A New Miracle Gun Lube?

The Rev. Paul reminded me of a story with this post.

This is how I learned what the slickest substance known to man is.

In Monterey they still have the remnants of a fishing fleet that works squid in season. Calamari don't you know. Well, they process it in a building on the wharf and then load it into large semi trailers. Open top trailers. It's really a quite disgusting process what with the squid sliding down the chute, making disgusting plopping noises when the hit the mound in  in the trailer. Massive flocks of Seagulls then swoop down in search of an easy handout while a foreign worker stands in the back, armpit deep in eviscerated squid bodies and waves his hands in the air while yelling vile and unintelligible curses at the birds all to no avail. It's all quite exciting.

One day a trailer was a bit over filled and as it made the left turn onto Del Monte Avenue a good bit spilled out onto the road. By a good but I mean several tons and by on the road I mean pretty much curb deep.

Well, we got the call and, what with Patrol being busy with actual police type things going on and all, me another Motor Officer headed over. He got there first. Fortunately. En route I heard one squawk from his radio and then utter silence. Um, probably not good but, I mean, what's the worst that could have happened? Unless there was some radiation involved and Zombie Squid were suddenly hell bent on world domination the call was absolutely routine. Right?

Well, not so much as it turned out. When I got there this is what I saw. A mass of raw squid covering the road with a very Motor Copish looking trail right down the middle. Standing on the side of the road, next to an unexpectedly Cephalopod encrusted Kawasaki KZ1000P, was my partner. The entire left side of his uniform, from helmet to bitchin' Motor Boots, was covered in a thick, viscous slime that looked exactly like the ectoplasm from Ghost Busters. He was dripping with the stuff. It didn't smell too good either. Imagine a fish that's been dead for about a week or so that has been farted on by drunken hobos on a daily basis and you'll at least be in the ballpark. Though why anyone would ever imagine such a thing is quite beyond me.

I parked well short of the disaster and sauntered over, sauntering being something they teach you on the first day of Motor School. I majored in sauntering with a minor in RayBan sunglasses. Anyway. As I approached my by now quite distressed partner I stepped in a little of the disgusting glop, just the edge really, and nearly ended up on my can myself. It was like walking on ice while wearing butter soled shoes that were made by the Grease Gnomes in their ancestral snot tree.

My buddy tried to explain it all away, using every excuse in the book from "I didn't see it" to "Those stupid Gnomes" but in the end he had to admit that he'd tried riding right through the mess and ended up trying to pilot an already inherently unstable contraption through a squid tsunami while trying not to look like a 5 year old on his first two wheeler calling for Dad to come rescue him before he hits the mailbox. Obviously he didn't quite make it and ended up on his side, sliding through about a thousand Surf & Turf dinners worth of dead squid. We laughed and laughed. Well, I laughed. He mostly glowered and swore dire imprecations upon me if I didn't stop.

I learned two things that day.
First, never admit anything on the radio. If it didn't break nothing happened that some chrome cleaner and a good dose of Tide and Kiwi won't fix.
Second, Raw squid is the slipperiest substance known to man. Why some Mad Tyrant doesn't use this stuff to grease the treads on his Tanks of Inevitable Destruction will forever be a mystery to me.

I offer this story to you both for your amusement (If you can't laugh at someone else who can you laugh at? Hey, it didn't happen to me) and as a free tip to all the gun lubrication companies out there searching for the next great answer to the eternal question of why my Raven Arms .25 won't cycle.

Squid grease. I'm tellin' ya, it's the bomb. Just ask a certain motorcop somewhere in California (but nowhere near anything that even vaguely resembles a squid loading Wharf). He'll be the one with stained breeches, a newly washed motorcycle and a very chagrined look on his face.

Approach from upwind. Trust me on this.

Six

Yes, We Are In Fact Awesome Grandparents

I have been remiss. I promised pics of the kids and haven't come through. It's been hectic but joyful. 

One of my favorite things is to give the kids a chance to try new and heretofore forbidden challenges. Luckily DO has raised the kids with the attitude that you can't protect them from everything and lets us all go do fun if maybe a little hazardous stuff. Nothing life threatening. More like skinned knees and elbows hazardous. I also am of the opinion that it's best to introduce them to new activities as gently as possible lest they scare themselves silly and never try anything new again.

One of the things I promised the kids was a mini bike. We have now satisfied that promise. Well, kinda.

Behold the Razor Electric Scooter.

It's not exactly a mini bike but as far as the kids are concerned it's close enough. Yeah, it's kinda girly in color but The Boy says that's just fine as long as he gets to ride it. It's actually big enough for Lu. Not that she's short or anything (she is). I can't decide who likes it more, her or the kids. I think it's a tie.

Plus he has another excuse to wear that awesome helmet.

We have a huge driveway area, big enough for the kids to have established a racetrack. Will there be contests? There has been talk. Scooter versus bicycle and winner take all.

How cute is this?

We're going to let them get their feet wet on the razor before moving eventually up to a real motorcycle. A year or two and they'll have the skills and confidence to tackle something with some real horsepower. Hey, it's just more incentive to spend Summers at Grandma and Papa's house. Yes, we are devious!

We've been having a ball in spite of the heat. Parties, swimming every day, hikes, trail rides and now the awesome scooter. It's been a blast.
Six



Oh, and we paid cold, hard cash for that scooter. $249.99 plus tax gouging at Wally World. A far better use of our money than anything the government could come up with, yes?

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

People Who Need To Be Beaten To Death

When I bought the BMW I knew it needed both a new battery and on oil change. No problem I said. Easy as pie I said. I do that all the time I said. How hard could it be I said.

Yeah.

First off, the battery. The battery is located under the back of the gas tank. In order to access it you must remove the left side fairing. I wasn't aware of that and ended up removing the entire fairing.You can see the battery just under the back of the tank. It's the black rectangle with the white sticker on it. There are approximately 700 screws holding the fairings on. Different sizes for the various locations of course. Plus we don't have a BMW dealer locally so I had to order it as well as the oil filter. Ok, bad but I can deal.

Battery replaced it's on to the oil change. The drain plug is easy to find and access. The filter not so much. See, the filter is recessed into the bottom of the engine case. Like so. None of the filter protrudes. It's entirely buried in the engine case.

To remove it requires a special BMW oil filter socket. Which I do not have.

Now, Car Guy kindly reminded me that K&N oil filters have a nice handy 17mm nut grafted to the bottom for easy on and off. Luckily, the new filter is a K&N so if I could just get the old one off I'd be pooping in tall cotton.

Easier said than done, which brings me to the certain someone(s) I'd dearly love to beat to death. Anyone who puts on oil filters with breaker bars and tightens them so tight that it's nearly impossible to get them off short of a fully equipped repair shop needs to die a slow, fiery death.

I've had to do this before, remove a filter without the proper wrench and it never fails that those put on by shops and oil change businesses are put on by the ham handed. Oil filters are supposed to be hand tight, no more. See, they have what's commonly referred to as a 'rubber gasket' which does the actual sealing. Torquing it down to space shuttle specs is not required. It is in fact contra-indicated and if I have to hunt all of you oil wrench gorillas down and drown you in vats of used two stroke motor oil to make that point I am perfectly willing to do it.

After a solid hour of sweating, grunting and swearing I finally got the mangled remains of the old filter off and finished the oil change. It was tight. I mean Nun Twat tight, not to be indelicate about it. What is supposed to be one of the easiest vehicle maintenance tasks possible took me almost 3 hours.

The BMW is now back together, buttoned up and running like a fine Swiss watch. Well, maybe a German cuckoo clock.

No thanks to King Kong the oil change guy. Beat. You. To. Death. Write it on your sloping foreheads.

Six

An Unexpected Purchase

I'm retired so we're on what is known as a fixed income. We're comfortable but tend to prioritize our purchases. We have a fund for the various non essential stuff we want to some day acquire. When the fund for a particular item is empty or otherwise insufficient we don't buy until it is flush. Until yesterday anyway.

See, ever since my days as an evil motorcycle cop I've lusted after a BMW RT. I spent 3 years riding one full time and another 4 part time. You know how it is when something is just right. It fits and works in a way that is both comfortable and intuitive. For me and motorcycles the BMW is such a machine. I wanted one way back when I bought the BigBandido but time was short and the motorcycle fund was what it was. Most of the RTs I saw were a bit out of the fund's range at the time. Don't get me wrong, the big Suzuki is a fine machine. Big, fast and relatively comfortable. It lacks bags, has a smallish gas tank and lacks a bit of weather protection but is otherwise very competent. It's just not a BMW.

So I've been perusing the want ads, keeping an eye out for older BMWs. You know, just in case. Yesterday I saw an ad out of Las Vegas for a 1999 R1100 RT. The price was significantly under NADA for the year and mileage. An older owner/rider who just wanted it gone so he could move on to something else and who absolutely hated selling stuff. He priced it to move with no muss and no fuss. It had some cosmetic issues and a few of the non essential electrical systems needed to be addressed but it was otherwise mechanically perfect. And the price was fantastic. More than the current motorcycle fund had in it but way too good to pass up. So I called the guy, made an appointment to see it, hooked up the trailer and headed south. When I got there it was actually better than advertised. Handshakes and cash were proffered and the deal was struck. I am now the proud owner of this;

That is a very nice example of a BMW Boxer Twin, a 1999 R1100 RT. The tach needs a bulb, it needs a new battery sometime in the not too distant future, the fuel gauge needs a new sender unit and the left mirror was actually duct taped on. Both seats have a few small rips/ tears but nothing bad. That's about it.

It has the usual nicks and scratches you'd expect from a 13 year old bike but with a little spit and polish she cleans up real good.

Luckily I have quite a bit of experience with these bikes so the mirror fix was simple. Cleaning off the baked on tape glue was a little harder. Tools of the trade. Lemon pledge for general clean up, Speed Bead for final wax/shine and Invisible Glass for mirrors. Throw in some soft rags, elbow grease and a bit of sweat equity and one can work wonders.

I spent the afternoon cleaning, repairing and generally going over her. I think she's beautiful. The tank is nearly 7 gallons, the bags are voluminous and the weather protection is superb. The windscreen even goes up and down at the touch of a button. And did I mention the electrically heated grips? Heaven. She's shiny, comfortable and gorgeous.

What chaps my butt is that I paid exactly 50 bucks more for this BMW than I did for the BigBandido. Not that it's a bad thing (really, it was a fantastic price) just that the timing really sucked. Now I'll go ahead and sell the Bandit and call it even. Well, since I also hate selling stuff Lu has stepped up and graciously offered to sell it for me. Thanks sweetie!

Even now I'm perusing the BMW catalogs for a GPS mount and maybe a trunk. I mean, it does already have the rack just sitting there and all. Maybe a trip to Corbin for some new seat skins. Car Guy is enthused. He just bought a V-Strom 1000 based on the limited range and carry capacity we experienced on our long ride. Now we both have detachable/lockable luggage and big fuel tanks. Come next Spring we'll be pooping in tall cotton!

I flat got lucky on this one. The seller placed the ad the night before, late. I just happened to be the first caller the next morning. By the time I got there he'd already had a host of other callers but held it for me since I was first. Heh heh. I really didn't want to spend the money but when it came up I had to jump or lose her to someone else.

A big sport/tourer with intercontinental range, style and comfort. And that wonderful boxer twin music. Oh yeah, I am a happy man today.

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!

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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.

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