It was the end of this years Long Ride; a buddy and I hit the road early on Friday out of Ely, NV and we had a brisk but lovely ride together into Austion, where I turned north while he continued west. Folks call Highway 50 the "Loneliest Road in America" but trust me when I say there are far more empty roads in Nevada and Oregon! But I stray from my thoughts ...
First, two observations about signage in Oregon ... well, actually one observation. It sucks.
Point 1: coming out of McDermitt there is a sign saying "100 miles to next gas." I glanced down at my gauge and saw four bars ... four gallons. I am a bit of a ninny when it comes to gas, having literally coasted into a gas station several years ago, so I did not take this information lightly. But at the very worst consumption I have ever had that gave me 140 miles, so no problem. Of course about five miles later the fourth bar disappeared and that left me with 105 miles at worst ... still fine.
What no sign tells you is that about 85 miles into the journey you come to a junction and of course the 100 mile gas is off to the right, while I needed to head to the left. Son of a .... so anyway, I head fifteen miles to the right, for a total of 30 miles off track and the privilege of paying $4.50/gal for 85 octane. I could just see the monkey's grinning when I drove up ...
But I am back on track after about forty lost minutes.
Point 2: Hours later I come to another junction with the next highway I need, but of course I have been winding around back and forth, it is mid-day, and so I have no idea which way is north or south. I make a decision, stop and fill up with gas and ask how far to my next marker, and the fellow responds by pointing and saying "about 200 miles down the road." So off I go ... in the wrong friggin' direction. All along the way signs tell me I have the right road, but no indication of north or south, and as I said it was mid-day so I could not even use the sun as a guide. About fifty miles down the road I happen to glance at a sign from a cross street that DOES tell me which direction I am headed, which is of course the wrong way. So I whip around and start back ... another 100 mile detour. So on the longest day of this Long Ride I add an extra 150 miles to the trip. Moron. If it were't for bad luck I would not have any luck at all (and don't start on me about GPS ...).
Now, I am not one who thinks God meddles in our day to day lives, but every now and then I think God gives me a nudge to show me something new, which is actually the point of this tale. Throughout the day I had noticed far more folks at truck stops and gas stations than I have ever seen in all my years on the road; they were all moving from here to there looking for work. Throughout the day I chatted with them and wondered at this fact.
By 7:30 PM I was bone-tired after having traveled 844 miles and badly in needed to get off that bike. So I said to myself, "The next motel I pull over." Moments later I saw a sign for a motel: "Under New Management. Truckers welcome." Cool - truckers know value. So I pulled in and as I did so I noticed there were plenty of cars, some very nice but some ... not so much so, and only a couple of trucks. Nonetheless I asked about a room, was told there is one available for $30 and I quickly forked over the cash. Only then am I told my room is "around the back." Oh-oh.
I pulled around and was shocked by what I saw. All kinds of piece-of-crap cars, about 15 ratty looking little kids running around, and a scene right out of Grapes of Wrath. I got off the bike and chatted with some folks and found a world most of us don't know about ... the world of the working poor. These folks live in this dump (kinda clean but VERY well used) because that is what they can afford. Hard working folks ... low-skilled laborers, waitresses, you know the type. All looking for work, migrating from here to there, trying to take care of their kids. My wife wondered if since it was Friday it would be party night, but these are folks with real family values and by 9 PM everyone was indoors and they were putting the kids to bed. The AC was a joke so I had the windows open all night, and my room was on the second floor right next to the stairs. I didn't hear a single footstep all night. These were decent, hard-working folks who just wanted to do an honest days work, get paid a fair wage, and take care of their families.
There was no resturant within miles, so I broke out my emergency MRE and ate it, sharing the gum and cookies with some kids. Dirty and dressed in ragged clothes, they were normal kids just trying to have fun. And very polite - "Thanks, mister." Their parents were good people - not college educated or prepared to share a learned discourse on geo-politics, but folks with integrity who expected no one to take care of them.
I continue to spend a great deal of thought on this experience. I read that the market has fallen and I have lost most of my 2011 gains .... and I have three motorcycles in the garage and plenty of cash to take a two week wander with my friends. In fact I have enough cash that I can choose to spend $90 a night or $30 on a motel room. I am so privileged ... these folks don't have that luxury.
Our so-called leaders argue and fuss based on ideological perspectives and the latest election popularity polls instead of considering how this great country wastes such precious human resources. I listened to some "religious" TV the other day and heard how America is a Christian nation, and I almsot threw my coffee cup at the TV. How can we call ourselves "Christan" when we refuse to adapt to new economic realities and help the least among us find jobs and take care of themselves? Authentic Christianity is not the nonesense about homosexuality or individual rights, but about taking care of the least among us. At least that is what Jesus said, and it seems to me he should know.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
From the files of "You're kidding me!"
The following is for your entertainment pleasure and should be consumed along with copious amounts of alcohol, which will make the tale quite palatable.
Having exahusted my search for a higher "umph" commuter bike with ABS (more accurately, too cheap to pay $12K for a higher "umph" with ABS fourth motorcycle) I did my reaserch and discovered I could increase both HP and torque by about 10% on my lovely little KLR, and more importantly drop peak torque by about 500 rpm's, if I purchased an aftermarket exhaust.
Once more I did my research and found two suitable candidates, the Jardine RT 99 or Two Brother's M7. I preferred the sound of what was purported to be the Jardine, so placed my order with said company.
About ABS I can do nothing for the KLR, but I can improve braking simply by changing out the OEM pads and replacing the rubber lines with braided ones. Said order was placed, I received confirmation via email, and the parts arrived as promised.
As to the exhaust, not a word. I tried for two days to contact the company, with no success. On the third day some poor sap answered the phone and I asked about my order. I was put on hold and when he returned he explained that the pipe was on back order. "How long for back-orders?" I queried. Again I was placed on hold, but to his credit he returned and said, "Well, actually we will not start manufacturing that pipe for another eight to twelve weeks."
You're kidding me!
Needless to say I cancelled that order, made some gentle suggestions about customer service, and headed on down to the local bike shop for the Two Brothers M7, which just happened to be on close-out for 50% off. Nice!
The Missus was off to San Diego to care for our newest grandchild as his mother goes back to work, so the weekend was free and I looked forward to the task at hand.
Saturday morning I was up early, had a stout breakfast, laid out the tools, reviewed my plan, and started to work.
Old exhaust off - no problem, just filthy from this nasty black stuff I ran through in the desert in Arizona. New exhaust on - no problem. Fired up the bike, more umph as promised and the sound is definitely a neighborhood irritant if I should arrive home late at night. Nice.
Now for the brakes. Bleed the line dry - no problem with my handy-dandy Mity-Vac bleeder. Remove the caliper and OEM pads, replace with new aftermarket pads, and replace caliper. No problem, all by the book.
Remove the old brake line, replace with new braided line (in Kawasaki green, of course), thread the line through all the various parts of the friggin' front end, hook up the banjo bolts. A bit of twisting for an old man to get the line where it needed to be, but no problem.
Now, according to Mr. Clymer, the last thing you do is open the master cylinder, remove any remaining fluid, and refill while bleeding. No problem. Except that the screw holding the cover on is made of putty and with a simple twist of my wrist I sheared the head off.
You're kidding me!
Mr. Universe I ain't; for that screw to strip so easily is a statement in poor quality control.
So it was off to Ace Hardware, where for $8 I purchase a titanium bit (I had already busted two bits trying to tap the friggin' screw) and a little reverse threaded goomer which is placed in the pre-drilled hole and then screwed out with a pair of pliers. Nice.
Instructions followed, the screw comes out. No problem.
So it's off to the local Kawi dealer to get a replacement screw. I was going there anyway to get a new air filter. Even thogh the OEM foam filter is reusable, mine was so filthy from Bud making me ride in that black shit that I thought I would give the new exhaust a fighting chance and buy a nice, new clean filter.
Arrive at Dealer, get filter and inquire about screw. Here is the dialogue:
Kevin: "Hey, I managed to shear off the head of the front master cylinder screw so I need a replacement."
Parts: "No problem."
(pause)
Parts: "Well, we don't carry those in stock."
Kevin: "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood. Can you repeat that?"
Parts: "We'll have to order the screw."
Kevin: "OK, how long?"
Parts: "Seven to ten business days."
Kevin: "You're kidding me!"
So here I sit, beer in hand, KLR on stand, for seven to ten business days. The moral of the story: "Always have more than one motorcycle in your garage."
So when I sober up I think I will take a ride on my trusty Vulcan .... always have a Plan B.
Having exahusted my search for a higher "umph" commuter bike with ABS (more accurately, too cheap to pay $12K for a higher "umph" with ABS fourth motorcycle) I did my reaserch and discovered I could increase both HP and torque by about 10% on my lovely little KLR, and more importantly drop peak torque by about 500 rpm's, if I purchased an aftermarket exhaust.
Once more I did my research and found two suitable candidates, the Jardine RT 99 or Two Brother's M7. I preferred the sound of what was purported to be the Jardine, so placed my order with said company.
About ABS I can do nothing for the KLR, but I can improve braking simply by changing out the OEM pads and replacing the rubber lines with braided ones. Said order was placed, I received confirmation via email, and the parts arrived as promised.
As to the exhaust, not a word. I tried for two days to contact the company, with no success. On the third day some poor sap answered the phone and I asked about my order. I was put on hold and when he returned he explained that the pipe was on back order. "How long for back-orders?" I queried. Again I was placed on hold, but to his credit he returned and said, "Well, actually we will not start manufacturing that pipe for another eight to twelve weeks."
You're kidding me!
Needless to say I cancelled that order, made some gentle suggestions about customer service, and headed on down to the local bike shop for the Two Brothers M7, which just happened to be on close-out for 50% off. Nice!
The Missus was off to San Diego to care for our newest grandchild as his mother goes back to work, so the weekend was free and I looked forward to the task at hand.
Saturday morning I was up early, had a stout breakfast, laid out the tools, reviewed my plan, and started to work.
Old exhaust off - no problem, just filthy from this nasty black stuff I ran through in the desert in Arizona. New exhaust on - no problem. Fired up the bike, more umph as promised and the sound is definitely a neighborhood irritant if I should arrive home late at night. Nice.
Now for the brakes. Bleed the line dry - no problem with my handy-dandy Mity-Vac bleeder. Remove the caliper and OEM pads, replace with new aftermarket pads, and replace caliper. No problem, all by the book.
Remove the old brake line, replace with new braided line (in Kawasaki green, of course), thread the line through all the various parts of the friggin' front end, hook up the banjo bolts. A bit of twisting for an old man to get the line where it needed to be, but no problem.
Now, according to Mr. Clymer, the last thing you do is open the master cylinder, remove any remaining fluid, and refill while bleeding. No problem. Except that the screw holding the cover on is made of putty and with a simple twist of my wrist I sheared the head off.
You're kidding me!
Mr. Universe I ain't; for that screw to strip so easily is a statement in poor quality control.
So it was off to Ace Hardware, where for $8 I purchase a titanium bit (I had already busted two bits trying to tap the friggin' screw) and a little reverse threaded goomer which is placed in the pre-drilled hole and then screwed out with a pair of pliers. Nice.
Instructions followed, the screw comes out. No problem.
So it's off to the local Kawi dealer to get a replacement screw. I was going there anyway to get a new air filter. Even thogh the OEM foam filter is reusable, mine was so filthy from Bud making me ride in that black shit that I thought I would give the new exhaust a fighting chance and buy a nice, new clean filter.
Arrive at Dealer, get filter and inquire about screw. Here is the dialogue:
Kevin: "Hey, I managed to shear off the head of the front master cylinder screw so I need a replacement."
Parts: "No problem."
(pause)
Parts: "Well, we don't carry those in stock."
Kevin: "I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood. Can you repeat that?"
Parts: "We'll have to order the screw."
Kevin: "OK, how long?"
Parts: "Seven to ten business days."
Kevin: "You're kidding me!"
So here I sit, beer in hand, KLR on stand, for seven to ten business days. The moral of the story: "Always have more than one motorcycle in your garage."
So when I sober up I think I will take a ride on my trusty Vulcan .... always have a Plan B.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)