Passes & Canyons Blog

I’ve never tried to hide the fact that I’m a bad motorcycle owner. By that I mean that I do a lousy job of maintenance. Over the weekend I proved to myself once again that I probably rate a D in this category.

When I had been out on my Honda CB750 recently I had had the impression that perhaps my front tire was low on air. I made a note to check it sometime soon. Also, my mechanic, Joel, tells me the reason it pumps out blue smoke when I start it up is because the valves need to be adjusted and that they are allowing oil to seep into the cylinders. Then I start it up and this oil gets burned out. I’ve wondered more than once what any of my neighbors who were observing this might be thinking.

Lately, though, this seems to have gotten worse. It used to be that if the bike sat for a few weeks it would smoke when I fired it up, but if I ran it yesterday and started it again today there would be no smoke. That is no longer the case. I can start it every day for a week and it will smoke every time. I need to have Joel work on the valves.

More pressing, though, was the thought that I ought to check the oil. With all this oil burning away, how low might I be on oil?

So with somewhat warmer weather on Sunday I rolled the bike out to do some maintenance. First thing I noticed was that one of the four zip-ties that hold the bag on the back of the sissy bar was broken so I replaced that. Following the procedure in the shop manual, I set the bike up on the center stand and fired it up to warm the fluids and circulate the oil. Then I shut it down and gave it a few minutes for the fluids to settle.

Of course, when I started the bike it smoked like crazy. When I pulled the dipstick, cleaned it and put it back in, it came out not showing any oil at all on the end of the stick. Yep, low. So I added some oil and tested again. Nothing on the dip stick. I added more; still nothing. I didn’t have a lot of oil so I just poured the rest in. Still nothing showing on the dip stick. Yeah, I guess I was low.

Then I measured the tire pressure. Both tires are supposed to have 41 pounds of pressure. I have a good, digital-read-out pressure gauge and I used it twice. Both times it said 7 pounds of pressure. OK. That would sure explain why I had the impression it was low. Fortunately I have this multi-tool thing my parents gave me many years ago to keep in my car that includes an air compressor. I hooked it up, set it to put in 41 pounds, and let it run. It took almost 15 minutes to bring this baby up to proper level. Normally if you just need to add a few pounds it can take a minute or at most two. Not this time.

I figure all of this tells us two things. First, I’m a lousy owner. I rarely wash my bikes, I go too long between oil changes, and I don’t do routine maintenance as I should. Rap my knuckles with a hickory stick.

Second, the engineers that design these machines do a great job. Their machines continue to run year after year despite such utter neglect from idiots like me. Thanks guys, you do good work and I definitely appreciate you.

Biker Quote for Today

The next time your neighbors tell you that your bike is too loud, organize a bike rally at your house.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Biker Quote for Today

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

In a much earlier lifetime I was a newspaper editor and I reported directly to the publisher, in this case, Vi June. Vi and I got along extremely well . . . until we didn’t. I’m not going to go into all the details but suffice it to say, she gave me an order I felt was unacceptable and I quit.

During the surprisingly (to me) long period it took me to find a new job I had a very rough go of it. My spirits were as low as they have ever been but in the midst of it all I made a bold move. I borrowed money from my parents (I sure didn’t have any money myself at that point) and bought my first motorcycle, my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom. Talk about a boost to my spirits!

At some point I concluded it would perhaps be helpful if I could show prospective employers a letter of recommendation from Vi, plus I wanted to ask her some questions about the issue that led to my resignation. We agreed to meet for lunch. Her answers to my questions were totally unsatisfactory and while she did agree to give me a letter of recommendation, when it arrived it appeared she had typed it out herself (yes, on a typewriter–this was a few years ago) and it had errors of spelling and a weird spot in the middle of a line of text where the text dropped down about one half a line below the rest of the text in that line. In short it was not at all something I would consider showing to a prospective employer.

During our lunch we talked about other things and one thing I mentioned to her was that I had bought a motorcycle. She shuddered and told me that they were wicked, nasty, dangerous things, and that she called them “murdercycles.” Needless to say, I was not moved. My motorcycle riding career was in its barest infancy and I’ve done one heck of a lot of riding since then. And you know what? I’m still alive and healthy. Meanwhile, she’s dead at this point.

This all came back to me recently when I saw an article about how the number of organ donors rises during motorcycle rallies. Yeah, we’ve all heard the “joke” about how the other name for motorcyclist is organ donor. In this one article (there are several out there), titled “Study Finds That Number Of Organ Donors Rises 21% During Motorcycle Rallies,” contained these statements:

“Because the timing of these rallies is plausibly unrelated to demand for organs and because we found no such effect for non-motor vehicle-related donor deaths, our findings are likely due to an increase in motorcycle use in areas where large rallies are held,” wrote the study’s authors in JAMA Internal Medicine.

The researchers looked at data from the Scientific Registry of Transplant Recipients from 2005 to 2021. They focused on areas where the following seven motorcycle rallies were held: Atlantic Beach Bikefest in South Carolina, the Bikes, Blues & BBQ in Arkansas, Daytona Bike Week in Florida, Laconia Motorcycle Week in New Hampshire, Myrtle Beach Bike Week Spring Rally in South Carolina, the Republic of Texas Biker Rally in Austin, and the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally in South Dakota.

“These findings are not surprising given the high mortality associated with motorcycle accidents,” the authors wrote. “The findings of [this study] provide a reminder to practice safety while practicing high-risk activities and to consider opting-in to become an organ donor to help save lives.”

I’m in no position to question the data used here, or the conclusion. I guess it’s a reasonably logical action and reaction. But you and I don’t need to contribute to these statistics. We know what it takes: Ride like your life depended on it. Ride like you’re invisible. Don’t drink and ride. I for one look forward to having as many more years than Vi June did as I possibly can. And I plan to be riding in every one of them.

Biker Quote for Today

Keep bikers safe. Don’t show your boobs till we have come to a complete stop.

If, by the time you read this, it is cold and snowy outside you’ll know why we went riding yesterday. The forecast high was in the 60s and a day later we are supposed to be looking at nasty stuff. Five RMMRC riders answered the call.

Stepping outside in the morning it was warm but quite breezy. I knew this would be an all-the-winter-gear-day. It was definitely brisk riding over to the meeting spot, and nobody took their helmets off while we waited to see who else would arrive.

The route was simple enough: down Parker Road, turn off onto Russellville Road and do that loop, then back to CO83, south to CO105 over to Monument, for lunch at Rosie’s. The ride was uneventful except when Charlie pulled over because his top bag, which he had strapped onto the seat behind him rather than on its mount, started coming loose. OK, that didn’t work. But the dang thing is kind of wobbly on its actual mount so he figured it was worth trying something different.

Rosie’s was busy so we had to wait a bit and then got seated and ordered. The food is always good at Rosie’s, and the staff is always overworked, but the waitresses we have had have all been extremely nice. It probably doesn’t hurt that Roy goes out of his way to be friendly and nice with them, figuring their job is plenty hard, let’s try to make it a little nicer.

As expected, by the time we came out the temperature was up another 10 degrees or so and there were no clouds. A gorgeous day to ride. And we were not the only ones who thought so. As we headed north out of Monument toward Sedalia on CO105 I counted no fewer than 50 other bikes heading south. Not a big pack, just a lot of twos and threes and fours. This was a day to ride.

Now tomorrow can come as nasty as it likes, we got in a really good December ride.

Biker Quote for Today

No road is too long as long as you have good riding companions.

I recently got wind of a concerning situation. It seems the restaurant that houses the Rocky Mountain Motorcycle Museum, in Colorado Springs, has closed. Considering that the museum is in the building and you get to it by walking through the restaurant and then upstairs, you have to wonder what this portends for the museum.

Their website doesn’t say anything at all about it, but their Facebook page does say a little. And what they do say is this:

We are OPEN once again to the public!
Our hours are Thursday, Friday and Saturday 10am – 5pm
19 N. Tejon Street – 2nd floor – Downtown Colorado Springs
THANK YOU for your support and patience as we work thru the closure of the Tejon Eatery. As always, admission is FREE!

The restaurant in question is/was the Tejon Eatery and Bar. In the news article in the Colorado Springs Gazette it said that the restaurant owner said the museum will remain open for now but that doesn’t tell us anything about the future. The two owners, Sam and Kathy Guadagnoli, opened and ran the place but Sam, who was a big motorcycle buff, died in September. The restaurant is said to never have been profitable.

I emailed whoever runs their website asking for further information and I’ll update if I hear anything new.

Later–OK, I did hear back from Pam Wear, Secretary/Treasurer of the museum, and here is what she said:

Hello Ken,
The restaurant closed with no notice in October. Yes, it did affect our operation. We are now open Thursday through Saturday 10 am to 5 pm, and will be adding as the situation evolves.
The Museum has been open since 1992, we will continue. We are actually seeing quite a few visitors!
Thank you!

Biker Quote for Today

You’re the coolest old guy I know. You must pick up a TON of chicks at the nursing home with that bike.

I’ve said numerous times before that if you are going to ride all year round then you have to be opportunistic in the winter. On December 3 the temps were in the 50s and the fierce winds of the last two days had died down. Falling temps were predicted in the days ahead and that was all I needed to get out on all three bikes. I hope it’s not the last time I’ll be able to get out but if it is at least I did get each bike ridden a little this month.

I started out on the V-Strom, in the middle of the day. The V has the least protection from the wind so I wanted to use the warmer part of the day. Wearing my electric vest was a no-brainer and I turned it on right away. I very quickly concluded that another layer on my legs would have been nice.

If you’re going to ride three motorcycles in one day it kind of means you’re not going a long way on any of them. But I don’t just go out and ride around the block. (I did that one time years ago but at that time the run around my block was about six miles long. And the temperature was about 20. But I had to get my ride in for that month.)

So I did a nice little scoot and came on home but then I had other things I needed to do. Maybe I would get to the other two later, maybe not.

Several hours later I could get out again so I took the Concours. It has the best weather protection and at this point I had put on long underwear. It’s always interesting to me how it feels getting on the Connie after being on the V. There’s just a lot more power; it’s an impressive motorcycle. I never notice any shortage of power when I’m on the V but in comparison the Connie makes it seem weak. Whatever.

Another fairly short ride this time because now I was thinking about getting the third in. And it was getting later in the afternoon.

I got home and switched to the CB750 Custom and headed out. Very little wind protection on this bike and it wasn’t long before even the long underwear was feeling like not enough. Pretty quickly the sun went behind a bank of clouds, never to reemerge on this day, and the temperature starting dropping fast.

I took a different route than I have before and was coming up University Boulevard, figuring I’d go east on Yale. But I was thinking Colorado Boulevard, not University, so I was looking for the Colorado and Yale intersection. That meant I blew right on through the University and Yale intersection. No problem, I’d just go on up to Evans.

But then as I was coming up alongside the University of Denver, nearing Evans, I decided to turn east on Harvard. I hadn’t been down through that University Park neighborhood in many years to this would at least be something different. Oh my gosh! We’ve all seen areas where a lot of houses have been scraped off so new, big homes can be built in their places. Also the pop-tops, where they take the basis of the house and enlarge it hugely. Well, this entire neighborhood has been scraped. Not a pop-top in sight and hardly a single original home still standing. Every now and then there would be on old original but I have never seen any area so completely scraped and rebuilt.

And many of these homes are gargantuan. There was one in particular what looked like it extended all the way from the sidewalk in front to the alley in back with zero footage given to yard. Huge!

So that made my ride at least a little more than just an obligatory running of the steeds. It’s all about exploring. You can explore even in the middle of the city you live in if you just turn at a different corner than you typically do.

Biker Quote for Today

Guys on motorcycles are just cyclists too lazy to peddle.