Passes & Canyons Blog

Along with pretty much all other aspects of our lives, electronics have infiltrated motorcycling, and it was very evident in this recent Great River Road ride I did with the RMMRC.

Right from the start we headed out with three people linked via helmet communicators. One, Dave, was in the lead, and Bob and Charley spaced themselves out throughout the group. This way Dave, up in front, was relieved of the age old concern of the leader to make sure everyone got through a light or saw we were turning. It was remarked that ideally, Roy, who always rides sweep, would be connected as well but Roy is pretty tech-phobic. So Charley stayed close to the back and reported to the front.

Several people had GPS units on their bikes, including Bob and Dave. As we were gearing up to take off from Patty Ann’s in Kiowa, Tom was fumbling with his GPS unit but unlike other times he had used it he could not get the suction cup to hold onto the inside of his windscreen. He finally gave it up rather than continue to delay because we were all just sitting there waiting for him. I don’t think he ever tried using it again the rest of the trip.

This trip had been planned as one in which each person would go their own way, either alone or with a few others, following their own preferred itinerary, with the only constant being that at the end of the day we would all end up in the same place. Roy had distributed maps showing the general route and everyone had a sheet listing the stops each day. Plus, everyone now has a cellphone and with Google Maps and other tools there should be no one who can’t find their way.

It didn’t work out exactly like that. On the third day Tom got separated from the rest of us and I don’t know if he hadn’t looked at the general route, didn’t want to bother checking his phone for location and route, or what, but while the rest of us were headed to Hannibal, Missouri, he ended up heading away from the river, up through central Illinois in a direct route to Davenport, Iowa, our stop for the night.

Then, in Hannibal, we were talking at lunch and I said I intended to head off on my own. Bob was concerned:
But you don’t have GPS, do you?
No, but I can find my way.
Can you find your way to the motel in Davenport?
Yes.

Yes, of course I can, and I did. I have paper maps and I have my phone. What more do I need? But Bob said he has depended totally on GPS for years now. Does he mean he has forgotten how we got around before GPS? I haven’t.

And the GPS didn’t always do us such a good job. Entering Dubuque Dave was leading and I don’t know what difficulties he may have been having with GPS but we went every which way, turning around, retracing our steps, back and forth till we finally found our way out of town. That’s what I see as a weakness of GPS: if you miss one instruction you have to recalculate and go through contortions to get back on the route. When I travel I look at the roads before I get there and I know what I’m looking for and generally where I’m going so if I miss a turn it’s not hard to correct. And besides, maybe I want to take a different route than what GPS selects. With GPS as your only guide, if you just follow that arrow you don’t really know where you’re headed, you’re just following the arrow.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not opposed to technology. For one thing, with your phone you can zoom in on an area and see roads that even the best maps don’t show you. I love that. And being in voice contact with other riders is terrific. At least it is when someone gets separated from the group, or when you’re leading and can’t see the end of the group. I would not want to be one of those who are in constant touch the whole ride because I like living in my head all by myself when I’m riding. But it’s sure good to have at least a few people staying connected.

Regardless of whether you yourself use it or not, technology is here to stay and has changed motorcycle riding just as it has changed so many other aspects of our lives. I’d say on the whole it’s a positive. Just let’s not be totally dependent on it.

Biker Quote for Today

Run the race of life at your own pace.

Day 4 of this ride along the Great River Road and we headed north out of Davenport, Iowa, to I-80, which we jumped on just long enough to reach the Mississippi at LeClaire. From there US 67 follows the west bank of the river.

If I was doing this trip with Judy in the car I would seriously consider skipping the more southern portion of this ride and just blasting out to LeClaire and heading north from there. This was where the river road started getting really consistently pretty. I would hate to miss the bluffs, the town of Grafton, and Pere Marquette State Park, just north of Alton, Illinois. But if you were strapped for time this would be a good starting point. Either way, LeClaire is a very attractive little town hugging the river, and would be worth a stop.

Of course, this is the RMMRC, and we don’t do stops. So we ran right on through.

I have to say here, this trip was originally conceived of as something where we would not ride together, where everyone would pick their agenda for the day with the only certainty that we would all end up in the same place that evening. For the most part that didn’t happen. For those like me who wanted a different agenda, we really have no one but ourselves to blame. I did do that a few times but not this day, which I regret because there were stretches later on where I really wanted to go a different route but didn’t. Tim did go off on his own pretty much this entire day but I’m not sure he’s glad he did. More on that later.

So US 67 pretty much sticks to the river, although for much of the time it drifts away from the shore, only offering you views of the water occasionally. It terminated and we picked us US 52, which took us across the river into Illinois and we turned north on IL 84. Again, after awhile alongside the river the road turned more inland and there wasn’t much to see. We connected to US 20 and took it through Galena and then on into Dubuque, back on the Iowa side.

I’ve been to Dubuque a few times and was looking forward perhaps to stopping for lunch and spending some time there. But that was apparently not the plan, so after some missed turns and confusion we continued on out of town on IA 3, headed northwest. Now the river was not even close by but we were passing through some really pretty countryside. We hadn’t stopped in a long time so as we rode along a ridge line I was pleased to see a scenic viewpoint and desperately hoped Dave, who was leading, would stop. He didn’t. Man, I really needed to get off that bike for a bit!

We got back on US 52 and turned north, eventually rejoining the river at last. Finally we stopped in Gutenberg for lunch.

At that point we learned that Dave’s bike was not running well. His indicators were telling him the battery was not charging. It was decided that after lunch he and Charley would ride on straight to La Crosse, Wisconsin, where there was a battery shop that had just the battery his bike needed. We were all hoping that was all it would take. At lunch the first grumbling began to be voiced from those of us who are not inclined to the Iron Butt style of riding. It would continue to percolate.

From Gutenberg we followed what is actually called the Great River Road north to Marquette. The Great River Road continues, on up to Lansing, at which point we crossed into Wisconsin and picked up WI 35. This runs right along the river but we came to a construction zone. Bob was leading now and he rode right up to the blockade and asked the guys working if we could just scoot past and keep going. They said no, there were others areas where the road was unpassable, but if we took the marked detour but turned left at County Road K we could skip much of the detour and get back to the river much quicker. So we did, and that was actually kind of a fun ride through the hills.

After that it wasn’t far to La Crosse, where we found Dave and Charley at the battery shop, getting a charge put in Dave’s new battery. It was at this point that I made my mistake in not following my own lead. It was going to be another hour and a half till the battery was charged enough and I should have taken off. I would have gone on to Winona and then crossed to the other side and ridden along the east bank of the river pretty much all the way up to Red Wing, which was our destination for the night. But I didn’t.

So when we left we stuck to US 61 all the way, on the west bank. All along the way I could see the road on the east bank and it sure looked like the much prettier, less busy highway. I kept thinking we would cross the river and take that road but we never did.

What did happen was we got into Lake City and a construction zone. Along the way we lost half the group so Bob pulled over to wait. They didn’t show up so Bob went back to look for them. He didn’t find them so we rode on, not hurrying. We pulled over at one point to get gas and Charley, after gassing up, was pulling his bike around to the shady side of the building and dropped it. Dang. No harm done. Then we saw the other guys pass by on the road so we knew they were OK. We pushed on into Red Wing, found our motel, and met up with the others.

It turned out that going through the construction zone someone had stopped suddenly in front of Mike, he had braked quickly, and Roy plowed into him. Again, no injuries, but some damage to Mike’s side bag. We were just glad to get to Red Wing, and Dave put his battery on a charger overnight, with everyone crossing their fingers.

Except Tim wasn’t there. I was out in the parking lot at 10 that night talking to Judy on the phone when I heard a bike and there was Tim, finally arriving. I didn’t talk to him then but the next day he told me he didn’t even get out of Davenport the previous morning when he wiped out on some gravel. With that and a few other issues he had had a very long day.

Biker Quote for Today

When you arise in the morning think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive, to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love, to ride a motorcycle.

Anywhere you go you’re going to see a variety of critters, many alive, and often many dead. What you don’t necessarily think about is how which critters you see varies in different parts of the country. That difference was really brought home to me on this recent Great River Road trip.

Around Colorado the most common road-kill you’ll see is probably rabbits, followed by deer. And that’s really true up in Wyoming. There was one time riding through Wyoming when we were seeing at least six dead rabbits every single mile. Bunny apocalypse. Carrion-eater paradise.

It’s different elsewhere.

I first started noticing the difference when we got to Missouri. I was born in Missouri and have been there many times in later life but I don’t really ever recall seeing armadillos. Well, I saw plenty of them this time, “sleeping by the roadside” as John’s wife Cheryl expresses it. And there were a lot of opossums, too. And skunks. Plus stuff I couldn’t identify.

But not all the critters were dead. Along one stretch of road in Missouri I spotted a little box turtle, about five inches long, diligently plodding its way across the road. Wow, how long has it been since I’ve seen a turtle in the wild? I wished it safe passage as I blasted past. Then, not too long afterward, I spotted another, also about in the center of the road, but this one was pulled into its shell, presumably scared by the bikes in front of me. I wished it well, too.

Birds showed their presence. On the third day, leaving Pere Marquette State Park, I was just cruising along when all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, some big bird came soaring straight at me. I ducked to avoid it and in the one second or so that this whole encounter took I observed it desperately flare its wings to hit the brakes and then flap like crazy to dash off in a different direction. It probably came within about three feet of me.

A little later the same day I watched as another large bird swooped very close in front of Tom. Then a few days later a wild turkey made a mad dash across the road right in front of Charley.

The coolest of them all was also as we were heading north from Pere Marquette: a bald eagle came soaring out of the trees and hovered above the highway, giving us an excellent view of itself. I’ve never seen a bald eagle up that close in the wild ever before. Totally cool.

The farther north we rode the less we saw of wildlife. We were moving into cooler territory and I guess they weren’t all out of their winter homes yet. But man, along the river to the south it seems to be teeming with wildlife. I guess that should not be a surprise to anyone.

Biker Quote for Today

Yes it’s mine, and no, you can’t ride it.

A different kind of long day today on this Great River Road ride with the RMMRC. We left St. Charles in the cool of the morning, with mist over everything. Very magical. We rode to the river at Alton, where we crossed on a new bridge very unlike the old one I drove over tripping on acid 50 years ago. That’s a story but it doesn’t bear telling here.

Then we turned north on the road that runs right along the river—very nice. This is MO 100. There were high bluffs for miles and I was kicking myself for not having my camera at the ready. Another negative of riding with a group; on my own I would have stopped and gotten my camera out. We passed through Grafton, which looks touristy but interesting. Then on to Pere Marquette State Park where we stopped and checked out the rustic old lodge. This would be a nice place to bring your wife to if you’re into these sorts of things. It’s definitely on my list of places to visit with Judy.

We rode up to a viewpoint and that was where we lost Tom. When we were ready to go, he went along on the road we were on, while the rest of us backtracked. He expected it to come back to the lodge but in fact it comes out to the river about three miles further down. We never saw him the rest of the day. I don’t know if he doesn’t read maps well, didn’t know what the planned route was, or what. Reaching him later by phone we found that he was many miles away from where we were and he had just decided to head straight to Davenport, our night’s stop.

The rest of us rode on to Hannibal and had lunch. We came through some nice country, rode along the river at times, but didn’t see the river at all for much of the time. From Louisiana, Missouri, to Hannibal was the nicest part.

In Hannibal, after lunch, the plan had been to visit the Mark Twain Boyhood Home & Museum, which comprises several sites around the town but it was blazing hot and everyone wanted to just go on. Except me. I said I’ll see you later but the main site was swarming with school kids so I said forget this and headed out. I stopped at a former Suzuki dealer a little later and bought a new helmet because the one I had worn was literally falling to pieces.

I took what turned out to be a side trip over into Quincy but then crossed back into Illinois to follow US 61. A little further on I took the business route through La Grange and Canton, both right on the river and then followed the highways up to Keokuk. From Keokuk, on the Illinois side following IL 96 it was a nice road right along the river, going through some historic areas. I stopped in Nauvoo for an ice cream break. This was another of the questions I had asked the day before: Don’t you guys ever make a stop for ice cream? Heck the OFMC makes it a point to have an ice cream break pretty much every day. Ice cream is synonymous with motorcycle riding isn’t it?

Some of the group had talked about wanting to stop and see a lock and dam along the river. I have to admit, as much of my life as I lived along or near the Mississippi River I had no real idea that there were dams on this mighty river. That’s totally illogical because my uncle, who lived in Granite City, Illinois, worked at a lock there. But there are dams, a lot of them, on the Mississippi. I made it a point to sit on the shady side of the street in Nauvoo eating my ice cream in case I had passed the other guys and they should just happen to come along at that time. It didn’t happen, at least in part because they never did stop at a lock, though we came past several of them.

From Nauvoo I mostly followed signs for the Great River Road and some of it was very nice but some not worth it. I was really glad to reach the hotel and get a shower. And good to relax and have a beer. This was not a 450-mile day again but it was darn near a 400-mile day by the time it was over. That’s a lot of riding and I was just glad to have taken the second part of the day at my own pace.

Biker Quote for Today

Knock knock! Who’s there? Iona. Iona who? Iona brand new motorcycle, wanna go for a ride?

I’ve got a really good Shoei helmet and a perfectly good Icon helmet but, illogically, I have most frequently worn what I take to be a fairly crummy Hawk helmet for a number of years.

The thing with the Hawk is that it is modular, but I almost never flip it up, and it has a Velcro-attaching patch of fabric across the front to keep cold wind from blowing up by your chin. In winter especially I like that bit of fabric. Plus, the helmet itself is comfortable. Or was, I should say.

Setting off on the Great River Road Ride I chose to wear the Hawk. But that’s not what I came home with.

I got the Hawk a long time ago, as a freebie, to do a review of, back when I was writing for Examiner.com. The main feature was that it came Bluetooth equipped. Theoretically you would link your phone to the Bluetooth in the helmet and voila, you had in-helmet communication. It never worked. I tried linking it to the phones of several friends and we could never get it to work. But it was very comfortable so I used it.

Early on I ran into some issue and as I fiddled with the helmet to fix whatever it was that was wrong I discovered that the flip-up part was only attached to the rest of the helmet by what appeared to me to be fairly flimsy clips. I wondered if, if I had a crash, those clips would give and that part of the helmet would just fall off. But I liked the helmet so I kept wearing it. Hey, I’m not going to crash, right?

Well, on the first or second day of this trip I noticed that where the two pieces attach they appeared to be pulling apart. That didn’t seem good. Plus, I had been having trouble keeping the helmet liner assembly–the plastic pieces that fit together to hold the foam liner in place–in place. At one stop Tom brought me a piece of plastic asking if it came from my helmet. It had. And now, when I took the helmet off, the entire fabric liner seemed to want to come out along with my head. This was just not OK any more.

On the third day of the ride we stopped for lunch in Hannibal, MO, and I checked for a local motorcycle shop. I found a Suzuki dealer on our route ahead about 20 miles and resolved to stop there. I was splitting off from the rest of the group after Hannibal anyway so this was perfect.

I got to the shop and it turned out they are no longer a Suzuki dealer, but they did have exactly six helmets still in stock. Only one of them fit me. I bought it. This was a Zox helmet.

Now, to me, Zox is a no-name brand and who knows how good it is. I did later Google it, however, and found that it apparently is well-constructed, meeting both DOT and SNELL standards, and is aimed for the low end of the market. Works for me; I only paid about $105 for it, and the lady was glad to get it out of her inventory. Five more left to unload. I gave her the Hawk to throw away. (She also said she had some good Suzuki luggage she’d like to sell me for a good price but I passed.)

About an hour later I was having second thoughts. The foam liner was pressing into my forehead and hurting. I’ve had helmets like this before. My first two helmets were Bieffes and they did the same thing. For years I wore helmets as little as possible because they hurt. I tried pounding on the foam in the specific spot and that had helped some but I was glad to finally get rid of that first Bieffe and I still have the second but never wear it.

The next day we stopped at a battery shop because Dave was having issues and we all hoped it was just the battery. There was a motorcycle shop just across the street so I went over there to look at helmets. They had a good selection, and some were not overly expensive. Did I really want to buy another new one and abandon a one-day-old helmet?

I spoke to a sales guy and asked him why some helmets are like this. He said some helmets are shaped more for round heads–like his–while others are for oval heads–like mine. I looked at him and by golly he really does have a round head, and mine is definitely more oval. Well that explains it. You just have to pay attention to what you’re getting. Not that I had much choice buying the Zox.

I decided I could get home with the Zox, even if that meant discomfort. But then I decided to try compressing the foam in that spot as I had with the Bieffe. And amazingly, it didn’t take much and it made a world of difference. I can actually continue to wear this helmet now. Sweet. And I’m so glad I got home without suffering the whole way.

Biker Quote for Today

The idea is to die young as late as possible.

We left McPherson, Kansas, very early with a lot more miles to cover this second day of the Great River Road Ride. Riding in early morning is frequently magical and it was this day. Plus, eastern Kansas is a lot prettier than the western portion. Winding through emerald green hills broken by the jagged red clay banks of little streams it was absolutely beautiful.

Crossing into Missouri we followed smaller roads all the way across the state. From Jefferson City we followed MO 94, which follows the Missouri River. Judy and I drove this road the other direction just last year and I knew it was a nice road. I did not remember that there were considerable stretches that were hilly and twisty and perfectly designed for motorcycles.

I was riding second behind Dave and we got into the good stuff and he cranked it up, as he typically will do. I am not an aggressive rider normally but in this case I did not want to hold up everyone behind me, plus, I figured my V-Strom has to be more agile than his big honking Beemer so if he can take this road at a rapid clip I can, too. And I did. I kept tightly with him every mile of the way and you know what? It was fun. It was a lot of fun. That evening on our way to dinner he told me “You did some fine riding today.” I knew that, and I know that I’m probably a better rider than a lot of folks, but it feels good to have that competence recognized by someone who is himself an excellent rider.

At one point Dave made a wrong turn and I’m guessing his GPS told him we could get back on track if we just took this one small road a few miles. We turned off and paused. Initially at least it was gravel. I was on the V-Strom so no problem for me but I wondered about the others. We continued and so did they and we reached pavement in just a few miles and all was well. Then we were back into the twisties. And who knew these Missouri hills were so full of wineries?

By this time we had come a long way and I know I was long past wishing for a stop. We came by several places I felt were perfect to pull over for a while and I was praying Dave would take them but no, he kept cruising. And then we were into the mess of suburban St. Louis afternoon commuter traffic. A couple more navigational glitches slowed us down more and even put us a bit at hazard but we finally worked our way into St. Charles, our stop for the night. Oh man, another 455 miles on top of the 470 the day before. Let me off this bike!

Biker Quote for Today

You can’t ride all day if you don’t start in the morning.

Eight riders from the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Riders Club (RMMRC), including me, headed out on this approximately 3,150-mile ride. Gathering very early on a cold Monday morning at Patty Ann’s in Kiowa, we set out to reach the Mississippi River at Alton, Illinois, and follow the river upstream to its headwaters at Lake Itasca in Itasca State Park in Minnesota. The series of roads from New Orleans to the headwaters is known collectively as the Great River Road.

My own journey to departure was anything but smooth. I planned to ride the Concours and the day before was performing standard pre-trip maintenance. Checking tire pressure I found that the valve stem on my rear tire was totally rotted out. Somehow the tire still holds air, though low, but when I tried putting air in it took a bit and then started blowing back just as much as was going in. This was Sunday and I needed to be rolling by about 6 a.m. the following day–no way to get it fixed.

Fortunately that’s not my only motorcycle. I moved all my gear from the Kawi bags and loaded the V-Strom bags. Now I was ready to go. I thought.

Monday morning I went to load the bags on the bike and found that two mounting bolts for my left bag were absent. One had already fallen off some time before but things still worked fine with the other and the latch in the middle on top that held it securely in place. But there was no way I was going to trust that latch all by itself with no lower support.

Of course I’m a certified holder of a man card so I have various containers of random nuts and bolts. I fished around and found four that fit. I screwed two in and put the other two in my pocket in case I needed them. Now I was ready to go.

The temperature at this point was about 40 degrees so I was fully dressed in my warmest gear, with the exception of my heated gloves. I had those but figured I could get to Kiowa without them even if it was very cold. And if it was all that cold I could then put them on before we left Kiowa. And yes, my hands did turn to ice but it was warm enough when we left that I didn’t put on the heated gloves and never did need them after that.

The ride down to Kiowa was very interesting. About the time I reached the Pinery there was fog down in the low-lying area to the west of the road. Very unusual for Colorado. And then as I continued the fog enveloped the road and I rode through it all the way to Franktown. It cleared at Franktown but then there was more on the way east on CO 86 to Kiowa. Very cool, very odd.

We had breakfast and headed out. The route was 86 to I-70 just west of Limon and then southeast on US 287. On that southeasterly stretch we encountered fierce winds out of the southwest, which is to say, at 90 degrees to us. I leaned that bike over so far that my left hand was directly in front of me and all I could see in my left mirror was my shoulder and chest. That wind never let up all day but at least once we turned due east it was not bad, mostly at our back. That is, until we got near McPherson, at which point the wind shifted to the south and so we were blasted again.

Turning south at Kit Carson, we then headed east on CO 96, which becomes KS 96 across the state line. None of us had ever been on this road before and it annoyed me to be with the group because I’ve been trying for years to get photos at all the state line crossing around the state. But I blew right through this one without stopping. That’s one reason I really prefer to travel alone.

KS 96 goes straight across Kansas to McPherson, our first night’s stop. The temperature rose, a lot. By the time we reached McPherson I was sweating profusely and had been drinking Gatorade to stay hydrated. Along the way we stopped once for gas and again for gas and lunch. That’s 421 miles with two stops, another reason I prefer to travel alone. One of those legs was 180 miles and I was dying. I’m sorry, I just don’t like that kind of riding. And I was not the only one unhappy with this; this would become an issue as the trip progressed. But the two main leaders on this ride, Bob and Dave, are both Iron Butt types and they don’t like to stop any more than necessary. I’d say stretching your legs and getting your butt off the bike for a while is necessary.

Nobody is right or wrong here, it’s just different preferences. I think in future rides I’m going to do what I can to make sure less aggressive riders like me have options. We had intended to ride in two groups but after several others dropped out the decision was made to go in one group. I suspect two groups, even if small, would have been better with one consisting of those of us who don’t care if we reach the day’s destination half an hour or an hour later. It’s not like we have a deadline.

So that was Day 1. I’ll pick back up with Day 2.

Biker Quote for Today

Any day is a good day to leave some miles behind.

This is the second part of a post I started a few days ago. You may want to go read it first.

As we’ve gotten older and more affluent our equipment has gotten better, so some years went by and I started becoming acutely conscious of how when we would stop my buddies would just pull their helmets off and stash them and their jackets in these large top bags they all had come to have on their bikes. I have chain-type locks on all my bikes for my helmet and I always just carried my jacket with me. I was getting jealous.

Then I got my V-Strom. And it came with two of the biggest Givi bags I’ve ever seen. These things are so big, when I travel alone on this bike I don’t ever bother to do any deliberate packing. I just toss it all in and have way more room than I need. At the same time, the bags were not quite so very big that I could easily get my helmet and jacket in along with all the other stuff I carry. I could, but not easily.

The answer was still a top bag and I bought one for the V. I was surprised it was not ungodly expensive, and the color was actually a terrific match for the bike, which I don’t care about a lot but it’s nice. It looks good. Now, once again, as long as I didn’t have a lot of stuff in the top bag I could put my helmet there and put the jacket in a side bag.

I’ve only ever gone down one time when I was moving, and that was at a very slow speed so no injuries. But every one of my bikes has been dropped or fallen over more than once. More than twice. With the V-Strom I’m thinking at least six or seven times.

I’ve concluded that the reason this top bag cost what it did was that it was not ruggedly built. After the bike had fallen a few times with the top bag on, the top bag was looking like it might not stay on much longer. It is mounted on a rail system and there were four bolts. The bolts were set into the plastic underside of the bag and two of them are no longer there. Cheap work. Now I flip a bungee over the bag just to add a bit of stability. But I often forget and leave it hanging there, although it’s attached at both ends and there is no end flapping free. I still have some concern about how if that bungee fell off it might get entangled in the chain or the wheel. Some day I’m just going to need to get a better top bag for this bike.

In the meantime, thanks to getting dropped, the Givi bags no longer make as good a seal so some small amount of water can get in. Plus, the bags mount onto pegs on a rail and one of the pegs broke off.

And now the ultimate of ultimates. I’ve had a very good (I think and hope) top bag put on the Concours. This bag is large–no problem throwing the jacket and helmet in. One thing I know for sure is that the mounting is good. I haven’t dropped this bike in a long, long time–and I really don’t want to–but I suspect the bag would hold up a lot better than the one on the V-Strom.

I had expected to get my second opportunity to put this bag through the paces on this 10-day Great River Road trip. That was not to be. On the day before we were to leave I was packing and doing stuff like checking tire pressure, and when I went to put air in the rear tire I discovered the valve stem is rotted through and leaks profusely. There was no way I could take this bike; I’m surprised the tire wasn’t flat. So I shifted everything over to the V-Strom and that’s my bike for this trip. I guess I’ll have to discover the flaws of this new top bag on the Concours some other time.

Biker Quote for Today

If I actually did “ride it like I stole it” I’d be in jail.