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! 

In harmony (pt. II)

In Harmony …. Part II

[okay we are back now and the responsible people, well irresponsible, actually when you think about it … .um … the people responsible for the errors on the last blog have been sacked.]

So, as I was saying before getting cut off, most living creatures are all just singing.

[oh and we apologize for all these annoying, interrupting apologies. we now return you to..]

As I was trying to say … many of us are singing, but communicating extends much deeper than just audio stimulation.  We can communicate more visually to someone who speaks a different language by our overall demeanor. Many species of animals “communicate” to one another by their visual frequency of their body. Those colors are there for a reason -- look at me, pass my genes on!

Some organisms use olfactory input. Others use chemoreceptors. All these means of “communicating” are a big part of the “pass my genes” concept. It’s interesting how all the biological systems affect one other and how each organism cuts out the clutter allowing them to focus in on only the ones that are beneficial to them individually (and hence, collectively, as a species).

It’s just one big intertwined cycle. I recall when first looking into getting a B.S. in Biology and being shocked that differential equations was a mandatory class. After a few classes, I understood just how much integrations are needed to make up predictive models.

Funny how the interaction of two crows and, then, two other songbirds took me from "singing" to/at one another to the very essence of survival.

In harmony ...

I am sitting out in the early morning shade of my backyard and enjoying being outside without feeling like I am rotating on a spit. As I type this I’m-a listenin’ to all the critters a-singin’. Sure some of them aren’t “singing” (some of them are) but it is music to my ears.

I was just watching a crow chase off another crow and squawking at him wildly. This was certainly not singing, but it had a certain musical component with its consistency – a rhythmic frequency, of sorts.

At that point, “into the picture” (meaning my peripheral view) flew a bird. I watched him as he kept “singing” out a call. Every third or fourth call a female would answer. I think I just witnessed a serenade.

After a few measures the male flew over to where the female whom had been responding was. I assumed a female because the interaction didn’t seem antagonistic prior to, nor after, their rendezvous. I don’t know what happened from there. 

In the background is the white-noise effect of crickets, chiggers, grasshoppers, and a variety of other critters that pitch in on a rather consistent note. On another frequency you have yet others of the bird family chiming in at periodic intervals.

All these frequencies are occurring at the same time. All these pieces assemble into a “song”.  Although, many of them are not “singing”, they are part of a song and engaging in a definite kind of communication. It’s up to everyone in the group to play their note.

This got me thinking about language, or specifically, communicating. There is all this cacophonic background noise, yet all of the same species can “talk” to each other and tune out the other frequencies or … noise.

Humans do this as well. Go to an international airport or worldwide multi-cultural popular tourist hot-spot and listen. You will likely hear a cross of many cultural frequencies, but the one that closest mirrors your own language, you will tune into most.

[we apologize for this interruption … ]

What the … ?  Hey! I just had a lizard scurry across my foot. Not sure, why I included that but thought it might contribute to the togetherness of biodiversity.

Anyhoo ….

[and now for something completely the same…    BLAHBLAHBLAHHHBLAHH BLAH! again we humbly apologize for this interruption, thank you for your patience in this matter while we try to resolve it. And now without further ado, we return you to ….]

So most living creatures are all “singing” and thank goodness for selective hearing to sort through the noise.   

[ahhh … bugger! sorry for the interruption again, but we are out of time for this episode. we will work out these production details promptly and again, humbly apologize for this inconvenience]

getting there ....

So I get a text from CMac last week informing me he will be passing through Newport and was going to stop by. I arranged for Isaac to be here for Dad figuring I could jump on the bike and ride with them a bit, then split off at one point. The area out where they were headed is great riding, and I need to hone my skills; and all the while ride with a couple maggots (as he and Kent were riding together).

My plan was to ride with them out to where I-40 meets US 27. Then I would plot out a route. I do have a “couple” favorite roads for that area and pretty much knew where I would be going without even looking at the map. Even though I entertained the idea of hitting some other roads, I tend to fall back on a same basic route ... hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t go fixin’ it!   ; )

I had one goal for today – to get my “motorcycle legs” under me; to get some ‘lean time’. While last week’s little ‘off-road excursion’ was quite fun (aside from losing the brakes), it wasn’t what I –needed- to be doing.

I need to work on my cornering. I am too sloppy right now. I enter into a turn with all kinds of “what-if”s. I am second-guessing every move I make, basically overthinking.

I know that sounds counterintuitive, but I need to be reacting to the conditions, not *thinking* about the radius of the curve, or the banking of the road, or “is that gravel?”, or the feedback of the road itself – but rather just automatically adjusting to it. As Mr. Coffee might say, “train your monkey”.

I do have those skills, I just need to knock off the rust. What better way than riding to do that?

I figured I would make sure to include route 85 southbound off of TN-52 on the itinerary. I have rode this one a couple times and do remember there were a bunch of 10 mph ascending (headed south) switchbacks. THIS is what I need!

The only thing complicating the day would be a possible meet-up “date” with Melissa in Knoxville. I told her I would call her at 5, and if she were off work, maybe we could meet up. This would be “tight” … and this is “tight” on the “Ed’s-on-a-bike-time” scale, which just somehow seems to defy the physics behind the whole 60 minute clock system.    ; )

So Kent and Christopher arrived around noon I think. We hung out at the house for a bit and then headed out.  

I only live a couple minutes off the interstate so soon we were zipping through traffic at a modest 10-20 over (mostly). CMac on his ST13 was leading, followed by me on my big Sabre, and Kent riding tailgunner on his FJR13.

I thought I had fixed my fan problem, and buttoned everything back up the other night and the fan ran for a few minutes then quit and hasn’t run since. However, I did manage to find and fix the problem with the temperature gauge. The wire going to the temperature probe was loose. I tightened up the connector with a pair of pliers and it hasn’t slipped since.

I figure as long as I am not sitting in traffic, I should be fine. However, should I find myself in such a situation at least I can watch the temperature gauge to know when to shut it down or park.

We got just west of Knoxville, just before I-75 branches off to the south and it became a parking lot. We were moving but not really generating any airflow over that radiator.

I was closely monitoring that gauge. I figured as soon as it got into the “H” range, I was parking.

It was still one bar away from the lowest in the “H” range, so I figured I was fine. Traffic was just starting to thin out and I was able to weave my way in and out and get up to second gear, and then it opened up enough and soon the bike cooled  back down again.

The rest of the ride was as mundane as you would expect the slab to be. I did find that I have a resonance issue at 85-95 mph. It levels off after 95 (as much as these old bikes do), so I don’t think it’s a suspension issue, as you would expect it to worsen with speed. I didn’t test the theory enough to have much data, but that is what I found after one trial. At 75 (and this is all “indicated” speeds) mph it is rock solid, 85 mph is like a jalopy, and above 95 is (mostly) solid again.   

When we got up to US 27 CMac pulled off and they gassed up the bikes and grabbed a quick snack before heading back to I-40. It was now about 2 PM and I knew making Knoxville by 5 was a no-go, because even though I had logged about 90 miles, I hadn’t started *my* ride yet.   ; )    Upon hearing me mention that I was supposed to meet Melissa in Knoxville at 5, Christopher queried ‘that’s … what?  6:30 Ed-time?’

At this point I figured I would pull over somewhere about 5 and touch base with her, wherever I was at 5.  ;  )    I plotted out my route and headed on. I knew I wanted to include 85 as mentioned but 297 is another must-do for me and runs through Big South Fork. Good stuff! Lots of sweeping turns and a mountain climb that involves some tight, twisty turns – so it’s a good mix.

I headed north on 27 and finally pulled up to 297. 27 is fine, but the curves are spaced so far apart, you never establish a rhythm. The next four roads would more than make up for it --  TN-297 west to TN-154 south; then TN-52 west of Jamestown to TN-85 south. Then go from there depending on time.

I got on 297 and it immediately brought a smile to my face. All the fun I have had on this road! Good pick to “break myself back in”.

The eastern part of the road is dotted with horse farms and is quite pretty and serene. Additionally, many of the curves are soft sweepers so you can actually take in some of the surrounding landscape. It then progresses into a mountain road with a bunch of tighter turns. 

When I got to the technical section of 297, I was not “on” yet, and this was amplified by the fact that the transition from sun and shade happened in a lot the apices (pl. for apex?) and it was hard to get a good sight line to plan where to go, so I didn’t gain any confidence there.

297 dumps you onto TN-154 which is fun in both directions, but I needed to be headed south. As it was, it’s nearly five now and I am well over an hour away from Knoxville. I went south and still am struggling in the turns. I would have expected to be more comfortable by now.

By the time I got to where 154 ends on 52, it was about 4:50. There is a little roadside park just a few hundred yards away, so I pull in and phone Melissa to let her know there is no way I will make Knoxville by 5.

This is a win-win situation here. I call her and she needs to book on home, then I get to play around more and hopefully get more of a comfort zone. If she says she will hang around and wait, then I get a "date" with my wife. That's two in a week's time for those counting.     ;  )

She says she could hang around a bit. I really had no idea how far I was away and I told her I thought I was an hour and a half northwest of Knoxville, so we set up a 6:30 meetup instead.

In retrospect, if I had gone straight south from there and scrapped 52 and 85 from the route, that was possible. However, there was NOO way I was dropping 85, so that meant I had to continue west for another 20 minutes or so to pick up 85 and then go south before I could turn back east for another 20 minutes.

52 is a nice scenic ride. It has some nice sequences of curves too. Enough that I am starting to get a bit smoother by now too. After about 15 or 20 miles, I finally hit 85.

This road’s a sleeper. There really is nothing to it when you first get on it southbound.

After about 5 miles it gets FUN! There were a few, what I call, “roller coaster whoops” which can cause your stomach to come up and visit your throat when you modulate the throttle at the correct point. Fun stuff! Furthermore, as mentioned earlier, these 10 mph ascending switchbacks sequenced back to back to back is great stuff.

This is *just* what the doctor ordered. I am starting to hit marks and …. just …. ride … reacting, doing … not thinking. The next 20 miles on that road were the best of the day.

Before we parted earlier in the day, Kent asked if I would be slabbing it back home. I replied “no way” unless it got really late or I had to make time -- or maybe if I have to make up some time for going further in the wrong direction or something. It is now just about 6 PM and I am pulling into Crossville -- which is a mere 20 miles west of where I got off I-40 four hours ago.

Crossville is a little over an hour west of Knoxville. I’m supposed to meet Melissa at 6:30-ish and it is now 6 PM …. you do the math! Looks like Ed-time strikes yet again. 

So I jumped on I-40 to make time. Kent knows me better than I do.

I showed up at 7:10, so not too bad. Christopher, you almost had it right!   ; )

Melissa and I had a nice dinner at Friday’s on … a Thursday. It’s been so long since just her and I have gone to a restaurant that wasn’t fast food.

After dinner it was now dark, so I just jumped back on 40 to hopefully minimize the likelihood of forest rat encounters. I logged 350 some miles today and am sore everywhere, but smilin’.

Most importantly, I got back some confidence. I nearly have my “motorcycle legs” under me again.

30=21

I know it sounds like bad math, but for our 21 st anniversary, Melissa and I “escaped” for about 30 hours. Melissa was unable to leave Knoxville due to work until about 4:30 in the afternoon. This put us leaving the house close to 6 PM.

We stopped in Knoxville to grab a bite and at a liquor store for some beer and Asti Spumante (practically a tradition for us by now). From there it was off to Tellico Plains to stay at Hunt’s Lodge. We are friends of the owners, Jack and Lori, and I would just as soon throw them some money than some corporate hotel chain.

Jack and Lori were gracious enough to come out and visit us and we spent the next couple of hours catching up and enjoying their company. Lori also made a point to bring this:

It was delicious. Thanks Lori, that was pretty sweet of you.

We left by 9 AM and were headed to Blue Ridge, GA. We had made reservations to ride on the Blue Ridge Scenic Railway. This was a nice, peaceful excursion along a river (Toccoa River?) that flows into the Ocoee to the north.

It was an hour long each way at a breakneck 13 mph. It involved a 2 hour layover on the GA/TN state line. We walked around the shops and lunched at a Mexican restaurant in Copperhill, TN.

After eating we waddled around a bit more and then re-boarded the train for the trip back. Once back we had to get to the car and find our next reserved activity. We were bound for Adventure Trail Rides, also in Blue Ridge, to explore the countryside on horseback.

I found this to be the highlight of the day. I hadn’t been on a horse that I could remember. I have a picture of me sitting on one as an infant, but no recollection of it at all.

It was kind of funny. As they were securing my stirrups, Melissa looked over at me and asked if I was okay. I was a bit nervous; just not sure what to expect. After a few steps along, though, this tension passed.

 We spent the next hour going up and down the hills of northern GA. It was quite pleasant.

We capped off the day with a visit to one of Melissa’s cousins who was only an hour and a half away from where we were. I hadn’t seen him in at least a decade. It was good to catch up with him and his wife (whom I last saw 25 years ago).

A great 30 hours to celebrate a great 21 years.

Gimme a brake ...

The other night I finally managed to get the Sabre road ready. After buttoning up the last detail, I hit the starter button to hear rrr- rr- r Crap! So I had to recharge the battery. I couldn’t go yesterday, but had an opportunity to go out today (Friday), so at long last, I was able to go ride!

So I set out for a stroll, and, yes, I mean a *stroll*. After a 13 month absence of riding, a new rear tire, and new front suspension, I had no intention of pushing hard.

I left with no plan and no map. I had no idea where I would end up and didn’t care. I figured I would let the road dictate my route.   

It really felt great to be back in the saddle again. However, my nerves were racked. I was rusty. I was missing my lines. I was apprehensive. The bike seemed much stiffer, and I was nervous about tossing it into a corner a bit aggressively.

I happened upon an intersection where I could go left or right. I knew I could put together a route that would include some cool roads either way.

I chose left. I had taken this road once before and knew where it would take me, but when I got to my next turn, I took the turn in the opposite direction, as I hadn’t been that way before. In retrospect, I wish I had gone right at that first intersection.

I managed to get myself good and lost. Not that this was a bad thing. as I still had nearly a full tank of gas and over 5 hours of daylight left.

But each road was getting narrower and narrower. I saw a sign for Martha Sundquist Forest, and knew the general area that was located in, so I headed that way thinking I would find a road I was familiar with. The road soon went to gravel, then got a bit rougher, but it still wasn’t too bad, so I continued on. This would be a recurring theme.

I finally came upon a sign that was a map of the Forest area. It just so happened that I was in the center (according to the map) of the Forest. I could’ve turned around and gone back to being lost or forge on to see if I could get “found”, still holding on to the ideal that I would find a familiar road up ahead. I decided to forge on.

I even successfully handled my first water crossing. It wasn’t but a few inches deep, but it was my first. The next one was deep enough to get my feet wet as they were on the footpegs.

WooHoo! After the water crossings, I began climbing … and climbing … and climbing. I was ducking low branches and picking a line with the least rutted trough across it – and all at a fairly brisk (for a greenhorn off-roader) pace. By now, I am thinking how much I want a dual sport. This was kind of fun!

After I had been on this forest road for about an hour, the enthusiasm faded as I was wanting to get back to some asphalt. I spent another 45 minutes riding the ridge top and really beginning to wonder if it ever comes out … ANYWHERE!

I thought I had heard the Twilight Zone theme a couple times. ; )   Then I heard a high pitch “whirring” noise. It was like a bearing or brake drag. I found a place to pull over and started chasing it down.

It turned out the noise was coming from the radiator cap. For nearly two hours, I wasn’t going any faster than 20 mph, the radiator was rather hot as it wasn’t getting cooled by the air all that much.

As it turned out, it wasn’t getting cooled by the fan either as my fan must’ve quit working at some point (it was working before I left the house). I checked the fuses – they all looked good. I bypassed the thermostat switch at the base of the radiator – that didn’t help. I jiggled wires, again no luck.

About this time, a couple guys happened by in a truck that I had passed earlier. They asked if they could help and I told them I was fine. I asked if they knew if this road EVER turned back to pavement. They told me they were about to ask me as they were just riding around and happened across this road much like I did.

I added what little water I had left to the radiator, buttoned everything back up and headed on. About 10 minutes later, I spied a sign indicating Hot Springs was a left turn. Sweet! I was sooo ready to find some asphalt.

Remember me stating I was climbing … and climbing … and climbing? Well at some point you have to head back down. That left turn was a steep decline (and still gravel). I know to use the rear brake as much as possible when on a downhill grade gravel road, so that is what I did.

I soon lost all brake pressure on the rear pedal. Now, a smart man, would’ve likely stopped and let the pressure build back up, or put the bike in first gear, shut off the engine, and work the clutch for braking. Hell, maybe a smart man would’ve never even taken a big Sabre up there to start with, but then, I never claimed to be a smart man.

Actually, neither of these options occurred to me at the time. Additionally, I was feeling my oats a bit and figured I could handle using just the front brake, so long as I moderated my downhill speed. I really figured I would be okay as I have a pretty good comfort zone on gravel.

This was working fine. That is, until I then lost front brake pressure too. Well, SH*T!

I am still on a significant downhill grade and it still didn’t occur to me to shut the engine down. Then the front wheel slid to the left and … BAM! the bike and I were *slammed* into the ground.

I tried to get the bike righted, but it was resting on the side bags and my first effort only got it onto the tires. I could move it up a bit more but was worried that the bike would start rolling downhill and would fall again because I wouldn’t be able to hold the brake while getting it on its wheels.

Great! I’m in B.F.E. so likely no cell service, and even if there were I didn’t have a clue where I was nor whom I could call. My only hope was that SOMEone … ANYone … might come by that way.

Oddly enough, I heard a couple bikes coming about 10 minutes later. They were both riding old Beemers and stopped. The guy helped me get the bike standing again. When I told them I lost brake pressure, the girl put her fist in the air and claimed “Yaaay! drum brakes!”    -- it was funny!

I had another mile of downhill grade gravel riding, and finally wised up and just decided to shut down the bike and use the clutch until I hit pavement. I figured by the time I got to the bottom, the pressure surely would’ve built back up in the brakes.

I cannot express how glad I was to see asphalt! I damn near parked the bike and kissed the ground.   ; )    

A couple of turns put me on an old friend … NC-209. I didn’t feel mentally ready to run that road, but knew it would get me home without any more gravels. 

Despite not feeling confidence, and how rusty I had been all day (when I was on asphalt), I soon found a rhythm. I wasn’t scraping pegs, and I wasn’t as smooth or as crisp as I am capable but  it was the most comfortable I had been all day on the bike and managed to get the blood rushing and the face smiling. I was “thinking” less and “riding” more.

Like someone once said "it's always an adeventure".   ; )

Oh I forgot to chronicle the damage to the bike. The left side bag took some pretty hard scratches. It still opens and closes, its just ugly. The headlight glass was broke. The chrome piece on the bottom of the footpeg come off and got bent out of shape. The clutch lever, left highway peg, and the centerstand also got bent up. The rider was fine (Yaay for gear!). The headlight glass (the glass from a big Magna works in a big Sabre), footpeg trim piece, highway peg and centerstand have been fixed.

I have to straighten the clutch lever and figure out what is wrong with the fan. Yippee! electrical problems!  

Despite the wreck (and my stupidity/arrogance), it was a great day. A bad day on the bike is better than any time in the cage, right?   ; )