Passes & Canyons Blog

So is it a good thing or a bad thing when you have a 32-year-old motorcycle with only 29,000 miles on it? If you think in terms of using the bike for what it was intended, i.e., riding it, that would be a bad thing. And even if you were selling it, I’m not sure I, as a buyer, would consider low mileage necessarily good. That would raise questions about how gunked up the carbs might be and what else might be ailing from neglect.

Or it could just mean you replaced the speedometer. I mentioned awhile back how the dial on the speedometer on my 1980 CB750 Custom has broken (see photo above) and I needed to replace it. Also, the gears inside were making a high-pitched shrieking that made riding it very unpleasant. And you can’t fix a speedometer. They’re deliberately built so you can’t open them up and work on them; otherwise, anyone could just go in and roll back the odometer and sell the vehicle as having a lot fewer miles on it.

So that meant replacing it. Joel, my mechanic at Mountain Thunder Motorsports, picked up a replacement from Steele’s and on Friday I came by to have the work done. But when Joel brought out the new (for me) speedo it wasn’t the right one. So Joel sent me over to Steele’s to get the right one.

I did, and the new speedo shows only 29,375, compared to the 84,575 miles I had on the old one. Dang, that high number gave me a lot of cred; now it looks like I’m just a wannabe rider. That’s less than 1,000 miles a year. Oh well, I know how to fix that. Ride.

And I learned a couple things. First, Joel put the new speedo on so quickly it occurs to me I could have done it myself and saved what I paid him to do it. And I’m sure Joel wouldn’t have objected to that considering that he bought the wrong one from Steele’s and can’t return it. It’s his. So the whole thing probably comes out a wash for him. Meanwhile I paid for the right speedo and for installation. I guess I need to have more confidence in my mechanical abilities. I’m not averse to working on things, I guess I’m just reluctant to screw with something that might get expensive if I mess up. But how badly could I have messed up replacing a speedometer?

Whatever. At least now I can see how fast I’m going and I don’t have that horrible screech. And hey, it’s riding season! Hot dang!

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Biker Quote for Today

You know you’re becoming addicted to riding when you leave your car in the garage in favor of riding your bike to work on a 36 degree morning

I love my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom. It’s the first bike I ever owned and I’ve had it for what seems like forever. I still ride it regularly and though my Kawi is a more dependable bike, the Honda is just more fun to ride. It’s that “dependable” part that’s getting to me, though.

I rode the Honda today. And as I got on it and fired it up I had the same thought I always do anymore when I ride it: Am I going to get home today without any problems?

I can safely say now, after the fact, that I did indeed get home without any problems. But that’s the problem. Too often in recent years the answer to that question has been “No.” Last year it was out of commission for a lengthy period and in the last few years I’ve only put about 700 to 800 miles on it a year. Most of the time I ride the Kawi. Whereas I used to take the Honda everywhere (of course, it was the only bike I had), now when I plan to take a trip I always take the Kawi. First off, frankly, the Kawi is a better highway bike. But secondly, and also a big factor, I just don’t trust the Honda.

So why don’t I just get rid of it and get a newer bike? That’s pretty much what my mother said once when I told her one of our critters was sick. But no, it just doesn’t work that way. I love this bike. I wanted a bike for so many years and I finally got one. I got this one. And this bike has brought me more joy than I can begin to say.

OK. Fine. So what’s the big deal? Keep the bike, and keep riding it. But now we’re right back at the start. I really don’t enjoy wasting hours of my day waiting for the tow truck to arrive. I really don’t enjoy helping to ensure that my mechanic lives an affluent life while I scrape by. And I’m not equipped and I don’t have the time to do all my own repairs the way some folks say I should.

When you’re talking love for your kids you always think unconditional love. There’s nothing they could ever do that would cause you not to love them. But a motorcycle is not your kids. And sometimes, regret it though you may, the time comes to get rid of the bike. I know it will shock many of my friends to hear this–even my wife–but that day may be coming.

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Biker Quote for Today

I don’t think duct tape is gonna fix that.

Yahoo! I got my CB750 Custom back from the shop and had the chance to ride it again. As I mentioned last week, I’d had electrical problems with it all summer, but now it’s fixed.

At least it better be, I paid more than $400 for a new stator and rotor. That’s after having it in once before where they cleaned the contacts and thought that was all that was needed. At this point I’ve paid almost as much in repairs this year as I’d judge the bike to be worth if I were to sell it.

Not that I’m going to sell it. This bike has a ton of sentimental value to me, starting with the fact that it’s the first bike I ever owned. How many people have you heard remark wistfully that they’d sure love to have that first bike back? For me, the answer is “a lot,” and I’m happy to be able to say I still do have that first bike.

And you know, I’ve been everywhere on this bike. That’s us in California there in that picture, and I’ve been all over the west on it. We’ve been together for more than 20 years, and that’s more than I can say even for my wife and me. Lyle Lovett has a line in his song, “Don’t Touch My Hat,” that goes ” . . and we’ve been together through many a woman.” Well that’s the deal here, too.

Of course, keeping a motorcycle running as it gets older gets harder and harder. The dealership I used to take the Honda to eventually fired me as a customer because they don’t want to work on older bikes. So I switched over to Mountain Thunder Motorsports, where Joel specializes in these old guys. I’m wondering how long it’s going to be before my Kawasaki dealer fires me and my 1999 Concours. I’ve already started taking it to Joel for some things.

Our first extremely cold weather hit the day after I picked up the bike, so we’ll see just how much I get to ride it in the near term. Doesn’t matter, though. It’s running good again and I’ll be on it whenever I can. Hopefully for at least another 20 plus years. Dang, maybe someday it will be worth a lot of money, like a lot of 50-year-old bikes of other kinds are now. Then I’ll be riding something classy.

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Biker Quote for Today

Remember kiddies, bikers have more fun than people.

The last time I’ve ridden my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom was early October when I took it to the shop for repair of the electrical problem that has plagued me all summer. It’s still sitting there.

Joel, who runs Mountain Thunder Motorsports, my shop, tells me the issue is a burned out rotor, which is on order. It’s been on order for six weeks now.

That’s a problem those of us who ride older machines run into with some regularity. It’s hard–or damn near impossible–to get parts sometimes. In this case, getting a new rotor is dependent on Honda doing a manufacturing run of this particular part. Presumably they wait until demand builds up and it makes sense economically for them to do it. Meanwhile my bike sits and waits.

The issue for me, however, is that if it’s another month before they do a run it will be sometime in December before I have my bike back. And that would mean not riding the bike even once in November. Anyone who knows me knows that is totally unacceptable.

I’ve been riding this bike for more than 20 years, and when I bought it I made myself a promise that I would ride it at least once a month every single calendar month. It got pretty iffy a couple times but in all these years I have kept this string going. But now it is threatened.

So I did the only thing I could do. I told Joel it is extremely important to me that I have the bike back before the end of November and if that means replacing the rotor with a used part rather than a new one, then so be it. He said OK, he would do that, and he promised I’d have the bike back before the end of the month.

Obviously I’m hoping this doesn’t turn out to be an expensive move. Obviously, a used rotor has more of a chance of dying soon than a new one does. Will I be right back in for another one all too quickly? I sure hope not. And it may be silly, so you can call me sentimental or whatever, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take to keep my every-month string going.

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Biker Quote for Today

I don’t know, it’s kinda weird, but the constant chest pains seem to go away when I let the clutch out on my bike.

When my parents moved into a well-to-do development in South Carolina about 18 years ago I remarked that perhaps I’d ride my bike down to visit them there. They informed me that motorcycles were not allowed in this gated community. Of course I was indignant. The reason was noise, but as usual the community had not attacked the actual problem — noise — they had attacked what their preconceived notions focused on. That is, motorcycles.

Never mind that plenty of cars, trucks, delivery vans, and lawnmowers make a lot more noise than my 1999 Kawasaki Concours or my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who found this offensive, and while change takes time, change does occur. A few years passed and my father, who was the editor of the homeowner’s association newsletter, sent me a copy of the latest issue featuring a story about half of dozen residents who had ridden their bikes on a 5,000 mile journey. No Hell’s Angels, these retired engineers, accountants, lawyers, etc. And the community was pleased to see their neighbors having such a good time.

We just got back from there — Keowee Key, on Lake Keowee, outside Clemson, SC — yesterday. We went down for Christmas with Mom and the rest of the family. As my wife and I walked around one day I was pleased to notice a motorcycle in an open garage. Then the best of all was as we were leaving yesterday for the airport. Just as we were passing through the exit gate four leather-clad riders came up on their big cruisers and passed unheeded through the entrance gate. Things do get better.

One of the big events in motorcycling recently has to do with one of the smallest bikes. Honda recently announced that it has sold more than 50 million of its 49 cc Super Cub bikes. This bike was introduced in 1958 and is still in production.

For me, the bike has meaning because it was the first bike I ever dreamed of owning. Back in the early 1960s I was living in Nebraska and in those days you could ride a motorcycle at the age of 15. I believe it was in 1963 that Honda came out with the advertising campaign that said “You meet the nicest people on a Honda.” I still remember the brochure, with the shiny red and cream-colored bikes on a white seamless backdrop and young, happy people riding without helmets, without eye-protection–you know, the way it was back then. Up to then the biker image had been defined by Marlon Brando, James Dean, and the excessive partying that went on at Hollister, CA, and was then over-inflated by the media. Honda set out to turn that image around, showing that everyday, clean-cut folks rode bikes, too.

As I turned 14 I desperately wanted a bike, and the “Honda 50,” which was the only name I ever knew it by–none of this “Cub” business–was the least expensive and therefore most accessible bike around. It cost $300 new at the time. I had a paper route and I announced that over the next year I was going to save my money and when I was 15 I was going to buy a Honda 50. I saved scrupulously and by the time my 15th birthday rolled around I had $300 in the bank and I was ready. I announced my intentions and then, to my horror, my mother finally spoke.

“You’ll never own a motorcycle as long as you live in my house,” was what she said.

“But, but, but . . .” I protested, “I’ve been saying for the last year that I was going to get this bike when I turned 15 and I’ve saved my money. You never objected before!”

True enough, but the fact was that she would not budge. And all my dreams came crashing down. Years went by and I got sidetracked away from bikes so that even after I was no longer living in her house I didn’t get one. Finally, though, I did. And the way I did it at least balanced the scales a bit.

I was unemployed at the time. My reserves were running low and I didn’t know how I was going to make the mortgage payment. I finally decided I needed to ask my parents for a loan. They were happy to oblige but then I decided to take some of the loaned cash and buy a bike, instead of using it for the purposes stated when I borrowed it. So I paid $900 for a 10-year old Honda CB750 Custom with 19,500 miles on it. It wasn’t until years later that I told them where I got the money to buy that bike.

I still have that bike and I ride it plenty. Back in 1999 I also bought a new Kawasaki Concours so I split my time between the two. But it was that Honda 50, the Super Cub if you will, that I once craved more than anything in the world. And at 50 million sold, there must be a lot of other people out there who have found it appealing as well. Congratulations Honda.