round the mountain, across the river, and through the woods ... to get lost i go

I was able to get some "Ed time" today and used it to get to know the KLR. Today I earned a nickname that others have used in reference to me -- Adventure Ed.

I spent an hour here on the computer before leaving in order to allow the sun to reach a little higher into the sky and let the temperature come up some. It also gave me time to try and find some established trails to go explore. I was really getting nowhere and I finally just gave up and figured if I found something, great! if not, well it's just some saddle time -- not entirely a bad thing at all!

So I just decided that there is an area referred to as Max Patch nearby (about 30 miles or so) that is nothing but gravel forest service roads. Surely I can find some interesting area(s) to explore there. Here is what I come up with (it's just a map of where I went, and is mostly for my reference, but feel free to click it if you want -- it'll take you to googlemaps)

http://tinyurl.com/6lnglxh


I got the bike out, geared up, and hit the gas station. Now, with a full tank and empty head it was time to motor on. The first 15 or so miles was asphalt, but I was soon on some gravel and climbing what is referred to as Round Mountain. I find myself really tentative at this point, but I am still trying to get a feel for the bike. 

I saw this spring and decided to stop and get a couple pics and a few sips of some cold mountain water as well. Nothing like spring water!


I continued on and after a few miles or so, saw a road off to the left and decided to take it. I had been climbing all along and now am headed downhill.


Once at the bottom, yet another road off to the left appealed to me. Appealed is probably not the right word. It was almost as if it was summoning me. 


Far be it for me to ignore such an inclination, so I went with it. Within 500' there was a water crossing. It looked pretty tame so I crossed it and had no issues.


After another 1000' it came to a loop with no other way out. Or so I thought! On my way back out, I noticed a narrow trail branching off to the left. If you did open the link above, the point marked B is where the adventure started. The trail branches off to the left of the B.


Again, I felt like I was being summoned to take that roa -- err trail. It was too narrow for a car, but about the size for a 4wheeler. Hmm this could be good! 


So again, I was just dumb enough to follow that inclination. I parked the bike and walked over to find out how bad it was. There was a mud puddle in between a couple of whoops.


It looked rather intimidating, but it was one of those if you don't go, you won't know situations. Being as dumb and curious as a cat, I wanted to know, so I went! 


I went over the "dune" and into the puddle with the RPMs up so I would be ready to hit the throttle when I needed it. While it was rather deep, I cruised right through without any trouble. It seemed easy -- too easy! 


I got my feet wet and managed to keep the bike upright with no sense that I was ever out of control. I let out a loud WOOHOO and instantly a smile was pasted all over my face under that helmet! It was a feeling of accomplishment! 

There were a few more areas, that caused me to park, walk ahead, check out the trail, then walk back and continue on. 


As I was going along I couldn't help but think, 'I sure hope this comes out somewhere'. Some of the slopes were a significant downhill, and the ground was a mix of stones and muddy terrain from two days of some significant rain.


I was basically walking it down the hill as the comfort zone wasn't where I wanted it yet. A little brake, a little coasting, a little duck-walking. I only did this on the steeper sections, but it kept my attention. 


One of these hills re-kindled my thinking of "I sure hope this comes out somewhere!" as it was about a 1500' downhill steep grade. I definitely didn't want to come back up that with the slick, rocky terrain!


Shortly after that hill, though things leveled off. I found a place beside the river that was a good place to stop and just relax a minute. My temperature gauge had worked itself to the middle point and stopping to give the bike a rest seemed like a good idea.


I sat there and listened to the rush of the water as it cascaded over the rocks on its downward journey. It was quite serene.


After my zen moment, I mounted back up and journeyed on. It wasn't long before I found another downhill and this one was basically a spring runoff with a rocky bed that mandated more duck-walking and playing with the clutch and brakes. It wasn't bad, though.


Then there was another steep downhill slope. This wasn't long but it was still intimidating. I managed it okay doing more of the duck-walking stuff. Once again, my mind reverted back to "I hope this goes somewhere" because I didn't want to have to scale *that* slope either. 

 I got to another water crossing -- the same river that was pictured above. This one, though, was more than I wanted to take on. 


There was a strong current, and the river had wallowed out the bed to nearly 2' deep in a couple spots. The rush, the 2' depth, and the 12' or so width, all combined to deter me -- and my stupidity and curiosity ended ... right there!


I walked back to the bike and intended to turn it around. Only, the trail wasn't wide enough to pull a U-turn and I had to pick up the rear tire and scooch it around a few inches at a time, all the while trying to make sure I didn't retract the kickstand. When I got it about 90* from where it had been facing, I figured I now had enough room to ride it out by pulling up the bank, coasting back, turn the bars, and repeat. I managed this as a five point turn. 


What I had been regretting all along just came to be. I am going to have to go up some of those slickery slopes. Yeeha! I guess it's time to get my stripes!


I made it back up the rocky creek bed with minimal problems. The rocks made you pick good lines and I think I did fairly well with that. 


However, I had to take it slow because some of the rocks were large and I did manage to stall it a couple times, being cautious. This spiked my temperature gauge to nearly 3/4 on the high end. It was time to let it sit and cool.

Sadly, it did this right at the slope I was dreading. So that whole time, I got to sit there and stare it down. To say I was intimidated would be underselling it. 


I stared and stared while waiting. Convincing myself, you *got* to do this. That slope looked menacing. I took a picture but the picture doesn't relay it well. 


The engine cooled enough for me to just face it. So I did. I goosed the throttle and kept it in an RPM range that produced forward motion and just hung on! 


The ass-end got rather squirrely, but I just kept at it. Hey, this ain't so bad afte-.... PLOP!


I hit a rock or something that stopped my momentum completely. I went from moving at about 5 mph to not moving at all and then went over on the left side. Not a hard fall, but still a fall. I had been doing well so far and had kept her upright up until now. 


Ah well! I knew this was going to happen and now that first fall is out of the way. It didn't hurt anything critical. I picked it up, mounted, and gave it another go! Crested the hill and had another feeling of satisfaction. 


Then off to the level section and noticed that I was keeping my throttle open wider and RPMs up. The ass-end was again slipping all over, but it felt good! 


I just stayed on the gas! I was starting to establish a comfort zone with this monster.


I was gaining confidence with every few feet of travel. Then I came to that long, steep downhill (now uphill) grade that worried me before. By now, however, I was feeling okay about it.


I just grabbed some throttle and took that hill on! Did fine until one of the squirrely slides put me over near some brush and the bike stalled as the rear wheel got halted by a downed tree limb. Put the kickstand down, moved the offending branch out of the way, and jumped back on, fired it up, hit the throttle and spanked *that* hill. More confidence and satisfaction. 


Confidence is a good thing, but can be a double-edged sword. The rest of the trail was relatively tame (compared to what I had just conquered). I got all the way back out to the entrance where the double-whooped mud puddle was and charged at it again. After all, it wasn't so bad the first time!


However, this time, I took a different line than when I first went in, because it was much deeper where I went this time. Also, I don't think I carried as much throttle when I entered the puddle. It stalled -- and I was screwed.


How screwed? THIS screwed!

No matter what I did I could not gain any traction. I stepped off the bike and my foot sunk about 8" into the muck substrate below the water. Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!


Now this pic was not the original angle I took. You cannot see it from the pic, but where the front tire is pointing, is the least steep way out, so I had moved the front wheel to that angle in an attempt to get it out of its temporary prison.


Well this didn't work --at all! No matter what I tried, I soon realized that she wasn't coming out under her own power!


Worse yet, I am in an unfamiliar area, on (well off of) some forest road and have no freakin' idea where I'm at. No GPS either to be able to give coordinates to someone. 


I called Melissa (yeah somehow still had service -- at least!) telling her to go to Google Maps and look up some stuff. That quickly proved to be a waste of time.


I then told her to  look up the TN forestry  site and maybe try and get in contact with them. She hung up with me and said she would have someone call  me. About 10 minutes later, sure enough someone calls.


Not the forestry department, but the Cocke County Sheriff's Dept. He knows as little about the area I am in as I do. He says he will call someone and then call me back (or have them call me).


My phone didn't ring again. I gave up on waiting on Mr. Sheriff man to help and started walking back towards ANYthing that may be a landmark I can offer up to maybe get an idea where I was.


I called Melissa told her I was walking out and maybe she should come get me. She calls me back and tells me she was just talking to the Del Rio (closest "town") Rescue squad. They are sending someone out to find me. How the hell are they going to find me? I am off of a road that is off of another road (the forestry dept. didn't waste money on putting street names up).


Within 10 minutes a guy from the rescue squad dispatch office calls me and tells me to stay on the line and we will work through this until they find me.


The road that I came in on was all downhill. Which means the *walk* is now all uphill. 


My fat arse is NOT in shape. I kept walking but after about a half mile my legs are getting heavy. To make matters worse, my socks and boots are SOAKED from standing in that muck trying to get the bike out.


(as an aside -- David Ryder gave me some excellent advice a couple weeks ago, but I forgot to do it. He told me my toolkit needs to have a come-along. DOH! not sure if that would've helped since I was alone but it might have)


I could hear some of the radio chatter of the rescue squad through the dispatcher's phone. Every 5 or 10 minutes or so he would say, "hey you still there?" "Yup, just taking one step at a time"


He told me to just listen for sirens. They would sound them whenever they came up to a road that was in the direction I told them I would be (if looking at the map link, I was on Wolf Creek Rd. -- again, that's NOT labeled on the road itself)


I got stuck a little after 3:00. I started walking about 3:30. It was nearly 6:30 when I came across any kind of helpful information I could share with them. I found a sign saying I was in Rattlesnake Gap. 


I had earlier told the guy I had seen that sign, but he told me from the information I gave him, there was no way I was that far back. So all this time they had been looking for me about 5 miles or so away from where I had turned off. 


He told me to stay at that sign and someone would be there in a few minutes. It is rather dark now, and sure enough I soon see some headlights. They show up, we get in his truck and then he asks what my plans were -- "Do you want to get the bike or do you want to just head home?"


"Well if we can get the bike out tonight that would be excellent. I really don't want to leave it behind, but I have caused you enough trouble already, so if you don't wish to, that's fine, I can get it tomorrow."


He didn't have any rope handy so we started back, then he remembered he had some stuff that looked weak, but had a strong tensile strength. I told him I was game if he was. He turned around and we started back down the hill towards the bike. 


It was funny, one of the guys in the truck said, "Yeesh! I can see why it took you three hours to get out of there" It was probably about 3 miles and it was ALL uphill too!


We get to the bike and he didn't want to grab it by the forks, and I was quite alright with that too. We tried to grab the handlebars but all that did was pull the bike DOWNwards. We grabbed a frame member down by the radiator and that was what did it. That KLR come right up out of that muddy prison and I was a happy man!


I slipped them a $20 for their efforts and told them to grab some beers or something once their shift was up. The guy didn't want to take it, but I convinced him I would have had to pay a LOT more for a tow truck, or if I had to come back tomorrow, would have to spend gas money anyway, so he quit arguing.


The rest of the way home was uneventful, save for the fact my hands and toes were frozen. It was probably 45*, but my shoes and socks were still soaked, and I had brought my 3 season gloves and they provide no protection from the cold. Additionally, when we tried pulling the bike out by the handlebars, it had moved them out of place (and I had no tools with me) so the barkbusters were no longer providing any wind protection.


I got home and removed wet clothes and jumped in a HOT HOT shower. I cannot remember a shower feeling so good. Followed that up by propping my butt next to the fire. 


WHEW! what a day! It was great, and I can see me really enjoying this kind of riding. I just need to make sure I am at the right speed and RPM range to tackle some of those mudholes!   LOL


Here is what a KLR should look like after a good day on the trail! Good times! Good times!



Tomorrow it will get a bath, and I will likely pull off the shifter peg to clean in there and will wipe down the chain and re-grease it. Oh and fix the handlebars.  

garage time ... flies!

I have been trying  for about a week or so now to get out to the garage but things keep preventing me from it. Last Friday, I whimped out because it was cold, and I had a few beers so probably not a good idea anyway.

Saturday, Dad and I went to pick up the KLR over in Nashville, by the time I got home, I was a bit whooped, so again, probably not the best time. I don't remember why I didn't get out there Sunday, probably got lazy or something. Melissa has gotten home late pretty much every day this week, so I didn't manage to get out there after she got home either.

Today, she had a late appointment (5:00) which would allow me to get some stuff done before she left, and if she didn't get home too late, upon her return. I started with the tractor and intended to grade the driveway. However, just as I was about done, a support member for the box blade let go and the blade would no longer lift. Great!

I look it over and find that the mount point is a casting on the rear wheel housing. Oh my! Dad is gonna love this! The damn thing was sheared in half.

Dad wanted me to go to the dealer and show them what broke and get an estimate of the repair. We have a hefty repair bill in front of us.

I wasn't doing anything I hadn't done with it before, it .... just .... let go! Never seen anything like it, and neither had the people who sold us the tractor.

By the time I ran up to the tractor dealer (grading normally takes a half hour or less) it is two and a half hours later. Yeesh! this Bandit won't be running before my birthday at this rate!

After getting back, I reassembled the fuel tank. It looked pretty good with that new "paint" in it.

I managed to pull the carb bowls and set my floats within spec. Good thing I took the time, I was going to put them back in without checking, but two were off by 3 mm so I likely would've had to pull them off again had I not took the time.

Then the tractor guy came to take it off to their shop. There goes another half hour. While he was loading, Dad's chair quit working. Are you kidding me?

This took another half hour and by now, there isn't much point in going back out to the garage as Melissa will have to be leaving to make her appointment pretty soon.

She went to her appointment and returned, and I headed back out to the garage. This is the part I have been dreading -- okay the *next* part I have been dreading. I need to get the throttle cables back on. I struggled with this last week and spent hours getting nowhere.

I have been told how "easy" this is supposed to be, but I am not finding it to be so. I can get the ferrule in the hole, but aligning the cable with the slot on the back cable is whipping me!

I keep at it and at it, but am still getting nowhere. I finally managed to get the cable to slip in the slot. SWEET! I then slap the front one in (that one's easy because it's up front and easy to get my fingers too -- the other one is hidden in between carburetors) . I check the throttle grip and it pulls fine, but does not snap back. (insert multiple bad words here)  Apparently, I put the cables on the wrong side! (insert more bad words)

I unhook them and continue trying to get the cables to cooperate. By now it's been another two hours and the mechanic's chair thing I've been sitting on has become too much.

My ass hurts! I mean really hurts! That thing is a torture rack if you sit on it for any length of time.

I resign myself to some lathe time. It has been a few weeks since I attempted to turn anything and much, much longer since I have turned anything that made it to finishing stage.

I looked at some of the free wood lying around the garage but decided against it and grabbed some of the stuff Dad bought me a while ago. I grabbed a thin stick of Cocobolo I was thinking I could rough turn a beer tap handle with it. Then I couldn't find the tail stock spur that would help hold it. I cannot turn without it so abandon that for a piece of Rosewood (I think -- no longer marked).

This stuff is tough! I keep getting tears and scratches, and my tools are sharp. I have learned to keep the grinder mounted to the workbench at all times so I can just walk over and sharpen anytime I need to. If it's easy, then I am more inclined to do it.   ; )

Anyway, I get it turned and have decided it will either become a bowl or a box with lid. That is yet to be determined, but the shape is roughed out. I was getting a bit tired, so figured that was a good place to quit.

I decided, I should at least sand it before calling it a night. After sanding there were still a couple spots where the tool had tore into the grain a bit. I decided to hit those spots again with a sharp tool and then re-sand. Still didn't smooth out those rough areas.

I have some CA glue which is really good for filling in cracks, so I figure I could possibly use some to fill in these tore out areas. Besides, pen turners often use CA glue to put a nice gloss on their work. Two birds with one stone!

So I dribbled a couple drops on the work and turned the lathe on, keeping a rag on the piece so the glue will work itself into the grain. Oh my GOD!! this stuff is nasty.

I felt my nose hairs burning! and my eyes burning! and it was from the fumes from this stuff getting hot as it was rubbed into the wood. Wow! I never heard anyone who had discussed using CA glue mention this before, maybe it's an initiation ritual. That stuff is wicked!

However, it *did* put a nice finish on the piece and it did smooth over the rough spots better than anything else I had tried tonight. Enough so, that I put on a second coat and endured another round of eye and nose burn.They are still not smooth, but smoother! I will try to get a picture of it later and post it here.

I figured even though I hadn't accomplished much of anything, that was enough for the night. I got in the house to find it was 1:40 AM. Holy crap! garage time flies!

Communications breakdown ...

A couple of days ago, Dad tells me he wants to get a dirt bike and followed it up with "I'm serious about this". Knowing, that *he* is going to be unable to ride it, I selfishly try to persuade him into purchasing a Dual Sport instead since that would be more valuable (to me anyway).

I mean, wouldn't it be better to have something to ride TO the dirt instead of trailer it there so you can unload, ride, then RE-load after wearing yourself out? True, a dedicated dirt bike would be better once you get TO the dirt, but a DS would excel because you wouldn't have to trailer your bike to or from it.

I tend to ignore anything Dad says about wanting to do something until he repeats it. Dad talks the talk much more than he walks the walk. If I had a dollar for every time he said he wanted to do something (and we didn't do it) ... the Rockefeller namesake bear some credibility!

So he repeated it last night (Friday) and even suggested going to a Kwaki dealership to see what they had. I decided I would cut him off at the pass in case he was serious.

In the morning when I had woken up, I checked the local dealerships to see if they had any used KLRs in stock. Well they didn't, so upon checking their new inventory I found that MSRP is around $6-7K. I figured that would put an end to this talk. Surprisingly, he came back with that is in the ballpark I was thinking.

Really?!? Okay, then! I had found a few used KLRs on Craigslist and one in particular I had really liked, but had figured it was too high-priced. That is, until he said $6-7 thousand *wasn't* out of budget.

I found a really good looking '09 model with less than 9,000 miles listed for $4,200. The owner had purchased this to make a trip to Cabo San Lucas and was intending to sell it when the trip was over. Dad said give him a call, and I absent-mindedly didn't notice that the area code was a Nashville number.

Nashville area is 3 hours drive each way. Again, I figured this would put an end to this talk. Dad still didn't balk. The owner told me he would even knock $100 off the price for making such a drive. Hmmm ...

It's Saturday and now 11:30 AM and the bank closes at noon. We had to make a quick run to the bank to withdraw the cash or else we would be making a second trip if the bike had any appeal. We got to the bank 10 minutes prior to them closing. Sweet!

I managed to find the place without little difficulty thanks to the good directions I was given. I meet the guy and he starts going over the bike with me. Everything looks in order and he starts it up -- it hits on the second (audible) revolution.

This is where I shocked the poor fella. I asked him if we could wheel it over into the grass and gently lay her down on her side to see if I could lift it. I figure I'm going to use this bike mostly for off-road riding and she is going to fall at some point -- especially since I cannot quite flat-foot it -- it's TALL. I'm not on my tippy-toes, but the heels of my feet do not touch down.

Heh! you should have seen the shock and reluctance this guy had to the idea of purposely laying this bike down. He did *not* want to do this, but proceeded to do so, once I assured him we wouldn't hurt the bike.

I plan to do mostly off-roading with this bike, and since I cannot flat-foot it, I expect it will fall over. Additionally, I expect I will most likely be alone when this happens, so I need to be sure I can lift it up once it does.

I am sure if he had any Mrs Cravetz-nosy-type neighbors they were yelling "Abner! ABNER! come look at this!" As I went to right the bike, I found there were no places to grab it to man-handle it and that I would need to do the SKERT method to right it.

I guess the guy had no confidence in me as he grabbed the bars to "help" me. Surely not at all what I wanted, but I understand his side too. He then gave me a re-assuring the bike is only 350 lbs. Okay, that works.

My other request was to be able to run it through the gears and test the brakes. He told me he wouldn't mind so long as I were to show and let him hold the money in case anything happened. Not an unreasonable request, and I obliged him.

Everything seemed fine, but you sure have no risk of whiplash due to acceleration with this bike. Much more, it is too tall gearing-wise. The first order of business is to get the sprockets changed so that it has more low-end torque.

It damn near stalled as I turned around in the cul-de-sac in SECOND gear. YEESH!

Still, I cannot wait to get out and find some trouble with this bike. It's gonna be fun -- especially once geared to handle the terrain I intend to subject it to!

As we were on our way home, Dad said to me "I guess he will be partying tonight" Heh! you would think so.

However, whatever this guy is doing he seems to be living right (Maybe he is BRM's cousin). He told me while we were talking that he has 27 bikes. Two Runes (not cheap bikes), a harley softtail, a wing, a few sportbikes, some (other) cruisers, and some dirtbikes. Furthermore, when I told him we were pressed for time to make it to the bank today, he told me that we could do this on Monday as he had no job. I didn't ask him how he makes/made the money to afford all those bikes.   ; )

here are some pics

It has a Russel Day Long seat, a taller windshield, new rear tire, those large bags, and the barkbusters already equipped. This will be fun to play with.

On the way home Dad mentions that he still would like to have a couple 175cc thumpers to ride around the property. WHAT?!? a couple bikes? where did this come from? Apparently, I missed something in the translation!

I thought he was getting this for me to tool around on -- not so much -- he wants something for me and the kids to run around on the property. Well, he sure didn't communicate *that* point too well.

patience lost ...

So I got my sorry ass back in the garage tonight. Been trying to ever since Friday evening but one thing or another has prevented me from doing so.

I got my POR-15 fuel treatment Friday morning and have wanted to clean out the Bandit's fuel tank. It has been removed from the bike and emptied, so it was just a matter of adding the chemicals.

I read the directions and it seemed rather simple. Heh! that should've been a clue!

It is a 3 stage process where you add some warm water at a 1:1 ratio with the chemicals and slosh it around the insides of the tank. The first stage was a solution that would remove rust and the sludgy lacquer-type film left by gas that has sat a while. The second treatment would remove the alkaline finish and create an acidic base for the final coat, the sealant, to adhere to. Of course, the petcock and filters need to be removed to do this and the holes are covered with duct tape.

The directions suggested that warm water would be more effective than cold water -- but not to use hot water as it will likely break down the adhesive of the duct tape. It is laundry day and after a couple loads, our hot water heater was no longer kicking hot water out of the tap -- not even warm water by this point. Okay, I put some on the stove to boil, but planned to stop it before it boiled, after all, I just wanted it warm.

I sat down for too long and it was nearly boiling by the time I got to it to turn it off. No problem, I will dilute with cold water. So I do that and pour the first round of chemicals into the tank, add the water, and sure enough, as soon as I picked it up, I noticed a puddle forming underneath the tank. Apparently, I hadn't cooled it enough.

Okay, I pull the tape and add new tape and just try to be sure to avoid the petcock area (the tape on the other vents were just fine) as I swirl it all around. It leaked periodically as the liquid would be swirled over the area that was taped off and coming loose AGAIN. The swirling needed to be done for 20 minutes and then rinsed out.

Once the tank was drained of all the rinsed water, it was time for the second chemical solution. Again mixed with *warm* water. It has been nearly a half hour since I heated the water, so surely it has cooled down by now. However, I use more cold water this time and head back out to the garage to mix this cooler water with the second stage chemical.

I am sure you have guessed by the way I have phrased it, that the water was still too warm for the duct tape. Well, you are correct.

Even though, it was significantly cooler, it was still too warm. Another 20 minutes of carefully swirling the water around and being diligent around the petcock area. After this was drained, rinsed, and then drained again, came the critical part. The tank needed to be completely dried out of all water before proceeding to the sealant.

I took an old hair dryer and turned it to high and pointed it down into the tank and angled it around trying to get some heat into all the nooks and crannies and hopefully evaporate all the water that I couldn't see. I felt pretty confident that I had gotten it dry, so then moved on to the last stage.

Mix up the contents of the can until it has a uniform color and dump into the tank. The "paint" then needs to be applied to every part of the tank by twisting and turning it in all directions. The sealant should not be in the tank longer than 20 minutes and then all the excess needs to be removed.

This was where it gets frustrating. If there is a way to get this stuff out of the tank in 20 minutes, I sure would like to know how.

I removed the tape from the petcock, and being the consistency of maple syrup, it was near impossible to get the stuff out the hole. Especially since the outlet for the petcock is slightly raised to avoid sucking up the trash and sludge that sets in the bottom of your fuel tank.

This means turning the tank nearly upside down to get it to seep out the petcock outlet. Of course, before any gets out that tiny hole, most of the stuff has now run over to the other side of the tank. After many, many attempts at getting the sealant out of the tank by tilting every which way, the stuff has now created quite a mess!

The container I was emptying this into, was plenty large enough to allow me to get the runoff to go into it as I tilted the tank all around. While it did run off into the container, it also has dripped all over the bottom of the tank by now. This is paint by the way.

I would wipe it down, but having not been wearing gloves, it is also all over my fingers by now. Again, I'm still trying to get the sealant out by manipulating the tank. At this point, I am holding the tank insulated by some old rags. I guess my fingers had slipped a couple of times, as I had noticed my blue tank now has some silver spots on it. SH*T!

I hosed the areas off and used some 1200 grit sandpaper and slight pressure in an attempt to remove the partially dried paint without scratching the finish of the tank itself. Luckily, this worked pretty well.

At this point, I am more than frustrated as I have been futilely trying to get all the excess out. There is still a little left, but after nearly an hour of trying to remove the stuff that shouldn't be in there more than 20 minutes, I decided to tilt the tank up and let whatever little excess there is to settle and dry down in the very bottom of the  tank (closest to the seat). Probably not going to be a problem as there wasn't much left in there to start with, but am agitated that I didn't have the patience to finish the job properly.  It'll take 96 hours for this to cure so I am idle for the next few days as I do not wish to stir up any dust in the garage until it has.

Round and around

So while many folks were out fighting crowds trying to scarf up "deals" and boost the economy this Black Friday, I took the opportunity to jump on the bike and pad the pockets of the oil tycoons. At least that was the plan once I found that Melissa didn't intend to work since it would likely just be a waste of gas and time.

I hadn't been on the bike in 3 weeks and Kent Matthew mentioned on his FB page that his wife and kids were out of town for the weekend and he would be getting some "helmet time". Well, I like Kent so I invited myself along. Since he told me where he was meeting a couple other riders at and when, I took that as he didn't mind.

It was about a 2 1/2 hour ride from the house and Kent wanted to meet up at 11 AM. I layered up as I knew it would be a chilly ride as I was going across the mountain due to the temps here last night being almost at the freezing point and the sun wouldn't be very high at 8:30 AM.

By the time I dressed,  grabbed a piece of leftover pumpkin pie, a banana, and 2 pieces of toast, geared up, and pulled the bike out of the bike shed, it was about a half hour later than I intended to leave. Sh*t! late again. So I text Kent and let him know I was going to be about 30 minutes late. Somehow, I don't think he was very surprised.

I put the cell phone in my suit pocket and straddled the bike. I clicked the starter to hear a disappointing RRR-RRR-Rrr-TTT-ttt  ... which was promptly followed by "DAMN DAMN DAMN!" 

I pull the phone back out and call Kent to let him know there there was no sense in waiting on me as it would take too long to charge the battery. He asks, "You have cables, don't you?"   DUH! why didn't I think of that? So I tell him I will call back once it has started.

We formulate plan B and he says to plan on meeting him at 12:00 at the same place instead. This will be tight, but I figured I could make a little bit of time on the interstate. So I set out. Luckily, the tank was filled prior to coming home the last time, so that is one less time-consuming task to do.

here is a link to the roads I *think* we took (it goes to a googlemaps page) ...

http://tinyurl.com/7puvyf3

The ride down was mostly slab, so it wouldn't have been too difficult to make time so long as there wasn't much of a law presence -- and there wasn't. I made pretty good time and when I got to Brevard, NC (about a half hour away from our meetup) I topped off the tank and called him to touch base.

I then hit US 178. I had seen this on the map before and it looked fun, but I have never found myself in that "neighborhood" to try it ... until today! This was alright! *especially* since it was empty and I got to run my own race .... errr ... ride! I actually got my heart beating a little bit! Good fun!

I arrived just as the one rider (other than me, of course) they had been waiting on showed up. It was Kent on his FJR, a buddy of his, Terry, on a Ducati, a buddy of Terry's, Chuck, on a TL, and me on the big Sabre. Apparently at some point Terry's wife was going to join up with us. Terry was confident she would catch up.

Even though the day got off to a chilly start, it was now nearly the predicted high of 60* and not a cloud in the sky. Perfect riding weather!

We started out on a bunch of narrow two-laned backroads that were a nice bit of fun. However, I couldn't tell you the name of one of them, nor likely even find my way back to them. I *do* know we crossed SC-11 like four times as we zigged and zagged. This guy Terry knows the area rather well, and at a later stop I heard Kent say he didn't know some of those roads either.

The stop was a really nice overlook (along SC-107 I think?) and Terry stopped to let the shutterbugs use their cameras if so inclined. I    took advantage of the opportunity and took a couple of pics ....

(I believe they will enlarge if you click on them)

From here we wound our way to GA-28. I had never been on this stretch of 28 and I must say it is every bit as enjoyable as the stretch in North Carolina. We then took Warwoman Rd. Again a nice twisty arrangement of tarmac.

Knowing that I am still not 100% where I want to be, decided to be the anchor of the group -- meaning I chose to ride in the back so I wouldn't slow anyone down. Being in the back of the group and being a long time since we had passed any cars, I hadn't been watching my mirror. The road commanded most of my attention.

It was somewhere around here that all of a sudden I hear WWWWRRRRRREEEEEERRRRRRNNNNNGNG as some chick on an R1 just went FLYING by! I wouldn't doubt she hit triple digits as she blew past all four of us in one swoop. I don't mind admitting it scared the sh*t outta me as I hadn't been monitoring the rear view and never knew she was there until she had whizzed on by. It was Terry's wife, so now we are all assembled.

We pulled into Clayton, GA for a lunch at Wendy's and to discuss what roads to terrorize next. Terry mentioned that GA-197 was just down the road and it has been a few years since I run that. Nobody else really ventured an opinion so I guess my piqued interest may have influenced the decision a bit. 197 is not very technical but does have some nice curves and parallels a lake so it is scenic as well.

We took it over just north of Helen, GA and turned north on GA 17/75. 17/75 climbs a mountain and has a few switchbacks but they aren't as tight as many of the ones in the area, so you can be a bit aggressive. Once traffic was disposed of, we had some fun there too. I was getting down to 3 bars on gas so when I caught up to them (actually they were all waiting on me), I asked about when we were planning to gas up again. There was a station just up the road a couple miles so we stopped there.

We used this stop to communicate where I would be splitting off from the group. I decided to follow them back across US 76 to Warwoman Road (y'mean we have to run that again?) and then I would turn north on GA-28 where they went south. I had planned on taking 28 all the way up to the Dragon, then take 129 into Knoxville and onto I-40 as it was already 5:00 and darkness would be setting in soon.

I took 28 and even had a clean run at it (man! I love that road -- *all* of it). When I hit US 64 in Highlands, NC I missed the sign where 28 went and found myself going *EAST* on 64. Well, I didn't find myself going east until about 15 miles later when NCDOT decided to place a sign letting me know I went the wrong fuggin' way FIFTEEN MILES AGO!

I pulled into the next gas station and looked at my map to see what the next northern route would be to avoid backtracking and found that US 276 in Brevard was nearly the same distance away as it would be to backtrack and find 28. Not only that, but taking 276 would actually be a pretty direct route home from where I split off from the group. I love happy accidents!

By now it is, of course, dark and so I had to keep it pretty slow going up 276 as it goes slap-dab through the middle of the forest for about 20 miles and there is a river right next to the road. Perfect setup for forest rat encounters. Couple that with a sorry stock headlight on a 26 year old motorcycle and it is nearly a recipe for disaster.

I made it up to I-40 without incident and was still not too cold. Or if I were, I didn't really know it. Where I got on the interstate, I was only about 40 miles from home so I didn't have to cross the highest part of the mountain because of where 276 joins in. Sweet! that means I won't have to be as cold!

The miles started clicking away, but I was vigilantly watching the fuel gauge. I thought I had enough gas to make it back to Newport, but knew it would be close. I didn't want to stop until I had to because I was already numb enough not to know how cold I was. Again, I was chilled, but didn't feel cold.

The last 20 miles my arse was screaming. I kept trying to find a spot to sit that I wasn't uncomfortable with no luck. I hadn't gotten off the bike since the intersection of Warwoman Rd. and GA-28 which was about 140 miles ago.

I made it to the gas station just up the road from the house and topped off to the tune of 4.87 gallons. Yeep! I rolled into the house 11 1/2 hours after leaving having burnt off nearly 15 gallons of fuel, travelling through 4 states, and logging about 420 miles (acc. to googlemaps) cold, tired, and smiling.

I wanted a beer which seems to be a tradition after an excellent fun day on the bike, but my body temperature demanded a cup of hot cocoa and a warm blanket to allow myself to "thaw" out. (I wasn't in any danger of hypothermia, but I was certainly cold). Even after the "thaw", I could feel a grin still frozen on my face.

Good times indeed! Thanks Kent for allowing me to tag along. All the twisty turny roads I traversed today has my head still spinning.

one step closer ...

So the restoration of Pearl from oblivion continues. I got the chain for it earlier last week but hadn't made it out to the garage to do anything about it until yesterday. Partially due to timing, and partially due to apprehension. Chains are my nemesis!

I already had the new sprockets installed. They are steel! -- soo happy to get away from aluminum. There really wasn't a steel sprocket on the market for this bike with the gearing I prefer, but after having to replace a bunch of aluminum sprockets due to short life span and probably bad maintenance habits, hopefully this setup should last me a bit longer, even if I have to lose a little torque.

I unpacked the chain and threaded it around the sprockets, made a measurement, and used Dad's chain breaking tool. Damn! why didn't I just bite the bullet and get one of these years ago? That was the shiznit! Before I was using a Dremel to grind off the nubs and then a hammer and punch to push the pin out. This was too easy!

Apparently it was. It has been so long since I did a chain, I forgot to advance the wheel all the way forward when I cut it. Oh well, better to have it too long than the other way around. Besides, with the chain breaker, it wasn't that labor intensive anyway.

I got that done and put the rivet master link on and pressed it without any further issue. Then snugged everything up, and gave the chain a good coat of lube. Next up -- carbs!

I had already removed them from the intake manifold and the air cleaner, so it was simply a matter of removing the throttle and choke cables, a couple hoses, and then slide it out of the bike. This was accomplished rather quickly.

I pulled the bowls and the tops and disassembled to dunk them in carb cleaner. Whew! what nastiness! It has been about 3 years since I had last run this bike and the bowls were showing it. Sadly, I didn't know it was going to be 3 years, so the carb bowls were full of gas over (most of) that time. WERE, being the key word here!

Apparently the gas had evaporated and  now there is a brownish-orange rust-looking sediment lining the bowls. I cleaned them out, soaked them, and set about removing all the jets. I was able to remove the main jets and the jet seats on all four carbs.

However, there is another jet that sets way down inside a recess that requires a tiny blade screwdriver to remove. Three of those come out without a problem. The other didn't appear to have a jet in it. WTF?

I kept looking and finally realized there was some goo down in there that prevented me from seeing the slot of the jet. I was able to extricate that matter and then the jet itself. They are now soaking in some carb cleaner.

Melissa come in at some point while I was doing this and the smell of the carb cleaner prompted her to say "It stinks in here". Heh! "No dear, this is how a garage is supposed to smell!"   ; )

Next up is soaking the carb bodies. I can only do about half of it at a time unless I dismantle the rack, which I don't wish to do. So I will attempt that later today. Then I need to get some POR-15 to clean out the gas tank.

*THEN* HOPEFULLY  I will get to hear it run! It's been far too long! I can't wait!

burn(t) bridge?

So I have been tending to Dad for a couple years or so now (although it seems MUCH longer!) and we have basically discussed all that we intend to on a casual basis. You know what I mean.

It's like when you are fist dating someone. There are loads of stories that you can share. After a few years, you have pretty much covered all the "old" stuff that you plan to share. Well, Dad and I have reached that point -- a while ago.

So we sit here day after day after day in almost complete silence, basically only uttering brief commentary on something regarding his idiot box since he does little else. That is, until, he gets a few beers in him. Then it gets interesting!

He has no self-control. He will drink himself into oblivion. With some folks that's no problem as they just get goofy until they pass out. Dad? well Dad is a different animal!

He sits there and grouses to himself barely above a whisper. Much of it sounds pretty hateful. Then out-of-nowhere sometimes, he will lash out and just get verbally abusive.

He has said a lot of things over the past couple years that have left permanent scars. Early on, I did not handle all of those hateful things with grace and likely have left a few on him as well when I responded to his lashing out. I have since learned (there may be hope?) it isn't worth it and to just let him spout off, regardless of what he says about me or anyone I care about.

However, after another one of his episodes last night, Melissa and I were talking and a light came on. I came to the realization that he has said enough hurtful things post-stroke, that I am not sure how much I even love him anymore. Yeah, I do, but ...  

It would be easy to say 'he's just drunk and doesn't mean that' and I would like to believe it. However, when the same things keep getting said over and over and over, it makes it harder to believe that he *doesn't* mean it.

Dad and I have always had a rocky (no pun intended) relationship -- dating way back to my youth. However, we have always managed to get past it. I used to think that the bridges we burnt, we were able to reconstruct because we always seemed to cut through the chaff.

With the things that have been said (and -continue- to be said) over the past couple of years, I am not sure that this burnt bridge will ever be rebuilt.

for every season turn, turn, turn ....

So the county has been out on our road cutting down some trees that are close to the road before winter hits. Some of it looked in really good shape and had a decent enough diameter to still yield some turning material after the bark was stripped off and much of it had some really nice grain color/patterning to it.

Sooooo .... I quickly scarfed up a couple loads of it before it was put to the chipper ....

Best part is ... it was all FREE! I can try turning this and if it becomes nothing more than sawdust all that was invested was a little time and time at the lathe isn't a bad thing. Time to get turnin'.    ; )

End of an era ....

For the first time in my life, this football Saturday will not include Joe Paterno on the sidelines of a Penn State game. The legends of the game are moving on. At least Bobby Bowden (another whom I can recall solely as the coach of a single team), was able to go out  on his  own terms.

JoePa has become a fixture in State College. It is a shame that he has to leave the game in the manner that he did, but he is accountable for his own actions and cannot blame anyone but himself.

I am a big fan of Mr. Paterno, as many who follow college football are. He has always represented himself with class and dignity and commanded respect. It is a shame that he was not allowed to finish the season, however I fully understand and agree with the action the university took.

It is a sign of character to show loyalty to those close to you. This is what JoePa did. However, while he reported the inexcusable actions of Sandusky to his bosses, he should have also contacted the police.

I am not familiar with all the facts surrounding the case nor how many kids were molested. If he had just gone to the police with it, instead of protecting his friend, this would not be discussed right now and he could've stepped down gracefully. Again, loyalty is one thing, but when kids are involved -- especially in such a heinous act -- it needs to be reported so it can be stopped before other kids are harmed.

I just hate that this is the way he will be remembered. After so many years of carrying himself in a respectful manner, this whirlwind hits him and gets him fired. As mentioned, I understand why the university took the action they did and believe it was the correct way to handle it. It's just unfortunate.

Wow! It will be so odd not to see either JoePa or Bobby Bowden on the sidelines. It truly is an end of an era

Let the Good Times Roll

Tim Schwab texted me on Wednesday evening asking me if I wanted to go ride Sunday. This is a rhetorical question right?

Of course I *WANT* to go ride, the real question is, Can I? After checking in with Melissa, I was told she would be available to tend to Dad after church and could be home by 11:15 AM.

With the shortened hours of daylight this time of year brings, that would only allow us a good 5 hours or so of riding, depending on where we met. We intended to meet in Hot Springs, NC around 12:30 PM, which is only about 40 minutes from me, but nearly 2 hours away from Tim. However, he was able to sneak away a bit earlier than I, so we planned on that.

Yeah, plans! Heh! His buddy, Chris, was not going to be able to make it to Tim’s in time for him to meet me in Hot Springs so he texts me Sunday morning letting me know he cannot commit. What?

I call him so we can cut through about three rounds of texting while working out new details. It turns out that he could not commit to a time frame. Basically, he didn’t want to pull an “Ed” and be late. So we setup plan B and decide that Asheville is nearly equidistant from my house and his and plan to meet at the Black Mountain exit off I-40 at 1 PM.

I chose to take I-40 over so I could replace my lost NC map at the Welcome Center. After fighting through the hordes of Gamecock fans proudly flying their flags celebrating their victory over my Vols , I found myself in Black Mountain and at our rendezvous point at 1:10.

Woot! I am 10 minutes late, but for me, that’s *not* late.

The only “problem” was there was no one there to corroborate that I wasn’t “late”.   ; ) Tim and Chris show up shortly thereafter and it felt good for once not to have folks waiting on my sorry ass! After a brief social session, we jump on the bikes heading south on NC-9.

I ran this a few weeks ago (waaayy) behind Mr. Schwab, but I am feeling much better about myself now. He tells me to take the helm as he is going to ride with Chris who has not got a lot of confidence yet.

So I take off and dispense of a few cagers and start enjoying the twisty bits that frustrated me just a few short weeks earlier. After a few miles there is a long (maybe ¼ mile or so?) straightaway, so I slowed waaayy down watching the mirror for two bikes. Nada!

I continue on and gave up passing cars by this time as I am still watching the mirror in hopes of seeing them approach. Still nothing … and it has been a while, so I find a spot where I could pull over and park the bike.

After a bit they show, so I merge back in and head on. The plan was to stop at US 64 and turn back north to run it again.

I pulled over at the first spot I saw once we merged onto 64 and found out why it took so long for me to see them. Apparently the first switchback corner we came to Chris handled wrong and was pitched off his bike.

Fortunately, damage was minimal, but he thought he had a cracked rib. The gear and a little luck was largely the reason for minor injury and the bike damage was basically cosmetic.

While at this stop Chris decided he was just going to jump on US 74 and head back home to Charlotte. Probably the wise decision considering he was hurting. (side note – he did make it home okay)

Tim and I meanwhile headed back up NC-9 to enjoy another run up the mountain. Then we would turn eastward and pick up NC-80 northbound.

I had never been on 80 before and Tim and I have talked about hitting some of the roads in his neighborhood for a loooong time. Today we finally made that happen.

This was good stuff! It offered a nice variety of curves. Stretches of it kind of reminded me of TN-116 with its mix of tight stuff and lazy esses.

I am still dealing with a flat spot at about 5500 RPM. I have poured two bottles of Seafoam in it, and it has gotten better, but there is still a slight sputter there. We were running on a long straight and I decided to try and work on that flat spot a bit.

I revved the engine up on this long straight to hit that flat spot, kept it there, backed off, and repeated. All the while, my attention is being split between the road and the odometer. I knew there was a curve coming up, but was paying too much attention to the odometer.

I noticed that curve was coming up rapidly and immediately stood on the brakes.Whoa boy things happen fast when that V4 is in its power band.

RRRRRRRTTTTTT  was the emanating sound as the tires squalled and speed was scrubbed off … then I just sauntered into the curve as if nothing happened. DUMBASS!!    

The rest of the run up the hill was uneventful, but quite enjoyable. Amazing what happens when you pay attention to the road, eh?   ; )     

Once at the top of the hill the BRP crosses 80 and Tim was waiting there in the parking lot across from the intersection. We then proceeded to take the BRP across to NC-181 and turned south.

We are cruising along at a good pace and passing what few cars we come up on as politely as we can. Then we come up on another rider who was just kind of poking along.

Tim gets up there and shows him a wheel for a second and that rider picked up the pace. He was cooking along pretty well and the two of them looked like a symphony the way they were in tune with one another. It really was a thing of beauty.

I knew we were going to be up in the higher elevations so I had layered up prior to leaving the house and by now was darn glad of it! We had been running along in a two or three mile patch of shade now and I was starting to feel a bit of a chill through my layers. Tim confirmed later that it wasn’t just me.

A few miles later, the other rider pulled off and gave a friendly wave indicating he enjoyed Tim’s company. Who doesn’t?

We soon found 181 – another road I had never been on that Tim told me I needed to check out. And he was right! This is nothing but looong sweeping turns that you can really motor through and it wound up putting a huge smile on your face.

We came upon a slow moving truck and Tim managed to have the time and a sight line to get by. However, I failed to have the space-time thing to have the confidence to pull a DY pass. I got stuck behind it for a long time because of my timid approach.

There were a few times I could have made a pass, but by that time the truck had caught up to slower traffic and it would have been to just set behind another vehicle to await another opportunity, so why bother? I just kind of gave up and rode along for most of that run.

At one of the “allowed” passing spots, I revved the engine to 7-8K in 4^th gear passing 3 cars in one swoop and was scooting along pretty well.  By the time I crested the hill, I had gotten the bike back down to a more legal speed, and not a moment to soon as there was a state trooper riding in the opposite direction.

I saw him tap his brakes as I passed. However, I didn’t see him again, so I guess he was not interested in me – and I’m okay with that. If he had crested that hill a couple seconds earlier, I am sure things would’ve been different.

That road needs to be run again. It was pretty sweet!

I just wish I wasn’t so timid and got stuck behind traffic for a good part of the more enjoyable bits. Tim, we shall do that one again to be sure.

We wound up in Morganton and grabbed a bite at the Sonic near I-40. As much as I love riding, I was damn ready to get out of that seat by this time as my arse was hurting!

Besides, sometimes the socializing about the ride (and just socializing in general), is just as good as the ride itself – especially when the company is good. After enjoying each other’s company for a bit, it was time to put an end to the day and head our separate ways.

When I got on the interstate I found the sun glaring directly into my eyes and that I had another 150 miles to go until getting home. I rolled in just after 8:00 with about 350 miles logged for the day, thoroughly sore, and smiling. Good times!

gettin' bettah!

It’s funny! I don’t EVER recall being on the fence about going out for a ride as much as I was this morning (Sat. 10/22).  EVER!!

After my absolute failure to establish any semblance of confidence (and competence?) while riding two weeks ago to and from Tellico, I was very apprehensive about jumping back into the saddle.

It wasn’t because I was afraid to die, but because my confidence was already fragile. I was worried that if I jumped on the bike and had *another* bad day, my confidence may be shattered.

Here I am, gathered up all the gear and stuff I would need for the day, and am sitting in a chair in my room trying to talk myself into going. Yeeesh! After about 10 minutes of this nonsense, and a heart-to-heart with my better half I finally to ‘man-ed up’, and headed out. 

((quick sidebar))

((Also part of that conversation …. I had packed the DSLR in case I came across any fall colors that were worth capturing. After our talk about my lack of confidence, she told me “if you wreck and ruin my camera (yes, Skip her and I still argue over it   LMAO), I would pay for it” (somehow, I don’t think she meant financially) … WOW! can you feel the love? ))
((end sidebar))

This ride would be strictly about fundamentals. Basically, it would be all about rebuilding a skill set that I believe I once had. Slow, easy, and smmmoooooooottttthhhh!!

The first road I took had some easy turns – by design – to help build up some confidence. I then jumped on the slab to get to Knoxville as I had to pick up a packet of yeast since a beer that I recently brewed never took off, likely due to bad yeast. So the game plan was to get over there grab another packet of yeast, pick up some good beer (since Newport doesn’t offer much for beer selection), and then plan out from there where I wished to go.

One of my favorite roads, which had been on the itinerary two weeks ago but never made it to, was nearby, so WTF?!? This is a 23 mile stretch of nothing but ess curves! This will either “make or break” me. The road? TN-116 – which is Rich Dluhy’s favorite road (ask him sometime).   <>

From where I was, there was no “fun” way to get to 116. Anyway, I wound my way to 116 and once there, found NO traffic to slow me down anymore than I may have already been going. However, about halfway through the run, I found a rhythm of sorts. I am not fast, but am much smoother and have built up a bit of confidence – I am no longer burning as much brake pads as I had been for the past couple rides.

Finally! I am not on the brake EVERY turn. I am hitting my lines, holding good bike posture, looking (all the way) THROUGH the turn – all things I *wasn’t* doing for the Tellico weekend. I still am not fast – read as …. not getting the heart beating nor adrenaline flowing … but I sure-as-hell am smiling!!

116 climbs two mountains which are full of technical turns, and has many easier sashes back and forth to tie the two peaks together. Left, right, left, right, all the while, I am being serenaded by the guttural sounds of that Honda V4 engine.

After a full can of Seafoam, Jitterbug is finally starting to run smoother even on that 5500 flat spot that was such an issue two weeks ago. I think one more can may fix it.

 I have a loop including 116 that I like, but have found it to be more fun to do it from the opposite direction. When 116 ended, I had two options, continue running the route in the opposite direction, or run back down to Knoxville, pick up the Dragon, and maybe use the camera that I put in such risk (as the wife coined it).

Considering the time of day, and the shortened late fall days, I decided to just run the route in reverse. There were plenty more fun turns to “play” in and help bolster whatever confidence I have built up, or just completely go backwards, should I miss a turn.

The next fun part was TN-61. I was following some Harley guy, but he was a pretty able rider and, even though he wasn’t haulin’ the mail, he was moving pretty well, so I settled in behind him. We soon came upon some slow moving traffic and it was evident he wasn’t interested in doing a DY pass, so I just put that V4 to work and skirted around him and the other vehicles and went on enjoying the curves and my newfound sense of confidence.

Zoom! Zoom! and a “yeah baby!” I was feeling pretty good!

So anyway, I got to keep that smile pasted on my face for the next 30 miles or so (not sure as the speedometer died somewhere along that run). When 61 ended, I usually would take US 11-W but I got to staring across the intersection.

Well, curiosity got the better of me – that road has to come out somewhere. Just as long as I don’t start hearing banjo music or the road turns into gravels, I aimed to find out where.

I went straight across, to find out where it wound up. There were no street signs to tell me where I was, but I kept going since I had gas and daylight.

This little exercise of curiosity actually turned out to be a shorter run than if I had gone the way intended. Additionally, it knocked out some of the long 4 lane drone that 11W tends to be.

When the road came to an end, instinct told me to turn right, but the road to the left looked more fun as it snaked uphill. So I turned northbound instead of how I should have gone, but at the time I still was unsure where I was. After a couple of the turns, I knew where I was, but I am headed the wrong way!

The last “detour” was a sidetrip along Lakeshore Rd. I used to use this as a tire scrub run because of its many nice sweeping turns. I was scooting along feeling great by this part of the run.   

I arrived home shortly before dark and was able to unpack the bike and put Jitterbug to bed in the waning rays of daylight. The evening was finished off with a couple of good beers and as I type this I am still smiling. I ain’t back yet, but I am getting’ betta’!

Rust never sleeps (pt. I)

Rust Never Sleeps

So my SME began on Thursday evening when Tim Schwab and Christopher McConnell both agreed to spend the night. That way we could leave early and ride over toward central TN. Tim arrived first and we quickly bled my brakes and then went and ran a couple errands I had to do prior to leaving.

By the time we got back CMac was here. We hung out a bit and then did the usual maggot thing – eat, drink, and tell lies through the night which passed all too quickly.

We awoke to a beautiful morning with cloudless blue skies and temps in the lower 70s. We left the house a little after 9:30 AM heading out for breakfast. I typically am not much of a breakfast guy so there isn’t much in the house to fix in the morning. I guess this makes me a bad host.

Once we had gotten to Hardee’s, I noticed that the right leg zipper of my riding suit had opened up in the middle. While Tim and CMac were eating breakfast, I fiddled with the zipper only to find that it has a bad tooth. Yippee! this weekend is off to a good start!

Tim had to replace a rear tire and we planned to get that done at Wheeler’s on 129 near the campground. However, as it was a little after 10 by now and he wanted to get to Wheeler’s around lunchtime, so we swapped the central TN route for a course due south instead.

Since I was more familiar with the area, I was put at the point. We had slabbed it to Hardee’s, so this would really be the first of the twisties of the day. I went into the first couple at a modest pace, just feeling out the brakes. Everything felt okay there so the next few I decided to wick it up a bit.

That’s when things got “screwy”. As I was accelerating out of the turn, the RPMs hit about 5500 and the engine went flat. This totally screwed up any rhythm I could muster before I ever had a chance to do so. I pulled over at the next stop and checked my plug wires. Sadly, they were all seated well.

That really set the tone for me for the rest of the weekend. Now, granted, I have not been on the bike in a while and *know* I am rusty. Yet, the progression (regression?) of bad technique that followed was rather aggravating.

I am using bad posture to “attack” the turns. I am braking in … every … turn (even ones that I had good sight lines) – whether I need to or not. I am *severely* lacking confidence. My chosen lines were okay, I think, but the execution of them sucked! Everything I did just … felt … wrong.

After a while, I give up and tell CMac and Tim to go ahead of me and have fun and I would see them at the next intersection. After all, there was no sense in all of us being miserable just because I am “off”. For the rest of the day that is how it went. I would see them at intersections. I guess my slow pace allowed them to get a couple naps in.    ; )

 We got onto the Foothills Parkway, and somehow or another, I had gotten shuffled back to the front. The Parkway is pretty tame and I was finally starting to feel a little more comfortable. Once on 129, I drifted to the back again and am back to braking at entry, and they were quickly out of sight. So much for a comfort zone!

The overlook was crowded, and I am waaaayy behind by now, so I just motored on. Apparently, they had stopped to wait on my slow ass. DOH!

I got down to Wheeler’s and they weren’t there. Surely, I am not SO slow that they have the tire on and had left already? I called up CMac because I know he likely has his cell plugged into his helmet with all his other gadgetry. Before I hit send, he and Tim pull in.

While the tire is being done, I kept fiddling with that leg zipper. No matter what I tried, nothing helped. Tim’s tire got done rather quickly and we were soon headed up the Cherahola! Alright! this is my favorite road and I *know* it rather well. This should get me some confidence back!

Or so I thought. I was unable to get anything done up there either. I am carrying less speed in the straights than I would normally be doing in the turns. We pulled into Tellico about 3-ish and ate at the Tellico café then headed over to the campground to pitch tents. The game plan was to go back out and that is exactly what I needed to do.

However, after the tents were up and gear removed from the bikes, neither Christopher nor Tim seemed inclined to go anywhere. Curtis Cavanaugh and I cooked up a plan to go do a short loop.

I also wanted to stop at Tellico Outfitters to see if I could replace my riding suit because I didn’t want to have to perform acrobatics to get in and out of my gear all weekend. Unfortunately, what he had in stock didn’t appeal to me, so acrobatics it is I guess.

 We ran up 360 with me in the lead, and while I am feeling more comfortable than earlier in the day, I am still braking prior to entering *every* turn. Gah!

At 411 Curtis suggested a different route back, so I told him to take the lead. With him in front of me, it helped deter the unnecessary overbraking I had been doing all day. We got back to the lodge in time to hang out and drink a couple beers before Lori and crew had dinner ready for us. 

Rust never sleeps (pt. II)

Prior to breakfast Saturday morning Christopher pointed out how bald my front tire was. We had looked at it before leaving the house and were pretty much in agreement that it should last through the weekend, but would definitely have to be replaced once I got back.

Well, not so much! That front was now a racing slick.

I had two options – get a new front tire or be parked all day Saturday and ‘baby’ it home on Sunday. The latter held no appeal, so I called over to Wheeler’s where we had been the day before and they had a tire my size and that it was reasonably priced.

I found out that Kent was planning a nice sedate ride over to the gap with his daughter. Sedate – ah! that’s exactly what I need. He said he didn’t mind me tagging along. The plan was that when we got to Wheeler’s, I would split off and he would continue on.

 We crossed the Cherahola at a moderate pace. The colors on the Skyway were in full swing and a moderate pace also allowed for taking in some of that beauty.

When it was time for me to pull into Wheeler’s, so did Kent. He hung out and waited until the tire was mounted.

Once mounted, we rode over towards the Tail of the Dragon. I was starting to ride better – ain’t it amazing what a new tire can do for one’s confidence? Following a smooth rider doesn’t hurt either.   ; )

The store was a zoo. I have never had to park that far away from it before. We were there for a while and I kept staring at the sign for 28 and entertaining the notion of breaking off and heading south to see where I was at confidence-wise now that I had a good tire. However, I stayed the course and continued on with Kent. I figured I could always hit 28 “on the way home” on Sunday. 

We got back to camp around 5 and I still wanted to go out briefly and test where I was at. Ed Shea was planning on taking Kent’s FJR out for a short test run up 39 and I invited myself along. Upon returning, I decided to run down 68 for a few miles just to get a couple turns in and gauge my comfort zone.

I actually did fairly well on that brief stretch. That felt good! Of course I know 68 pretty well.

Cool! I now felt pretty good about riding homewards on Sunday. The rest of the night was occupied with drinks and lies. Melissa and Eric (the entertainment) arrived around 11 or so and the party was taken to the firepit where we were regaled with song for the next hour or so. That was a great touch.

On Sunday morning, Tim and I had forged a plan to ride a bit together. I told him I had planned on hitting 28 and then turn back northeast. He was game for that. Kent and Christopher were also heading that way so we are now four bikes.

Kent and Tim went and gassed up and we were supposed to meet up with them at the Exxon. By the time CMac and I got there, they already had taken off. So we head out at a spirited pace and as long as I had Christopher in sight, I was rolling along pretty well. I was hitting the lines right and was able to keep it off of the 5500 flat spot. This felt good and by now that front tire was completely scrubbed in.

However, when he got out of sight, I began second-guessing myself again. Yeesh!

 About 20 miles out of Robbinsville, Tim was waiting at an overlook for us. Then we hooked up with Mo and Kent. CMac had some problems with a leaking hot water heater and bolted for home, but the four of us rode together along 28 for a while and then Kent and Mo split off headed southwest, while Tim and I began winding our way back northwest.

We followed 64 for most of the day. 64 is a nice road but is always slow-going. However, neither of us was in any hurry. For me, it was just good to be out riding.

We followed 64 until we hit route 9 which Tim said I would enjoy. It sure was a great road, but I still wasn’t feeling it. Here I go again, braking prior to *every* damn turn! That, coupled with that 5500 flat spot, didn’t allow me to enjoy that road as I normally would have.

I did add some Seafoam earlier in the day, but it didn’t seem to help much. More riding is needed – for the bike and for me!

Route 9 took us up into Asheville, where I split off west and he continued on north. With the sun nearly setting on the horizon, I decided to just jump on 40 and slab it home. I arrived at the house about 8:30 feeling totally spent. Every muscle was sore and I was exhausted – in a good way!

I need to get some seat time and slough off some of this rust in a big way!