and the next at Rifle Falls up Rifle Gap. Very nice place. Loved being on the bikes.” This was the first of the annual OFMC trips, which are now in their 34th year.

Then this on July 21: “Our love affairs with our motorcycles continue to grow. Bill & John & I took a three-day trip through northwestern Colorado a couple weeks ago and we were in heaven. There are times when, cruising down the highway, I laugh out loud and throw my head back and scream ‘I love my motorcycle!'”

There were other things to be learned about riding a motorcycle. On August 20 I wrote, “One reason I have time today is that I have a flat on the bike.”

And of course I had to make the bike mine. September 4: “Put a case protector on my bike. Now I need to attach the highway pegs. Learned a bit of motorcycle mechanics in the process.”

Yeah, I’ve done a lot of work on my bikes over the years but mainly I let the pros handle it. I just do little stuff.

So by now I figured I was a real motorcyclist. A status sadly postponed by more than 20 years. But I was only getting started. Will I pass along more from the journal? Depends on what I find that I had to say, and when I get to those parts. Keying this journal in is a multi-year project.

Biker Quote for Today

We know you’re a poser if you take your bike into the shop for oil changes.

I still have that bike, and I still have that jacket. I don’t still have all that hair.

I’m a writer, always have been, and so it should be no surprise that I have kept a journal most of my life. Of course, for the greater part of that time it was all on paper. Paper is nice, it’s durable and all that, but it’s a real pain to search through if you want to find something in particular but don’t know the date.

In the last couple years I have been keying my journal in on the computer. This will make it more searchable and it also has taken me on a trip down memory lane. Recently I got to the point where I bought my first motorcycle, my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom. I figured I’d share a little of what I wrote about it back then.

The first mention is from June 22, 1988. My friend John had recently bought an old Yamaha Virago 750 and he would come pick me up and we’d go ride. At this time I noted, “I need to simultaneously finance a rollover of my 401(k) to my IRA, buy a motorcycle, and get a computer, although the computer will probably wait if I’m learning more on that at work.”

The next mention is July 16. “So how do I pay off the $3,000 I’m borrowing from Mom & Dad, how do I get a computer system, how do I get a motorcycle—how do I pay at all for any emergency like a new refrigerator or furnace or even some modest landscaping? I have got to find a better job.” Jumping ahead here I’ll note that I bought the bike with money from the $3,000 I borrowed from my parents, which I considered sweet justice because of how my mother quashed my dreams of getting a bike at 15. “You’ll never own a motorcycle as long as you’re living in my house,” she said, and now I was using their money to get one.

Then on July 24 I wrote, “Went out with John on his cycle the other night. I’m definitely going to get a motorcycle, sooner rather than later. After I get my next paycheck I’ll have enough money.”

September 11 it still hasn’t happened. “John & I had a good time Friday night. We rode his motorcycle up to Richard’s and the three of us sat & drank coffee and smoked dope. We stayed pretty late & then had a real nice ride back.”

Then September 21. “I finally did it. On Saturday I bought a Honda 750 motorcycle. It leaves me broke but I don’t care. Today I went to get a learner’s permit and tomorrow I’ll pick it up. Boy do I need something fun and exciting in my life.”

September 26. “And on top of that, I picked up my motorcycle that day. I was ecstatic. I was way up in the clouds. . . . After getting my bike Thursday I rode it about eight miles very cautiously and came home to get warm. Dressing warmer Friday, John & I went riding about 30 miles. Then Saturday we went about 120 miles, through Lyons, up the St. Vrain to the Peak to Peak highway to Nederland and down into Boulder. I got a windshield and we put that on and tonight I took it out and the difference is tremendous—so much warmer and much more comfortable. I like this. I can’t wait to ride it over to drop in on Dave. But between bills and the bike I’m broke. I’ve got about $50. Talk about scraping by. But Friday is payday.”

October 25. “I bought another helmet and Lynne & I went out on the bike Sunday. She loved it.”

And then November 4. “Got my motorcycle driver’s license yesterday. Flunked the test Wednesday & passed yesterday.”

So my riding career was launched. More to follow.

Biker Quote for Today

It’s Valentine’s Day in a few weeks. I wonder what to buy for my motorcycle this year.

One of my trips for 2021.

I always tally up the miles I’ve put on my bikes and car at the end of the year and for the seventh year in a row I put more miles on the bikes than on the car. Not that I put all that many miles on anything this past year.

My total mileage for 2021 on the bikes was 5,419. That breaks down to 1,086 for the Honda CB750, 2,002 for the Kawasaki Concours, and 2,331 for the Suzuki V-Strom. My Hyundai Elantra only got driven a total of 2,494 miles in the year. Can you say “home body”?

I know most of this is due to Covid but it’s funny because I don’t feel like I’ve been all that restricted. Life has really been pretty much normal, with the exception that Judy and I haven’t taken a lot of trips.

Not that we haven’t traveled. We did fly to Kansas City, where we rented a car and drove around in the Midwest. That was a really nice trip. But we didn’t go camping once all year, and we usually go several times. With everyone suffering cabin fever the campgrounds have been swarming and getting a campsite reservation is tough.

And while that was Judy’s only trip for the year, I went on two motorcycle trips, with the OFMC and the RMMRC, and I also went yurt camping with the guys out at Ridgway State Park. It used to be you could go somewhere and rent a cabin but I guess now the big thing is yurts. They have to be cheaper to build so I’m guessing that’s why, but it’s pretty much the same thing.

The main point is that I haven’t exactly been stuck at home. And I did put more miles on the Honda this year than last, and more miles on the car, too. More than twice as many miles on the Suzuki, but fewer on the Kawasaki. And more miles overall on the bikes than the previous year.

So I’d largely call it a good year. Still, I’m hoping 2022 will be better. And I hope it is for you, too.

Biker Quote for Today

We know you’re a poser if there are no wrinkled, faded, creased, or scratched areas on your leathers.

The RMMRC takes a lunch break south of Kremmling.

I’ve written before about riding with go-fast guys. As I’ve said, I choose to ride my own ride and am not concerned with keeping up with people going faster than I am comfortable with.

That said, I wanted to make note of the one ally that frequently makes the issue of speed moot: traffic. Traffic can be an ally in two ways.

First off, if the guys ahead of you are racing ahead and you’re starting to lose sight of them, there’s nothing like a bunch of cars lined up behind a big RV to get the group back together again. If, like me, you like to cruise at a comfortable speed and enjoy the scenery then poking along in traffic can be a good thing.

Only to an extent, though. I’m just as eager to get past someone going way too slowly as the next guy and getting stuck going super slow with no escape in sight is torture for me just as much as for you. Fortunately my temperament is such that I just accept it, I don’t get all road-ragey. It is what it is and it’s best if you can just accept it. And I am not going to risk my life to pass someone no matter how long I’ve been stuck behind them.

But some people will. And that’s where traffic can again be an ally. If the go-fast guys ahead of you see their opening and blast off–safely or otherwise–but the opening is gone before it’s your turn, then you totally have no concern about losing the other guys ahead in the distance. I’ll see you again when I see you.

This was definitely something I encountered on an RMMRC ride this summer. I was on the Honda and let’s face it, that bike just doesn’t go that fast. It could, but in 1980 when it was built Harley-Davidson was lobbying Congress to ban the hot new bikes coming over from Japan as being dangerously fast. Too dangerously fast. Japan responded by putting rev limiters on bigger bikes to deliberately cripple them. My CB750 Custom has a speedometer that tops out at 85 mph. With 750cc of power it surely would go faster than 85 except for that rev limiter.

So we left Granby headed to Kremmling and the go-fast boys in front of me took off. I tried with some success to keep up but then we got into the canyon just west of Hot Sulphur Springs. We were behind a couple cars but one turned off and there was an opening and they blasted by the remaining one. No way could I get past at that point and then there was no place to pass for quite a while. By then there was nobody to be seen up ahead. I just didn’t worry about it. I poked along at my own speed.

You know what? We all got there. I do like speed at times but it’s just not high on my list of priorities.

Biker Quote for Today

An undertaker always rides his motorcycle slowly and never speeds it. Because he is not an overtaker.