Earlier I mentioned briefly that Judy’s XS Eleven was the fastest bike in West Texas. This begs the question, "Just what was it that made this little bike so special?"
Well, for one thing, it looked just like the little XS 400’s we started out with. Judy was riding a Suzuki 750 at that time and that was not a good fit for her. So we began looking for a bike with shaft drive rather than chain drive. I called the Kawasaki dealer to see what the Kaw’s were selling for and turned ashen at the price! $3,895 for the KZ 1100! Ach, himmel!!
He said if I wasn’t particular, the dealer up the street was selling off left over XS Eleven’s for $2,995. I’m sure he meant this a cheap shot, but I seized upon this nugget and called the Yahama dealer. Yes, he was selling them and had three left; two Indigo Blue ones and a Tobacco Brown one. Price; $2,995.
That afternoon, right after work, Judy and I headed for Shawnee Mission, Kansas on my KZ 1300 as the dealer was open till 9:00 pm on Thursday nights. We got there around 7:30 pm, rolled out the blue XS Eleven and took it for a test ride. Oh boy, was this a responsive bike. Judy liked it too. We went back in and bought it for $2,900 with a set of case guards thrown in.
What a neat bike! On the turnpike ride home, Judy throttled up and this bike nearly popped a wheelie at 60 mph. It was torque personified!
On Saturday, we sold the GS 750 and the pick up truck, so the Yamaha was suddenly free and clear. I bought a frame mounted fairing for it but no one in Topeka had a mounting bracket. I had to make a fast trip to Manhattan for that.
After assembling all the parts, it was a simple job to mount the fairing and the case guards. The bike was Indigo Blue and the fairing matched the colors of the bike perfectly. Judy took it for a ride and loved it! As she rode the bike more and more, she began to accessorize it with a radio, a tape player, a CB, color matched saddle bags and a leftover white tail trunk. This fast little machine just made itself right at home. I liked it too, very much, as it was a real hot rod.
A couple of years later, we moved to Big Spring, Texas, which was not far from Abilene, where I was raised. Judy did not share my enthusiasm for West Texas, but she did love the early morning sunrises and the spectacular sunsets. She did not love cleaning sand out of her refrigerator after one of the frequent sand storms
Excuse me for a moment while I bring you up to date on West Texans and women. Down here, women are considered to be helpful, handy, little servants...as long as they do not interfere in the business of men.
Expectations are that the little darlin’s are happiest when doing something useful for a man. Hmmm. While that would be an alternative to the northern customs, I could not see a strong willed personality like Judy fitting in this restrictive structure.
But, for the first few meetings and rides with the Big Spring Road Riders, she was somewhat laid back until one of the guys, Bubba, I think his name was, remarked about her little motorcycle and asked her if she thought it could keep up with the big bikes like the Gold Wings, Harleys, and Kawasaki machines. Hoo boy, these were fighting words.
Judy said she didn’t know, (she lied) but then asked him if he was familiar with the 55 mph roll on tests. Naturally, being a redneck from West Texas, Bubba had no clue as to what she was talking about.
She explained that in the roll on tests, two bikes run side by side on the Interstate at 55 mph in top gear. At a given signal, both riders would crank the throttle wide open and see which bike was the fastest. It was a test of extreme performance and a measurement of torque.
Hey, sounded good to him. What could Judy’s diminutive little motor scooter do against his big strong KZ-1100? I knew. I had read the same article in Rider magazine about the exhaustive performance tests of the XS Eleven. This particular test had firmly established the XS Eleven as the world champion.
Another of the performance tests was the quarter mile drag race. Where do you think the name, XS Eleven came from? Right, it was the elapsed time in the quarter mile, Maynard! That‘s right, eleven seconds to cover a quarter mile from a dead stop. Bubba was about to get a rude education.
One bright morning we all went out to I-20 west of Big Spring and the test began. Bubba called us on his CB and reported that the bikes were running side by side at 55 mph.
Cubby, the Road Captain, counted off...3, 2, 1, GO!!! It was over in a moment; Judy had beaten the KZ 1100 by 20 bike lengths. Bubba howled that he was not ready and wanted to repeat the race. Judy was more than agreeable. Sure, let’s go.
Again, the two bikes lined up. On the signal, the throttles were cranked wide open. Again, Judy walked off and left him. Bubba came back a changed man. He looked the little bike over and still could not believe it.
Next up, a hot rod in it’s own right, the Suzuki GS 1100 L challenged the XS Eleven. This competition was a bit stiffer as the Suzuki had a high performance rating as well. Close, but not nearly enough. Once again the little Yamaha won easily.
Bubba, with his KZ 1100, came back and wanted to race Judy again, but this time he would run in fourth gear while she stayed in fifth. Again, Cubby set them off and again Judy beat him. Although the race was closer it still was no contest.
Frustrated now, Bubba wanted to try one more time, but this time he would be in third gear while Judy stayed in fifth. This time the KZ 1100 stayed close for about 50 yards, then fell behind as the XS Eleven roared away.
The aftermath of this display of performance was that other riders came forward on our weekend rides and asked Judy if she’d like to ride their big comfortable (read slow) bikes. They wanted to see just what this little fellow could do. Seems everyone enjoyed the unlimited performance of Judy’s bike and it was never beaten in the highway roll on contests.
Over time, this established Judy as an equal which generated some resistance among the other wives, but several of them decided to buy bikes and ride their own! Judy the trendsetter. Look what she started.
Judy’s 1979 Yamaha XS Eleven...the fastest bike in West Texas!
Monday, August 30, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
37. Are You A Taurus?
Following our delightful day in Boston, we departed early the next morning bound for Portland, Maine, where we would board the ferry boat for the night sail to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia.
Once on board I took the Dramamine and became horizontally dormant for the entire trip. I can’t relate much about the crossing except I did not get sick which was the main objective. Can’t get used to this Canadian accent. Some lady was talking about ‘troat’ fishing. Finally I realized she meant trout fishing. They thought our accents were different too.
Riding out of Yarmouth, we headed for Bridgewater where we would spend the next couple of days spending time with Gary and Carolyn’s family.
While there, I decided to go to a music store and purchase a Pink Floyd CD. I had recently heard this group on my way home from work early one morning. The cut I heard was from the album “The Wall” and I told Judy about this new group I had just learned about.
She shook her head sadly and informed me that this was not a new group or a new song. This album first hit the stores in the mid 70’s, this was now the mid 90’s! Ah, well; I may be slow but I sure am cute.
I walked up to the counter and asked the young lady there for a CD of “The Wall”. As she was making my change she asked, “Are you a Taurus?”
I said, “No, I’m a Gemini.”
She said, “Where’s that?”
"What? I said.
Hmm, I don’t know where this conversation is going. Judy, who knows all, sees all, stepped forward and said. “It’s the accent, Dude! She’s asking if you’re a tourist!”
Yeah, I’m still slow, and maybe...not so cute any more.
Once on board I took the Dramamine and became horizontally dormant for the entire trip. I can’t relate much about the crossing except I did not get sick which was the main objective. Can’t get used to this Canadian accent. Some lady was talking about ‘troat’ fishing. Finally I realized she meant trout fishing. They thought our accents were different too.
Riding out of Yarmouth, we headed for Bridgewater where we would spend the next couple of days spending time with Gary and Carolyn’s family.
While there, I decided to go to a music store and purchase a Pink Floyd CD. I had recently heard this group on my way home from work early one morning. The cut I heard was from the album “The Wall” and I told Judy about this new group I had just learned about.
She shook her head sadly and informed me that this was not a new group or a new song. This album first hit the stores in the mid 70’s, this was now the mid 90’s! Ah, well; I may be slow but I sure am cute.
I walked up to the counter and asked the young lady there for a CD of “The Wall”. As she was making my change she asked, “Are you a Taurus?”
I said, “No, I’m a Gemini.”
She said, “Where’s that?”
"What? I said.
Hmm, I don’t know where this conversation is going. Judy, who knows all, sees all, stepped forward and said. “It’s the accent, Dude! She’s asking if you’re a tourist!”
Yeah, I’m still slow, and maybe...not so cute any more.
36. The Magic Of Boston
July 1, 1995, found a large group of us bound for Nova Scotia. One of our group had a young son who lived with his family near Bridgewater and we were going to spend a couple of days with him before going on to the Cabot Trail.
We put in a couple of long days on the road trying to reach our motel in Woburn, Massachusetts by July 3 rd. We really wanted to be in Boston for the July fourth celebrations because we had been told it was spectacular.
We were blessed with good weather the whole way and arrived at the Woburn motel in mid afternoon on the third. We rested, chatted with other guests and trying to understand the Boston accent. Simply put, P S D S becomes... pierced ears! Got it?
Early next morning, we gathered at the Amtrak stop on the north end of the parking lot. Judy had picked this motel because of this exact reason; it was for the convenience, you see.
We took over one whole car and everyone we met was very friendly, asking where we came from, what we were doing, what kind of bikes we rode, and commented on our different accents and the slow way we talked.
We were overwhelmed with the gracious good manners of these locals. We had heard many stories of the rude and nasty Bostonians, but we saw none of that. Of course, we did not run into the despicable Ted Kennedy; that would have changed our impressions.
As the train made it’s way toward Boston, some of the ladies struck up a conversation with a young Korean lad name Mike Jung. Mike came to the USA when he was three years old as an adopted child. He answered many questions, about how to get from the train to downtown, where was the Cheer’s Bar, the Commons, the Tall Ships, the Esplanade, Paul Revere’s house, etc. He must have enjoyed our company because he cancelled his work day and agreed to show us around Boston.
So we rode the “T” from the train station to down town Boston. The “T” is actually the subway known as the MTA that was made famous in the Kingston Trio’s hit song, “Charlie and the MTA.” In fact, the song kept running through my head as I saw the familiar names of the various stations; Jamaica Plain, Chelsea Street Station, Roxbury...
Soon we reached our station and disembarked. Mike counted us and took us first to the Boston Common where parades, re-enactments and speeches were underway all around us.
Some of the speeches were delivered by truly gifted actors and I got a chill thinking this is where our struggle for freedom first started. The struggle is still going on today, only we are fighting Liberals traitors from within! But enough already! This is about a great trip we took and a memorable day in Boston on July fourth.
From there we walked to a long row of street vendors with lots of good things to eat. This group has a motto, ride to eat, eat to ride. This turned our to be one of the best dinner rides we ever had!
Next up; the Tall Ships.; absolutely awe inspiring! When one stops to think these great vessels crossed oceans to get here, bearing human cargo, folks who had left everything familiar to come to a strange unknown land to begin a new life and escape tyranny where they lived, it brings home just how important our freedom really is.
From there, we went to the Cheer’s bar which is actually known as the Bull and Finch. I was surprised at how small it really is. Friendly place though, so we had a soft drink, toasted Norm and the gang, bought T shirts and hats, then proceeded to Paul Revere’s home. Of course, then we had to go see the Old North Church and follow some interpretative, self guided walks.
By this time, the girls were in need of some shopping so Mike took us all to a large shopping mall where the women disappeared inside and the men sat outside and rested. When the ladies returned, Mike headed us toward the Esplanade and we heard the Pointer Sisters sing with the Boston Pops Symphony Orchestra. Great music!
Soon Mike gathered us together and herded us to the St. Charles River Bridge, actually taking us to the highest point so we could see the fireworks in the harbor below. This was the highlight of the day; seeing all the people and the fireworks display. Mike really did a good job today.
But there was one more task remaining and that was to get off the bridge and back to the Amtrak Station. Mike solved that by advising we should bypass the “T” and walk the eight blocks to the train. He had us hold hands in a long line like school children and we set off at a brisk pace. We got there with time to spare.
Some of us got together and starting passing the hat for Mike as he had given up a day’s pay to escort us around the city he knew so well. We came up with $100 which I thought was a little light, but hey! I’m generous to a fault. We did enjoy his company and he was an excellent guide.
He rode with us on the train as he still had to get back to his home which was well past our stop at the motel. We all shook his hand, the women hugged him and we waved good bye.
The end of the perfect day; the magic of Boston.
We put in a couple of long days on the road trying to reach our motel in Woburn, Massachusetts by July 3 rd. We really wanted to be in Boston for the July fourth celebrations because we had been told it was spectacular.
We were blessed with good weather the whole way and arrived at the Woburn motel in mid afternoon on the third. We rested, chatted with other guests and trying to understand the Boston accent. Simply put, P S D S becomes... pierced ears! Got it?
Early next morning, we gathered at the Amtrak stop on the north end of the parking lot. Judy had picked this motel because of this exact reason; it was for the convenience, you see.
We took over one whole car and everyone we met was very friendly, asking where we came from, what we were doing, what kind of bikes we rode, and commented on our different accents and the slow way we talked.
We were overwhelmed with the gracious good manners of these locals. We had heard many stories of the rude and nasty Bostonians, but we saw none of that. Of course, we did not run into the despicable Ted Kennedy; that would have changed our impressions.
As the train made it’s way toward Boston, some of the ladies struck up a conversation with a young Korean lad name Mike Jung. Mike came to the USA when he was three years old as an adopted child. He answered many questions, about how to get from the train to downtown, where was the Cheer’s Bar, the Commons, the Tall Ships, the Esplanade, Paul Revere’s house, etc. He must have enjoyed our company because he cancelled his work day and agreed to show us around Boston.
So we rode the “T” from the train station to down town Boston. The “T” is actually the subway known as the MTA that was made famous in the Kingston Trio’s hit song, “Charlie and the MTA.” In fact, the song kept running through my head as I saw the familiar names of the various stations; Jamaica Plain, Chelsea Street Station, Roxbury...
Soon we reached our station and disembarked. Mike counted us and took us first to the Boston Common where parades, re-enactments and speeches were underway all around us.
Some of the speeches were delivered by truly gifted actors and I got a chill thinking this is where our struggle for freedom first started. The struggle is still going on today, only we are fighting Liberals traitors from within! But enough already! This is about a great trip we took and a memorable day in Boston on July fourth.
From there we walked to a long row of street vendors with lots of good things to eat. This group has a motto, ride to eat, eat to ride. This turned our to be one of the best dinner rides we ever had!
Next up; the Tall Ships.; absolutely awe inspiring! When one stops to think these great vessels crossed oceans to get here, bearing human cargo, folks who had left everything familiar to come to a strange unknown land to begin a new life and escape tyranny where they lived, it brings home just how important our freedom really is.
From there, we went to the Cheer’s bar which is actually known as the Bull and Finch. I was surprised at how small it really is. Friendly place though, so we had a soft drink, toasted Norm and the gang, bought T shirts and hats, then proceeded to Paul Revere’s home. Of course, then we had to go see the Old North Church and follow some interpretative, self guided walks.
By this time, the girls were in need of some shopping so Mike took us all to a large shopping mall where the women disappeared inside and the men sat outside and rested. When the ladies returned, Mike headed us toward the Esplanade and we heard the Pointer Sisters sing with the Boston Pops Symphony Orchestra. Great music!
Soon Mike gathered us together and herded us to the St. Charles River Bridge, actually taking us to the highest point so we could see the fireworks in the harbor below. This was the highlight of the day; seeing all the people and the fireworks display. Mike really did a good job today.
But there was one more task remaining and that was to get off the bridge and back to the Amtrak Station. Mike solved that by advising we should bypass the “T” and walk the eight blocks to the train. He had us hold hands in a long line like school children and we set off at a brisk pace. We got there with time to spare.
Some of us got together and starting passing the hat for Mike as he had given up a day’s pay to escort us around the city he knew so well. We came up with $100 which I thought was a little light, but hey! I’m generous to a fault. We did enjoy his company and he was an excellent guide.
He rode with us on the train as he still had to get back to his home which was well past our stop at the motel. We all shook his hand, the women hugged him and we waved good bye.
The end of the perfect day; the magic of Boston.
35. The Raisin Bran Smugglers
Winter time doldrums had set in. Paul and I had endured as many short days as we could stand without benefit of sunshine and dry roads. We were in bad need of a fix as we were really suffering from cabin fever and needed to get ‘in the wind‘. You know what I mean?
In mid February, we caught a break; a day with bright sun, no wind, and mild temperatures in the high 50’s. A bike trip was in order, but where to go for an out and back ride in one day?
After much thought, we decided on Falls City, Nebraska. There was a Safeway grocery store there that sold Skinner’s Raisin Bran and that was a good enough reason for the two of us.
So...two innocent little lambs (innocent? you buy that? after reading the last story?) started out for a day of riding in the heart of winter. We had gone just a few miles before deciding we better return home and get some warmer clothes. This was way before the insulated light weight suits so popular today.
We put on thermal underwear, heavy socks, multiple layers of winter clothes, snowmobile gloves, ski masks, insulated boots, and heavy coats. We were so bundled up, one could mistake us for the Michelin Man and the Pillsbury Dough Boy. We gave not a care; we were warm! And we were off for an adventure of the first rank!
We had a good ride through the back roads on our way to Falls City. Each little town brought waves from normal people who must have thought we were escapees from one of Topeka’s mental institutions. Did we care? Nein! We knew what we were doing and that was enough for us.
After a couple of hours, the cold and the coffee we had consumed created some serious problems as we could not get enough clothes off quickly in order to get rid of the load the coffee. This must have been hilarious for those who drove past and honked as we were hopping around on one leg while hiding behind trees trying not to wet down our garments.
Finally we were greatly relieved and all bundled up again. The trip continued without incident till we reached the parking lot at the Safeway store in Falls City, Nebraska. Once there, we repeated the fumbling with cold hands to remove enough clothes to be able to walk into the store.
As we strolled through the cereal aisle looking for Skinner’s Raisin Bran, we noticed a small, but growing crowd of groupies following us around. Some were even beginning to grin hugely at us. What was going on?
Ah, ha! Here’s the raisin bran. We grabbed about a dozen boxes each and headed for the check out counter followed by our new fan club. The young checker greeted us warmly and asked where we were from. She also asked if the stores there did not have raisin bran, how long would it take us to get home, what was caused those little holes in our faces, what were we going to do about the ice on the road, etc. A little child asked her mommie what was wrong with those guys.
Ice on the road? We didn’t know nothin’ about no ice on the road! Heck, we didn’t even suspect anything. We quickly paid for the cereal and headed out the door. We got to the bikes, packed the cereal into the saddlebags on the bikes and finally looked at each other. What we saw were hundreds of little red pock marks from the ski masks! Well, that mystery was solved but what about the ice on the road?
At this time a policeman drove up and asked where we were headed, We told him we were headed home to Topeka after coming here to get some raisin bran. He wasn’t sure we were safe to let go, but when he saw most of the customers and the employees of the Safeway store waving goodbye to us, he thought we were amusing at least and maybe even...harmless. He too had a big smile on his face as he watched us put on all our clothes and head for home. After all, isn’t Topeka where all those mental institutions are?
By this time, it was approaching 3:00 pm and the sun had gone behind a bank of big gray clouds. The temperature was on the bank clock and read a dismal 30 degrees. We knew it would not get warmer as we headed south. Hey, it ain’t easy being a hard core bike rider in winter. Fortunately for us the storm held off till we got home so we didn’t have to worry about slick roads. This was just another slight miscalculation as we journeyed down life‘s highway. As we rode away, the words of the check out girl came back to us.
She had said, “I nearly called in sick today. I’m so glad I came to work. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world!”
In mid February, we caught a break; a day with bright sun, no wind, and mild temperatures in the high 50’s. A bike trip was in order, but where to go for an out and back ride in one day?
After much thought, we decided on Falls City, Nebraska. There was a Safeway grocery store there that sold Skinner’s Raisin Bran and that was a good enough reason for the two of us.
So...two innocent little lambs (innocent? you buy that? after reading the last story?) started out for a day of riding in the heart of winter. We had gone just a few miles before deciding we better return home and get some warmer clothes. This was way before the insulated light weight suits so popular today.
We put on thermal underwear, heavy socks, multiple layers of winter clothes, snowmobile gloves, ski masks, insulated boots, and heavy coats. We were so bundled up, one could mistake us for the Michelin Man and the Pillsbury Dough Boy. We gave not a care; we were warm! And we were off for an adventure of the first rank!
We had a good ride through the back roads on our way to Falls City. Each little town brought waves from normal people who must have thought we were escapees from one of Topeka’s mental institutions. Did we care? Nein! We knew what we were doing and that was enough for us.
After a couple of hours, the cold and the coffee we had consumed created some serious problems as we could not get enough clothes off quickly in order to get rid of the load the coffee. This must have been hilarious for those who drove past and honked as we were hopping around on one leg while hiding behind trees trying not to wet down our garments.
Finally we were greatly relieved and all bundled up again. The trip continued without incident till we reached the parking lot at the Safeway store in Falls City, Nebraska. Once there, we repeated the fumbling with cold hands to remove enough clothes to be able to walk into the store.
As we strolled through the cereal aisle looking for Skinner’s Raisin Bran, we noticed a small, but growing crowd of groupies following us around. Some were even beginning to grin hugely at us. What was going on?
Ah, ha! Here’s the raisin bran. We grabbed about a dozen boxes each and headed for the check out counter followed by our new fan club. The young checker greeted us warmly and asked where we were from. She also asked if the stores there did not have raisin bran, how long would it take us to get home, what was caused those little holes in our faces, what were we going to do about the ice on the road, etc. A little child asked her mommie what was wrong with those guys.
Ice on the road? We didn’t know nothin’ about no ice on the road! Heck, we didn’t even suspect anything. We quickly paid for the cereal and headed out the door. We got to the bikes, packed the cereal into the saddlebags on the bikes and finally looked at each other. What we saw were hundreds of little red pock marks from the ski masks! Well, that mystery was solved but what about the ice on the road?
At this time a policeman drove up and asked where we were headed, We told him we were headed home to Topeka after coming here to get some raisin bran. He wasn’t sure we were safe to let go, but when he saw most of the customers and the employees of the Safeway store waving goodbye to us, he thought we were amusing at least and maybe even...harmless. He too had a big smile on his face as he watched us put on all our clothes and head for home. After all, isn’t Topeka where all those mental institutions are?
By this time, it was approaching 3:00 pm and the sun had gone behind a bank of big gray clouds. The temperature was on the bank clock and read a dismal 30 degrees. We knew it would not get warmer as we headed south. Hey, it ain’t easy being a hard core bike rider in winter. Fortunately for us the storm held off till we got home so we didn’t have to worry about slick roads. This was just another slight miscalculation as we journeyed down life‘s highway. As we rode away, the words of the check out girl came back to us.
She had said, “I nearly called in sick today. I’m so glad I came to work. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world!”
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