Passes & Canyons Blog

Granted I don’t fill my cart at Costco like some people do, but this was a pretty typical run for me, and it all fit in the V-Strom’s bags.

So I did it. I finally made a coronavirus era trip to Costco and I did it on the V-Strom as I had said I would. I bought everything on my list and a few extras and the huge bags that bike has ate every bit of it and could have held more.

First off, the bike came to me with two absolutely enormous Givi side bags. I don’t normally keep them on the bike except when I travel but I put them on for this occasion. And there is also a fairly large top bag on the rear that holds quite a bit, too. Heck, as long as I’m not buying some ginormous package of toilet paper–Costco size–I could probably do most of my Costco shopping on this bike.

Not having been to Costco in about six weeks, before all of this coronavirus shutdown got rolling, I was a bit leery, wondering what it would be like. I pulled in and the parking lot was not as full as normal but I could see a long line of folks waiting to get inside. I parked and put on my mask and took my place in line. They have freshly painted markers every six feet along the sidewalk to keep people from getting too close.

I pulled out my phone to text Judy to say I was in a line to get in, but it was moving quickly, but the lady just in front of me turned to me and started chatting. I never did text Judy because we talked motorcycles the whole while that we waited.

Yes, she was retired, about my age, and she used to ride motorcycles. She said she rode a Harley Low Rider for many years but then a friend suffered a horrible crash and was left a quadriplegic. That scared Wanda (that’s who this was) and she decided that if you’re scared you have no business on a motorcycle. So she sold it.

But she missed riding and after awhile she bought a Yamaha V-Star. She said she really liked the V-Star better than the Low Rider but after awhile she got scared again and sold it. But she was adamant that she continues to keep her M on her driver’s license. She might yet ride again some day and lord knows you don’t want to have to take that rider’s test again.

So we talked bikes. She asked me if I’d ever gone down and I told her about the time up by Deckers when I was coming down the gravel road pretty slowly when a dog walked out right in front of me from between two parked cars. She told me about putting her foot down once at a stop and discovering only then that there was a rut and only air where she expected pavement. I said yeah, I’ve done that, too.

She also told me of how she twice got her leg burned by the exhaust on that Low Rider. I concurred and told he that while I have never owned a Harley I have ridden them at times. Once it was raining and I had my rain suit on and at a stop one time I looked down to see that the leg of my rain suit was melting against the pipe.

In this manner we whiled away the time until we got to go in. And then for the first time in weeks, the store had everything I came for. And the bags swallowed everything I bought.

Biker Quote for Today

Biker Mom. Like a regular mom only cooler.

An earlier RMMRC ride.

There were about 10 guys but only 4 motorcycles showing up Wednesday morning for the RMMRC‘s regularly scheduled breakfast and ride. I was on my V-Strom while the other bikes were two Goldwings and one Shadow. It was definitely cool but if you wore the right gear it was a very nice day to ride.

I sure wore the right gear. I had my electric vest and my heated gloves, plus my Rev-It riding pants with long underwear underneath. I’ve got to tell you, the more I wear those pants the more I fall in love with them. This was a really, really good purchase.

One of the four of us riders was Don, who got connected to the group via the Meet-Up site. Don came all the way down from Louisville. It was his birthday and he had taken the day off from work, so he wanted to ride. Welcome Don, I hope we see you again.

Having Don join us was indicative of a shift in RMMRC thinking. The group for years had maintained a standalone website but the member who was supposed to be tending to it managed to let the hosting contract lapse. We had already added the Meet-Up page and that has the advantage of exposing other people to the fact of the club’s existence and, at times at least, bringing them to the rides. After some discussion it was decided not to reestablish the old web site, just use Meet-Up. So if you have any old bookmarks for www.rmmrc.org you might as well delete those.

The ride was no big deal; we didn’t have anything great in the way of ideas–just let’s go ride. We wound our way, avoiding highways, to the underpass under I-25 just north of the Castle Pines exit and then over to Daniels Park, down to US 85, up through Sedalia to pick up C-470 and then went our separate ways where that road intersected US 285. Robert and I headed east and home from there while Don continued north toward home. Bob had split off for home back at Daniels Park.

The thing is, the route was not important. It was just a great January day to be out on the bikes. It was windy, especially along the foothills, so I had chosen the V-Strom. I really wanted to ride the Concours but with all its body work it acts like a sail in high winds. I still got blown around on the V, just not as much.

So, we’ve had a lot of cool but clear days so far this January. You don’t have to have electrics, although I strongly recommend them. Just dress with all the warmth you can and get out there. There’s a lot of good riding to be done.

Biker Quote for Today

Why bikes are better than women: When riding, you and your Motorcycle both arrive at the same time.

Left to right, my V-Strom, Concours, and CB750 Custom.

Every year about this time I start thinking about the riding I hope to get in before the end of the year. It’s totally arbitrary but one thing I do is look at the odometers on each of the bikes and try to get each one to turn over one more thousand mile mark before the year is out. I usually fail.

Usually I seem to be more than 500 miles off the next thousand on all three bikes. Back when I only had one bike that was a possibility, to ride that much in the time remaining. Now with three bikes it’s much less possible, unless I just go crazy and ride and ride and ride every warm day we have.

This year is a little different. I’m only 24 miles from the next 1,000 on the Honda. For once I’m going to roll that one over, no doubt. And while this will depend on the weather, I may very well roll the Kawi over, too. That bike is only 257 miles away from its next 1,000. Heck, I’ve got more than two months to do that.

But then there’s the V-Strom. That’s a different story. I’m more than 600 miles shy of the next 1,000 on that bike and while that’s certainly possible, I know myself and I just don’t expect it to happen. Besides, that means all three together would be about 900 miles. Heck, I’m absolutely certain I won’t drive my car 900 miles in the time between now and December 31, and it goes places even when there’s snow on the ground.

Sure I could go out on a nice day and ride to Lamar and back but what would be the point of that? And the fact is, I’m one of the most environmentally conscious people I know and I have questioned myself more than once on the idea that for recreation I go out and burn dead dinosaurs. How much does that cancel out all the recycling and composting and public transit riding I do?

No, I’ll get out on each of these bikes several more times this year but only for a fun time, not to grind out miles just to meet some arbitrary objective. But who knows. If the weather permits the RMMRC to continue these every other weekly Wednesday rides those miles will add up. I’ll be choosing which bike to ride based on how close each is to that next 1,000.

Biker Quote for Today

Got a big bucket list, and before I kick it, gonna buy me a Harley and Route Sixty-Six it. — Billy Currington

So the tank on this bike is not bottomless. Who knew?

I told about riding home from Deckers on the V-Strom with the you-need-gas-now! icon flashing ominously, all the while nervously confident that I had enough to get home OK.

The next time I rode that bike I was going with the RMMRC on one of the regular Wednesday morning rides. I got a late start so I figured I would get over there, let them know I was coming along, and hurry off to fill the tank. But this was Wednesday last week and it was a cold, rainy morning. I also just threw my weather gear in the bags, intending to put that on once I had connected with the group.

I got to the gathering place just a couple minutes late, which should not have been an issue because they never get off exactly at the designated hour. But there were zero bikes in the parking lot. Now, some guys come just for the breakfast and camaraderie with no intention of going along on the ride. I figured there might be some folks inside but with no bikes it was clear none of them intended to ride, so that was irrelevant for me. I wanted to ride.

It was also possible I had missed them, that they had already left to ride. But I know where these guys park and there were cars in those parking spaces and if they left just two minutes before I got there those spaces would not yet have been filled.

Whatever the situation, there was not going to be an RMMRC ride for me this morning. So I headed toward home but thought about getting gas. Ultimately I decided I was cold and gas could wait for later. So now the tank was even lower than before.

Yesterday was a much warmer day and I figured I really needed to get gas in that bike. Plus, I wanted to go for a ride.

I wheeled the V-Strom out on the driveway, climbed on, turned the key, and pushed the start button. It cranked and cranked and cranked but would not start. It was facing downhill so I thought maybe if I leveled it out that would allow gas to reach the fuel intake. That didn’t work. Then I tried facing it uphill. That didn’t work either.

Obviously I was really, really low on gas. I know that while a low tank can cause problems starting, nevertheless if the bike is running it can keep running. The problem is getting the fuel flowing in the first place. We have several gas can around home and two were completely empty but the third had just a little in it, maybe two tablespoons. I dribbled that in and hoped it would do the trick.

It did not. So I did the only thing I could do. I got in my car and drove to a station and filled the gas can. Then I came back and poured just about half a pint in and now it started. Then I went and got gas.

Now I know this bike just a little better than I did before.

Biker Quote for Today

If driving a convertible is topless why can’t I ride my Harley in the nude? — Tom T. Hall

Strapping the bike down before driving to Idaho Falls.

Our experience on the recent OFMC trip where Dennis inadvertently put diesel in his Indian has led me to think about some things I hadn’t considered before. Primarily, the importance of being close to someone who can work on your motorcycle when need be.

It’s no secret that there are one heck of a lot more Hondas or Harleys on the road than there are Indians. First off, the modern-day Indians are a much newer brand than Harley, plus they cost a lot. So–so far at least–Indian is sort of a niche brand.

Thus, the economics of the situation dictate that there are a lot fewer Indian dealerships around and also not all that many independent shops with experience working on Indians. And when you paid something in the mid-20s or more for your Chieftain I’m guessing you aren’t comfortable letting just any wrench jockey tear into it.

But what do you do when you break down? In Dennis’s case, he rented a U-Haul truck and we loaded the bike in and drove more than 200 miles out of our way to get to the nearest dealer. That will disrupt your trip in a hurry.

If it had been Bill, on the other hand, who rides a Harley, we would only have needed to get the bike another 40 miles or so in the direction we were heading to find a Harley shop. Same thing for me on my Suzuki V-Strom. And there are plenty of all-makes shops that would have been fully competent to work on either of our bikes. Perhaps they would also have been fully competent to work on Dennis’s bike but as I say, he was not particularly willing to take that chance.

So obviously, if you’re like Dennis and you ride a bike where repair options are sparse you are going to make an extra careful point to be sure the bike is in top condition before you take off on a trip like this. But Dennis didn’t break down; he made a mistake at the pumps and grabbed the wrong pump.

I’m sure this is not an irrelevant issue for some people when they’re deciding which bike to buy. And it has to be a chicken and egg thing: how do you get the sales without the dealer networks, but how do you support the dealer networks before you have the sales? I guess in this case it helps to be a big corporation like Polaris that can afford to subsidize the new brand for awhile from sales of the established brand. But even they don’t have infinite resources.

I guess I’ll stick with my Honda, Kawasaki, and Suzuki bikes. There are a lot of them out there.

Meanwhile, I want to note that as I prepped to write this piece I googled Honda, Harley, and Indian dealerships in Colorado and was amazed–as I periodically am–at how many shops come and go. And then there are those who change their names. I try to keep my “Colorado Motorcycle Dealers and Repair Shops” page reasonably current but this is an ever-changing target. I ended up adding about eight new shops and revising the name on two. About once a year I try to go through and click each link to see who is no longer in business, and there are always a bunch of those. Ah, the joys of running a website.

Biker Quote for Today

Reasons not to date a motorcyclist: We never ask for directions. Getting lost is usually the point on a motorcycle.

You can see that flashing, hollow bar right in the center of this shot.

The benefit of being very familiar with your motorcycle is obvious. You know where everything is and you know what to expect. Still, there are some things that only come into play occasionally and so perhaps you’re not as familiar with them as you are with the bike in general.

I went for a ride yesterday with members of the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Riders Club (RMMRC) and this was one of those times.

I was on the V-Strom and unlike my other bikes, the V-Strom has a gas gauge and no reserve. Because this bike has a larger tank and gets better gas mileage than my friends’ bikes I generally find myself filling up before I would actually need to. I’ve never run out of gas on this bike. Which means that I have never found the true limit to how far it can go on a tank of gas.

Taking off yesterday I thought I had plenty of gas. The gauge is in bars; five bars is full. I didn’t look at it closely but was figuring just from how much I’d ridden it lately that I had four bars. It wasn’t until it was too late to do anything about it that I noticed I was at three bars. That made me a little uncomfortable but I still figured I had plenty.

Our route was to be out U.S. 285 up to Pine Junction, south to Deckers, and then back along the Platte, up by the Rampart Range, and down to Sedalia. Then home. Not that long a ride.

So there I was at three bars and to my dismay, I dropped to two bars right away. Oh gosh, I’ve got a whole lot less gas than I thought I did.

OK, now here’s what you need to understand about this gas gauge. The five bars do not represent equal amounts of gas. I generally will get 100 miles before the first bar disappears and I’m running on four bars. Then the next three go away fairly quickly and then the fifth bar is closer to the first in mileage. I was talking about it once to my friend, Kevin, who sold me the bike, and I can’t remember the figure he threw out but basically he said you have a whole lot of miles left when you go to one bar.

Another thing to understand is that switching between the odometer and the trip meter on this bike is a pain in the butt. And it’s one or the other, as opposed to my other bikes where you see both at the same time. So after riding this bike for more than six years I still don’t have a good feel for how many miles each bar represents.

Anyway, at two bars I was a bit concerned but not a lot. And then it went down to one bar really quickly. Uh oh, I don’t like this.

Now, what happens when you go to one bar is, I would guess, intended to make you nervous and persuade you to fill up as soon as you can. First a flashing gas pump icon appears next to that one bar but then you go a few miles further and the solid black bar changes to a hollow red flashing bar, as shown in the photo above. Now I’m really getting uncomfortable.

The saving grace in all this is my experience the first time this happened. I was out with the OFMC and we had spent the night in Meeker. I had arrived there via a different route than the other guys and unbeknownst to me, they had gassed up upon arriving in town. I had not. We headed out of town in the morning and as we neared Rangely I saw I was down to two bars. Just shy of town we turned south on CO 139 over Douglas Pass down to Loma. And very soon after that I went to one bar and it started flashing red. Oh crap.

It’s about 70 miles from Rangely to Loma with no gas in between. I sweated that ride. But I got there. So that told me I could get at least 70 miles on one bar. So there we were yesterday up in Deckers, and I knew it was less than 70 to home. But I was still nervous. Still, I was with other guys and I carry a siphon hose on each of my bikes so I figured I’d be fine.

We reached I-25 at Castle Pines Parkway and split up and then I only needed to go another 10-12 miles–with no ready assistance at hand. With each mile I felt more and more relaxed and rolled happily into our driveway. As I said, it’s really good to be familiar with your bike.

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker if you’ve spent more on your motorcycle than your education.

Norvin took a spill but was unhurt and there were plenty of folks to help him get back upright.

OK, now, this is the kind of riding that I bought the V-Strom for. And finding people to do this with is a large part of why I joined the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Riders Club.

I met up on Saturday with three guys at Performance Cycle and we were joined by three others in Sedalia. This ride was billed as a non-technical dual-sport ride. You bet I clicked the button to say “count me in.”

Leaving Performance we headed south on I-25 to Happy Canyon Road, down to U.S. 85, where we turned north to Sedalia. Our bikes included two 650 V-Stroms, two Africa Twins, one GS 650, a Super Tenere, and a street bike that I guess I didn’t bother to look at to see what it was. Or else I don’t remember.

With everyone gathered, we headed west out of Sedalia on what I see is called Jarre Canyon Road for a ways before it seems to just become CO 67. Once it gets past the Rampart Range dirt-biking area the pavement ends and we were on our first stretch of gravel. It’s good gravel and while I was concerned it might be muddy due to all the rain we have had, it turned out only to be a bit wet. I only slid once going down this really steep grade (19% I’m told) when I downshifted thinking I was in third but was actually in second, so it was a bit of a jolt to hit first.

CO 67 brought us out to the Platte River onto pavement at the Platte and we wound our way on around to Deckers, where we stopped for a break. Then we turned north for a short distance on Douglas County Road 126, to Wigwam Creek Road, which heads over toward Tarryall Reservoir. This was our second stretch of gravel, and by far the longest of the two.

Now, I had had this stretch in mind for some time as a potential ride because a couple years ago Judy and I had driven this road in her Subaru. At the time, though, there were large stretches where it was deeply rutted and largely washed out, and would have been challenging on a bike. It has since been graded and was a good road all the way.

So we headed up the gravel, me in third position, and within less than a half mile I came around a bend to see Norvin, the group leader, on his side at the side of the road. Whoa, what happened?! He said he hit some sand with his front wheel and the whole thing just went right out from under him. Norvin was unhurt and the bike was pretty much undamaged, except the latch for his right side bag, which he reattached. This was a good example of why it’s nice to have friends along. He was back up and ready to go quickly.

But only a very short distance. That bag attachment was more badly damaged than he thought and in very short order the bag was just hanging loose. So we stopped again and someone produced a bungee cord. That did the trick and all was well.

The rest of the ride on this road was beautiful. This whole area got burned in one of the really big fires a few years ago but with all the rain it was deeply green everywhere. And the one very small upside of forest fires is that they open up the view and you can see rock formations and vistas that for decades had been blocked by trees.

We met the pavement again at Park County Road 77, Tarryall Road, and turned south to U.S. 24 at Lake George. Lunch time, at the Bla Bla Blah Cafe. Yes, that is its name. After lunch I believe the plan had been to head back north past Tarryall to U.S. 285 at Jefferson and home via that route, but the sky up that way was black and threatening so the decision was made to head east on U.S. 24. Three members of the group turned north at Woodland Park on CO 67 but I stayed with the others on U.S. 24 down into Colorado Springs.

Cindy, who lives in the Springs, peeled off there and Norvin and Kevin and I got on I-25 up to Monument. We turned east on CO 105 over to CO 83 and then north. Coming along past Castlewood Canyon State Park I could see over in the foothills how black and wet it looked and was very glad I had opted for this route. I came up CO 83 to I-225 and got into some rain going past Kennedy Golf Course but then I was home and dry.

This was a terrific day. I really, really want to do more of this.

Biker Quote for Today

While the big GS is a competent street mount, and great on back roads, don’t even think about riding it fast off road. This would be as absurd as a fat transvestite running in high heels.

At times like this you kind of feel stupid.

If I remember correctly, the first time I dropped a motorcycle it wasn’t actually even me doing the dropping. I was still learning how to park a bike properly and this was a lesson. I rode over on my Honda CB750 Custom to where John was watching his son’s soccer game and I just parked in the lot. When I came back it was laying on its side. Wind, I guess? Beats me, I never really knew. But it bent the brake lever and when we tried to bend it back the thing snapped.

There was another time when I didn’t do the dropping, either. I parked my Kawasaki Concours in the only place I could find and I was nervous about the angle. The Connie stands up pretty straight even on level ground and this was not level. I came back and found it on its side. I hate that. Now in a situation like that I would use the center stand.

But what about when YOU actually drop the bike? It usually seems to happen in a parking lot. You’re padding along on the bike to park it and you let it get away from you. Who hasn’t done that? I don’t see any hands raised.

I’m sure I did it at least a couple times in the early days and it was just like I said, in a parking lot. Really glad to have the guys there to help me get it back up.

Then when the Concours was new I had the most unnerving drop I’ve ever had. The Connie is tall and I was still learning to be comfortable on a bike that high. Judy and I had ridden out to Eldorado Springs to hike a bit in the park there. The parking lot was gravel so when we were leaving I told her to wait until I got it turned around–I was not at all confident on this bike in this situation.

So I fired it up and started to try to ride a tight 180 . . . and failed miserably. Down went the bike. Fortunately several guys rushed over to help me get it back up but I was really shaken. My low confidence was down to zero. But we had to get home so with my heart pounding and butterflies in my stomach I got back on and told Judy to get on. And I was never so glad to get home.

And there are other stories, such as the time last year when the OFMC came into Ruidoso and at a sharply angled intersection on a downhill slope I was turning my head far to the left to look for traffic and just put the Suzuki V-Strom down. Or the time I was parking the Kawi at work at the National Park Service and just totally failed as I tried to rock it up onto its center stand (that photo above).

What can you say? Stuff happens, and usually when it does you feel more than a little bit stupid. But we all do it. I’ve helped the other guys pick up their bikes more than once. Heck, Bill and I helped John pick his Shadow up twice in one day. I’m just glad the only time I’ve ever gone down on the bike while in motion we were only going about 5 miles per hour. And that was the fault of that dang dog. And yeah, it took a little courage to get back on the bike after that one, too. But again, we were way out there and had to get home. You’ve just gotta do it.

Biker Quote for Today

There are worse ways to die than on a motorcycle. All the better ways are boring.