Passes & Canyons Blog

I love this old bike but I’m really glad it’s not my only motorcycle.

I have three motorcycles and I was just reflecting on the numerous times that as worked to my benefit. Sure, I have to spend a bunch more money on maintenance and insurance–not to mention purchase–but it’s worth it in my opinion.

Right now offers a perfect example. After getting my 1999 Kawasaki Concours back from the shop following my misadventure getting home from the latest OFMC trip I now had a throttle issue. I took it back to the shop to have that addressed and it has now been 50 days since I dropped it off and I am still waiting to get it back. If I only had one bike that would have been 50 days of no riding. Not acceptable.

There have also been several instances when I was leaving on a trip, planning on riding a particular bike, and had issues with that bike at the point when I was leaving. One time the bike just wasn’t running right and I made a detour to the shop, where they worked on it a bit but couldn’t guarantee for me the issue would not reappear. Another time I was checking the air in the tires and discovered that one valve stem was totally rotted out, so badly I couldn’t understand why the tire wasn’t flat already.

In both cases I just pulled all my things off the one bike and loaded it all on another and off I went.

On at least another couple occasions I wanted to take one bike but checking the tread on the tires there clearly wasn’t enough rubber to go a couple thousand miles. At the same time, there was plenty of rubber to go another 1,000 miles or so and I didn’t want to junk that tire prematurely. Not with motorcycle tires generally getting only 10,000 miles or less as it is. And paying to have the old tire replaced and then put back on later would be absurd. No problem–take a different bike.

Early on in the rides of the OFMC, back when I only had one bike, I had an issue and did not have this option. I needed some work done on my CB750 and took it to a shop well in advance of departure date, telling them I absolutely had to have it by a certain date, but expecting to get it back well in advance of that date. They said oh yeah, we’ll have it done well before then. They didn’t. They didn’t have it done until three days after Bill and John had already left. I ended up riding really hard for two days solid to meet up with them a long way from here. How nice a second bike would have been at that point.

Having more than one bike has also worked to the advantage of other people a couple times, too. Once the OFMC was heading out and Johnathon had problems with his bike. I loaned him my CB750; he got to go on the trip. Another time a member of the RMMRC who has moved away from Denver was back in town. The RMMRC was going on a ride. I offered to let him ride my V-Strom. He did. You’re welcome.

So yeah, I like have three motorcycles. I strongly recommend it. You have room for another, don’t you?

Biker Quote for Today

A motorcycle ride melts away the frustration of life in less than a mile.

I always have maps in that case on top of my tank bag when I travel–unless I forget my maps.

I had a very odd experience this summer when the RMMRC took a ride down into Arizona and New Mexico in that for perhaps the first time in my motorcycling life I had no maps with me. I just forgot them, though how you do that I’m not sure. But I managed to, somehow.

I have tank bags on all my bikes and typically I bring maps and have them in the map case on top so that I can refer to them at a glance at any time. Back when there were a lot more guys in the OFMC and John was usually the leader it was not at all unusual for several of them to have no idea which way we were going. They just got in the group and followed whoever was in front of them. John remarked at one point that the only person he trusted to know where they were going was me, because he knew I had a map in front of me at all times. And I generally rode sweep so the other guys could just play dumb and it didn’t matter.

So there I was with no map. It was weird. And uncomfortable. Sure, I would pull out my phone and call up Google Maps before the day’s ride and check out the route. But it’s not the same.

The time it mattered the most was the day we stopped for gas–and tried to get lunch, but didn’t–in Alpine, Arizona and there was confusion about which way we were going. First the group decided to go one way, then we had to wait because one guy was missing, and by the time he showed up a few guys a bit away from the rest of us decided to go a different direction and just took off that way. So the rest of us followed but I was distressed because I knew the way we had intended to go was really nice and I didn’t now anything about this alternate route except that it was a good bit longer.

Well, if I’d had a map in front of me, especially a Butler map, I would have seen that the road we did take was one of the best in Arizona. Heck, I probably would have been pushing that route as the clear best choice. If I’d had a map.

The other time it would have come in handy we were leaving Grants and needed to head west a bit so we could go north and then east. As it was, we went west on I-40 a good ways to Thoreau and went north from there. But before we got to Thoreau we pulled off at Milan to regroup. It turns out, we could have taken the road north out of Milan and gotten where we wanted to go and saved about 60 miles of flat, straight road. I think whoever planned this day’s ride used GPS and GPS does not always give you the best route. I would have seen it on the map and I would have pointed it out. If I’d had a map.

Then later that day we planned to go one route but the guy in the lead went a different way and I knew we had varied from the planned route but I had no idea where he was headed or where we would come out. Nothing would have changed by my knowing but at least I would have been able to see where we were, and where we were headed, and I like to know.

I don’t know about you, but I love maps. I hope I don’t ever forget mine again.

Biker Quote for Today

I do believe it’s time for another adventure.

Getting ready to ride to Bennett.

The early part of this week has been great riding weather, with bad weather coming soon, so of course I was out taking advantage of it.

On Monday I took the V-Strom out and ran the regular errands I carry out each month. Not a lot of miles so I’ve got to get back out on this one again this month if I want to turn over the next 1,000 on the odometer. I’m still about 70 miles away. Maybe today after I finish this post. The weather is supposed to hit tomorrow.

On Tuesday I went out on the Concours for a longer run. I’m still waiting to get the bike in to Rowdy Rocket Garage to get this vacuum issue fixed so I’m still contending with the fact that the engine races like crazy every time I pull the clutch in to shift. I’ve started figuring out how to adapt to the problem at other times. For instance, if I’m coming to a stop I just let the bike slow down a lot before I finally pull in the clutch and downshift. Normally you would be concerned about stalling but this bike is not going to stall. In fact, much of the time I can let go of the throttle just as if I had cruise control on and the bike just keeps going.

This ride just strengthened my resolve that yes, I am going to sell this bike at some point and replace it with something newer and lighter. It just isn’t all that much fun to ride when I’m constantly having to pay attention to this problem. And yes, once I am finally able to have the problem addressed it will eliminate this negative condition but I’m past that. My mind is made up to move on. I was talking to Bruce yesterday and he was saying just go ahead and sell the bike as it is and take whatever you can get. But I don’t think I could find any buyer at this time of year so I’d like to have it fixed so I can enjoy riding it in the next few months before I sell it. At least if it’s not going to cost too much.

Then on Wednesday the RMMRC took a ride out to Bennett for lunch. I rode the CB750.

There were eight of us on this beautiful, warm, sunny day. We headed out down Parker Road, then east on Quincy and out into the country. There are not a lot of options on roads to take going out where we were headed so we just rode the straight out to where we turned north on County Road 129, jogged east and then north under I-70, and reached our destination, the High Plains Diner. We had never been there before and I was favorably impressed. The food was good–nothing spectacular–at very reasonable prices. I would not hesitate to go there again.

Heading out after the meal we didn’t have a lot of choices. We could go back the way we came or we could go east about a mile and take the Kiowa-Bennett Road south. Heading west without going south didn’t offer any attractive options, although I guess we could have gone east on US 30 to Watkins and then south on Watkins Road. We took the Kiowa-Bennett Road.

Two of us were inclined to go on all the way to Kiowa and then turn west but the other six decided just to go south as far as Quincy and then retrace our route there. So we did, then home. But man, it was a great day to be out on a bike.

Biker Quote for Today

One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure it’s worth watching.

That place across the street, just to the right of the stop sign, is where we intended to eat. But no dice on this ride.

As I have remarked previously, I’ve seen yellow leaves before, so going for a fall color ride for me is more about the riding than the color. But if it’s a really nice show of color I certainly appreciate it. Well, apparently the place to go for color this fall was the southern part of Colorado, not the northern part.

Last week the RMMRC did one more fall color ride, this time down to Victor and Cripple Creek. It was a much smaller (seven) and therefore more comfortable group that headed south from Lincoln Avenue down Daniels Park Road, over to Sedalia, and down CO 105 to Monument and then I-25 into Colorado Springs.

We stopped just before turning onto US 24 to shed some layers, though it seemed odd to be taking layers off just as we were about to climb. But I did take off my sweatshirt knowing I could always turn on my electric vest if I needed to. I needed to, and as the temperature dropped as we climbed I soon wished I had left the sweatshirt on. Follow your instincts, not the crowd.

We took US 24 to Divide and turned south on CO 67, but took the fork to the left toward Victor (Teller County Road 821) rather than going into Cripple Creek. The plan was to have lunch in Victor. However, we got to the intended restaurant only to find it closed. This was the second Wednesday in a row that we got somewhere for lunch and found the restaurant closed. Note to all: Any time you plan a lunch ride, call the restaurant first to make sure they’re going to be open.

Meanwhile, backing up, the fall colors along CO 67 were by far the best I’ve seen all year. This is where you needed to go to see fall color. It was definitely beautiful. An unexpected treat.

In the middle of the week there apparently are not very many restaurants open in Victor so we had little choice but to cruise on over to Cripple Creek. But I wondered because I’ve been in Cripple Creek quite a few times and I’ve never identified any particularly good places to eat, unless you want to do some fine dining place in the evening and pay $40 or more for your meal–not what we look for in a lunch stop.

We did see one place, however, that looked like it might be good so that’s where we headed. Funny thing: I can’t remember the name of the place and I stroll down the street on Google Earth and the images are all old, there’s a lot of construction going on, and I can’t find the place. Sorry, I’d like to recommend it because I ordered a pulled pork sandwich and it was one of the best I’ve ever had. Also, Tom ordered an avocado toast and said it was exceptional. It’s on the north side of the street, at the western part of where the street is elevated on one side. If you’ve been to Cripple Creek you know what I mean.

Gearing up before leaving Cripple Creek I was putting my sweatshirt back on and mentioned to Roy how I had thought it odd to remove layers before going up. He said he had that same thought and he did not take anything off. Yeah. Follow your instincts, not the crowd.

We headed straight up to Divide, then east to Woodland Park and then turned north on CO 67 up toward Deckers. Heading toward Divide the sky to the north was starting to look ugly. But where we were it was blue sky and sunshine. OK, enjoy it while you’ve got it.

Heading north out of Woodland Park rain was threatening and soon it was falling. But we rode through it for about a minute and came out on the other side and once again it was blue sky and sunshine. Nice. Up through Deckers and Buffalo Creek to US 285 at Pine Junction and we turned east. Oh boy. Now off to the east the sky didn’t just look threatening, it was black. But there was one spot of lightness on the horizon right exactly where I knew we were headed and I’ll be danged if our luck didn’t hold.

We got all the way to Denver, and I crossed the city on US 285/Hampden and just as I crossed I-25, now two miles from home, it finally started to rain. But even that stopped before I covered those two miles. What a nice day to be out riding! Maybe one of the last really good days we’re going to have for a while.

Biker Quote for Today

If motorcycle riding were a job, I would be the most hardworking employee.

There was a little more color on the south side of Guanella Pass but not a lot.

The RMMRC planned a fall color ride last week so of course I went along. Gathering at the Phillips 66 in Morrison the group was huge. There were at least 14 bikes plus two cars. Wow. Big group, I mentioned to Dave. Yeah, he said, too big.

We headed up Bear Creek Canyon to Evergreen, through town and out the west side on Upper Bear Creek Road to the Witter Gulch Road, which is a really steep climb with super-tight switchbacks near the top. A fun motorcycle road, in other words. At the top you come to CO 103, the Squaw Pass road, which we took left, over the pass, past Echo Lake, and down to Idaho Springs.

It was a really nice day to be riding in the hills, a little cool but I had on full cold weather gear and could not have been more comfortable. But there was not much color to be seen on the way up. That was no surprise to me because Judy and I had just been up to Estes Park, over Trail Ridge Road, and down to Grand Lake the week before and we didn’t see much color then either, and now another week had passed. Mostly the green was just turning brown.

From Idaho Springs we took old US 6 up to Georgetown, where we had a lunch stop planned. Arriving, we found the restaurant closed. Someone had checked with the visitor center and they had pointed us to a brewpub on the east edge of town by the lake. Presumably that was where we were going to go.

Roy asked me to help him push back off this gravel parking area we were on and I did, so I was the very last to leave this first restaurant. I knew where this brew pub was, though, because I had seen it coming into town. As I headed back that way I soon started seeing members of our group coming back toward town, apparently having gone not far enough and thinking they had missed the place. I waved at them to go the way I was headed. Then at the roundabout off I-70 I saw others pulling into a restaurant right there. I waved to them as well but nobody seemed to be following me.

I rode on out to the brew pub and pulled out my phone. Meanwhile, a couple from the group did show up but did not stick around. The only phone number I had was Dave so I called him and told him where I was and that the place was open and there were people inside eating. He told me the place by the roundabout didn’t even open for another 15 minutes and he would tell some of the others but meanwhile he was coming out to join me. A few minutes later he did, no one else did, and we went in to eat. It turned out later that Dave is diabetic and he was nearing a blood sugar crisis so he just needed food, NOW!

So it was kind of pleasant just the two of us. It gave us a chance to talk and get a little better acquainted. I’ve known Dave for about five years now but in a group setting you often don’t have a chance to really get to know people. One on one you do.

After lunch Dave asked if I intended to rejoin the group. I had planned to but he noted that what with finding a place to eat and then getting such a big group served they were not likely to be ready to ride for maybe another hour. He was just going to go on over Guanella Pass without them. Besides, Dave is a go-fast guy and he had not enjoyed the sedate pace you have to take with such a large group.

I went with Dave. At first there was a lot of traffic going up Guanella but apparently a lot of people were planning to hike and every time we passed a trailhead the numbers thinned so soon we were cruising along comfortably. And what a beautiful day! But not much color. Oh well, I’ve seen yellow leaves before.

Over the top and then we pulled out at a view area to get a few photos, such as the one above. Just then in pulled John, another RMMRC member, in his car with his wife, out to see the leaves. Fun. Oh, and there was a bit more color over on the south side of the pass.

So we cruised on down to Grant, picked up US 40 back to town and split up when the time came. It really was a much more pleasant ride just the two of us. I hope the rest of those folks found a good place to eat.

Biker Quote for Today

You are not alone when your bike is with you.

That’s Roy, fourth from left, before our Saturday ride to celebrate his 92nd birthday. We can all wish we’ll still be riding when we’re 92.

On Saturday I rode out with other RMMRC members to a lunch down in Monument for Roy to celebrate his 92nd birthday. That’s right, Roy is 92 and he is still riding. Not just riding. In any given year he probably rides more miles than you do.

It’s no surprise that Roy is an inspiration an awful lot of us in the club. I know I want to be Roy some day. I always end these posts with a Biker Quote for Today and the most apropos of these would be “We don’t stop riding because we get old, we get old because we stop riding.”

This all ties in with an email exchange I’ve been having with Nick, who a couple weeks ago came out from Chicago with his BMW R1250RS. We did three day rides and then a three-day ride while he was here.

Nick had been reading this blog and saw that I was talking about maybe swapping my V-Strom and Concours for one bike that would be between them in size and capable of replacing them both. One bike I’ve identified as a possibility is the Yamaha Tracer. It seems that everyone who I mention this to is wildly enthusiastic about me making the swap. Which, frankly, makes me a little more hesitant.

Anyway, Nick emailed me last week and offered this thought:

I was thinking about your process for potentially getting a new bike. It is understandable you take a lot of time to pull the trigger. My question is what is your “riding life expectancy”? At some point in the not-too-distant future you will likely stop for one reason or another. (This is obvious to you I am sure).

I for one would encourage you to do it sooner rather than later. I am not sure how much longer I will ride but although my bike is expensive to maintain, it is pretty satisfying to ride. If going lighter makes sense, that Tracer seems like a decent bet. I think the GT version runs about 485 lbs wet, vs my 550 lbs with bags.

My reply sums up my current thinking pretty well:

As for riding life expectancy, just yesterday I went out with a bunch of guys for a lunch celebrating birthday 92 of Roy, the RMMRC president. Roy still probably rides more than you and me put together in any given year. I aspire to be Roy, as do many others in the group.

Realistically, I see no reason for me to give up riding any time soon. Having had my heart surgery, without which I would probably already be dead, I’m in extremely good, robust health. If my largest bike–currently my Concours–ever gets to be just too big and heavy I will move to something smaller. I could be riding that V-Strom for a long, long time.

So I’m in no hurry to pull the trigger. And while I have plenty of money, in terms of cash on hand this has been an expensive year. On Tuesday of this week I finally got my final crown on a new implant–the end of about an 11-month process. That tooth cost as much as a new motorcycle.

No, I’m not going to rush into anything. In about a year, if I’m still even thinking about it I may get more serious. Meanwhile, looking at the possibility of getting rid of any of the bikes I have has got me thinking more deeply about what I like about these bikes and why I got them in the first place. In fact, I’m already thinking that heck, I may end up replacing the Concours but I’ll probably not let go of the V-Strom. Stay with three bikes rather than cutting back to two.

It’s that kind of evolution of my thinking that leads me to move slowly.

So don’t expect to be reading anything here anytime soon about me and a new bike. But someday . . .

Meanwhile, yeah, I want to be Roy. I intend to be Roy. And then all these younger guys in that future RMMRC can aspire to be Ken.

Biker Quote for Today

“If you end up with a boring miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your s—, then you deserve it.” — Frank Zappa

Is this where the problem is?

The RMMRC was doing a lunch ride last week and I figured I’d go. The bike to take this day was the Honda CB750. It seemed a little hesitant starting but I didn’t think a lot about that. But I did take note.

We were gathering as we so often do at the Phillips 66 station in Morrison so I headed out that way. Oh my god, what traffic! Bandimere Speedway is immediately north of this station and it turns out they were having some blow-out farewell event. Which is to say, after all these years, Bandimere is shutting down and presumably is moving somewhere else. There was a long line of cars coming off the highway from southbound and that line snaked around and made the right turn onto Rooney Road, which runs up to Bandimere. Normally I would turn onto Rooney and then do a quick left into the station. This time, fortunately, I could go past Rooney and turn into the station’s other exit.

I needed gas so I pulled up to the pump. After filling I wanted to pull over where the other guys were gathered but this time the bike very nearly did not start. Not the hesitation of at home; this time it was extremely iffy. But it did start and I pulled over.

I needed to hit the restroom so I parked and ran and did that and when I got back they were all firing up and getting ready to ride. I turned the key, pushed the starter, and nothing happened. Not for a second or two anyway, but then it fired and caught immediately. I leaned over to Roy and told him I was not sure about my bike, it seemed there was a battery problem. He said he thought I’d be fine, and if need be he had cables to jump-start me. So reluctantly I decided to cruise on.

We rode into Morrison just enough to get on Mount Vernon Avenue, which runs around the east end of town and heads up past Red Rocks. We went on up to and then under I-70 and made a left turn onto old U.S. 40, which runs alongside I-70 heading up Mount Vernon Canyon. For some odd reason there was a ton of traffic here and we had to wait a couple times before we could get through the light and make our turn. And some idiot woman coming the other way thought that she ought to go ahead and make her right turn onto U.S. 40 even though we were clearly using the space but I made it entirely plain to her that I was not yielding.

These were all red flags and I didn’t like how this day was shaping up. Plus, now that we were above the interstate on the side of the hill we could see that it was a parking lot. Good thing we’re not on that road.

Mixed in with us up ahead was a guy in a 1968 Impala and we hadn’t gone very far when he did a quick u-turn and held his finger up waving it in a circle as he went past going the other direction. I didn’t have to wonder why for more than a second or two because I then saw that our road was also a parking lot just ahead. OK, that’s it. I’m taking the hint and going home. I waved to Roy and Charley, behind me, and turned back.

I figured stop-and-go like that is never fun, it’s murder on your clutch wrist, and with a bike that probably won’t start again if I make a small error in hand and foot coordination one of the many times I would need to move forward–going uphill–this just was not something I was going to do. I hoped I would have no problem getting home but as long as I kept the bike running I should be fine. And I was.

At home I flipped open my Samsung tablet and immediately saw an item about a crash on I-70 up by Floyd Hill backing up west-bound traffic. Yep.

So I saw Roy two days later and he told me I made the right choice. They soon turned around and just headed over to a place in Golden to have a somewhat early lunch. Then they all went home. This was a ride that was just not going to happen.

Of course, then I was still going to need to figure out what’s wrong with my bike.

Biker Quote for Today

When writing the story of your life, never let anyone else hold the pen.

The EagleRider tour stopped at Marin Headlands on the last day of the ride.

I got a reminder on this recent RMMRC New Mexico ride of the differences in how Europeans ride vs. Americans. Alberto, who I guess I haven’t mentioned before, is Italian. He connected with the RMMRC for this trip because someone posted the ride on the BMW riders club‘s events listing. Welcome Alberto.

I rode with a bunch or Europeans way back in 2010 on a media tour hosted by EagleRider. There were French, Italians, Brits, Canadians, and even a few of us from the U.S. And it turns out that accepted protocol varies from one country to another.

Alberto reminded me of all this by the way he rode so close behind the leader whenever he was riding second. That is to say, he didn’t ride so close when he was further back. My interpretation was that when he had people in front of him riding at a decent gap he fell into the same pattern, but when the only one in front of him was the leader he was always right behind the leader.

For most people in this country–certainly for me–that’s a no-no. I don’t want somebody crowding me like that.

But here’s the thing: For the most part, those guys are much better riders than 90 percent of American riders. Their training and licensing rules are vastly stricter than what we have here. In short, they ride close together because they know the other people around them, in cars and on motorcycles, are highly trained and skilled and they can all do this together safely. Say that about Americans and you’ll get laughed out of the room.

I remember on that EagleRider tour being really annoyed by how these guys would be right on my butt, and some of the others were also not pleased. But for them it was perfectly normal. I mean, I consider myself a pretty darn good rider but I would not be at all comfortable going 130 on the Autobahn. That’s what these guys do–safely.

Could we have stricter training and licensing regulations–and safer roads? Probably not a chance. Over there driving is defined as a privilege, one you have to earn. Over here it is deemed a right and don’t you dare try to impinge on my rights. And yes, that includes my right to talk on my cell phone while I’m driving in heavy traffic. (Not!)

But even if you really are that skilled, I’d appreciate it if you would give me a bit more space. It’s just what my comfort level desires.

Biker Quote for Today

Riding a motorcycle is like an art–something you do because you feel something inside.