Passes & Canyons Blog

Following the let-down of my recent aborted California trip with the RMMRC I’m definitely pleased that we have another ride coming right up. Nothing like the California trip but hey, you take what you can get.

This is just going to be a two-day trip, up to either Craig or Meeker and back the next day. Craig or Meeker is dependent on where you want to go. Some guys will stay in Craig while others go on to Meeker. Then in the morning the Meeker contingent will return to Craig and we’ll ride home together.

Why the split? In one case it’s a matter of someone who is recovery from surgery not being sure what he can endure, and the shorter ride to Craig is preferable. Others just don’t see any point of going to Meeker and backtracking.

But for those of us going to Meeker–and I am–it’s because Craig is really nothing special and Meeker is a cool little town. Plus we’ll be staying at the Meeker Hotel, which is a very cool and newly remodeled old hotel on the town plaza. Plus, if you’re dollar-conscious, the Meeker Hotel is cheap–$80 a night.

Wherever each person stays, the real thing is going to be the route coming and going. You can get to Meeker quickly by taking I-70 to Rifle and turning north, but who wants to ride the slab? So we’ll leave Parker in the morning and take some smaller roads up to Empire–with a few miles of unavoidable I-70–and then take some meandering routes home. It’ll be fun. Now we can just hope this heat wave is done by then but at least if not we’ll be up in the high country where it’s cooler.

And we’ll be on motorcycles. What else really matters?

Biker Quote for Today

I’ll linger here as long as I can . . . but there’s a curve approaching, so I let off the gas, take a deep breath and let out a sign of relief. I think I found what I was looking for. It’s time to head back home.

We get less extreme, and we like to think smarter, as we get older. At least everybody I know has.

Do you ever drink and ride your motorcycle? I never do now but I sure can’t say that about years ago.

Take for example one night John and I spent in Laramie. He and I had taken just a two-day ride, up through North Park and the Snowy Range to Laramie, motel, home down I-25 the next day.

This was in the really early days, maybe our second overnight trip ever. The first had been a three-night thing with Bill along. Bill couldn’t get free for this so it was just John and me.

We were young and out for a good time. And what is there to do in Laramie on a Saturday night but hit the bars? So that’s what we did. This bar. That bar. That bar. And how about that bar.

As you might assume, we drank quite a bit. But no problem, we were only about two miles from our motel. And we weren’t drunk. No, I’m sure of that. Absolutely. I think.

Either way, we were not going especially slow heading back to the motel, and with John in the lead, we got to the turn into the motel and he just whipped right into that turn . . . and I’ve never seen a bike go from upright to on the ground so quickly in my life.

John was just scraped up a little and his bike just dinged up a little–worst thing was his windshield was smashed–but he was thinking about other things. Like the cops coming along and stopping and then having him do a breathalyzer test. He yelled at me to help him get the bike back up quickly and then he pulled on into the safety of the motel parking lot. Fun night.

Then there was another time, when the OFMC was in Idaho and we pulled over at this bar in Arco. We had a good time with the locals in that bar, even bought a round for the house, and then we were on our way again. We weren’t drunk. No, I’m sure we weren’t. But we sure did find that going really fast was a lot of fun. Who knew it could be that much fun? And nothing happened. We reached our destination OK.

There were plenty of other times when we had a drink or two along the way, and that doesn’t even address the many times we would do a joint or a pipe at a stop along the road.

We don’t do any of those things anymore. But man, we sure used to. And we’re still alive and in one piece. It’s nice living charmed lives.

Biker Quote for Today

The turbulence of the mind begins to calm, and all the noise of modern life becomes quiet. Regrets of the past, worries of the future, anxieties, loneliness and the fear of death. Those demons . . . they all fade into the background in a cloud of dust as your body tunes into the present. It’s like that momentary state of enlightenment that monks and mystics spend a lifetime chasing.

We’ve all run out of gas at some point. On this Adventure Riders thread some folks tell their stories. I’m just passing along the most interesting or amusing.

• Last year my brother in law was riding my 1989 NX650 which had recently had the petcock replaced because it would not shut off. The new replacement petcock came from Amazon.com. (You know where this is going) He went on reserve with 5 miles to the gas station. He coasted in, had to push it the last 50 yards. Got a replacement petcock that now gives me a measured 15 miles on reserve, but had to splice an extra shutoff valve into the petcock-to-carb line to actually shut off all fuel flow as the OFF position on the current petcock still dribbles.
• 3 months ago. On my way from home in Sacramento to Moraga to watch a rugby match. I thought there was a litre of fuel in the tube behind the pannier and decided I would try to see exactly how far this new-to-me ST would go before she ran out. Well, the answer was two miles before the next exit/fuel station.
• When my Ford failed to start at a family picnic (and appeared to not be getting gas) I immediately switched out the fuel pump. To no avail. Fortunately, a much more mechanically savvy relative pointed out that even hot rod Fords needed gas to run. Yep, tank was empty. Lesson learned. First and only time I’ve run out of fuel.
• 2015, the one and only time. I was completing a 40K-mile round the world trip and was a day from home on my 2008 12gs. Since filling up in the morning I was averaging about 50 mph on old US highways. I recall looking at the fuel gage, which read a quarter tank and at the odometer, which said 245 miles and I thought I was going to break my record of 270 miles between fill ups! A minute later it died.
• I ran out on the 101 coming into Santa Barbara once on the KLR. It died just as I made the exit for my planned stop. The freeway was elevated at that point, so the exit was downhill… I made a right turn without stopping & just about rolled in front of the pump!
• My son ran out of gas on the freeway. I had to drive up there about 45 miles to give him some gas. Turned out he didn’t realize he had a reserve position on the petcock.
• 2 years ago riding along the Wisconsin river. My new bike had a low gas light that was impossible to see in the daytime so I used the trip meter as my gas gauge. Of course I forgot to reset it. I puttered to a stop in a turn out. To far to walk to the next town so I stuck my thumb out. Young guy pulled over and gave me a ride to the next town where I got a gas can and he returned me to my bike. Of course I left my action cam in his car so I had to chase him down as he was returning the gas can to the station.

Running out of gas. What fun. I know none of us will make those mistakes again. We’ll just make new ones.

Biker Quote for Today

Motorcycles are a solitary endeavor, and the experience enhances life and death in a singular way. — Jon Robertson

The Motorcycle Riders Foundation (MRF) is to the national scene what the state-level ABATEs are to the state scenes. A motorcycle rights organization working to protect our rights and shape legislation in ways beneficial to, or at least not detrimental to, riding motorcycles.

I generally tend to support what the MRF works for but in the most recent case I personally feel the group has gone a bit off the deep end. Specifically, in a letter to Sean Duffy, the U.S. Secretary of Transportation, it said:

The MRF strongly opposes the Biden Administration’s Corporate Average Fuel Economy (CAFE) standards finalized in June 2024, which require automakers’ new vehicle fleets to reach an average of 53.5 miles per gallon by model year 2032.

Now wait. The CAFE standards relate only to cars. What does this have to do with motorcycles?

OK, the letter continues and explains the concern:

The CAFE standards drive automakers to increase production of electric vehicles and phase out
internal combustion (ICE) engines. As these manufacturers pivot resources toward electric
vehicle (EV) compliance, we expect reduced investment and innovation in ICE technology, which
powers most motorcycles. This shift could lead to:
• Reduced availability of affordable support technologies and fuels for motorcycle riders
• Distorted market dynamics and limited consumer choice
• Decreased relevance and impact of the aftermarket parts industry
• Rural motorcyclists being disproportionately impacted due to insufficient infrastructure

Yeah, OK, so you’re saying let’s nullify technological advancements for cars in order to insure that motorcycles won’t be orphaned. Guys, that’s a really weak argument. First off, there are a gazillion cars pumping out megatons of air pollution while there are–to be generous–significantly fewer motorcycles. Gosh, I don’t know. I kind of like breathing clean air and while theoretically the technological advancement of motorcycles might be negatively impacted, I really don’t believe it will grind to a halt.

I also don’t understand what they’re saying about rural motorcyclists being disproportionately impacted. I guess the build-out of charging stations in rural areas will be slower than in metro areas but at the same time I suspect the phasing out of the gasoline supply industry will also be slower in rural areas, especially as long as farmers use gas- or diesel-powered farm implements.

Nope. This is a case where I definitely break with the MRF. You guys do good work but we all screw up some times.

Biker Quote for Today

Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing. — Hunter S. Thompson

Do you ever just really want to get away from the guys you’re hanging out with? Like your riding buddies? Like you’ve been on a trip and while you love the trip you’re really looking forward to getting home so you won’t have to be with these guys for awhile?

I keep a journal and I’ve been reading back through it and there have been a number of times when I have remarked that I was really sick of being with the guys. Now, these are my best and closest friends–excluding my very closest friend, my wife–here in town. (I do have really close friends in other towns.) These are the guys I go camping with, play poker with, meet out for coffee. And after a week on the road with them I’m really sick of them.

Here are some remarks from my journal, circa 1992:

So I got really tired of being with XXXX but it wasn’t like last year when I came home with an active dislike for him. Our relationship really is shallow, to the point where we ran out of things to talk about and sat around bars at night not saying a word. This was a good trip but clearly I would rather have been on one bike with a lady friend.

Wow. Yeah, I guess just because you hang out with someone for a lot of years that doesn’t necessarily mean you are close to them. Doesn’t mean they’re not your friends. They are.

My good friend Jungle told me emphatically a few years ago that I need to get some new friends. But that’s the thing. When it’s these guys who you discovered the wonderfulness of motorcycles with, and they like to ride, you kind of go with the guys who like to ride.

Anyway, I know just from memory–I haven’t gotten that far reading my journal–that on most OFMC trips by the time I got home I was really glad to get away from the others. I always presumed they were equally glad to get away from me. It’s a test of any relationship to be together that much. In the early days we always, the three of us, shared one motel room. We were together all day, and all night.

So it was the desire to find some new riding buddies, people interested in riding more often, that led me to join the RMMRC. I do feel like I’m making friends in this group and like I’m a core member of the group. It’s good to have riding buddies. And maybe in 20 years I won’t personally be any closer to any of these new friends than to my old ones, but I will have been on a whole bunch of really good rides. With people I enjoy being with.

Biker Quote for Today

It’s a dangerous game we’re playing here. Walking the tightrope between nirvana and disaster, with no margin for error. But that’s when things really start to get interesting.

Riding with friends has a lot going for it, not the least being that if you have a problem you have someone to help you out. And I’ve done plenty of riding with friends. But I’ve got to tell you, I really love riding alone. I just love the ability to ride at your own pace, stop when you want, where you want, and change your plans on a whim. (I wonder where this road goes . . . )

This recent RMMRC California trip was a case in point. I started out with five other guys but then got sick. I peeled off from the group on day three, spent that day being sick in my motel room, and then started home alone the next day.

The two days with the group were fine but there were all sorts of compromises to be made. For instance, I’m more of a sedate rider. I like to take it easy. If I’m on the interstate–which we were that first day–I don’t need to go 80. But we did, and I did. No big deal; just not my preference.

So after my sick day I was alone. The first stretch of road I would cover was Utah 72, just 35 miles to I-70. What a sweet road! It started out meandering up through a valley filled with farms and ranches. Everything was green with spring and it was just so pleasant. I was in no hurry, and there was no other traffic so I could go at whatever speed suited me.

The road climbed out of the valley and followed the ridge line northeast into another higher valley, this time only open range and no farms. Then up a good bit more. This area is known as the San Rafael Swell region and it’s beautiful. Why would I want to hurry through this? I didn’t.

Now I was really climbing and it was getting cold. I found myself at the top of Hogan Pass, at just a hair under 9,000 feet, and the view was spectacular. But how many times have I been with a group and rather than stop and enjoy the view we have just blasted on through? Many, many times I can assure you. Not when I’m riding alone though.

After the pass it was all downhill, through more hills and ridges. And then the interstate. Cruising along it wasn’t particularly pleasant. The wind was whipping and I was starting to not feel so great. I knew about a rest area up ahead, however, that I figured would be a nice stop. Once again, with a group you don’t want to make everyone conform to your wishes but on my own I could do anything I wanted–or needed–to do. I stopped. I found a nice smooth boulder and lay down and closed my eyes. After 20 minutes of soaking up the warmth of the sun I was ready to go on.

The rest of my trip home was like this. I left when I was ready. I stopped when I needed to, or wanted to. I ate when and where I wanted.

Motorcyclists always talk about the freedom of being on a bike. But I don’t see it. Not unless you’re riding alone. Back in my old Examiner.com days I did a couple pieces about the Ride For The Wall, an event of mostly military vets remembering MIAs and POWs. I didn’t see any freedom going on there. That was all strictly regimented the way only vets can be. Heck, I got screamed at for trying to enter a gas station differently than their whole group was being channeled and I was not a member of their group.

I’ve also heard a lot about the 1%er clubs and how they have and enforce strict rules about group riding. And I’m not referring to riding in staggered formation. I strongly agree with that concept. That’s just common sense.

So yeah, I like riding with a group at times. But what I really love the most is when I just head out on my own. That’s freedom.

Biker Quote for Today

If you drive a car you’re responsible for your car. If you ride a motorcycle you are responsible for every car around you.