Passes & Canyons Blog

This time it was my Honda being the one to get towed. Dang those valve stems.

I think I’ve got something figured out here. I have the vague notion that when you have a dealer put a new tire on your bike, they routinely put in a new valve stem. Maybe I’m mistaken, but that’s my notion. Regardless, I’m pretty certain now that Joel, my mechanic, does not. And in the future, any time I have him put on a new tire I will specify that I also want a new valve stem.

I had my first valve stem problem when I was getting ready to leave on the RMMRC‘s Great River Road ride. That necessitated that I take a different bike; not a big deal.

Well now I’ve had a second valve stem problem, and this was a lot bigger pain in the butt.

I’ve been taking some music classes over at Swallow Hill Music and so a couple weeks ago I headed over there on the Honda CB750 Custom, which had yet to be ridden in July. Just a few blocks away I noticed the handling on the bike was not as it should be, and it reminded me of the time when I had a flat back tire on the Concours. I got to Swallow Hill and parked and looked at the rear tire. It was fine. Great. I headed in.

When I came out and returned to the bike it was very obvious that my front tire was flat. Oh, dang. OK, I got here on it, if I can get air in the tire hopefully I can get home on it. I called Judy and asked her to bring my pump, figuring I’d put air in and she could follow me home, stopping if necessary to add more air along the way.

Judy arrived and I hooked the pump up but after way too long the pressure gauge was still showing no increased pressure. I turned it off and was disconnecting it when I heard a hiss at the valve stem. Sure enough, that’s where the problem was. And there was no way this bike was rideable.

I have roadside service through my American Motorcyclist Association membership so I called for a tow. It took a while to get through but I finally reached someone who took all my info and said I would be receiving a text message with the data on the company dispatched and their estimated time of arrival. We knew we had a wait in store.

The first part of the wait was not boring. We were at the corner of Lincoln and Yale, standing by the bike, when we heard tires screeching and a crash. Turning around, there was a Harley on its side, a rider on the ground, and a car stopped, all in the middle of the intersection. Holy crap. I went running to the guy, thinking about my recent crash scene management training.

The guy, an older, very gnarly-looking sort of old school Harley rider, was sitting up and bleeding badly from the left side of his head. The first step in crash scene management is to secure the location, and there were cars stopped in all directions so clearly nobody was going to come driving through and hit someone. The guy asked for a hand up and I hesitated. Another initial point in crash scene management was to do all you can to prevent the person from getting up and riding off, because they may suffer shock and once the adrenaline wears off they may find themselves completely incapable of even standing.

He asked for a hand up and I told him he really ought to just sit there for a few minutes. “F— that” he bellowed and insisted I help him up, which I did. Then he asked me and another guy to help him get the bike up, which we did. I was hoping he just wanted to move it out of the intersection but he climbed on, fired it up and rode away. Meanwhile, we could all see that the lobe of his left ear was almost completely ripped off, hanging by just a slender strip of skin.

Judy’s speculation was that he either had warrants out or else maybe he had been drinking or drugging and either way had no intention of dealing with the police. Who knows. Meanwhile, the young woman driving the car was on the phone with 911. She had not hit him; there had been no contact. I’m not sure what she had been doing, maybe a U-turn in the intersection, definitely not a left turn in front of him. All I got from her was that she was making her turn and he just wouldn’t wait for her to complete it. He must have swerved to avoid her but even that is odd because the bike fell on its right side and he was on the ground on its left. I have no idea what happened. The police were apparently never even dispatched to the scene.

We know this because we were there for another three hours, and they never showed up. After talking to the person I gave the tow request to we were told we would receive text updates and all we got were three messages saying sorry for the delay, we’re still trying to get someone to provide your service. After awhile my phone was going dead and Judy suggested we call again, using her phone, so I did.

Once we got through again I explained the situation and they escalated it to the supervisor and once again we were told we’d be messaged with update info. We finally did get a message, telling us who was coming and that it would probably be an hour and half more. Thank goodness we had Judy’s air conditioned car to sit it because we had no shade and the outside temperature was about 85.

Finally the tow guy showed up and I have to say, he was super nice. We were now late for a birthday party we were supposed to be heading to and he said go ahead to the party, I’ll get the bike safely to your house. Which he did, and then called to tell us he had done so. Nice guy.

So that’s twice now I’ve had valve stem issues. Valve stems are now very much on my radar.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if other people you consider bikers scare you.

Accommodations on one of the early OFMC trips.

The story continues as I continue to key in my journal. With a lot of really bad stuff going on in my life my motorcycle was the one thing that brought me pure, unadulterated joy. I was already becoming very attuned to just how great motorcycles are. From January 21, 1989: “Today is supposed to be the world’s most gorgeous day so I’ll be out on my bike.”

Then, in my journal entry for March 20, I remarked, “The motorcycle continues to be one of the few things I have to live for.” That tells you a lot about my state of mind at that time.

Bill was in a bad place at this point, too. His wife had thrown him out and he considered moving in with me. On April 11 I wrote, “Bill said he won’t be moving in. He should be getting his motorcycle Saturday. The weather better be nice because we’re going to want to ride.” Unlike the old, used bikes John and I bought, Bill got a brand new Honda Shadow.

Before I started riding motorcycles I flew hang-gliders. Between the two I chose the bikes. April 26: “Thought I’d sell my glider but the guy found another. Too bad. I need the money to cover the $250 my motorcycle is going to cost for a tune up and a tire.”

In May I told my parents about using money I borrowed from them to buy a bike: “I told them about the motorcycle. Mom was not happy. Dad was cool.”

Our first trip anywhere was over to visit a friend. June 7: “John & Bill & I are taking the bikes over to Fruita this weekend, weather permitting.”

July 12: “John & Bill & I had a wonderful three days on the bikes. Spent one night in Steamboat and the next at Rifle Falls up Rifle Gap. Very nice place. Loved being on the bikes.” This was the first of the annual OFMC trips, which are now in their 34th year.

Then this on July 21: “Our love affairs with our motorcycles continue to grow. Bill & John & I took a three-day trip through northwestern Colorado a couple weeks ago and we were in heaven. There are times when, cruising down the highway, I laugh out loud and throw my head back and scream ‘I love my motorcycle!'”

There were other things to be learned about riding a motorcycle. On August 20 I wrote, “One reason I have time today is that I have a flat on the bike.”

And of course I had to make the bike mine. September 4: “Put a case protector on my bike. Now I need to attach the highway pegs. Learned a bit of motorcycle mechanics in the process.”

Yeah, I’ve done a lot of work on my bikes over the years but mainly I let the pros handle it. I just do little stuff.

So by now I figured I was a real motorcyclist. A status sadly postponed by more than 20 years. But I was only getting started. Will I pass along more from the journal? Depends on what I find that I had to say, and when I get to those parts. Keying this journal in is a multi-year project.

Biker Quote for Today

We know you’re a poser if you take your bike into the shop for oil changes.

I still have that bike, and I still have that jacket. I don’t still have all that hair.

I’m a writer, always have been, and so it should be no surprise that I have kept a journal most of my life. Of course, for the greater part of that time it was all on paper. Paper is nice, it’s durable and all that, but it’s a real pain to search through if you want to find something in particular but don’t know the date.

In the last couple years I have been keying my journal in on the computer. This will make it more searchable and it also has taken me on a trip down memory lane. Recently I got to the point where I bought my first motorcycle, my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom. I figured I’d share a little of what I wrote about it back then.

The first mention is from June 22, 1988. My friend John had recently bought an old Yamaha Virago 750 and he would come pick me up and we’d go ride. At this time I noted, “I need to simultaneously finance a rollover of my 401(k) to my IRA, buy a motorcycle, and get a computer, although the computer will probably wait if I’m learning more on that at work.”

The next mention is July 16. “So how do I pay off the $3,000 I’m borrowing from Mom & Dad, how do I get a computer system, how do I get a motorcycle—how do I pay at all for any emergency like a new refrigerator or furnace or even some modest landscaping? I have got to find a better job.” Jumping ahead here I’ll note that I bought the bike with money from the $3,000 I borrowed from my parents, which I considered sweet justice because of how my mother quashed my dreams of getting a bike at 15. “You’ll never own a motorcycle as long as you’re living in my house,” she said, and now I was using their money to get one.

Then on July 24 I wrote, “Went out with John on his cycle the other night. I’m definitely going to get a motorcycle, sooner rather than later. After I get my next paycheck I’ll have enough money.”

September 11 it still hasn’t happened. “John & I had a good time Friday night. We rode his motorcycle up to Richard’s and the three of us sat & drank coffee and smoked dope. We stayed pretty late & then had a real nice ride back.”

Then September 21. “I finally did it. On Saturday I bought a Honda 750 motorcycle. It leaves me broke but I don’t care. Today I went to get a learner’s permit and tomorrow I’ll pick it up. Boy do I need something fun and exciting in my life.”

September 26. “And on top of that, I picked up my motorcycle that day. I was ecstatic. I was way up in the clouds. . . . After getting my bike Thursday I rode it about eight miles very cautiously and came home to get warm. Dressing warmer Friday, John & I went riding about 30 miles. Then Saturday we went about 120 miles, through Lyons, up the St. Vrain to the Peak to Peak highway to Nederland and down into Boulder. I got a windshield and we put that on and tonight I took it out and the difference is tremendous—so much warmer and much more comfortable. I like this. I can’t wait to ride it over to drop in on Dave. But between bills and the bike I’m broke. I’ve got about $50. Talk about scraping by. But Friday is payday.”

October 25. “I bought another helmet and Lynne & I went out on the bike Sunday. She loved it.”

And then November 4. “Got my motorcycle driver’s license yesterday. Flunked the test Wednesday & passed yesterday.”

So my riding career was launched. More to follow.

Biker Quote for Today

It’s Valentine’s Day in a few weeks. I wonder what to buy for my motorcycle this year.

The RMMRC takes a lunch break south of Kremmling.

I’ve written before about riding with go-fast guys. As I’ve said, I choose to ride my own ride and am not concerned with keeping up with people going faster than I am comfortable with.

That said, I wanted to make note of the one ally that frequently makes the issue of speed moot: traffic. Traffic can be an ally in two ways.

First off, if the guys ahead of you are racing ahead and you’re starting to lose sight of them, there’s nothing like a bunch of cars lined up behind a big RV to get the group back together again. If, like me, you like to cruise at a comfortable speed and enjoy the scenery then poking along in traffic can be a good thing.

Only to an extent, though. I’m just as eager to get past someone going way too slowly as the next guy and getting stuck going super slow with no escape in sight is torture for me just as much as for you. Fortunately my temperament is such that I just accept it, I don’t get all road-ragey. It is what it is and it’s best if you can just accept it. And I am not going to risk my life to pass someone no matter how long I’ve been stuck behind them.

But some people will. And that’s where traffic can again be an ally. If the go-fast guys ahead of you see their opening and blast off–safely or otherwise–but the opening is gone before it’s your turn, then you totally have no concern about losing the other guys ahead in the distance. I’ll see you again when I see you.

This was definitely something I encountered on an RMMRC ride this summer. I was on the Honda and let’s face it, that bike just doesn’t go that fast. It could, but in 1980 when it was built Harley-Davidson was lobbying Congress to ban the hot new bikes coming over from Japan as being dangerously fast. Too dangerously fast. Japan responded by putting rev limiters on bigger bikes to deliberately cripple them. My CB750 Custom has a speedometer that tops out at 85 mph. With 750cc of power it surely would go faster than 85 except for that rev limiter.

So we left Granby headed to Kremmling and the go-fast boys in front of me took off. I tried with some success to keep up but then we got into the canyon just west of Hot Sulphur Springs. We were behind a couple cars but one turned off and there was an opening and they blasted by the remaining one. No way could I get past at that point and then there was no place to pass for quite a while. By then there was nobody to be seen up ahead. I just didn’t worry about it. I poked along at my own speed.

You know what? We all got there. I do like speed at times but it’s just not high on my list of priorities.

Biker Quote for Today

An undertaker always rides his motorcycle slowly and never speeds it. Because he is not an overtaker.

John and Bill and our original bikes on one of our very early trips.

Riding hasn’t been much of an option lately, which sets me to reminiscing. Like back to when first John, then I, then Bill got our first motorcycles.

Mind you, Bill and John had had scooters when they were in junior high, which gave way to cars in high school. I would have had a scooter, too, but my Mom wouldn’t let me. I’ve told that story more than once. But these were the first real motorcycles any of us ever had.

It happened largely by chance. It’s been so many years that my memory is weak on the particulars but one way or another, John knew some guy who had a 750 Virago he needed to get rid of and he offered it to John at a price that was too good to pass up.

So one day John shows up at my door on this motorcycle. Hop on, let’s go for a ride. What a revelation! One of the first things I noticed was the smells. You weren’t closed up in some box, you were out in the open and if you went past some place with odors you smelled them. This is new.

And then there were the microclimates you are normally totally unaware of. What sticks in my memory was riding at night up north on Lowell and we went down into the dip of a small stream. Quickly down and back up but it had to be nearly 10 degrees cooler down in the dip. Who knew?

And then there was the whole concept of riding. When John and I went riding we didn’t generally have anywhere we actually wanted to go. We’d just pick a destination because that was an excuse to go ride.

So it wasn’t long and I was thinking really hard about getting my own bike. Of course John was all in favor of that. And back then there was a little shop just a few blocks from my house where they sold mostly used bikes and did repairs. John and I went over there and there were three bikes I found interesting. One was a Honda CB750 C, another was a Honda CB750 K, and I can’t remember the third. I was concerned that these were all a bit big for inexperienced me but John assured me that if I bought a small bike now, in just a few months I would be dissatisfied with it and want a bigger one. Better to get the bigger one now. Of course he was right.

So I bought the CB750 C, but John had to ride it to my house because I didn’t have a license or learner’s permit and I had never had any lessons on riding. Every other motorcycle I had ridden previously–many years earlier–had been no bigger than 305cc.

I got my learner’s permit and John and I went riding. No training, just go do it. Apparently I did so successfully. I have little memory of my learning period. Then I had to get my regular license. John had the advantage that he had kept his motorcycle accreditation current on his driver’s license all these years but I had to take the test. And the only bike I had to take the test on was my 750. I’ve told that story before, too, but suffice it to say that, on the second try, I passed the riding test on my big bike. I don’t think many people do that.

Now we were really cooking. But there was one thing missing. Bill watched wistfully as his two buddies went out having fun. It didn’t take long and Bill announced to us that he had bought a brand new Honda Shadow. He was joining the club. Now we were set. The OFMC was coming into being.

Biker Quote for Today

Life is too short to let dreams sit idle. Make every day count.

This bike may be old, and it may get dirty, but hey, it gets ridden.

A lot of motorcyclists insist on keeping their bikes spotless. I am not one of those. I figure that I can spend hours cleaning a bike and then go for a ride and get in some rain and by the time I get home it’s filthy again.

No, I just try to make a point to clean each of my bikes at least once every few years. I’d rather just spend that time riding.

But it had been a few years so I’ve done some cleaning recently. I had Joel give my Concours a complete tune-up while he had the bike to put on a new front tire. After I got it back I figured what the heck, if I’m doing all that I might as well clean it. So I did. Looks nice.

That got me going. Next I decided I ought to clean the Honda. I had to admit, it was pretty dang dirty even by my standards. Plus, Joel was going to be working on it because I had had an issue with the fuel line. I figured he might appreciate working on a cleaner bike.

So I dove in. That was when I noticed the right front fork tube was spectacularly dirty, and the left tube was not. Uh oh, this looks like a failed fork seal. Who knows how long it would have been before I noticed this if I hadn’t started cleaning.

Of course it’s a good thing to notice it. And the timing was good. I just added it to the list of things for Joel to work on. So now it’s the fork seals, the fuel line, and I’m having Joel do a tune-up on this bike, too. Lord knows how long it’s been since it had one.

Considering how filthy this bike was, I’m sure Joel is glad I cleaned it.

And I have this consolation: it took a long time for that bike to get that dirty. It won’t be anywhere near that dirty again any time soon. Yahoo! Let’s go ride.

Biker Quote for Today

Reasons not to date a motorcyclist: One bike is fine, but five bikes are better.

A quick look at our riding gear makes it really easy to figure out who is riding which bike.

In the early days of the OFMC we were a pretty homogeneous bunch. At first we had two Hondas and a Yamaha but John soon gave his Virago to his son and bought his own Honda Shadow, nearly identical to Bill’s. I, of course, was on my CB750 Custom.

And our clothes were pretty standard: blue jeans and whatever layers on top we could piece together. It was a while before any of us got around to buying an actual motorcycle jacket. When we did they were generic jackets, not trademarked with by motorcycle make.

A lot has changed in 30 years. While I still have the CB, I rarely ride it on the annual bike trip any more, and nobody else even owns a Honda now. We are also fully geared up now, and manufacturer brands show up a lot.

This really became evident when, on our recent trip, we stopped at a rest area in Utah. Others stopped at the rest area included a young couple from California. At one point the guy came directly to me and asked how I liked my V-Strom. He himself has a V-Strom that he got from his dad and he loves it.

We didn’t ask but he volunteered that it was pretty easy to know who rode what bikes. Dennis rides an Indian and he had his jacket off, revealing an Indian t-shirt. Bill rides a Harley and his leather jacket is emblazoned with the Harley logo on the back.

And there I was, with the only semi sportbike wearing a mesh jacket and motorcycle riding pants, not jeans. The kind of gear you’re not likely to see on someone on a Harley or an Indian. Not too hard to add one and one and come up with two.

We’ve all heard the phrase, “Clothes make the man.” I offer this variation: “Clothes make the make.” If that dude is wearing a Harley jacket he’s probably riding that Harley.

Biker Quote for Today

You’re a biker wannabe if you ride a Ducati. (OK, over time I’ve put up a lot of these “wannabe” quotes but have never found an appropriate place for this one. I guess it’s because it is just inappropriate. I love Ducatis. Rode a Monster once and what a bike!)

At times like this you kind of feel stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Biker Quote for Today

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