Passes & Canyons Blog

On Tuesday morning I headed out early because I had a long way to go. By the following evening I needed to be at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon to meet up with John and Bill. I had miles to burn.

My destination that first day was Durango. I had a friend, Donna, who lived there with her future husband, Neil. I figured I’d spend the night with them.

This was at the time the longest one-day ride I had ever done. And I hadn’t gone far when I felt the need to stretch out my legs so I went to put my feet up on my highway pegs . . . and discovered the left one wasn’t there. It was there when I took the bike in the shop but it wasn’t there now. More anger. Not to mention lack of comfort.

I got to Durango and found my way to Donna and Neil’s, exhausted. I know for a fact that she was not thrilled to have me show up in a foul mood complaining loudly and bitterly about these jerks who had shafted me so badly. I understand that. But I figured my anger was more than justified and surely they could understand that and would sympathize.

At least as far as the highway peg was concerned, Neil did me a big favor. He fished out an aluminum tube about seven inches long and used duct tape to attach it in the appropriate spot. Thank you so much, Neil. And I spent the night and headed out in the morning. That wasn’t where this part of the story ended, though. About a year later, when Donna and Neil were getting married, I only heard about the wedding indirectly. I thought there must be some mistake; surely I should have been invited. I called Donna and she told me that no, they didn’t want me at their wedding because I would bring too much negativity. I was stunned. Sometime later we did patch over this rift but that was just one more disservice those jerks at the shop did me.

I headed on to the North Rim. Another hard day’s ride and I was there, and with a little luck I found Bill and John’s campsite. But they weren’t there so I went looking for them. First I went to the lodge, which was nearby. I didn’t find them there so I speculated that they had gone out to view the sunset somewhere. Figuring that what I would have done was to go out to an area called Cape Royal, 23 miles from the lodge on a slow, twisty road. So I headed out there.

It was a long ride, probably at least 45 minutes. And they weren’t there. Nothing to do but head back. But before I got anywhere close to all the way back the bike started to sputter and then died. It was getting dark, I was very tired, I was out on a lonely road with nothing and nobody around, and my bike was dead. I broke. It was more than I could take. Standing beside the bike I pounded my fists savagely on the seat screaming “God damn it! God damn it! God damn it!”

Then I had a thought. Maybe I had just run out of gas. Maybe I could flip to Reserve and the bike would run. I did and it did. Hallelujah!!!

I headed back to camp as fast as I could and when I got there and saw Bill and John I had never in my life been so happy to see them. What a day!

In the morning we stopped at the gas station there by the lodge and it was then that I noticed how thin the rubber was on my front tire. I had looked at it just the day before and it had a lot more tread then. I showed it to Bill and John and that was when we all learned just how important it is to keep proper air pressure in your tires. Let the air pressure run too low and you can burn off thousands of miles of tread in just a few hundred miles.

The rest of the trip was good and as soon as we got home I headed over to the shop. I wanted my highway peg and, guess what, my bike was still leaking oil and my pant leg was still getting splattered with oil. That’s what this whole business had been about in the first place. Here’s where the guy at the counter showed what a total jerk he was. First off, he pointed to the job ticket and how all it said was do a ring job. There was nothing there about stopping an oil leak. The ticket that I’m certain he wrote up deliberately in precisely that manner. And no matter what I could say he just blew me off.

And then I brought up the highway peg. Oh no, he blustered, we’re not responsible for that. Fortunately, the mechanic who had done some or all of the work was right there and he said wait a minute. He ran in back and came out with the peg. Middle finger to you, counter guy.

There is some justice in this world, however. I learned about a month later that this shop had gone out of business. Closed their doors. Kaput. Gosh, I can’t imagine why.

Biker Quote for Today

Quick fixes are named for how long they stay fixed.

On that OFMC trip to the Grand Canyon where the communicators were useless I mentioned that Bill and John had to leave without me and we had to meet up later. Why was that?

For as long as I had owned this 1980 Honda CB750 Custom it had leaked oil. I would go for a ride and by the time I got home the lower portion of my right pant leg would be spattered with oil. Not a wonderful thing. So about six weeks before we were to leave on the trip I decided to do something about it.

I took the bike to a repair shop and told them I wanted the leak stopped. I didn’t really know what it would take to do that, but I trusted that they would. The guy at the counter had a much better idea of the situation, though, and he totally set me up. For what it’s worth, I figure what was needed was gaskets. At least, that’s my take on it now. But what he seemed to understand was that even a new set of gaskets was not a guarantee of no leaking.

So he told me, gosh, we’re going to have to tear the whole engine down to do that so while we’ve got it apart it might make good sense to give it a ring job, too. I was naive and trusting so I said OK, do that. Then he wrote up the ticket saying that the repair needed was the ring job. He made no mention of stopping an oil leak.

I made sure to tell him I was leaving on a trip in six weeks and the bike absolutely had to be ready by then. I didn’t see how that could be hard to do and he assured me that they would have it for me long before our departure date. So I left the bike in their hands.

What I learned later was that this shop was struggling financially. At this time of year they could make a lot more money doing quick jobs like new tires and oil changes, whereas tearing my bike down and doing my work was nowhere near as remunerative on an hourly basis. So they put their attention toward the cash flow jobs. Time went by and I didn’t get a call so I called them. No, it was not ready yet, but no problem, they would definitely have it for me in time. OK.

More time passed and I called again. Same answer. OK. And more time passed and now I was getting nervous. Same answer: they’d have it for me in time.

Finally, about three days before departure I called again and this time the jerk at the counter said no, there’s no way they’re going to have it ready for me in three days. That would be a Friday. The best they could do, he said, was have it for me on Monday. Can you say angry!? But what could I do? And what could Bill and John do? So they left without me, and we made plans to meet up in a few days.

I was livid. This was utterly inexcusable and clearly these guys didn’t give a rat’s patootie about me as a customer. And the thing was, this was a much bigger deal to me than it might have in other circumstances. But the thing was, when I bought this bike it was at the absolute lowest point of my life, before and since. I was at absolute bottom. And I bought the bike and it brought me unbridled joy! It literally gave me something to live for, at a time when I desperately needed something to live for. And in the nearly three years since I bought it it had been nothing but pure, absolute joy to me. And now, for the first time ever, there was anger and negativity connected with it. And I resented that bitterly! That they could introduce negativity into my relationship with the bike was beyond despicable. Unforgivable. The very worst blow they could strike. I hated the guy at the counter with the deepest passion.

And would they actually have the bike ready for me on Monday? Well, they did, though not until Monday afternoon, too late for me to even get started till Tuesday morning. So I picked it up Monday afternoon, took it home, packed, and got ready for an early Tuesday departure. Finally.

I’ll pick up the story next time; it’s far from over.

Biker Quote for Today

Sometimes I ride my motorcycle to nowhere to see nothing just so I can ride my motorcycle.

By the time John and Bill and I, collectively the OFMC, were getting ready for our third annual trip we had concluded it would be nice to communicate while riding. Up to this point we had depended on hand signals but that meant you had to ride up alongside someone and then make the appropriate motion. Workable but not optimal.

Back in those days we didn’t have a lot of money, which was a big part of the reason we did these trips as much on the cheap as we could. We knew you could get in-helmet communication systems but they were expensive.

I think I was the one who got the idea to check out these inexpensive communicators from Radio Shack. We all three met up one day at a Radio Shack in Lakewood and inquired about these things. What they were was just a chunk of hardware connected by a cord to an ear plug. You put the ear plug in place and just talk and the sound moves through your head via the bone and is picked up and transmitted. Obviously, the speaker is in the earpiece.

We each put an earpiece in our ears and then we walked around, and Bill even went outside to the parking lot. We could hear each other fine, so we figured this would do the job. Great. Pay for them and we’re set. Did we try them out on our bikes before the trip? No. That would have made too much sense.

Our departure on this trip was complicated by the fact that a shop I took my bike to for some pre-trip work totally screwed me over. I’m sure I’ve told that story here before and it’s too long to get into now so suffice it to say, they did not have my bike ready by the departure date. So Bill and John took off without me, with an understanding that I would meet them at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon in a few days.

Meanwhile, they took off with their earpieces in and expected to chat as they rode. Sorry, no dice.

What I only came to learn some time later is that radio signals are affected by motion, and the more speed the more they are affected. It turns out that these little cheapos work just fine if you’re walking but on a motorcycle going 65 miles an hour they totally fail. They tried using them that first day, found them worthless, and put them away never to pull them out again. Of course, I didn’t know that. This was well before the days of cell phones.

So I finally got my bike from the shop and I took off, doing some hard riding to reach the Grand Canyon in two days. I had no problem finding the campground but found that I had no way to find them in the campground. I thought they might have left a message for me at the gate, and they had, but I didn’t notice it. I asked the ranger at the gate and he knew nothing but just at that moment a ranger just getting off duty overheard and knew about them and told me where to find their camp site. No problem.

I found their camp site but they weren’t there. All this time I had the earpiece for the communicator in and the unit turned on and I was calling out for them but getting no answer. I was certain they would be listening and waiting for me but no answer. So I set up my tent and went to find them. I rode down to the main parking lot by the lodge, calling for them again and again. Still no answer.

It later turned out that they were there, but somehow I did not spot their bikes. Trying to guess where they had gone I set off on a lengthy wild goose chase that itself is a whole other story. Eventually I just went back to the camp site and by then they were there. They had been back a while before they noticed a new tent in their site so now they had been wondering where the heck I was.

After what I had just been through I was overjoyed to finally find them, and seeing a beer in John’s hand I cried “Give me a beer!” He told me apologetically that this was the last one and I took it from his hand and downed it. And then I asked them why the heck they didn’t respond to me on the communicators. They laughed and told me how worthless those proved to be and it never occurred to them to pull them out to help me find them when I arrived. Actually, they might have done the job in that situation if they had used them. But they didn’t.

That was the last time the OFMC ever seriously considered communicators. Some years later Judy and I got communicators and I specifically got some that would work between bikes in case one of the other guys decided to get a set, too, so we could communicate on rides. But no one else ever was sufficiently interested, so to this day the OFMC operates without communicators. Nowadays, though, we do finally all have cell phones so while not the same, they do the job when needed.

Biker Quote for Today

It’s not a gang. It’s a loose association of rugged outdoorsmen who like vibrations between their legs.

The OFMC’s second year doing a week-long trip was a learning experience. I already described how totally unprepared we were on our first trip but we still had a lot to learn.

Our first day out we rode from Denver to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. If you’ve been there you know that from where you turn off US 50 it’s about eight miles in to the park, and it’s not a fast eight miles. We set up our tents and then realized that with no food we were going to need to ride into Montrose to get some dinner. That was about 20 miles away. OK, maybe we should have thought of this beforehand.

So we went to town and ate. As we were heading back, in the parking lot, I started pulling forward, just idly dangling my feet when my toe snagged on one of those concrete blocks that you park up against. My leg was hanging down in front of my peg and with the toe stopped by the block and my leg trapped by the peg it could have been serious. Breaking my foot or ankle was a real possibility. Fortunately my toe slipped over the block and freed me. I had just learned that you really ought to raise your feet pretty much as soon as you start moving. More ignorance dispelled.

We rode into Utah and ended up for the night camped on the shore of Lake Powell. This time we had the wisdom to stop in Monticello and get food, but we had made the assumption we would be able to get firewood at the campground. Wrong. So we gathered bits of grass, twigs, and anything else we could find that would burn and built a tiny fire that we took turns cooking hot dogs over, holding them with our fingers and moving them back and forth over the tiny flame. But man they tasted good!

Back then there was a ferry across from Hall’s Crossing to Bullfrog. Today there is a bridge. We rode the ferry across and headed on into Las Vegas. Back in these days we usually didn’t wear helmets, although we had them along. We rode into Nevada, into Vegas, to a hotel, and only after that did we learn that Nevada was a helmet state. Oops. Maybe we should research these things beforehand. (Nope, we didn’t learn this lesson here.)

From Vegas we rode on down to Laughlin and this was where we first encountered nasty riding. There was a lot of wind and the dirt and dust in the air was horrible. We were glad to be wearing our helmets. And we got down to Laughlin and there were no rooms, or at least none that our meager budgets could handle. But we discovered that just on the other side of the river was Bullhead City, Arizona, and there were free water ferries that you could get across on. (They’re not free any more.) Over there were affordable motels and we got one.

The affordable food, however, was on the Nevada side. Back then casinos treated restaurants as loss-leaders. They would draw you in with super cheap food and hope to make it up with you gambling and losing to them. We got a terrific prime rib dinner for all of $3.50. Don’t go looking for that today because you won’t find it.

Back at our motel it was a pretty good time. It seems there was some big deal going on somewhere in the vicinity that had drawn in strippers from all over, and a bunch of them were staying at our motel. Hanging out by the pool was very pleasant. But then I had a not so pleasant encounter.

I was standing outside our room, on the second floor, looking out over the parking lot and pool, talking with some other guy also on a motorcycle. At some point he pointed down to my CB750 below and referred to it a “that POS” except he didn’t use the initials. My motorcycle, this POS he was talking about, was the love of my life. I had never in my life wanted so much to punch someone’s lights out. I restrained myself but man I wanted to hit this guy, hard!

The next day was just a long ride east on I-40 across Arizona, into New Mexico, to Gallup. All day it was a strong wind directly out of the north, hitting us from the side. All day. We got a lot of practice at leaning into the wind, and also about how when someone passes you and blocks the wind momentarily you better be ready to straighten up and then be ready for the blast once again once they get past. Another less than pleasant first.

At this point one of our primary factors in choosing a motel was cost. We wanted the cheapest we could find. In Gallup we discovered that sometimes it’s better to pay a little more. We had the filthiest, crummiest little place you can imagine, not to mention the bugs. I don’t remember whose turn it was to sleep on the floor but it was not pretty.

We reached Albuquerque and stopped by to visit my brother and sister-in-law. He was not there but she was. I have no idea what we did while there but my brother told me later that his wife complained to him about what poor guests we were. He’s not married to her anymore.

Heading north back into Colorado we went through Ojo Caliente and on up toward Alamosa. Along the way we ran into a cloudburst and got pretty wet. No big deal. These storms pass and the sun comes out and everything dries off and everything’s cool. Of course, we were still total novices at this and we still didn’t have any rain gear.

So we got wet, but we kept riding, and sure enough, it wasn’t too long before we were dry again. But we got into Alamosa and we were starting to shiver. We headed to a coffee shop and sat there and drank about seven pots of coffee, all of us shaking and shivering, just trying to warm up. Hypothermia. It was nasty.

And then for one final lesson, we came back out to the bikes and, being a hot day, the asphalt was hot and the side-stand on Bill’s bike had sunk into the asphalt, allowing his bike to topple over onto John’s, knocking both of them down. Up till then we had no idea of putting a puck or a flat can or piece of wood or something under the side-stand to keep it from sinking in. You live and learn.

The next day we rode on home. No more lessons to be learned. But we had had quite an education this week.

Biker Quote for Today

The best routes are the ones you haven’t ridden.

In the beginning, John got a 750 Virago, then I got a CB750 Custom, and then Bill got an 1100 Shadow. The groundwork was laid for the OFMC, which officially launched within a year with our first trip.

That first trip was in 1989. Since then the group grew to as large as 10 but has now dropped back to three core riders and a new fourth who we hope will continue with us. Over the years there have been 13 of us all told. Every year we take at least one long trip, usually of one week.

Bikes have changed, gear has gotten better, and we’ve all gotten a bit grayer and a bit heavier. But every year we still ride.

These are the tales of the OFMC.

Is that dramatic enough? There ought to be some urgent music in the background, some pounding kettle drum building in intensity and pushing the tension to a crescendo. Then an eruption, fireworks, and cataclysm, leading finally to a spreading diminuendo. Now the mood is set. Our story begins.

The first OFMC trip was really just a long weekend. We left on Saturday and got home on Monday. John was a teacher and so was off for the summer and I was in one of my frequent bouts of unemployment. Bill just took a day off work. Let’s go have some fun.

We had no gear. All we took with us was tents and sleeping bags bungeed to the back of our bikes. We had no destination or plans of any sort. We probably headed toward Kremmling just because that was where John’s mother lived and he thought it would be nice to pay her a visit. After the visit we continued west on US 40 till we got to Steamboat Springs where, coming into town, we saw they had a small municipal water park with slides and pools and other cool (as in temperature) things that looked very appealing on this hot day. Just back up the road a short distance we had seen a campground so we agreed to stop here for the night and get in the water.

There wasn’t much to Steamboat at that time. After the water park there was still plenty of daylight and there was a road leading from our campground up into the hills so we decided to explore. Imagine our surprise to come upon a one-block stretch of shops and restaurants, and one multi-story parking garage, all by themselves up on the hill. We didn’t know it then but that was the beginning of the explosion of Steamboat Springs, and was the commercial center of the coming ski area-centered development. But for us it was just this weird area stuck out there in the middle of nothing. We had dinner and then slept down by the river in our tents.

The next day we headed on west to Craig and then John must have had an idea where he wanted to go next. We turned south on CO13 down through Meeker and on to Rifle, turning off before Rifle to go into Rifle Gap State Park. This was the place where Christo had put up his “Valley Curtain,” probably the project that first brought him to most Americans’ attention. We parked in a lot where you have to carry your gear in a ways to the campsites and set up camp. Then it was time to go check out the falls and swim again.

I mentioned we had absolutely no gear, right? Well, we didn’t even have swim suits. At the water park we had just work cut-offs; here at the falls there was no one else around so we just jumped in in our underwear. What’s the real difference between a swimsuit and underwear anyway?

Then we rode into Rifle for dinner. The one thing I really remember about that ride into Rifle and back was that there was a good bit of gravel on the road and I was still really learning to ride. I probably didn’t even have 2,000 miles under my belt at this time. Bill and John had both had scooters when they were kids and were a lot more used to slipping around on loose stuff so took that road a lot faster than I was comfortable going. The ride back in the dark, especially, was for me a bit scary. And my rear end did slide out a bit a couple times. Not my most favorite part of the trip.

The next day was really nothing much. We rode into Rifle for breakfast then jumped on I-70 for home. But we had set the ball in motion that is still rolling.

Biker Quote for Today

Put the fun between your legs.

OK, holiday hiatus over with, let’s get back to what we were discussing, i.e., new roads we rode on this year’s OFMC trip. I last highlighted NM518 from Mora to Penasco. What came next?

Leaving Espanola we were only going as far as Socorro and if we took I-25 we would have been there in two hours or less. That would never do and besides, that would take us right through Albuquerque–not a pleasant idea. No problem, I knew–or thought I knew–that we could just cruise down that way on the east side of the Sandia Mountains rather than the west.

So the plan was to get off I-25 at Bernalillo and take NM165 down to where we would hit the road up to Sandia Crest. Nice thought; bad plan. That road is unpaved and unmaintained so we had to go back to I-25 and go through Albuquerque after all. Then we turned east on I-40 to Tijeras and up that road and then up to Sandia Crest. Once we got off at Tijeras it was all new road and the road up to Sandia Crest is fabulous. At least that part of the plan was good.

And then for nearly all of the rest of the day it was still new roads. We backtracked to Tijeras, crossed under I-40, and continued south on NM337. This road also runs to the east of the hills. I don’t know if these are still the Sandias stretching south but whatever they’re called, we stayed east. We went down through canyons, over hills, and then also over a whole lot of flat, open land. But at least we weren’t on the interstate, and it was all new for us. At Mountainair we hit US 60, also new for us, and took it west to finally rejoin I-25 just north of Socorro. A good day riding.

The next new road came the next day, as we headed west out of Socorro, once again on US 60. This was a nice ride through some attractive country and past the Very Large Array until we stopped at Datil for lunch. The road splits here, with US 60 going on northwest through Quemado and over to Springerville. Going southwest, NM12 runs down to Rancho Grande Estates and ends at the junction with US 180. Either would have been new for us. We took NM12.

The first part was a wide-open expanse but then we were in a broad valley between mountains. When we got as far as Apache Creek we came onto road we had ridden before. Last time we were coming the other way and went north on NM32 to Quemado. So as far as Apache Creek we were backtracking on a road we had been on before, but then at US 180 it became another new stretch as previously we had come north on 180 and turned east on 12. Now we continued north on 180 from where we had turned off last time.

This was a terrific stretch of road. It goes on up to Alpine, Arizona, and I had heard for years about how great the “Alpine Loop” was. The stories were true. Through canyons, over mountains, this was a great ride. We spent the night in Alpine and then continued up to Eagar and Springerville and then caught US 191 north to AZ61, headed east, which became NM53 when we crossed back into New Mexico. That took us to NM62, which carried us up to Gallup. All of that was new.

Our only feasible option from Gallup was north on US 491, a road we have been on several times. Still, we had the chance to get off it before reaching Shiprock by turning northeast on Indian Service Route 5, which carried us over to NM371, which we had been on before. All of this route was mostly desert but at least the service route curved around staying on a series of hilltops. I had no complaints.

We spent the night in Farmington and then headed northeast on NM516 to Aztec, where we picked up US 550 going north. We’ve been on them before. The last new road, however, came soon after we crossed back into Colorado when we turned east off 550 onto County Road 110, which was a really sweet little two-lane that wound its way around a bit and then followed a broad valley to Ignacio. So much preferable to US 160 further to the north.

So that was a heck of a lot of new roads in one trip. I think the reason we were able to hit so many new ones is that for years we have taken this trip in the middle of summer, when the beastly heat has dissuaded us from doing much in Arizona and New Mexico. Especially Arizona. But this year we went in September and that made a huge difference. And opened up a lot of new roads.

Now, if I can just convince these guys that it really isn’t horrible riding in Kansas and Nebraska, maybe we can hit some new roads out that way. But I’m not holding my breath.

Biker Quote for Today

Psyclepath – noun: A person suffering from an extreme love of motorcycles.

After more than 30 years doing our OFMC trips we have ridden just about everywhere you can go in eight or nine days from Denver–unless you’re an Iron Butt kind of guy, which we are not.

That means we have ridden just about every road within that area, most more than once. Still, there are little stretches of road here and there that we have missed and now and then we find our way to them. This year’s trip was a good one for finding them.

The first was just a local road but what a blessing to find. We were headed through Taos and knew that that town is very congested. Plus, as we got near we saw a warning sign saying that we should expect construction delays going through town. I had already spotted Blueberry Hill Road; now the only thing was to find it. As a small local road it’s not going to be found on any state highway map.

Fortunately, these days we have Google Maps and such, which is where I spotted it in the first place. But even those maps sometimes lack scale. In this case I knew we needed to turn west from the road we were on, onto the road going out to the Rio Grande Gorge, but then very quickly make a sharp left on Blueberry Hill. From the map you would probably think it was a mile or so.

I was in the lead and made the turn. We went about 300 feet and cross a stream and there on the left was a road. It looked like it could be what we wanted but there were no street signs. Still, there were a couple cars coming out of there, suggesting it was somewhat busy. I decided to take a chance.

Success! This was Blueberry Hill Road and it took us all the way around Taos on a series of ridges with almost no traffic. Very sweet, not to mention rather scenic. I can easily imagine taking this road again.

This led us immediately to the next new road. As we got to the highway where I had understood we needed to do a quick jog left, jog right to get onto the High Road to Taos, I was set to go left when Dennis pulled up next to me. He said his GPS said Espanola, our destination, was to the right. I was not totally sure of myself so I agreed that we should go right.

Well, that was really wrong. To get to the High Road we did need to go left, but this road did go to Espanola nevertheless. And it was a shorter, more direct route. Not that we wanted short or direct, we actually wanted scenic but then this new road, NM68, had that to offer as well. First we went down into the gorge of the Rio Grande and then that opened out into a lovely valley filled with vineyards and farms. It did later run out on the flatland that was decidedly unscenic but no big deal. It was a nice road and we had never ridden it.

We got to Espanola for a three-night stay and on our second full day we did a day ride, making sure to know our way to the High Road. We took that up to Taos, then crossed the hills to get to Angel Fire, turned south there on a really nice road we had ridden for the first time just about five years ago, and then reached the town of Mora. The last time we had turned left at Mora to go on down to Las Vegas and I-25. What I had seen on the map, however, was that if we turned right at Mora we would get on an entirely new road that would take us back the High Road to Taos a little east of Penasco: NM518.

This was a really nice road going through some valleys and over some hills, with the only thing spoiling the scenery being the char of a very recent forest fire. Sad to see. Otherwise, a great road.

OK, I didn’t expect this. This post is getting long and I’m not nearly done. We rode a lot of new roads on this trip. I’ll pick up from here next time.

Biker Quote for Today

“The main thing I’m into is going about on a bike, taking random routes; I’m really into the idea of making up journeys and just seeing where they take you because they always end up taking you someplace freaky.” – Tom Jenkinson

John and Bill and I started taking these OFMC trips more than 30 years ago and for an amazing number of years we did so with absolutely zero mechanical issues. Actually, it was very close in our seventh year, when Bill’s stator failed on him as he was heading to our rendezvous point. So technically it wasn’t on the trip. John and I left without him and a few days later he met up with us in Thermopolis, Wyoming.

It wasn’t until our 20th year that we actually had mechanical problems on the road. That year Jason was on his new Road King and while we were in Taos he and several other guys rode down a very rough road to a very much over-rated hot spring. Something jarred loose on the bike and caused him problems until he took the better part of a day at a Harley dealer getting it fixed.

Since then we have had periodic issues, and this year’s trip was definitely way up there.

For starters, as I’ve told of previously, I dropped my Concours in a parking lot and busted my left mirror assembly. That necessitated a kludgey repair but I was able to roll with no problem.

Then later that same day my right-side highway peg just fell off. Vibration had apparently just worked it loose over who knows how long a time. Miraculously it did not fall to the ground and get lost, it hung up on the fairing so when I was able to stop it was there for me to put in my bag and put back on later.

Then the day we headed out of Socorro we made a stop to view the Very Large Array. When we were ready to head on Bruce found that his bike would not start. He had left the key in the On position and the battery–probably very much near the end of its life–had gone dead. Fortunately, Bruce is very resourceful. He carries along a jump-starter outfit. This is a very small thing that consists of a cable to connect to the battery and a fully charged power source. He hooked it up, hit the starter, it fired, and we were off. Handy little device you’ve got there Bruce.

And then later that day we hit the big one. Riding in a rainstorm in Arizona, Bill did not dodge a big rock laying in the middle of the road. He took a terrific jolt but kept the bike up and then rode it all the rest of the way to our day’s destination. At which time his front tire promptly went flat. Another miracle.

Now Dennis and Bruce both pulled out little air pumps they carry and they tried to reinflate the tire. But the rim had been badly bent and it just wouldn’t hold air. But we had gotten all this way; can’t we get enough in there to force a seal again? Our host had an air compressor and hose so they tried that and it did get the tire filled. But just a couple hours later it was flat again.

This necessitated a tow to the next town where an inner tube was put in and we made it on to Farmington. But by morning the tire was flat again. Bruce’s air pump put in enough air so Bill could make it five miles to the local Harley dealer, where he ended up paying $2,000 for a new wheel and tire.

And that was finally the end of our troubles. It just leaves me wondering, how in the world did we make it 20 years without any mechanical problems. Just amazing luck I guess.

Biker Quote for Today

My motorcycle is like my wife. Very temperamental and showing signs of age. But stays by my side during the twists and long straights of life.