Trip

I'm back home in Utah and Car Guy is safely ensconced in his palatial villa in California. It was a great trip and we had a lot of fun. It was hot though. Man was it ever hot.

We got started bright and early on Thursday. Car Guy on his brand spankin' new black Suzuki V-Strom 1000 and me on the blue BMW R1100RT. Both bikes rode well and we ended up with almost identical 50 mpg averages. Not too bad at all. My tank holds 5.4 gallons and his 5.9 which gave us a lot more peace of mind on those long runs across deserted highways than the Big Bandido and V-Rod did from last year. We both had plenty of storage space with the saddlebags but I do need to add a trunk for next year.

On the run out to New Mexico we were under a time constraint so we pretty much put our heads down and motored for our destination in Albuquerque. The ride was over roads we both knew well and we limited stops to gas and the occasional leg stretching. We did run into a storm near the Arizona/New Mexico border. The wind was bad enough but it was the rain which sucked. Oh, not the getting wet part but the open faced helmet part. I decided to go with my hot weather open face Shoei. It was fine until the rain started pelting my face at 80 mph. Decidedly painful but fortunately short. There was one more issue with my helmet. I forgot sunscreen and by the time we got home my face was already starting to peel around my nose, cheeks and mouth.

We met with Car Guy's family and especially his beloved granddaughter who is recovering miraculously from her near fatal accident. On Friday we had the day to ourselves and dropped in on Instinct and his lovely bride. Good people both. After some show and tell from his grip workshop (he's working on a set for me) and viewing some paintings from the incredibly talented Mrs. Instinct we headed out for a very nice pizza at Dion's. Unfortunately we had to get back to visit with Car Guy's baby so didn't have the time for an in depth visit. Next time we should have a more flexible schedule. Thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Instinct for a lovely visit.

Whether or not to stay Saturday and leave Sunday or just head out Saturday morning was the prime topic of discussion Friday evening. We had dinner with the whole (almost) Car Guy clan and much frivolity and good times were had by all. Granddaughter is in astonishingly good spirits in spite of the still visible reminders of her harrowing ordeal. She still walks with a walker and has some pretty extensive scarring but she's alive and well on her way to recovery. Lu and I bought her a cross to remind her and everyone just exactly who was riding shotgun with her and worked his miracle on her life (indeed all our lives) by preserving her intact. She swears she'll never take it off and I believe her. She is one committed kid. Lu and I both got a bracelet from her that she's been wearing. Yeah, I'll take that charm. I need all the good vibes I can get.

We decided that we'd accomplished all we'd set out to do and as the mountain road we were considering extending our stay to ride was closed due to wild fires and fears in the area heading home was indicated. Saturday we got up early and hit the road for hearth and home. This time we were under no time issues so we took our time and some roads neither of us had ever seen. We started out taking 550 north out of Albuquerque with full tanks and adventure on our minds. We stopped in Cuba for a belated breakfast at Bobby and Margie's Cuban Cafe. The omelets were fantastic and the waitress admirably tolerant of our nonsense. We didn't get to see Fidel though. I was so disappointed.

This is high country. The road is wonderful and I recommend it to anyone driving through this area. Four lanes, well kept with rolling hills reaching ever up until it tops out at about 7000 feet. It crosses the Continental divide. As you go up it's full of trees and grasses and is cool, green and very pleasant. On the downside the country starts to change into the high desert that marks so much of this part of the country. This is Elk and wild horse country. We saw none of the former and many of the latter. I like it. A lot. There was one humorous note though. On all the uphills we encountered signs warning us that we couldn't see through the mountain. I thought that was kinda obvious but apparently NMDOT disagrees. There's gotta be a lowest common denominator story in there somewhere.

Car Guy posing provocatively at a little gas stop just past the Divide marker. He's so awesome, especially with that untucked shirt peeking out from under his jacket thing going on. Stylish.

Our route took us through Farmington New Mexico. I like the area. Hot without being OMG hot. Pleasant with good roads and plenty to do. As the name suggests it is farming country and we saw many farm supply businesses. Car Guy also spotted this sign and insisted we turn around for the picture. Skating carhops. I love small town USA.

Just a couple of guys on their motorcycles exploring America. I love these rides and I'm going to keep on doing them as long as I can convince Car Guy to put up with me. I can't explain it adequately. If you're into motorcycles but have never just saddled up and headed out for a long ride with a good friend I can't recommend the experience highly enough. Just go do it.

We turned more northwest and skirted the edge of Monument Valley. This is the Shiprock. The nearby town carries the same name.

This is Baby Rocks. Why Baby Rocks? I have no idea but the name tickled me. There is a home nestled in there between the outcrops. Seems like a pretty secure location but it is smack dab in the middle of nowhere. This is also part of the Navajo Reservation.

The road is lonely, high and long. We had one run of 126 miles between gas stations. Arguments in favor of both big tank capacities and frequent fill ups. Montana may be the Big Sky state but it's got nothing on this part of Utah/Arizona. You can see forever.

Church Rock. These sandstone spires are everywhere and are the 'monuments' that give Monument Valley it's name. I'm going to load Lu and Angus into the truck one of these days and do a more in depth visit. They really are very neat.

We ended up on Hwy 89 toward Page, Arizona. By that time my legs and butt hurt and we were both pretty much overheated and parched. It was decided to grab the first fast food joint we saw and sit in the air conditioning for a bit. Yeah, that's foreshadowing right there. I was leading at the time and it's been a long time since I was last in Page and I wasn't really trying to memorize the place way back then. We headed down the road and made a wide right turn and suddenly no more Page, Arizona!! We were on the Glen Canyon Dam bridge and on our way to Kanab, Utah 73 miles away. It was push on or turn back. I unilaterally decided to push on. I think Car Guy will forgive me some day. But not today. We got into Kanab about as fast as I dared to go and hit the McDonalds for a drink and some cool air time.We even found some shade for our trusty steeds.

 On Hwy 59, just up the road from home there is this.

Mavin the Martian either waving hello or goodbye, I can't decide. Hey Marvin, see you soon!

Finally we puled into Casa Six, sore, tired but content. 1174.2 miles over three days. Of course Car Guy had a 650 mile ride to get to my house and another 650 mile ride to get back to his but then he is smarter, handsomer and awesomer than I am.

This was a great ride. I always enjoy a chance to get in the wind on my motorcycle and when it's with a man I consider my brother from another mother it's just that much sweeter. I also was elated to get the chance to see his granddaughter who I love almost as much as my own. I've known Car Guy's kids since they were kids and to see them all alive and well made my heart soar with joy. The chance to finally meet up with someone out there in blog land was just icing on the cake.

The BMW rode without a hiccup. I was both happy and impressed, after all it is a 14 year old motorcycle. BMW builds them very well. If I ever update I will take a very long, hard look at the new version of this motorcycle, the R1200RT. Mine is a fabulous motorcycle, the best sport tourer I've ever ridden. It does need an upgraded seat though. I'm looking at Corbin and Sargent even as we speak.

A quick word on carrying on a motorcycle. You have a lot of options, everything from in a tank bag, to on person to saddlebag carry. It all depends. There are a few things to consider. How quickly can you get to it? How quickly to you want to get to it? What happens in an accident? What about weather or even changing conditions? Will you have to switch jackets and if so how and where?

I chose two methods. I started out carrying my Airweight on my left hip in a crossdraw holster. I eventually switched to a....wait for it....fanny pack. I know, I know. Man Purse, right? Well, it has definite advantages on a bike. Mine is large enough to carry all my crap, gun, phone, wallet, reloads, etc. I can carry it either on the front (crotch hold) or in the small of my back. I like crotch hold because it puts the bag where I can see and feel it easily and is more secure plus it has a quick release so I can access the gun pretty quickly (yes, I have practiced with it). In the event of an accident it's built well enough that I think (I don't really want to know) it'll stay relatively put. Most involved in a get off tend to slide on their backs where the holster part of the bag will drag and dig in to your body. Bad things. In a violent accident all bets are going to be off anyway and I don't think anyone has a holster that is guaranteed to hold up in that case. Just my two cents worth. If you have a better motorcycle carry option please post it in comments. I'll even try one out for you if you'd like.

So we're both home safe and sound after another epic trip. Car Guy is making noises about another, maybe in September. If so I'll be traveling out to him (for once). But I'm not nearly as insane as he is. I'll load up the BMW on my trailer and drive out to California. Yep, I am just a big ol' wuss.

Thanks to DO for minding the store while I was gone and thanks to you all for dropping by and keeping us in business. And a huge thank you again for your prayers. I've now seen her and she is our miracle child in truth.

Six

Update

The writing is going well. It's going to be longer than a short story. There's just too much to cram into that small a space. Since he gave me the Ok I can tell you that my collaborator and spiritual guide is none other than our own Rev. Paul. At the risk of making him a target for anyone who is also writing he is an absolute gem and an indispensable source of knowledge, both scriptural and secular. The man is Wicked Smaht as Borepatch would say. Thanks Rev.

Car Guy will be here this evening. We're going on out annual long ride starting tomorrow. Probably be four days. We're going out to see his daughter and miracle granddaughter. If anyone doesn't think the power of prayer works miracles that little girl is proof that it does. She should have died. She should have had extensive brain damage. She should have crippling physical limitations from her injuries. She has none of that and there's no explanation other than God. Your prayers mattered. I am utterly convinced of that. Thank you all.

We're also going to be dropping in on Instinct to see his grip making operation. Car Guy wants a pair for one of his innumerable 1911s.

I'm turning the place over to DO and Sarge. They'll keep the riff raff out and hopefully do a little sweeping. Getting kinda gamey in here lately. DO will handle Sunday Kipling. Pictures and a write up as soon as I get back as well as some thoughts on carrying on a motorcycle.

In the wind tomorrow for a few carefree days on a motorcycle with my best friend. It's going to be fun.

Six

Car Guy

I've held off on this post a few days because I wanted to wait until we heard some confirmed good news. We now have that news. I am going to hold off naming the city or hospital to help protect their privacy. I hope you understand.

A couple of days ago Car Guy's daughter was involved in a bad accident. In the car was her son and daughter. The van was t-boned at speed by a large vehicle and the results were simply awful. Daughter and grandson were hurt but not critically. His granddaughter on the other hand was very badly injured. I mean badly. About as bad as you can imagine and still be alive. He immediately flew out and has been by her bedside virtually day and night. Well, the power of prayer works and I can now say that little girl is doing much better. To the point that she's off the opiates, the ventilator and many of the usual tubes and drains. She's responding positively to those around her and seems to be on her way to a complete recovery. There will be the normal difficulties and challenges associated with traumatic brain injuries but her doctors are upbeat and positive and all signs are excellent. It's more that we could have hoped for.

I'm not going to go into the intimate details of the crash or her injuries but trust me, I saw the pictures of both and they near broke my heart. Among my jobs at the PD was fatal accident reconstruction. I've seen a lot of horror and too many accidents that resulted in the loss of life. As I viewed those pictures of the crash scene I couldn't help but note the details with an educated and experienced eye. I have no earthly idea why that little girl survived beyond that the Good Lord reached out his hand and spared her.

There is another reason though I'm of the opinion the two are related. Car Guy told me that one of the local hospital's trauma surgeons routinely rides around in his personal car with a radio tuned to the local PD/Fire/EMS frequencies. He just happened to drive through the intersection where the accident occurred and heard the call. He turned around and returned to the scene within minutes. Car Guy says if he hadn't done that, if he hadn't heard or responded to the call, his granddaughter wouldn't have survived her injuries. That doctor literally kept her alive at the scene and for her life flight to the hospital and the ICU. It was that close. Cay Guy couldn't have been happier with the hospital staff. They were professional, caring and extremely competent. The doctors and nurses there are top notch. We are still a country with the best emergency care in the world. We are grateful for their wonderful care of that oh so precious charge.

I'm so happy and grateful to be able to post this with the sure and certain knowledge that with a lot of time, effort and love Car Guy's granddaughter will return to his loving embrace and remain his beloved grandchild. That makes me smile with my entire soul. Car Guy, we've been holding you all in our hearts and prayers my brother. I couldn't be happier for you and the rest of your family. Thank you for sharing with me and allowing me to help in a very small way. We love you my friend and are here for you always.

This post with a huge thank you is dedicated to the blessed men and women of our EMS and hospital services. On this day, after we have witnessed the herculean efforts by those same folks in Boston, it seems like a good time to remember them. And to say We Love You All.

Especially one trauma surgeon who will forever be in my prayers and will have my eternal gratitude. May God bless you my unknown friend. You saved the life of the grandchild of a man closer to me than my own brothers and I will never forget.

If you have a minute and are so inclined a quick prayer for a very special little girl in the hospital would be wonderful and very much appreciated.

Thank you my friends.

Six

Blue State Tyranny Or Why Do California Democrats Hate Women And The Handicapped And The Poor?

Warning: Rant with some unsafe for the kids language.

I got a call from Car Guy today. We are unhappy campers. I was scheduled to head out to his place in California on Saturday to help him replace his roof. The shake shingles are old, worn and leaky and it needs to be replaced. It's a job he and I have done many times before. We're not exactly licensed professionals but we're pretty damn talented DIYers. We're friends of many decades. Really he's my brother by choice as opposed to by blood. That doesn't even really matter. He could be a neighbor, casual friend or even just sum dood and if asked I'd still help him with the task. It's what we do for each other as members of a civilized society.

But no. It is not to be. Why? Because the ever so caring and concerned (Democrat controlled) state of California has decreed that if one replaces their own roof on their very own house they cannot be helped by anyone who isn't a blood relative who lives under that same roof. I'll give you a minute to re-read that last sentence and absorb the wonderfulness that is liberal politics. Done? Cool but wait, there's more.

When Car Guy went and got his permit, that he paid the very same fee as roofing companies do but that's for another post, he was informed that the city would forward his application information to the state and that said state inspectors were actively checking roofing sites to ensure compliance with their draconian rules and regulations and had in fact already issued 'several' citations. The fine? I am so glad you asked. $100,000.00.

One Hundred Thousand Dollars. Contemplate that for a moment my friends. ONE. HUNDRED. THOUSAND. DOLLARS. Minimum. Which means it most certainly will be more if the state can see any way to squeeze you for more. For having a friend help you roof your house. But hey, that sounds totally fair. I mean, it's roofing being done by the unlicensed! How horrid!

I'm not talking about inspections to make sure the work is done to code. No no no. I have no real issues with that. I'm talking about doing to code work with the help of a relative or friend who isn't authorized by the state to do the work. It's not rocket science or brain surgery or even food preparation. It's roofing. It's not that fucking complex or dangerous. It's ROOFING!

But just hold on there a second there Mister Six, you say, how exactly is that hate on women and the poor? Aren't you really nothing more than a shill for the Republicans who and a closet Islamohomogynophobe? You're nothing but another rich banker fat cat one percenter hating on the state for ensuring that no one who isn't a licensed roofing professional is allowed to expose their tender hides to the unmerciful elements and risk their very lives doing something only the select few should be allowed to do. Sit down and STFU Mister Six lest you die.

Well, let's do a little scenario role playing shall we?

Let's say I'm a husband and father of 2.5 bright and wonderful young children. I make a decent living and my wife works part time. We get by and even manage to put away a few bucks every month. We scrimped and saved and managed to put down enough for a down payment on a fixer upper house. It needs work but it's in our price range and it's close enough to schools and shopping that we can even walk. I have basic construction skills so am planning on doing the necessary work on the house to make it the home we've always dreamed of. I'm a nice guy so I also have many friends as well as family, all of whom are happy to pitch in where and when needed. Comes a strong storm and we lose some shingles. Suddenly the roof leaks. Badly. The damage is severe enough that a new roof is required. Ok, life happens and I'm not totally unprepared. I have just enough in savings to cover materials cost and I can totally do the work myself. Except that I was in an accident a few years ago and my back/legs/arms don't work as well as I'd like. No problem. I have lots of friends and family who can do the heavy lifting. All is well. What's that you say Mister City/County/State public employee? If I get anyone to help it'll cost me my house and me, my wife and my lovely elementary school age children will lose everything we've worked our entire lives for? Instead I should hire a licensed roofing professional for 8 to 15 thousand dollars which I absolutely do not have because I'm totally unqualified to do the work on my own house myself? I can't make my own decisions? Yeah, that sounds totally fair.

Or how about this. I'm a single woman, living alone because that's just how I like things. I love my little house but it needs a new roof . On my modest salary I can't afford a licensed roofer. I do have some very close friends who are totally into things like that though so for a fraction of the cost of hiring licensed professionals I can get a new roof. Isn't this a great country? No? I can't do that because it'd ruin me financially? Oh, I understand completely. Hand me that pan would you? I need to catch this leak.

Or. I have a house that's slightly under water (thank you House and Senate Democrats). I'm renting it out and can just make ends meet because I signed on the bottom line and am the sort of person who takes their obligations seriously. Rather than abandoning the house and adding another foreclosure to the unending list I'm trying to be part of the housing crisis solution. But. The house needs a new roof and as the landlord I'm obligated by California Rental Law to make the necessary repairs or face slumlord sanctions. But I no longer live there. I fact I live in another state where it's cheaper just so I can meet my financial obligations. I load up my tools and fill my truck with 4 dollar a gallon gas and head out because I can afford the materials and can do the work myself but I can't afford to hire licensed professionals. No? One hundred thousand dollar fine you say? Here ya go Mister Mortgage Holder. Here's the keys. Have fun finding a buyer. Sorry about that Renter Family. I know the rent was reasonable and there's nothing available at a cost you can afford. Hope your parents have room in their basement.

That last one? Yeah, that's me. Lu and I actually subsidize the rent to the tune of 800 bucks a month rather than just throw in the towel and default. Think we're going to hire out thousands of dollars in repairs or upgrades? Not in this economy Governor Brown. I'll kick out the renters and abandon the fucking thing before I so much as spend a dime on licensed professionals to do work I can do myself.

Or or or or. I could go on and on and so could anyone with an ounce of compassion or common sense. But both of those things seem to be missing fro the State of California. They'd rather see the proles go without than permit the common folks to work on their own property. They're not licensed you see. They don't know what they're doing. Doesn't matter that they have access to someone who does, he's also not licensed. Doesn't count. If you can't do it, all by yourself with no help but those who actually live with you and share a common ancestor it's just not going to be tolerated.

It's the nanny state gone wild. It's those who claim the high road selling out to special interests and the lure of a fast, budget propping buck. Taken from the picked over carcass of already over burdened tax payers. It's a prime example of why businesses and productive citizens are fleeing the state in droves. It's about money and control and it's fucking outrageous.

The worst part is this is hardly a single instance. It's everywhere from Pate de Foie Gras to guns to child care to health care to anything and everything you'd care to name. It's politicians pretending to champion the little guy sticking their finger in that same little guy's eye, plucking out that soft orb and then skull fucking him to death. And don't give me any shit about it's both parties. Not in reliably blue California. Other places yeah but not in the People's Socialist Democratic Republic. It's Democrat run from top to bottom and it's rocketing to financial ruin on the dead bodies of those who have tried for years to prop up the monster through hard work and gobs of wasted taxes. They tried to outlaw circumcisions for Grapp's sake until they passed a bill to outlaw outlawing circumcisions. Really? This is what you in the state house are worried about and arguing over? Circumcision? Calling it a freak show is insulting to fat bearded ladies the world over.

Lu and I have always planned on moving back someday. As soon as I get the Utah house to the point where it would make financial sense to sell it. Now? I'm split. On the one hand Car Guy lives just a few blocks from my house and I'd dearly love to see him every day. The other hand is shit like this that no sane person could endure if they could avoid it. The gripping hand is I see no end to the abusive foolishness of that state.

 So. That's where we are on this fine Tuesday morning. I'm still going out to see Car Guy and his lovely bride because I love them and I want to spend some time with them. I will sit on my fat ass on the sidewalk and shout singularly unhelpful tips to Car Guy whilst he toils away on a job I should be helping him with. A job he's still going to come out here and help me do because I don't live in a Liberal Paradise and can actually take care of my own property in the way that seems best to me, the property owner. I will not stiff arm salute the state inspector when he comes with his demands of "Papers Please". I'll even keep my mouth shut and not talk to him with a bad fake German accent while goose stepping around the property because he'd only take it out on Car Guy like all the good little Liberal Nazis do and Car Guy doesn't need any more aggravation. And I will cry at what's been done to a state I once loved and a Country I still do because this is just a taste of what's to come.

It's Blue State Tyranny. Coming soon to a state near you?

Six

Ride - Day Three. Nothing To See Here. Move Along, Move Along.

Sunday morning CG and I got up early. We were both anxious to get on the road. The ride had been fun but hearth and home were calling. After breakfast we pledged everlasting friendship and hit the road. At first I was going to retrace my ride across 375 and then, by side roads, back to I15 just above Cedar City, just 40 miles from home. Then I remembered that whole running on fumes thing and considering I was going to be solo thought it might be better to go south to Las Vegas instead. I jumped on Hwy 95 at 0745 with a full tank and an undiscovered road ahead.

We've all been there. Away from home, at the end of a fairly long and tiring trip. You just want to eat up the miles and get there. That pretty much sums up Day 3. The start of the ride was down another pretty much empty stretch of highway. the landscape went from nice to desert almost immediately. The road skirts Death Valley to the west and the Nevada Test Site on the east.

I made it to Beatty at 96 miles and I was glad it showed up when it did. Those of you with delicate constitutions may want to just skip this next part. See, CG and I had dinner at Mexican place the night before. The food was good but later that night I started feeling a stirring in a certain place below the belt line. If you catch my drift. I tried to relieve the pressure before starting out but no joy. I had premonitions but what you gonna do? Time and the road were calling so, full of self confidence in my ability to overcome any gastrointestinal difficulties I might encounter, I soldiered on. Until I got to about the 50 mile mark. Then the first pangs of discomfort hit me. I ignored it. Surely there would be somewhere to stop and relieve my incipient condition coming up any time now. Yep, any time now. Sigh, there's never a place to go when Pangs of Discomfort become Immediate Need. I started looking for a place on the side of the road where I could do the stop and squat. Soon that became anywhere, anywhere at all. But no luck. The land was flat and open with not so much as a telephone to shield me in my shame. I squirmed and stood on the pegs and prayed for divine intervention. At mile 96 my prayers were answered.

That's the gas station/restaurant/convenience store at Beatty, Nevada. She shore is purty ain't she? Got a very nice restroom too. I spent the better part of half an hour staring at those graffiti stained walls, thanking my lucky stars they even existed. How close was it? I was mentally cataloging all the extra clothes I'd toted along hoping I had enough to get me home because the flood was coming and if I hadn't stumbled across Beatty I was going to be doing a quick change on the side of the road.

Ok, enough of that. After taking care of all my needs I got back on the road and pointed BigBandido's nose toward Las Vegas. I passed Creech AFB along the way. I wanted to stop and take a few pictures but I wasn't certain my 'issues' were completely resolved so I kept the hammer down and thundered into Sin City.

126 miles from Beatty to Vegas.  And it was hot. Like 110 degrees hot. I hit the first station I came to, filled up and spent another half hour trying to cool down and chugging a one liter Mountain Dew. It was so hot I briefly considered getting a room in a motel with a pool and taking up the rest of the ride early the next morning. Very briefly. I called Lu and the sound of her sweet voice convinced me to man up and get back to my baby just as quick as I could.

Back onto I15 north and home. By this point I was interested in one thing and one thing only. Miles and getting them under my wheels as expeditiously as possible. I may even have exceeded the speed limit once or twice. But just a couple of times. I swear.

I eschewed any more stops. Even with my somewhat advanced rate of speed I figured I could make the last leg in one non stop run. At 1430 local time on Sunday, after a 139 mile leg that had me on reserve for the last 9 miles (sorry about that Nevada, Arizona and Utah Highway Patrols. I was somewhat in a hurry. I'll slow down next time. I promise), I pulled into Casa Six and home. Three days, two nights and 1224 miles after I'd begun.

Here's proof that I made it without damaging BigBandido. There she is, looking just as good as the day I'd set out.

A few thoughts on traveling long distances by motorcycle.
-Pack carefully. I took way too much stuff. I barely touched all that crap I'd packed into the backpack attached to the rear seat. When I do it again I'll pare it down to just what I can fit into the tank bag and saddlebags.
-Know your mileage, range to reserve (if your bike has a reserve) and maximum range. Tend to fill up when and where you can anytime you're riding in sparsely settled areas.
-Make sure your bike is serviced, has good tires, chain and sprockets and everything is up to date. We were in areas where if we'd had a breakdown help was going to be hours, possibly many hours, away.
-Ride with a friend. I had fun every day but the last when I was riding alone. A good companion makes the miles a lot more pleasant and is a good backstop in case of problems.
-The Throttlemeister worked well within the confines of what it was intended for. I recommend it but keep it's limitations in mind.
-Take a camera and stop for pictures often. The second day we kept to that and got some great shots. The last day I didn't and now I regret not taking just a little more time.
-BigBandido worked flawlessly and was surprisingly comfortable. All in all a creditable sport touring machine. It's proof that you don't have to spend mega bucks to have a competent ride. I paid $2400 bucks for her and she was worth every penny. You can spend more and get more but don't turn away a bike just because it isn't considered a true sport tourer. You may be pleasantly surprised. I was. Sooner or later I'll probably upgrade to a BMW but if I don't I'll be well served with the one I've got.
-Buy saddlebags, even small ones. The ones I bought cost me a measly $72 dollars on sale and were money very well spent.
-Carry. We were in places where I kept expecting to see Burt Gummer drive by. Toting along a handgun just seemed like a good idea. Take a good one with spare ammo because there's just no place to put a rifle on a motorcycle. Carrying on a motorcycle is different from carrying in a car. You have to take into consideration that you may well find yourself sliding across the pavement on the seat of your pants and casual carry may result in a lost or severely damaged heater. My view is that I'm probably not going to be in a situation where immediate access while I'm riding is going to be an issue. I decided that having it in a holster in my tankbag put it in  a place I could get to quickly and easily. You may have a better option or different opinion but put some thought into it before you leave. And know the carry laws in any jurisdiction you may find yourself in.
-Sport touring with a buddy on a motorcycle may be the most fun you'll ever have with your clothes on. I highly recommend it. Just get a bike, do your maintenance and preparation and GO! It's a freeing experience. Nothing but wind and sun and sights and new places and miles of adventure.

After the ride I was pooped. I spent the evening getting reacquainted with my wife and being mauled by Angus. He did the Doggy Dance of Joy when I got home and didn't let me out of his sight for a couple of days. I went to bed and he promptly curled up behind me in Daddy's Finally Home bliss. We slept in.

All in all a very good time. My eternal thanks to Car Guy for making the trip and keeping me company on the journey. A better companion doesn't exist. And remember, he started out the trip with a 640 mile ride just to get here bringing his total mileage to right at 1900 over 4 days. What can I say? He's a good man and I'm lucky to have him in my life. I love you brother.

The question of whether or not I'll do it again has arisen. The answer is yes. I think I'll probably limit it to two days at a time though. I thought that was just about right for a nice, relaxing ride. And I want to do the total mileage with someone. Riding distance solo isn't much fun at all.

I hope you enjoyed my travelogue. The time I spent on my motorcycle with CG was some of the best I've ever had on two wheels. If you're considering it all I can say is go for it. And if you're in my neck of the woods give me a holler. Me and BigBandido are always up for a ride. Just remember my traveling credo.
No Camping!

Six

Ride - Day Two. To Infinity And Beyond

Day Two dawned bright and hot. Not that we knew since we didn't drag our carcasses out of bed until after 8:00. Once up and moving though it was time to get back on the road. This was the best day of the ride and where I took most of the photos.

The first leg was I80 West to Wendover.

The highway took us past the Great Salt Lake from whence the city gets it's name. It's huge, flat and salty.

The road is pretty much ruler straight and flat, with only slight rollers. The Throttlemeister worked well here.

Car Guy looking all nonchalant and bitchin' and stuff.

I mentioned an action shot in the first post. This is it. I set the throttle, pulled the camera out of the tank bag and took this shot as we motored down the road at 75 mph. I didn't have the guts to try it more than the one time.

 At 124 miles we reached Wendover (West Wendover actually on the Nevada side of the border line). We gassed up, hit an Arby's for lunch and turned south on Hwy 93. We had a definite destination in mind but in the meanwhile were just enjoying then ride and countryside. I must admit that the reality did not match my expectations. I was assuming the area was flat, dry and scorching hot. It was none of the three. There were many mountains, lots of green and while hot it wasn't debilitatingly so. Really, I like north central Nevada a lot. Here's some random pictures.

The bikes, fully loaded and dusty from their travels. Both ran great and didn't give us a single problem on the entire ride. Well, except for that whole range limited due to smallish gas tanks thing but hey, that's why they call it adventure touring.

We knew the area was sparsely inhabited but until we started seeing all those "Last Gas' signs I don't think we truly understood. When we saw one that was 167 miles the reality hit us. We sweated the mileage more than once and tended to gas up at every opportunity. The run from Wendover to McGill/Ely was right at our limit. Luckily we found a very small pump run out of a shack by a very nice woman at Preston, 45 miles from Wendover. That took us all the way to McGill which is just down the road from Ely. We hit McGill at 108 miles from Preston which, considering our absolute mileage limits, gives you a good idea just how thin our error margin was.

This stretch of 93 is part of the old Pony Express route. McGill reflected that heritage. This was the station we stopped at. The owner was a nice old lady who agve us good advice and a hand drawn map of the route we wanted to take.

From McGill we went through Ely then hit Hwy 6 for a short run to Hwy 318. We turned onto 318 and headed dead south on a 100 mile run to Ash Springs. Which is just past the intersection with Highway 375. Hwy 375. Now why does that sound familiar? Oh wait, now I remember!

This is why we took this route. Both CG and I wanted to ride this road and visit Rachel, Nevada. But. Would we see and actual ET? Were we risking a potentially painful and embarrassing probing? Would some evil thing from beyond the stars eat our brains? Oh no! There's one now. Aaiieee! Flee for your lives! Note the shiny silver skin and creepy bulbous head. Truly an ugly and disturbing alien encounter. Kill it. Kill it with fire!

45 miles down the road is the little outpost of Rachel, home of the Little A'LE'INN. This is the place that's been in so many movies, TV shows and conspiracy theories. We talked to the woman behind the counter about that. I mentioned that Jesse 'The Scumbag' Ventura had been there recently. She confirmed that he's a douchebag. Heh heh.

They even had a flying saucer hooked up to a tow truck. Probably had the same range limitations we did. "Hey Zgforlghb, did we fill up in Zeta Reticuli? No? Shit!"

They even have a race team. When we arrived there was a collection of questionable characters outside the door discussing all things race related though frankly, I was hearing dueling banjos coming from somewhere. I didn't linger. Probing by aliens is one thing. Probing by a bunch of Nevada Troglodytes is something else.

We were now faced with another choice. Either turn back to Ash Springs for gas and then to Ely or even Las Vegas for the night or continue up 375 to Tonopah. I figured Tonopah at 110 miles from Rachel which would put us in at 155 miles or so. That's past where I figured I'd be into my reserve tank which makes me weak kneed. Still, we were on an adventure, wanted to run all of 375 and by going to Tonopah we'd cut off quite a bit of CG's return trip to California. Good enough. We pointed our noses north west and twisted the throttles.

The ride across 375 and central Nevada was a good one. Some cloud cover came in dropping the temps and making the run pretty pleasant.

Beautiful country but it's also open range. At one point we had to slow to avoid a calf that had wandered onto the highway. Mama finally noticed and called him back. Probably grounded him.

Just outside Tonopah we saw this.

Here's a closer look. Just to the south of the highway, off in the distance there, is the Nellis AFB Range, the Nevada Test Site and Groom Lake. The notorious Area 51!

Finally we made it to Tonopah at 156 miles. How close was it? I was on reserve for the last 5 miles. Remember those 'Last Gas' signs I talked about? This is the one at Tonopah at the north west end of Hwy 375 heading back in the direction we'd come from. This is a lie. I know, I rode and sweated each and every foot of that run.

543 road miles from Salt Lake City to Tonopah. 863 miles covered in two days with one more still to come. CG and I checked in to the Best Western Tonopah and discussed the next day. We'd come this way precisely to ride 375 but also to cut just a little off his ride home. Remember, he started this thing with a 640 mile jaunt just to get to my house and start the ride. It was decided. We'd had fun but it was time to head back. Day three would see us parting ways and making our solo way home.

This was by far the best riding day I've ever had. Ever. Good roads, little to no traffic, beautiful country, new sights, friendly folks and the company of a man I consider my brother. I emphasized this day because I enjoyed it so much. Day three sucked and I'll warn you here, there's not going to be much to tell and even less to see related to that ride. It was just a push to get home.

Six

Ride - Preparation And Day One

Car Guy (hereinafter referred to as simply CG) arrived on Thursday evening after a 16 hour, 640 mile run from California. I spent all day Thursday prepping and getting BigBandido loaded up and ready for the ride. Part of that was installing a Throttlemeister cruise control.

The Throttlemeister is a friction throttle controller as opposed to a true cruise control. It works by twisting the controller until a brass ring contacts a plastic cup installed over the actual throttle. Here's a picture of the controller as it ships from the company.

It's actually a pair of bar ends with the controller installed in the right hand unit. That worked out doubly well for me as BigBandido came without any vibration damping bar ends when I bought it. That black plastic piece is the friction cup that goes over the inner handlebar throttle. This is how the empty bar looks without anything installed. Just as I bought it.

Peel back the rubber throttle grip

And install the black plastic cap over the end

Then assemble the controller. Those rubber o-rings will be compressed by a bolt that goes through the unit to secure it in the handlebar.

And stick it into the open end of the handlebar

Once it's properly assembled and installed you have to tighten and adjust it. Adjusting it consists of getting the gap between the controller and the grip exactly correct. When done correctly a back twist on the controller tightens it against the cap and holds the throttle in place. A twist forward releases it so the throttle can be operated normally. It took quite a bit of time and a lot of fudging to get it correct and I still had to fiddle with it a bit all that first day.

The Throttlemeister has two functions, bar ends to dampen the vibrations put out by the big 1200 cc motor and as a cruise control. I bought it in it's 'Heavy' iteration and it did indeed do a good job smoothing out any hand tinglies from that engine. But it's not a true cruise control. That is you can't simply select a speed, flip it on and forget about throttle input. It works by friction so when you get to a certain speed you twist it on and you're set at that throttle position. If you're on a consistent piece of road it works fine. If you're in a rolling section, not so much. Even then, on either a flat or gentle uphill, I found myself having to make frequent throttle corrections. Minute adjustments to keep a consistent speed. It also requires you to closely monitor your speed but that's nothing you don't already have to do on any motorcycle without true cruise control and there are precious few motorcycles out there so equipped. Still, it allowed me to set it and with small inputs keep my speed within a fairly small range. That also allowed me to rest my throttle hand and even take a picture while moving. I only did it once but it is possible. All in all I recommend it for anyone doing long distances, just for the chance to shake out the numbness from time to time if nothing else. At 168 bucks it ain't exactly cheap but in my opinion well worth the investment.

A word on gas mileage and range on a motorcycle. Motorcycle speedometers and odometers are notoriously inaccurate, generally reading on the high side. In my case I'd checked my mileage and compared it to my odometer and gas tank capacity so I'd know what my maximum runs were going to be. The BigBandido was disappointing in mileage, averaging about 33 mpg. I was confused until I calibrated the speedo and found out it was off by 10 mph and I was pulling 5000 rpms at 75 mph.The culprit was the rear sprocket. It's two teeth bigger than stock. That emphasizes the torque of the motor but at the cost of gas mileage. It was too late to address before the ride. In the next few weeks I'll drop two teeth on that sprocket and maybe go up by one on the counter shaft. I'm estimating I can improve my mileage by 5 mpg and my total range by 25 miles. That's significant when you're tooling around in areas where signs like this are frequent.

We saw one sign that was 167 miles. Considering that my range on the main tank is 150 miles with 175 to totally empty on reserve it's important to know exactly how far you can go before running out. Hiking down the road in hundred plus degree heat in boots and gear is no fun at all.

Finally all was set and ready. On with the ride.

Ok. Friday dawned bright and hot. CG and I got up fairly early, ate a good breakfast and by 10:00 we were on our way. The first leg took us north on I15. Salt Lake City was the destination. We stopped in Beaver and later Nephi for gas and lunch. We arrived in Salt Lake at the Marcia and John Page Museum building on the campus of the University of Utah at 4:00. Here's where I screwed up. We decided to stop in at the museum to check their open times before we checked into a hotel. Good thing because it closed at 5:00 and didn't open again until 11:00 the next morning. So we decided to go ahead and take the tour right then. When we went in and bought tickets the employees graciously checked our tank bags and helmets. It was only after we started the tour, with no out and back privileges, that I remembered my camera was still in my tank bag. Oh well, CG had his and I could get some from him later. Something I have yet to do. Sorry, no cool car pictures. But it was really cool. Totally. I swear.

The museum was cool and so were the cars though the display was small, only 19 cars in total. We wandered around, oohed and aahed and generally enjoyed ourselves. With one exception. Car Guy is irreverent and I admit to a certain amount of that myself. At one point he squatted down and got within about a foot of one car in particular for a close up picture. He was still outside the Line Of Death demarcated by a string but that was apparently not quite good enough. At that time there was exactly one security guard in the rooms housing the display. He approached CG and made a somewhat snide comment about having Zoom on his camera and told him to back off from the car. CG complied but I must admit that he and I shared a few snarky comments that may have been at a volume Security Guy could have overheard. Apparently he did and most emphatically did not care for it because within just a few minutes there was approximately 500 security people in the room with us, following us around and generally being obtusely obnoxious. It may have only been a dozen or so but it sure seemed like they had emptied the security detachments for every institution in a hundred mile radius. All for us. Every time I got occupied examining a car I'd look up to see one guard leaning against a wall obviously watching me closely all the while trying to appear nonchalant in that charming, Inspector Clouseau in a disguise kind of way, while 7 or 8 others were walking around pretending to be concerned about the cars in essentially empty rooms. How do I know it was all for us? There were exactly 4 people in the museum at the time. A nice young couple and us. The ratio of security guards to attendees was at least 11 to 1. There is one and only one response to such. We engaged them in all manner of small talk, from weather to traffic to hotels in the area. All of them. Purposely forcing them to acknowledge us and recognize that were both no threat and really fun guys. We even got one young lady to laugh. I'm sure she went on report. Sorry about that.

Still, the young man at the desk who had checked us in was very nice even though he was making cow eyes at CG. Not that there's anything wrong with that. We collected our things and with a few inquiries about accommodations we were on our way once more.

We headed downtown because I wanted to see the Temple and maybe take a picture. Just to make up for forgetting to take any actual photos of cars. The reason we went to Salt Lake in the first place. Yes, I am indeed an ultra maroon.

The Mormon Temple in Salt Lake City.

Car Guy on his V-Rod taking a picture of the Temple. Sigh. Better pictures on Day 2. I swear.

We headed toward the airport because everyone knows there are always decent hotels around them. Except when there's not. We finally found a friendly airport police officer who directed us a few miles down I80 and a Marriott. The young gal at the check in desk was polite and friendly and we even managed to charm her out of a couple of white chocolate/macadamia cookies. I found the Hoyt Archery factory just down the street. We ate dinner at a Subway and turned in for the night. After checking in with Lu and Mrs. Car Guy (AKA BikeNurse) of course.

94 miles to Beaver, 116 miles to Nephi and 110 miles to SLC for a Day One total of 320 miles traveled. We were feeling good and before leaving Saturday morning we discussed where we wanted to go. Instead of East we decided on West and an encounter of the Close Kind with beings not of this earth.

Tomorrow.....Central Nevada.

Six