Passes & Canyons Blog

On Tuesday morning I headed out early because I had a long way to go. By the following evening I needed to be at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon to meet up with John and Bill. I had miles to burn.

My destination that first day was Durango. I had a friend, Donna, who lived there with her future husband, Neil. I figured I’d spend the night with them.

This was at the time the longest one-day ride I had ever done. And I hadn’t gone far when I felt the need to stretch out my legs so I went to put my feet up on my highway pegs . . . and discovered the left one wasn’t there. It was there when I took the bike in the shop but it wasn’t there now. More anger. Not to mention lack of comfort.

I got to Durango and found my way to Donna and Neil’s, exhausted. I know for a fact that she was not thrilled to have me show up in a foul mood complaining loudly and bitterly about these jerks who had shafted me so badly. I understand that. But I figured my anger was more than justified and surely they could understand that and would sympathize.

At least as far as the highway peg was concerned, Neil did me a big favor. He fished out an aluminum tube about seven inches long and used duct tape to attach it in the appropriate spot. Thank you so much, Neil. And I spent the night and headed out in the morning. That wasn’t where this part of the story ended, though. About a year later, when Donna and Neil were getting married, I only heard about the wedding indirectly. I thought there must be some mistake; surely I should have been invited. I called Donna and she told me that no, they didn’t want me at their wedding because I would bring too much negativity. I was stunned. Sometime later we did patch over this rift but that was just one more disservice those jerks at the shop did me.

I headed on to the North Rim. Another hard day’s ride and I was there, and with a little luck I found Bill and John’s campsite. But they weren’t there so I went looking for them. First I went to the lodge, which was nearby. I didn’t find them there so I speculated that they had gone out to view the sunset somewhere. Figuring that what I would have done was to go out to an area called Cape Royal, 23 miles from the lodge on a slow, twisty road. So I headed out there.

It was a long ride, probably at least 45 minutes. And they weren’t there. Nothing to do but head back. But before I got anywhere close to all the way back the bike started to sputter and then died. It was getting dark, I was very tired, I was out on a lonely road with nothing and nobody around, and my bike was dead. I broke. It was more than I could take. Standing beside the bike I pounded my fists savagely on the seat screaming “God damn it! God damn it! God damn it!”

Then I had a thought. Maybe I had just run out of gas. Maybe I could flip to Reserve and the bike would run. I did and it did. Hallelujah!!!

I headed back to camp as fast as I could and when I got there and saw Bill and John I had never in my life been so happy to see them. What a day!

In the morning we stopped at the gas station there by the lodge and it was then that I noticed how thin the rubber was on my front tire. I had looked at it just the day before and it had a lot more tread then. I showed it to Bill and John and that was when we all learned just how important it is to keep proper air pressure in your tires. Let the air pressure run too low and you can burn off thousands of miles of tread in just a few hundred miles.

The rest of the trip was good and as soon as we got home I headed over to the shop. I wanted my highway peg and, guess what, my bike was still leaking oil and my pant leg was still getting splattered with oil. That’s what this whole business had been about in the first place. Here’s where the guy at the counter showed what a total jerk he was. First off, he pointed to the job ticket and how all it said was do a ring job. There was nothing there about stopping an oil leak. The ticket that I’m certain he wrote up deliberately in precisely that manner. And no matter what I could say he just blew me off.

And then I brought up the highway peg. Oh no, he blustered, we’re not responsible for that. Fortunately, the mechanic who had done some or all of the work was right there and he said wait a minute. He ran in back and came out with the peg. Middle finger to you, counter guy.

There is some justice in this world, however. I learned about a month later that this shop had gone out of business. Closed their doors. Kaput. Gosh, I can’t imagine why.

Biker Quote for Today

Quick fixes are named for how long they stay fixed.

On that OFMC trip to the Grand Canyon where the communicators were useless I mentioned that Bill and John had to leave without me and we had to meet up later. Why was that?

For as long as I had owned this 1980 Honda CB750 Custom it had leaked oil. I would go for a ride and by the time I got home the lower portion of my right pant leg would be spattered with oil. Not a wonderful thing. So about six weeks before we were to leave on the trip I decided to do something about it.

I took the bike to a repair shop and told them I wanted the leak stopped. I didn’t really know what it would take to do that, but I trusted that they would. The guy at the counter had a much better idea of the situation, though, and he totally set me up. For what it’s worth, I figure what was needed was gaskets. At least, that’s my take on it now. But what he seemed to understand was that even a new set of gaskets was not a guarantee of no leaking.

So he told me, gosh, we’re going to have to tear the whole engine down to do that so while we’ve got it apart it might make good sense to give it a ring job, too. I was naive and trusting so I said OK, do that. Then he wrote up the ticket saying that the repair needed was the ring job. He made no mention of stopping an oil leak.

I made sure to tell him I was leaving on a trip in six weeks and the bike absolutely had to be ready by then. I didn’t see how that could be hard to do and he assured me that they would have it for me long before our departure date. So I left the bike in their hands.

What I learned later was that this shop was struggling financially. At this time of year they could make a lot more money doing quick jobs like new tires and oil changes, whereas tearing my bike down and doing my work was nowhere near as remunerative on an hourly basis. So they put their attention toward the cash flow jobs. Time went by and I didn’t get a call so I called them. No, it was not ready yet, but no problem, they would definitely have it for me in time. OK.

More time passed and I called again. Same answer. OK. And more time passed and now I was getting nervous. Same answer: they’d have it for me in time.

Finally, about three days before departure I called again and this time the jerk at the counter said no, there’s no way they’re going to have it ready for me in three days. That would be a Friday. The best they could do, he said, was have it for me on Monday. Can you say angry!? But what could I do? And what could Bill and John do? So they left without me, and we made plans to meet up in a few days.

I was livid. This was utterly inexcusable and clearly these guys didn’t give a rat’s patootie about me as a customer. And the thing was, this was a much bigger deal to me than it might have in other circumstances. But the thing was, when I bought this bike it was at the absolute lowest point of my life, before and since. I was at absolute bottom. And I bought the bike and it brought me unbridled joy! It literally gave me something to live for, at a time when I desperately needed something to live for. And in the nearly three years since I bought it it had been nothing but pure, absolute joy to me. And now, for the first time ever, there was anger and negativity connected with it. And I resented that bitterly! That they could introduce negativity into my relationship with the bike was beyond despicable. Unforgivable. The very worst blow they could strike. I hated the guy at the counter with the deepest passion.

And would they actually have the bike ready for me on Monday? Well, they did, though not until Monday afternoon, too late for me to even get started till Tuesday morning. So I picked it up Monday afternoon, took it home, packed, and got ready for an early Tuesday departure. Finally.

I’ll pick up the story next time; it’s far from over.

Biker Quote for Today

Sometimes I ride my motorcycle to nowhere to see nothing just so I can ride my motorcycle.

Every year after the first of January I look at my mileage for the year just ended. I did pretty well in 2022; rode the motorcycles more and put exactly 12 more miles on my car than I did in 2021.

First the car, because that’s my primary basis of comparison. I drove my car all of 2,506 miles. I wasn’t far off that with the Concours and well beyond it on the V-Strom. Nowhere close with the Honda, though.

The Honda only got ridden 729 in 2022. That’s down from 1,086 the year before. Which is a bit surprising to me considering that I thought I was trying to make a deliberate point of riding it regularly. Oh well, I’ll do better in 2023. And I’m also going to put some money into some work this good old bike is in need of.

The Concours had a better year than the CB750: 2,354 miles. That is up from 2,002 miles in 2021 and, as I said, almost as much as the car. Just 152 miles shy of the car. The Kawi got to go on the OFMC trip so it got a lot of miles off that one.

The champion this time around was the V-Strom. I rode that bike 3,866 miles in 2022. It got to go on the RMMRC Great River Road Ride and that was a good long jaunt. I hadn’t planned it that way. I was going to ride the Concours but had to make a last minute change when I discovered the valve stem on one of its tires was totally rotted away. It’s good to have more than one motorcycle.

Altogether that adds up 6,949 miles on motorcycles in 2022, versus 2,506 in my car. I may not put really big miles on any of my vehicles the way a lot of people do but by gosh, I do most of my getting around on the bikes. I kind of like it that way.

Biker Quote for Today

I love being on my bike, but I don’t consider that a sport: it’s too pleasant.

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.

It’s that time of year when I always look at the odometers on my bikes to see if I can turn over just one more 1,000-mile mark by the end of the year. This year looks like it’s going to be easy.

With the V-Strom I just turned over 42,000 miles. It’s at 42,058 at the moment. No way I’m putting another 942 miles on that bike before the end of December.

With the Concours it’s not quite so cut and dried but still pretty obvious. The odo now sits at 76,309. Theoretically, if I had only one bike and I really got out on it a lot I could reach 77,000 by year’s end, but that’s not the case. I’ve got two other bikes that need to be ridden at least once each month. So no, I’ll just consider that turning over 76,000 hits the mark. If I turned over 76 in May there would be no excuse for not reaching 77, but doing so in October is good enough for this year.

Then we come to the Honda CB750. This is the bike I’ll be choosing on most of my rides for the next seven weeks. This bike is currently sitting at 36,730. That’s only 270 miles from 37,000. That’s doable. In fact, just two more rides like the one we did this past weekend are all it will take. (I do want to make a clarification here for anyone who is new here. This 1980 Honda CB750 Custom does not have only 36,730 on it in all these 42 years. The original speedometer/odometer set broke at about 84,000 and I replaced it with a salvage yard instrument cluster with about 29,000 on it.)

I track the mileage each year on all four of my vehicles, with my eye particularly on the motorcycle miles vs. the car miles. For about the past 10 years I have always put many more miles on my bikes than on my car. That’s the way I like it. I’ll do it again this year, no question. Heck, I’ll probably end the year with more miles on the Suzuki all by itself than on the car. Did I ever tell you I love my motorcycles?

Biker Quote for Today

Why didn’t the motorcycles get in the carpool? Because they didn’t have trunks.

We knew Saturday was going to be a cold day to ride but, as Roy said, you just need the right gear. And apparently nine of us in the RMMRC felt we had the right gear because there we were out riding on this very cold morning.

Judy, who had gotten up before me, warned me that the temperature was having a hard time breaking 40 and I checked the RMMRC Meetup site to see if perhaps the ride had been canceled. Nope. In fact, messages on the site within the last couple hours made it clear it was still on. OK, this would be a day to wear all my cold weather gear. Good thing I had just recharged the batteries for my heated gloves.

And it was cold. At first my Honda CB750 Custom didn’t seem to want to turn over but then it caught and fired up. I got over to where we were meeting and it was a good crowd. And by the time I got there it was clear that while it was darn cold, my electric vest and my riding pants with the liner in, and everything else I wore for warmth would do just fine. All right! Great day for a ride!

We were headed for lunch at Rosie’s Diner in Monument so of course we headed . . . southeast. We went out Parker Road and just south of the Pinery turned east on Bayou Gulch Road to Flintwood Road. From there we followed a circuitous route that I quickly recognized as having been the route we first rode the last time Tim had planned a Mystery Ride. (It was called “Roy’s Mystery Ride” but Tim was the one who actually mapped it out.)

This route led us to Elizabeth and then further south on another circuitous route through Elbert. We were headed for the Palmer Divide and gaining elevation, so it was getting cooler and cooler. I had my heated gloves on the lowest setting so as to extend the battery life as much as possible. My hands were a bit cool but that was fine; they would have been ice cubes otherwise.

A little south of Elbert I was a bit surprised to encounter another sizeable group of bikers going the other direction on this cold day and way off the usual beaten track country road. Good for you guys. Guess we’re not the only ones.

We did finally turn west and then a little later cut back north. It was at this point that the question I had had was answered: where are the high winds that had been predicted? Apparently they had been at our back all this time. Now they were in our face.

We cut on west again and came to Monument. Time for lunch. Ride to eat, eat to ride, you know. We had a super cute waitress who did a great job and we had a good meal. John, on his first time riding with the group, kept everyone interested showing us pictures of his numerous very old motorcycles. There was probably a lot of motorcycle envy going on at that table.

By the time we were ready to roll again the weather had done a significant change. It had to be 15 degrees warmer and full sunshine. Fabulous day for a motorcycle ride! We headed north on CO105 up to Sedalia, at which point the group started to splinter as each rider chose his own route home. I got home with a new 130 miles on my odometer. Now if we can only do this a few more times before the year is out.

Biker Quote for Today

No such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.

I dropped the Concours and busted the left mirror when we were in Angel Fire so I’ve been looking to get that fixed.

I checked online and a replacement is available from about $95 to $150, depending on if its new or used and who you buy it from. I wondered if I could get a better price from a salvage yard. Time to check with Steele’s. They have a website and on the site they tell you you can send them a message asking if they have what you need. I tried that but after no reply over a week I just got on the CB750 and rode on over there.

First I checked in at the front desk and the guy checked in their computer to see if they had one listed in there. No. So he told me I could go look around the yard myself. He told me not to just take something off one of the wrecks, but to shoot a photo and come back to them and they’d decide who should do what.

I don’t know if you’ve ever walked around in a motorcycle salvage yard but it’s kind of like a fantasy land. In fact, after I’d looked at what they had out front and didn’t find anything I was about to leave when another employee asked me if I’d checked in. Yes I had, but I didn’t find anything. Oh, there’s more, he said. It goes all the way around the building. “Have fun.” So I went and looked further.

I did find three Concourses but they were all in almost totally stripped-down shape. No mirrors, except on one. And these were not the stock mirrors, they were clearly aftermarket. This suggested to me that busting a mirror was not all that uncommon, and some people opted not to replace with stock.

Around back I found shopping cart after shopping cart filled with assorted side panels. Many years ago I did lose one side panel off my Honda but I found a replacement. Still, it is from a different year so it doesn’t actually match, even though it fits. I figured if I came across the real thing I would at least ask what they wanted for it. No dice. Lots and lots of side panels but not the one I want.

Different parts of the yard were devoted to different things. In one section there were lots and lots of wheels. There were great numbers of stripped frames. And there were all kinds of bikes in all kinds of condition just in pieces everywhere you looked.

There were also the proverbial junkyard dogs, although during business hours I guess these guys are friendly enough. They were rough-housing so hard and so obliviously that twice they crashed right into me as they chased each other around, having a ball.

I didn’t find anything. I’ll have to get something online. But it was worth the run over there.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: If your motorcycle doesn’t look good, you can paint it or get better parts.

I’ve read more than once how one of the things bikers love about their motorcycles is customizing them and making them uniquely their own. Sometimes this means practical things like a more comfortable seat and other times it’s basically just farkles.
What the heck is a farkle? In a 2017 article by that name in Rider magazine, Jenny Smith offered this definition:

Farkle (n): A modification to a motorcycle that satisfies the following criteria: creates “bling,” serves a purpose (the usefulness of which is in the eyes of the farkler) and is most likely expensive. Often used among touring riders to denote or convey status amongst their peers. Ex: “I picked up a new farkle for my ST today: a GPS-based burger joint locator!” (v): To farkle; to accessorize one’s motorcycle with farkles. Ex: “Boy, John really farkled out his K1300GT; it’s even got a cup holder!”

I got to thinking about this the other day when I spotted a 1980 Honda CB750 Custom at 1 Up Four Down while getting a new tire on my V-Strom. Asking about the Honda the guy told me there was a problem with an aftermarket exhaust system. He then asked me if I still had the stock system on my Honda. Yes I do.

One thought leads to another–the proverbial train of thought–and that’s how we got here: a discussion of my own practices regarding farkles and aftermarket equipment.

In short, I’m not much into farkles but I do modify my bikes to make better them fit me and my style of riding. When I bought my first bike, the Honda, I immediately added a windshield. I have never enjoyed the powerful blast of wind against my head and chest so I added that right away. Then Bill and John and I started going on longer rides and I discovered I needed highway pegs and a throttle lock. Plus I got a case guard to protect the motor in case of a get-off.

That’s it, that’s all I’ve ever done to the bike other than replacing the sissy bar pouch it came with when that rotted away.

Next came the Concours and another immediate purchase: risers. Stock, that bike had me leaning way forward and very uncomfortable. I got some Helibar risers that moved the grips up and back a couple inches and it was a night and day difference. I wouldn’t have been able to ride that bike without them.

Then of course I had to get a throttle lock. But adding highway pegs was a tougher project. There didn’t seem to be any good way to do it, and the not so good ways meant doing permanent damage to the body work. Then Murph save the day and came out with a cantilevered solution that allowed you to mount the pegs without cutting into your plastic. Done.

That was it for a long time, until last year I finally satisfied a desire and got a top bag with a good mount to hold it. And that’s all I’ve ever done with that bike.

Comes the V-Strom and it already had aftermarket Givi side bags so I didn’t need much. Of course I added a throttle lock but I also put on a case guard and highway pegs. Then a top bag and that bike is set. What more could I need?

Well, of course, I do have tank bags for all three bikes, just as I have saddle bags for the Honda but those are not added on as parts of the bikes, they readily come right off and would not go with the bike if I ever let go of one of my bikes.

Yeah, if the aftermarket depended on people like me there would be a much smaller aftermarket. But mostly that market depends on people like Dennis, who is now on his fifth or sixth bike in the 15 or so years I’ve been riding with him. Somebody has to keep the wheels of commerce turning and I figure better him than me.

Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re a biker when your biggest decision of the day is left or right.