Passes & Canyons Blog

Having Reserve on a motorcycle does you no good if you don’t set the petcock (upper left) back to Main once you fill the tank.

Have you ever run out of gas on your bike? Does the sun rise in the east?

I sure have. Probably the first time was early on and I was taking a young lady I had an interest in for a ride. We were just out cruising when the engine died. I figured I just needed to go to Reserve but when I reached for the petcock I found that it was already in the Reserve position and I had forgotten to turn it back the last time I filled up. Oops. Fortunately I knew there was a station about a mile away and we walked up there, rented (that’s how it worked back then–rent was the price of the can in case you didn’t bring it back) a gas can and filled it, then walked back to the bike. She didn’t complain but she and I never became a couple.

Years later when I was married and my Concours was new my wife and I went for a ride with the local Concours Owners Group chapter. Most everyone filled up in Florence but I figured I had plenty of gas to get home. Wrong. We were coming up CO 83, just south of Franktown, when we sputtered to a stop. Fortunately we were right in front of a farm house and when we knocked they said yes they had a gas tank to supply their farm equipment and yes, they would sell us some gas. Lucky us.

Anyway, this is leading to my main focus here, that I’ve been reading a thread on Adventure Rider where the question is “When was the last time you ran out of gas? Tell your story.” Here are a few other people’s stories.

• I ran out on the way home from work on my NX650 years ago. No cell service… Within 5 minutes a state trooper came by, a wildlife trooper, pickup truck hauling a quad, had extra gas. He gave me enough gas to make it the eight miles home, but not before running my license. I was grateful and a little miffed at the same time.
• My last time was on a two-up day ride with my wife. We were having a great time just knocking around forest roads and backwoods byways at speeds that allowed us to actually have a conversation. Well, my Scramster only holds 3.3 gallons of fuel and I rode it until the trip meter read 176 miles, as we did our best to make it to a gas station that was 176.5 miles away.
• In 2015 I was on my XR650L in Baja. I was deep offroad and completely lost. All the deep sand had used up my gas reserves. I poured in my last gallon of extra gas rode for 35 miles then found pavement. Took a guess on which way to go so made a left turn and started riding. After roughly 10 miles I could see a town I kept riding and when I arrived at the town the engine started sputtering I pulled a wheelie to get the remaining gas to the rear of the Clarke tank. It ran for about a mile then sputtered again but this time could see a Pem Mex station. I pulled another wheelie and rode towards the station, as I stopped at the pump the engine died. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.
• A cautionary tale; forgot to put gas in my Triyumph Bonneville T100 and ran out of gas near home. I had read that you could shake gas over to the left side, and so i tried to do that. I straddled the bike and laid it all the way to the left hanging the weight of the bike on my left arm and shaking it. Without realizing it I severely strained and damaged my left shoulder and had to go to first care for pain pills and muscle relaxers. Don’t do that. It didn’t even work and I could have really messed my shoulder up. As it turned out I recovered without any more medical intervention, but I will never try that again.
• I’m on my CRF230L which does not have a gauge. Was headed to Rutland State Park on I190 when it started sputtering at 120mi. Switched to reserve. Got off the highway, was looking for a gas station on my way to the park when I ran out of gas after 30 miles on reserve. Pushed my bike 3.1 miles to the nearest gas station on a busy road. No one stopped and asked if I needed help.

Yeah, I’ve probably run out other times but just don’t remember, but not recently. I had a fuel-line issue with Reserve on my CB750 a couple years ago while riding with the RMMRC and Roy pulled out a can of gas he carries everywhere. He told me you can get these leak-proof cans are available at the army surplus store so I bought one. Not a bad thing to have at hand.

Biker Quote for Today

My first love, my motorcycle.

Coal Creek Canyon is a really nice ride.

Bill and I decided to run up to Black Hawk on Friday for lunch and some gambling so I got on the CB750 and headed west on Hampden. I soon had one of those encounters that remind you to stay on your toes.

I was in the inside lane and first at the light, stopped at Colorado Boulevard. The east-bound traffic got the green and the turn arrow and I got ready. The light changed and the car in the turn lane seemed to be stopping for the red. I started to pull forward and the car didn’t stop and was going to run full on through the red and turn in front of me. Then she saw me, a very startled look on her face, and she slammed on the brakes.

Yeah. Be careful out there. You never know when some driver is going to do something.

I got to Bill’s and he was figuring to just run up Clear Creek Canyon and come back down Golden Gate Canyon–like he always does. I like variety so I said let’s go up Coal Creek Canyon and then come down Golden Gate. So we did.

Oh man, it’s been a very long time since I’ve gone up Coal Creek Canyon and I had forgotten how nice it is. I mean, I’ve been down it from time to time but going the other direction is like an entirely different road. It was sweet! And it was a beautiful day to ride. Bill agreed enthusiastically.

We got to Black Hawk and ate and then played some machines and both walked out with tidy sums more than we came in with. Nice day!

I knew when we parked in Black Hawk that I was going to be going to Reserve before I got home, and I was right at the mileage where I generally have to shift to Reserve. So I just went ahead and flipped the lever. When we were leaving the bike coughed when starting at first, reminding me I had made the switch. Then it ran fine.

We ran down the canyon and turned our different ways and I headed home, down 93, and C-470, onto US 85, which becomes Hampden. I figured I would do the usual and stop at Costco off Santa Fe for gas. But I got to Costco and I’ve never seen such a long line of people waiting to get gas. What the heck?

I got back on what was now Hampden and pulled in the next gas station, only to find all those pumps busy and people waiting. Really, what the heck? Is something going on that I don’t know about?

No matter. My tripmeter was reading 185 and I know I can get 225 miles out of a full tank of gas on this bike. I would just go home and get gas the next time I take the bike out.

I got to Hampden and Tamarac–exactly one mile from home–and I ran out of gas. ???? How could that be? Did I not fully fill the tank last time? I have no idea. But at this point the tripmeter was still only reading 190.

I rolled off to the side of the road and kept trying to start the bike and this guy in this pick-up behind me starts honking. Like, dude, do you not see that my bike won’t run? I waved him around and then pushed the bike up onto the sidewalk. Thank goodness for those ramps now to accommodate people in wheelchairs.

I was jockeying it around and lost it and the bike fell on the left side. Not all the way down; it came to rest on the peg and the case guard. I know how you’re supposed to pick up a bike but I figured I could just grab it and wrestle it back upright. And I did. Three days later there are no ill effects, like in my back or something. I guess that wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done but apparently neither was it the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.

Being just one mile from home, I called Judy and she brought me gas. Problem totally solved. But why the heck did it run dry at 190? That tank holds 5-1/2 gallons and I get about 45 miles to the gallon. That’s almost 250 miles if you run it totally dry. Now, at least for a while, I’m going to be really paranoid about running out of gas once I get into Reserve. Motorcycles: they’re so wonderful but they sure can be a pain at times, too.

Biker Quote for Today

Motorcycles are like women: Even though they are dangerous we need them in our lives.

So the tank on this bike is not bottomless. Who knew?

I told about riding home from Deckers on the V-Strom with the you-need-gas-now! icon flashing ominously, all the while nervously confident that I had enough to get home OK.

The next time I rode that bike I was going with the RMMRC on one of the regular Wednesday morning rides. I got a late start so I figured I would get over there, let them know I was coming along, and hurry off to fill the tank. But this was Wednesday last week and it was a cold, rainy morning. I also just threw my weather gear in the bags, intending to put that on once I had connected with the group.

I got to the gathering place just a couple minutes late, which should not have been an issue because they never get off exactly at the designated hour. But there were zero bikes in the parking lot. Now, some guys come just for the breakfast and camaraderie with no intention of going along on the ride. I figured there might be some folks inside but with no bikes it was clear none of them intended to ride, so that was irrelevant for me. I wanted to ride.

It was also possible I had missed them, that they had already left to ride. But I know where these guys park and there were cars in those parking spaces and if they left just two minutes before I got there those spaces would not yet have been filled.

Whatever the situation, there was not going to be an RMMRC ride for me this morning. So I headed toward home but thought about getting gas. Ultimately I decided I was cold and gas could wait for later. So now the tank was even lower than before.

Yesterday was a much warmer day and I figured I really needed to get gas in that bike. Plus, I wanted to go for a ride.

I wheeled the V-Strom out on the driveway, climbed on, turned the key, and pushed the start button. It cranked and cranked and cranked but would not start. It was facing downhill so I thought maybe if I leveled it out that would allow gas to reach the fuel intake. That didn’t work. Then I tried facing it uphill. That didn’t work either.

Obviously I was really, really low on gas. I know that while a low tank can cause problems starting, nevertheless if the bike is running it can keep running. The problem is getting the fuel flowing in the first place. We have several gas can around home and two were completely empty but the third had just a little in it, maybe two tablespoons. I dribbled that in and hoped it would do the trick.

It did not. So I did the only thing I could do. I got in my car and drove to a station and filled the gas can. Then I came back and poured just about half a pint in and now it started. Then I went and got gas.

Now I know this bike just a little better than I did before.

Biker Quote for Today

If driving a convertible is topless why can’t I ride my Harley in the nude? — Tom T. Hall

Just a photo illustration of the idea of being out there far from anywhere with the bike not running.

I ran out of gas on my way to work the other morning. I don’t know about you but that just seems to happen to me periodically. With no gas gauge on the CB750, just reserve, you never really know how low you are.

It wasn’t the first time.

This time around I had been riding in the hills the day before with the guys and switched over to reserve. I have a fair idea how far I can go once I switch to reserve and I calculated that I could get home and then get over to where I like to gas up on my way to work the next morning. I was heading west on Hampden just west of University when I learned that that estimate was wrong. I came sputtering to a stop at Gilpin. Don’t you just hate when that happens?

I was fortunate in this case. I rolled the bike a long block or so to where Old Hampden diverges from the main road and from there I just coasted down to the station I knew was nearby. I probably only lost 10, maybe 15 minutes in the whole thing and wasn’t even late to work.

But how many other times have I done something like this? I make fun of some of my friends because they freak out about gas when they’re just getting close to going to reserve. They never actually go to reserve if they can help it. I figure that’s what reserve is for; you hit the point where you need to flip that lever and then you start looking around for a station.

Sometimes I misjudge.

I think the first time I ran out of gas on a bike–it was the CB; that’s the first bike I ever owned and which I still own–I was out running around with a young lady I had designs on and apparently I had forgotten to flip back off reserve when I had filled up last. So I was expecting to need to go to reserve but then when the bike finally started sputtering I found the lever in the wrong position and the tank completely dry. We had a good walk that day. Nothing ever developed in that relationship.

There was another time when I was on the Concours with my wife and we had been out riding with a bunch of folks. Everyone parted ways down in Colorado Springs and we headed back to Denver on CO 83. Everyone else had gotten gas back in Florence but I didn’t fill up because the Kawi holds 7.5 gallons and I knew (I just knew!) I had enough to get home. Oops.

We were just a couple miles south of Franktown when we coasted to a stop in front of a farm house. It took some knocking but someone finally answered the door and they said yes, they did have some gas. We would need to push the bike all the way around the back of the house, up a bit of a hill, to where they had a tank. Shucks, I figured if we could just put a pint in an old coffee can that would be fine to get on to Franktown, but I didn’t want to argue–they didn’t seem exuberantly happy to be bothered by us. So we did, and paid them for a gallon and were on our way.

Another time Judy and I were on the Honda and I don’t remember how it was that we ran out but we did. We were somewhere up in Westminster or Commerce City and just came to a stop by the side of the road. Very quickly a guy in a car stopped and offered to help. He said he would take me to get gas. I got in and off we went and he explained that he was sort of a freelance roadway assistance program and he would sure appreciate anything I could give him for his help. Considering the situation I was glad to give him $20. He was glad to receive it.

Are those the only times? I don’t know; those are the only ones I can remember. Maybe my buddies aren’t so silly freaking out over getting near reserve. Maybe I should be a little more like them. Not a lot, mind you, but a little. I’ll bet it’s a long time before I run out again, though. It takes a while for memory to fade.

Biker Quote for Today

A motorcycle functions entirely in accordance with the laws of reason, and a study of the art of motorcycle maintenance is really a miniature study of the art of rationality itself. — Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance