The first thing we learned about motorcycling was how quickly the BIG Yamaha 400's shrunk. We'd been riding about two months when our neighbors, Sterdan Frickley and his wife, Patience, bought a REALLY BIG Kawasaki 900. Now that was a mean machine! Tough, growly exhaust note, powerful neck snappin' performance, huge presence on the road and large doses of just plain fun! Judy wondered why anybody would need a motorcycle that big. So did I, but one trip with them on our little bikes - which had suddenly taken on moped characteristics - was enough to convince me that we had to upgrade.
With fresh money clutched in my grubby little fist, I raced to the dealership to purchase a brand new 1978 Suzuki GS750. Although the dealership was nearly empty, no one seemed interested enough in conservative looking folks to help us. So we left taking our money with us.
Twenty minutes later we arrived at the friendly Kawasaki dealer who was only too happy to show us a beautiful 1976 Kawasaki KZ 900 with only 456 miles on the clock. It was dark green with lighter green striping. A really pretty bike. We bought it on the spot! Have you ever heard of cognitive dissonance? Buyer's remorse? Naw, we sure didn't have it!
After we sold one of the small Yamahas, we headed for Texas to show the bike off to Bill and Sue, the Texicans from Cottonwood Pass; the unknown instigators of this whole ordeal. Frickley and Patience went along mostly to get to meet some real Texans but also to protect us from ourselves.
On this trip we learned that sunflower seeds will behave unpredictably behind a fairing when the hulls are spit out at turnpike speeds. Patience loved these little morsels and as she consumed the tasty insides, she discarded the hulls by spitting them at the back of Frickley’s helmet. As the wind caught the seeds, they whipped around behind the windshield, in front of him and disappeared down along the front fork tubes. Frickley, of course, suspected nothing and commented frequently about little "bugs" that kept jumping around in front of him. Patience enjoyed his description of these "little bugs" and the way his head jerked every time he saw one. He provided so much entertainment that she never told him the truth. One can be very imaginative when given the time!
Poor old Frickley. Truly, he never knew what hit him!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
3. Gettin' Started
January, 1978. Big blizzard in Topeka. What better time to buy a bike than during a major winter storm? So, there we were at the Harding Wheel Yamaha shop wheelin' and dealin' for a pair of "BIG" Yamaha XS 400's. We figured we needed two bikes and that we’d get a better deal if we bought both at the same time. The blizzard was a stroke of luck that we took as a good omen because buyers weren't exactly beatin' down the doors to get in.
We negotiated for the best price and settled back to wait for warmer weather so we could get the bikes home. It proved to be a long wait. Several weeks later the weather finally warmed up enough to melt the snow and ice off the roads and we were able to ride our purchases home so we could at least look at them any time we wanted to. We spent lots of time sitting in the garage “test sitting” and "practicing head turning"!
Winter had set in with a vengeance. It was late in March before we actually took the bikes out for the first time. It was so cold the engines wouldn't run well without a little choke. Could be we neophytes didn't know much about ridin' either! On this first ride we stopped in the left turn lane at a stoplight on an uphill grade. When the light turned green, I made it through the light but Miss Judy kept stalling her engine. Seeing she was having troubles, I made a U-turn and headed back to help her. Immediately I dropped my bike on the sand in the road. As I picked it up, it occurred to me that this was going to be more demanding than we expected.
Several light changes and bike drops later I finally got to Judy's bike and pushed it out to a car lot. It was only then that we realized what great entertainment we'd provided the salesmen when one of them grinned at us and asked, "Been ridin' long?"
Well, that's how we got started. Today, of course, we're somewhat more competent riders having become Kansas Certified Motorcycle Safety Instructors and more than passable mechanics.
The idea for this book came from friends we rode with who read the monthly newsletters we published. They encouraged us to "save the good stuff" and put together a collection of adventure stories. Some are brief, some long. Names have been changed to protect the guilty. Sometimes our (my) conservative value system shows through and I preach a little bit.
Basically, I like things society frowns on; guns, hunting, racing, motorcycles, independence and freedom. I don't like liberal politicians, whiners, taxes, biased news media, bandits, welfare or personal limitations imposed on us by special interest groups in the name of "fairness".
So, for better or worse, here are some of the stories we remember best. As we put this together, we remembered the wide variety of wonderful and funny people we met along the way. Some are really unique as you'll see. All have a special place in our hearts and memories. We hope you enjoy reading about these real folks as much as we enjoyed ridin’ with them.
We negotiated for the best price and settled back to wait for warmer weather so we could get the bikes home. It proved to be a long wait. Several weeks later the weather finally warmed up enough to melt the snow and ice off the roads and we were able to ride our purchases home so we could at least look at them any time we wanted to. We spent lots of time sitting in the garage “test sitting” and "practicing head turning"!
Winter had set in with a vengeance. It was late in March before we actually took the bikes out for the first time. It was so cold the engines wouldn't run well without a little choke. Could be we neophytes didn't know much about ridin' either! On this first ride we stopped in the left turn lane at a stoplight on an uphill grade. When the light turned green, I made it through the light but Miss Judy kept stalling her engine. Seeing she was having troubles, I made a U-turn and headed back to help her. Immediately I dropped my bike on the sand in the road. As I picked it up, it occurred to me that this was going to be more demanding than we expected.
Several light changes and bike drops later I finally got to Judy's bike and pushed it out to a car lot. It was only then that we realized what great entertainment we'd provided the salesmen when one of them grinned at us and asked, "Been ridin' long?"
Well, that's how we got started. Today, of course, we're somewhat more competent riders having become Kansas Certified Motorcycle Safety Instructors and more than passable mechanics.
The idea for this book came from friends we rode with who read the monthly newsletters we published. They encouraged us to "save the good stuff" and put together a collection of adventure stories. Some are brief, some long. Names have been changed to protect the guilty. Sometimes our (my) conservative value system shows through and I preach a little bit.
Basically, I like things society frowns on; guns, hunting, racing, motorcycles, independence and freedom. I don't like liberal politicians, whiners, taxes, biased news media, bandits, welfare or personal limitations imposed on us by special interest groups in the name of "fairness".
So, for better or worse, here are some of the stories we remember best. As we put this together, we remembered the wide variety of wonderful and funny people we met along the way. Some are really unique as you'll see. All have a special place in our hearts and memories. We hope you enjoy reading about these real folks as much as we enjoyed ridin’ with them.
Monday, October 26, 2009
2. The Seed Is Planted
August, 1973 found us headed for the Colorado Rocky Mountains; not on motorcycles -- that would come years later -- but in a 1962 Willys Jeep station wagon pulling a home made trailer with 55 gallons of gasoline in tow. This was the time of the great gas shortage (?) and we were goin' to the mountains! Gasoline was hard to find so we planned to buy it where we could find it and use the gasoline in the barrel as a reserve insurance policy. This is how Miss Judy and I work and play. When we decide to do something, we do it. Our mission in life is to store up enough memories to see us through the grey times. Hey! Life's too short to dance with ugly girls!
We were living in Western Kansas then. We were only four hours away from the cool high reaches of the Colorado mountains. We had both worked hard for a long time and were ready to get away from it all.
The second day out we reached Taylor Reservoir late in the afternoon. We camped in those days and we were looking for a suitable site when we spotted a place on the side of the mountain that we liked. Since another camper saw it at the same time, Miss Judy leaped out of the Jeep and did a sub ten second 100 yard dash to secure the place for us. We set up camp, fixed a good supper over an open fire and met our neighbors who would become good friends.
They had wondered how our little Jeep could walk away from their big Ford pickup on the steep grades. Their amazement was explained when they realized that under the hood of the little Jeep was a l967 Chevrolet 327 engine with hot rod heads, 4 barrel carb, dual glass packs and all that stuff. Linked to a very low geared rear end, it was deadly in the boulevard stoplight wars; even eating up a Pontiac GTO Tri-Power one night down in Texas.
While it had plenty of power to pull the steep mountain grades it unfortunately had gas mileage that was correspondingly low. Of course, we didn't brag about that fact!
Our new friends, Bill and Sue, were from Arlington, Texas. Naturally the universal Texan-to-Texan law was invoked and we spent the next few days agreeing that Texas was indeed a fine place and traveling together. They had pulled a trailer to the mountains also. Their cargo was not gasoline but a new l973 Yamaha RD 350 motorcycle. This was how our interest in motorcycling first began.
Bill and Sue planned to ride across Cottonwood Pass the next morning on the 350 and asked if we would accompany them in case they had problems. Cottonwood Pass was 36 miles of gravel road -- a challenge even on four wheels, let alone two. But this guy was a fast rider. We'd occasionally catch a glimpse of a yellow rain suit or the flash of a white helmet through the trees as they ascended the mountain. It was exhilarating to watch them fly through the tight gravel turns. We trailed them over the pass, stopped for coffee in Buena Vista at the bottom of mountain, then parted company and promised to write. As we drove away we did not realize a seed had been planted..
FOUR YEARS LATER, WINTER, 1977:
During a Christmas visit with Judy’s mom, the subject of the mountains came up -- the seed began to sprout. Upon returning to our home which by now had been relocated to Topeka in the northeastern part of the state of Kansas (and a long way from the mountains), we made a decision that come next summer we were gonna cross Cottonwood Pass again -- only this time we'd be on two wheels. Little did we know that the adventures were just beginning. The misadventures that follow should be entertaining not only to motorcyclists, but to innocent men and women as well. Hang on tight, folks! It’s a fast ride.
We were living in Western Kansas then. We were only four hours away from the cool high reaches of the Colorado mountains. We had both worked hard for a long time and were ready to get away from it all.
The second day out we reached Taylor Reservoir late in the afternoon. We camped in those days and we were looking for a suitable site when we spotted a place on the side of the mountain that we liked. Since another camper saw it at the same time, Miss Judy leaped out of the Jeep and did a sub ten second 100 yard dash to secure the place for us. We set up camp, fixed a good supper over an open fire and met our neighbors who would become good friends.
They had wondered how our little Jeep could walk away from their big Ford pickup on the steep grades. Their amazement was explained when they realized that under the hood of the little Jeep was a l967 Chevrolet 327 engine with hot rod heads, 4 barrel carb, dual glass packs and all that stuff. Linked to a very low geared rear end, it was deadly in the boulevard stoplight wars; even eating up a Pontiac GTO Tri-Power one night down in Texas.
While it had plenty of power to pull the steep mountain grades it unfortunately had gas mileage that was correspondingly low. Of course, we didn't brag about that fact!
Our new friends, Bill and Sue, were from Arlington, Texas. Naturally the universal Texan-to-Texan law was invoked and we spent the next few days agreeing that Texas was indeed a fine place and traveling together. They had pulled a trailer to the mountains also. Their cargo was not gasoline but a new l973 Yamaha RD 350 motorcycle. This was how our interest in motorcycling first began.
Bill and Sue planned to ride across Cottonwood Pass the next morning on the 350 and asked if we would accompany them in case they had problems. Cottonwood Pass was 36 miles of gravel road -- a challenge even on four wheels, let alone two. But this guy was a fast rider. We'd occasionally catch a glimpse of a yellow rain suit or the flash of a white helmet through the trees as they ascended the mountain. It was exhilarating to watch them fly through the tight gravel turns. We trailed them over the pass, stopped for coffee in Buena Vista at the bottom of mountain, then parted company and promised to write. As we drove away we did not realize a seed had been planted..
FOUR YEARS LATER, WINTER, 1977:
During a Christmas visit with Judy’s mom, the subject of the mountains came up -- the seed began to sprout. Upon returning to our home which by now had been relocated to Topeka in the northeastern part of the state of Kansas (and a long way from the mountains), we made a decision that come next summer we were gonna cross Cottonwood Pass again -- only this time we'd be on two wheels. Little did we know that the adventures were just beginning. The misadventures that follow should be entertaining not only to motorcyclists, but to innocent men and women as well. Hang on tight, folks! It’s a fast ride.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
1. Can't Drive Any Faster? Park It!
Nothing beats a fast run through great mountain passes on a good motorcycle. It’s like flying your own personal sized jet. At times though, the extra power and nimble handling can combine with treacherous road conditions and actually work against you. Consider the day we were struggling to cross Red Mountain Pass in Colorado just after a hard rainstorm...
Mudslides were everywhere! Gravel, sand, oil, potholes, and heavy traffic made this a particularly delicate business; especially on the steep downhill side. On this day, we were gingerly feeling our way down a sharp decline when a station wagon began tailgating us. This vehicle was grossly overloaded with camping supplies and numerous screaming kids. The driver was quite agitated at us for slowing him down by the tedious and careful way we had to tiptoe down the mountain. Not wanting to get run over from behind and not being able to let him around on the narrow road, we held our position and continued our slow descent. From time to time I’d tap the brake lights to keep him aware of how close he really was and to try to keep a safe distance between us.
Finally, a long straight stretch of road enabled him to overtake us and get on down the road. As the wagon pulled even with us, it slowed and the woman in the passenger seat rolled down the window and yelled, “If you can’t drive any faster than that, park it!” You meet the nicest people on a motorcycle.
Later in the day we were really flying up another tall mountain pass. Gone was the morning rain, skies were brilliantly blue, and the track was dry and fast. Perfect riding conditions for a great motorcycle.
Up ahead, on the steep incline, we spot a familiar vehicle. Why, it’s our old friends from the morning side of another mountain! This time, they are at a serious disadvantage with the high altitude and great loss of power.
Overheating badly, smoke and steam surrounded their wagon as they
chugged up the steep hillside. Using the high beam headlight, we tailgated them for a while till they were nervously looking back at us. When we knew for sure they recognized us, Judy and I planned our pass strategically.
As we swung out to pass, we came up to the driver’s window, slowed a bit, and yelled in unison, “If you can’t drive any faster than that, park it!”
Aiee! Our spirits lifted immeasurably as we roared around them and easily zipped on up the mountain, greatly pleased with the whole encounter. As we passed them, we both saw the guilty, sheepish look on the woman’s face. Payback time!
How sweet it is!
Mudslides were everywhere! Gravel, sand, oil, potholes, and heavy traffic made this a particularly delicate business; especially on the steep downhill side. On this day, we were gingerly feeling our way down a sharp decline when a station wagon began tailgating us. This vehicle was grossly overloaded with camping supplies and numerous screaming kids. The driver was quite agitated at us for slowing him down by the tedious and careful way we had to tiptoe down the mountain. Not wanting to get run over from behind and not being able to let him around on the narrow road, we held our position and continued our slow descent. From time to time I’d tap the brake lights to keep him aware of how close he really was and to try to keep a safe distance between us.
Finally, a long straight stretch of road enabled him to overtake us and get on down the road. As the wagon pulled even with us, it slowed and the woman in the passenger seat rolled down the window and yelled, “If you can’t drive any faster than that, park it!” You meet the nicest people on a motorcycle.
Later in the day we were really flying up another tall mountain pass. Gone was the morning rain, skies were brilliantly blue, and the track was dry and fast. Perfect riding conditions for a great motorcycle.
Up ahead, on the steep incline, we spot a familiar vehicle. Why, it’s our old friends from the morning side of another mountain! This time, they are at a serious disadvantage with the high altitude and great loss of power.
Overheating badly, smoke and steam surrounded their wagon as they
chugged up the steep hillside. Using the high beam headlight, we tailgated them for a while till they were nervously looking back at us. When we knew for sure they recognized us, Judy and I planned our pass strategically.
As we swung out to pass, we came up to the driver’s window, slowed a bit, and yelled in unison, “If you can’t drive any faster than that, park it!”
Aiee! Our spirits lifted immeasurably as we roared around them and easily zipped on up the mountain, greatly pleased with the whole encounter. As we passed them, we both saw the guilty, sheepish look on the woman’s face. Payback time!
How sweet it is!
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