For several years, the Waynoka Rattlesnake Hunt was the first ride of the year for the men of the Topeka Touring Society. It always came the first weekend after Easter. Sometimes the weather was pleasant; sometimes...it was not.
One year we had many riders and needed a motel with lots of room. This turned out to be the Vista Motel on the west edge of Alva, Oklahoma, a mere thirty minutes from Waynoka. I had called the Chamber of Commerce asking for a motel such as this along with a place to get really good steaks.
The nice lady recommended the Vista Motel for lodging and the Oklahoma Bar & Grill for the steaks. As usual, we got to Waynoka early enough for the free Ham ‘n Bean dinner with sweet cornbread, sun tea, and even fried rattlesnake if you like.
After dinner, (the noon meal; remember?) we walked around town buying T-shirts, caps, belt buckles, and other mementos. Some of us entered the Den of Death for a dollar to watch the snake handlers display the snakes. For an extra buck, one could enter the butcher shop and watch the snakes become fried.
A few miles south of Waynoka are the Little Sahara Sand Dunes, a place where recreation vehicles come from all over to play. We passed a couple of hours here and finally met back at the bikes for the short ride to our motel. We cleaned up and I called the steak house for the reservation.
I told the lady there were nearly thirty of us of us and we’d like to eat steak suppers, big steaks, sometime after 1900. I also told her we were on motorcycles and wanted to have a drink or two with supper, but did not want to ride back to the motel after having the drinks. Was there a bus or cab service that could provide us with rides to and from the restaurant? Again, no problem. She was going to sell thirty big steak meals, plus drinks, plus tips, etc. Was she going to let that slip away?
She sent her niece and a couple of dancers to collect us in three cars; a yellow Cadillac convertible, a Firebird, and a big Chevy SUV. Even with all these vehicles, it required two trips to get us all down there.
April, the manager’s niece, was a very pretty girl and the other girls were certainly no less attractive. Yeah, buddy! Even today, when her name is mentioned, Jack and I take off our hats and place them over our hearts. Where the hell was she when I was 25?
If the steaks are as good as the dancers we were in great luck. They were. Long story short, the steaks were more than excellent. April told us it was a good thing we called because they had to go get more steaks!
We had our steaks, our drinks, and even played a few games of pool before heading back to the motel. Another example of how we just fell into these adventures.
Next morning, we ate at McDonald’s and headed east for I 35 north and home. As we rode past the steak house, we were shocked to see that the place had burned to the ground during the night! We later learned that the restaurant would not re-open because the owners did not have any insurance. So...back to the drawing board for next year.
Funny how time slips away. Soon it’s time for Waynoka again. During the summer, Judy and I had ridden down to Big Spring and detoured through Enid, Oklahoma. There we found a multitude of great places to eat. Of special interest was a fast Go-Kart track at the north end of town not far from the Holiday Motel. Note I did not say Holiday Inn.
The motel was a bit seedy, but since our guys were the type of people that decent folk worried about, we figured we would be okay. Let the normal people worry about us!
Across the road was a topless bar, The Enid Conservatory of Dance, and further down the street was the Tia Juana Steak House! (Tia Juana means Aunt Juanita in Spanish)
Hot damn! With all this entertainment, we could skip Waynoka and just come here! No, no, that wouldn’t seem sportin‘. Have to go to Waynoka.
On the way down, Judy and I had eaten dinner at a nice little cafe in a town about an hour away. We had asked about breakfast and they said on Sunday mornings there was a nice buffet.
So it seems we have replaced everything except the cute little motel in Alva. Ah, well. We were tired enough to sleep well on these trips so the motel didn’t matter that much.
After the ham ‘n bean dinner at the Waynoka Saddle Club, we headed east through Red Canyon country toward Enid, arriving there in the early afternoon. Imagine thirty guys crowding around a registration desk with a tiny East Indian guy trying to get everybody’s keys while explaining, in broken English, this was not the Holiday Inn, but the Holiday motel; big difference.
To stir things up, I sat down behind all the other guys and said, loudly, “Hey! This ain’t the Holiday Inn!”
Indian was nearly in tears by this time. It is not for nothing that motorcyclists are sometimes known as professional shit disturbers!
After we all got registered and rested a while, some of us walked up to the go-kart track. Wow! These babies were fast! Two engines, lots of horses, great banked track and cheap tickets meant a splendid afternoon.
With hats on backward, wearing big smiles along with gritted teeth when bumping and passing, even a casual observer could see what we looked like when we were nasty little boys. There were a few non motorcycle people riding around with us, but our group bumped them out of the way. When Scott spun a little boy off the track, and Jack t-boned him, his parents appeared like magic and rescued him and all the remaining youngsters. We now had the track all to ourselves!
We had motorcycles back at the motel that cost more than $15,000 each, yet we were spending the afternoon racing go-karts. Go figure.
As it was getting close to supper time, we headed to the motel for a quick nap and shower. Tonight we’ll see how good the Tia Juana steaks are.
In a big mob, we enter the Tia Juana steak house and get seated in the back room around two long tables and one four seater. The waitress is from Texas so we are in for a treat. She fill water glasses from a big pitcher and slams coffee cups down. In a flash, she’s back with two pots of hot coffee.
She fills Carl’s cup to within about an inch of the top. Carl looks at this and tells her he’d like to have a full cup, if you please. She tells him as long as she is waitin’ tables here, he’ll never see the bottom of the cup.
Carl then tells her that this will mess up the temperature of the coffee. When he gets it just right, she’ll dump in more hot coffee and it will be messed up again. She tells him something along the lines of’ “Bullshit, live with it!”
Carl has been a truck drive all his life and has never seen a waitress this salty. She has been a waitress all her life and never seen a truck driver she couldn’t handle! He is at a total loss for words.
She takes everyone’s order without writing anything down. Never made a mistake. From time to time, she’s back with more coffee. As she tops off Carl’s cup again, he again asks her to fill it all the way up. She says, “No! Get over it!” Carl decides to quit while he’s still behind.
Steaks are ready! They are fantastic and we are hungry! We all dig in and Carl never does see the bottom of his coffee cup. She is a very good waitress. How good?
Let’s move over to the other table that seats four of our group and compare their experience as served by the second waitress. Delbert (not part of the DePesto pair) ordered fried chicken and when it comes, it’s perfect! Except that he ordered legs and thighs and got white meat instead. Well, he did have a different waitress.
There were two older couples seated at the next table over from him. One of the ladies there had ordered white meat and got legs and thighs. The waitress had obviously mixed up their orders. This old gal complained to the waitress who then told her she must have gotten the orders mixed up and pointed over to Delbert.
“You’ve got my breasts!” the old gal shouted at Delbert. There was a stunned silence followed by an explosion of laughter when she realized what she had said. Delbert turned beet red as did the old gal. See, we never just go somewhere and come back. There’s always an adventure involved.
We head back to the motel and get ready to settle in for the night when we hear loud laughter coming from Bill and Terry’s room. Curious to see what’s going on, we all head over there to investigate. This room is easy to find as it is the one with the 45 caliber bullet hole!
Pause here for a review of what we have eaten today; big John Wayne breakfast with eggs, bacon, biscuits, and gravy. Dinner with ham ‘n beans, onions on top, cornbread on the side. Supper with a huge steak, onions, red beans, mashed potatoes, and more gravy. To say we were full is to understate the condition.
Now back to the entertainment. Some of the younger guys had been running each other out of each other’s rooms due to the forceful release of excess gas. (for those that live in Topeka, Kansas, this means farting!) Someone had asked the question, ‘Do farts burn?” Never ask this question of young hellions. They decided to try it.
Ka Boooom! Oh, yeah; they do ignite. One thing led to another and soon a contest was underway to see who could shoot flames the farthest.
This display was made even more impressive in the darkened room and blue green flames, sometimes more than two feet in length were not uncommon. I’ll not describe the exact method of ignition, but suffice it to say, it was a sight I do not wish to see again. The reader can use his own imagination, but suffice it to say, Jack and I disavowed any knowledge of our sons' existence.
Warning! Burns in the delicate areas and serious gastric disturbances may result.
It was time for another shower after being exposed to this pollution, then into bed for an early start in the morning. Everyone was worn out from the full day we had. Remember we started at 0600 and by now it was nearly 2300. We slept the sleep of the innocent and the just.
Upon awakening the next morning, we packed the bikes and proceeded to the parking lot to have a quick cup of coffee while awaiting the stragglers. Coming across the street were two young ladies who were dressed to the nines.
Quite attractive, they stopped and visited with Keith and Scott for a while asking all kinds of questions about the bikes, when we were going to leave, had we had breakfast yet, and a myriad of other inquiries. Keith was in his element, only too happy to show off his new bike.
Scott was trying be helpful as well, but soon he began to see things that Keith did not. Wisely he backed away and left Keith all alone with the two young ladies.
After a couple of minutes, the girls laughed loudly and took their leave, waving good bye to us all. Keith stood there alone, red faced, and embarrassed.
When asked what he said that made them laugh so hard, he said, “Well, I just commented on how nicely they were dressed and asked them if they were goin‘ to Sunday school!”
At that point one of the girls finally spelled it out for him, speaking slowly and using small words. She said, “Dude, it’s Sunday mornin’. We‘re workin’ girls, headin’ home from the Enid Conservatory of Dance. (the topless bar across the street) We just stopped by to see if we could connect with one or two more customers before going home to sleep! Get the picture?”
Hey! I got pictures!
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
42. The First Blue Bell Ride
After moving away from Texas and a readily available source of Blue Bell Ice Cream, a serious cravin’ was flung upon us which moved us to get a ride scheduled for Memorial Day Weekend of 1986. This was to be the first of several annual rides that, over time, became a tradition and earned us a plaque from the Blue Bell Creamery in Brenham, Texas.
Saturday morning, 6:00 am dawned as a beautiful day, with calm winds, mild temperatures, good road, and lots of friends following along. Reservations were made at the Texian Inn near DFW Airport so if we were late, we’d still have a place to stay. Riding at a steady speed of 65 mph, we made good time, stopping every 125 miles for gas and potty breaks.
By late morning, Oklahoma City was in our rear view mirrors and we were over halfway to Dallas. As we continued south on I-35, we noticed some dark clouds to the southwest. Since this was tornado season we kept an eye on this build up and monitored the radio for updates.
As we approached Wynnewood, Oklahoma, the rain was just starting. Up ahead was a deserted gas station so we ducked in there to wait out the storm. Just in time too, because this storm had hail in it! Under the big canopy, we all stayed dry and the bikes were protected from hail damage. Besides, it was a welcome relief to stretch our legs a bit and move around.
When the storm had passed, we resumed our trip in the fresh smelling countryside. The air was crisp and clean, the skies were brilliant blue, and the roads were drying fast. Hammer down!
After a couple of hours, we crossed the Red River and were breathing real Texas air. A great feeling. Most of the folks with us had never tasted Blue Bell Ice Cream so they were in for a treat. We stopped for gas in Valley View and I went inside to inquire if they had any Blue Bell Ice Cream. The lady said they didn’t but there was a small grocery store on the little town square and she thought they might have some.
I rode over to the square, discovered that they did indeed have Blue Bell and promptly bought a pint of my favorite flavor, Cookies ‘n Cream.
Carrying my treat outside, I radioed the rest of the group and told them I was in the park on the downtown square. Notice my priorities? I bought mine before I called the gang. I could be recognized by my big smile and the pint of ice cream in my hand. I soon had company and we enjoyed the first taste of this fine product together. Some of us even went back for seconds!
The store owner and his family came out and talked with us, we took lots of pictures and promised to send extra prints to them. After a while, we saddled up and finished the ride into Dallas arriving at the Texian Inn about 90 minutes after our ice cream meal.
The folks at the motel had a huge welcome banner with a sign on the marquee that proclaimed this as Topeka Touring Society Blue Bell headquarters! How thoughtful.
But wait, there’s more! Inside, we found a huge sheet cake and all different flavors of ice cream. Still being full, we did not really do this spread justice at that time, but the night was still young. All weekend long we were treated like royalty.
Later that evening, our tour guide and concierge, Bob, loaded us up in the two Motel vans and took us to Mesquite for the Saturday Night Rodeo. There I got to see an old friend, Mac the Knife. His name came from his horns which grew down his handsome face like scimitars.
Mac was the meanest buckin’ bull on the circuit and the oldest, smartest, most cantankerous veteran in the entire corral of rough stock. The Mesquite Rodeo guys always ran him out dead last so the fans could see a good show with Mac and the clowns. Did Mac ever actually hook one of the clowns? Yep, now and then he‘d really tag somebody. Mean tempered? Yeah, he really was.
Bob and his assistant took us back to the motel for more cake and ice cream before we called it a day. And what a day it was. Tomorrow will be even better; we’re gonna see South Fork Ranch and maybe have high tea with J R Ewing his own self!
Next morning, we skipped breakfast at the Texian Inn which would have consisted of ice cream and cake, opting instead for some breakfast burritos at a local What-A-Burger before leaving out for the South Fork Ranch.
We got to South Fork early enough to avoid crowds, toured the barns and corrals, the ranch house itself, and just sat around the swimming pool. This place is just like it appears on TV, but considerably smaller; all except for the wooden steer that doubled as the desk where JR signed all his big deals.
After we took the tour of the house, we decided to have high tea on the veranda. Wait! That’s twice now high tea has been mentioned. What is high tea anyway?
It’s natural tea; brewed in a gallon jug by the sun, then served on the second story balcony of the ranch house at South Fork Ranch, hence; high tea. Got it?
For dinner, we searched for and found a great Bar B Que place and ate a passel of it. It was that good. Then we hightailed it back to the Texian Inn.
Bob had roped off a parking area for us on the back side of the motel so we could clean up the bikes, effect repairs, and just gather for good fellowship. He had provided buckets, old towels, and a water hose. Really thoughtful guy.
After cleaning the bikes, we were again eating Blue Bell ice cream while sitting in the hot tub! This is the first time we’ve had a chance to just unwind since we arrived. Tonight we’re goin’ to Mr. Catfish in Arlington for all you can eat catfish and hush puppies. More great food. I‘m beginning to think a salad would be a nice change of pace.
After supper, and stuffed to the gills, (no pun intended) we head back for the motel for a good night’s rest as we must pull out early in the morning. On the way back, I run over something in the road. I’ll have to do a detailed tire check before leaving in the morning.
Last day. This morning we’ll head for Topeka and home. It’s been quite a weekend! I’m full and tired of over eating; I must have gained seven pounds on this trip.
I put the Yamaha up on the center stand this morning and rotated the tires around looking for damage from last night’s mishap. Front and rear tires seem to be unmarked. That’s very good news because today is Memorial day and most bike shops will be closed. Most bike shops are closed on Monday anyway.
It’s a quiet, still morning in North Texas as we string out on I 820 west headin’ for I 35 north. Should be home in ten or twelve hours as the forecast is for continued great weather. We’ve been running at 65 mph for a little over an hour when I hear a loud pop.
I immediately let off on the throttle and holler at R T Newton to pull up alongside me and look over the bike to see if something fell off. He says all he can see is the front tire looks very low. At that moment, I feel the shake start in the front end. Good thing I got the speed scrubbed off before all the air left the front tire. As it was, it was very hard to control. I brought the bike to a stop and got off. The front tire was totally flat.
Judy and a couple of the girls walked across the highway to a service station and made some phone calls in an attempt to find a bike shop that was open. Good luck on that.
But, as luck would have it, she did find a Yamaha dealer where the owner had just stopped in to check on something. Someone really looks after little children, dogs, and innocent motorcycle riders. Since he was only a few minutes from us, he agreed to bring us a tire.
Rene, RT’s wife, had been elected to sit on the back of the bike to keep the front end off the ground while Danny and I removed the wheel. We got to the service station just as the Yamaha dealer drove up with the new tire. Judy paid him while Danny and I put the new tire on.
We were real lucky here in more ways than one. I did not wreck the bike, we found a new tire, and made the switch with a minimum of down time. Back on the road again, we continued uneventfully on our trip, reaching home around 6:00 pm.
Everyone was pleasantly tired, with very fond memories of this first trip; the hail storm, the ice cream in Valley View, the warm welcome at the Texian Inn, the Mesquite rodeo, South Fork Ranch, the Bar B Que, ice cream in the hot tub, the Catfish and even that unexpected flat tire. Yeah, buddy!
We'll do this again next year...and the next...and the next...
Saturday morning, 6:00 am dawned as a beautiful day, with calm winds, mild temperatures, good road, and lots of friends following along. Reservations were made at the Texian Inn near DFW Airport so if we were late, we’d still have a place to stay. Riding at a steady speed of 65 mph, we made good time, stopping every 125 miles for gas and potty breaks.
By late morning, Oklahoma City was in our rear view mirrors and we were over halfway to Dallas. As we continued south on I-35, we noticed some dark clouds to the southwest. Since this was tornado season we kept an eye on this build up and monitored the radio for updates.
As we approached Wynnewood, Oklahoma, the rain was just starting. Up ahead was a deserted gas station so we ducked in there to wait out the storm. Just in time too, because this storm had hail in it! Under the big canopy, we all stayed dry and the bikes were protected from hail damage. Besides, it was a welcome relief to stretch our legs a bit and move around.
When the storm had passed, we resumed our trip in the fresh smelling countryside. The air was crisp and clean, the skies were brilliant blue, and the roads were drying fast. Hammer down!
After a couple of hours, we crossed the Red River and were breathing real Texas air. A great feeling. Most of the folks with us had never tasted Blue Bell Ice Cream so they were in for a treat. We stopped for gas in Valley View and I went inside to inquire if they had any Blue Bell Ice Cream. The lady said they didn’t but there was a small grocery store on the little town square and she thought they might have some.
I rode over to the square, discovered that they did indeed have Blue Bell and promptly bought a pint of my favorite flavor, Cookies ‘n Cream.
Carrying my treat outside, I radioed the rest of the group and told them I was in the park on the downtown square. Notice my priorities? I bought mine before I called the gang. I could be recognized by my big smile and the pint of ice cream in my hand. I soon had company and we enjoyed the first taste of this fine product together. Some of us even went back for seconds!
The store owner and his family came out and talked with us, we took lots of pictures and promised to send extra prints to them. After a while, we saddled up and finished the ride into Dallas arriving at the Texian Inn about 90 minutes after our ice cream meal.
The folks at the motel had a huge welcome banner with a sign on the marquee that proclaimed this as Topeka Touring Society Blue Bell headquarters! How thoughtful.
But wait, there’s more! Inside, we found a huge sheet cake and all different flavors of ice cream. Still being full, we did not really do this spread justice at that time, but the night was still young. All weekend long we were treated like royalty.
Later that evening, our tour guide and concierge, Bob, loaded us up in the two Motel vans and took us to Mesquite for the Saturday Night Rodeo. There I got to see an old friend, Mac the Knife. His name came from his horns which grew down his handsome face like scimitars.
Mac was the meanest buckin’ bull on the circuit and the oldest, smartest, most cantankerous veteran in the entire corral of rough stock. The Mesquite Rodeo guys always ran him out dead last so the fans could see a good show with Mac and the clowns. Did Mac ever actually hook one of the clowns? Yep, now and then he‘d really tag somebody. Mean tempered? Yeah, he really was.
Bob and his assistant took us back to the motel for more cake and ice cream before we called it a day. And what a day it was. Tomorrow will be even better; we’re gonna see South Fork Ranch and maybe have high tea with J R Ewing his own self!
Next morning, we skipped breakfast at the Texian Inn which would have consisted of ice cream and cake, opting instead for some breakfast burritos at a local What-A-Burger before leaving out for the South Fork Ranch.
We got to South Fork early enough to avoid crowds, toured the barns and corrals, the ranch house itself, and just sat around the swimming pool. This place is just like it appears on TV, but considerably smaller; all except for the wooden steer that doubled as the desk where JR signed all his big deals.
After we took the tour of the house, we decided to have high tea on the veranda. Wait! That’s twice now high tea has been mentioned. What is high tea anyway?
It’s natural tea; brewed in a gallon jug by the sun, then served on the second story balcony of the ranch house at South Fork Ranch, hence; high tea. Got it?
For dinner, we searched for and found a great Bar B Que place and ate a passel of it. It was that good. Then we hightailed it back to the Texian Inn.
Bob had roped off a parking area for us on the back side of the motel so we could clean up the bikes, effect repairs, and just gather for good fellowship. He had provided buckets, old towels, and a water hose. Really thoughtful guy.
After cleaning the bikes, we were again eating Blue Bell ice cream while sitting in the hot tub! This is the first time we’ve had a chance to just unwind since we arrived. Tonight we’re goin’ to Mr. Catfish in Arlington for all you can eat catfish and hush puppies. More great food. I‘m beginning to think a salad would be a nice change of pace.
After supper, and stuffed to the gills, (no pun intended) we head back for the motel for a good night’s rest as we must pull out early in the morning. On the way back, I run over something in the road. I’ll have to do a detailed tire check before leaving in the morning.
Last day. This morning we’ll head for Topeka and home. It’s been quite a weekend! I’m full and tired of over eating; I must have gained seven pounds on this trip.
I put the Yamaha up on the center stand this morning and rotated the tires around looking for damage from last night’s mishap. Front and rear tires seem to be unmarked. That’s very good news because today is Memorial day and most bike shops will be closed. Most bike shops are closed on Monday anyway.
It’s a quiet, still morning in North Texas as we string out on I 820 west headin’ for I 35 north. Should be home in ten or twelve hours as the forecast is for continued great weather. We’ve been running at 65 mph for a little over an hour when I hear a loud pop.
I immediately let off on the throttle and holler at R T Newton to pull up alongside me and look over the bike to see if something fell off. He says all he can see is the front tire looks very low. At that moment, I feel the shake start in the front end. Good thing I got the speed scrubbed off before all the air left the front tire. As it was, it was very hard to control. I brought the bike to a stop and got off. The front tire was totally flat.
Judy and a couple of the girls walked across the highway to a service station and made some phone calls in an attempt to find a bike shop that was open. Good luck on that.
But, as luck would have it, she did find a Yamaha dealer where the owner had just stopped in to check on something. Someone really looks after little children, dogs, and innocent motorcycle riders. Since he was only a few minutes from us, he agreed to bring us a tire.
Rene, RT’s wife, had been elected to sit on the back of the bike to keep the front end off the ground while Danny and I removed the wheel. We got to the service station just as the Yamaha dealer drove up with the new tire. Judy paid him while Danny and I put the new tire on.
We were real lucky here in more ways than one. I did not wreck the bike, we found a new tire, and made the switch with a minimum of down time. Back on the road again, we continued uneventfully on our trip, reaching home around 6:00 pm.
Everyone was pleasantly tired, with very fond memories of this first trip; the hail storm, the ice cream in Valley View, the warm welcome at the Texian Inn, the Mesquite rodeo, South Fork Ranch, the Bar B Que, ice cream in the hot tub, the Catfish and even that unexpected flat tire. Yeah, buddy!
We'll do this again next year...and the next...and the next...
41. The Fast Colorado Trip
One summer we planned a group vacation ride to Colorado. Starting out, there were seven couples in all. We always looked forward to this type of trip. But, as the saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men...
First off, two couples cancelled a couple of weeks before the departure date due to work demands. No big deal, we’d miss them but we still had five couples. Oops, did I say five? For a moment there we did, but then, another couple had to cancel for illness in the family. Again, no biggie. A smaller, more manageable group would actually be more efficient. Four couples left. Just the right size for entering restaurants for quick service. We can still do this.
But the damage is not yet done. Another couple backs out because of more family illness. Now we’re down to three couples; Gary and Judy T, along with Wayne and Pat will go with us. Well, they are all superb traveling companions and we’ve ridden lots of miles with them. Good folks to ride the river with.
Monday morning before the departure time on Friday afternoon sees the final cruelty strike. I too, must cancel out because of work issues! This snowballs because Wayne and Pat then dropped out thinking Gary and Judy T were bailing too.
Damnation! What evil is being visited upon our small, round, heads? How can everybody cancel out on a great trip like this? What about all the pre trip publicity we wrote about in the Intercom Newsletter leading up to this trip?
Departure time came. Went. Nobody left. We all felt so sorry for ourselves. This surely would have been a great trip.
After a couple of weeks, Judy and I started putting together “The Intercom” which was the name of our monthly newsletter. What would have been a great trip report left a huge gaping hole in our little publication.
As I sat there suffering from writer’s block, it came to me in a flash that I should go ahead and write up a trip report any way! I would use what is called poetic license and fabricate a fantastic trip! So, what follows is the story that was printed in the monthly newsletter.
Bill and Terry, accompanied by their wives, decided to go to Neosho Honda in Neosho, Missouri on Saturday morning since the trip was cancelled. While there, they traded bikes as they had offers they couldn’t refuse. Also they learned that their reason for cancelling the trip was rescheduled so suddenly they were free to go!
Plus they had brand new bikes to ride on the long awaited trip. They called us and excitedly told us the double dose of good news; brand new bikes and the trip was on again for them!
We had good news of our own. My planning meetings scheduled for the next week had also been rescheduled. I too was suddenly free to go! So now we are three couples and four bikes. We called Gary and Carolyn, Carl and Carol, and Hugh and Carol. Since they had cancelled because most of us had cancelled, they were only too happy to load up and leave out right away. So the only ones missing are Gary and Judy T who we could not reach on the phone.
Bill and Terry said they knew a short cut from Neosho, Missouri to Colorado Springs, Colorado. Great! We’ll all meet up at the Silver Saddle Motel in Manitou Springs tomorrow. (for those who live in Topeka, look at the map. Short cut? Impossible!)
Gary and Carolyn, who owned the Bakery and Deli of Ah’s (pun on Oz, get it?) said they had planned a surprise for us and left a few hours earlier than the rest of the gang. Said they would meet us at the campsite at Dillon Lake. (I just realized how many Gary’s and Carol’s we have in our group)
Blessed with great weather, we high tailed it to WaKeeney, Kansas for our first night. Getting an early start the next morning, we made it to Manitou Springs to find Bill and Terry waiting for us. We looked at the beautiful new bikes and congratulated them on moving up. Early next morning we left for Dillon Lake.
We arrived there in mid afternoon to find Carolyn busy baking bread, pies and twice baked potatoes in rented ovens. So...this was the big surprise she had planned. No, not quite all; Gary had set out long fishing lines in the lake and caught many, many, Rainbow trout. Boy, were we going to eat good tonight!
Next morning there was a heavy frost and ice rimmed the water glasses we had left out. Carol, who is always cold, went into Dillon to buy a warm coat. Hugh went along with Carl and Carol to buy a warm hat to keep his head warm. What bargains they found.
Carol bought a splendid muskrat coat and Hugh picked up a raccoon hat with ear flaps and a tail for his head. Every one was really having a good time on this trip. While there, Carol struck up a conversation with a nice fellow that was in the store. She talked quite a while before she suddenly took a hard look at him He turned out to be; Robert Redford!! His own self!
He was on a new BMW and was accompanied by a really pretty girl named Elise, who was some kind of French film star, whatever that means. Bob and Elise followed them back to our camp and had supper with us. He had brought along several bottles of high dollar white wine to go with our trout and homemade bread supper.
Allowing our supper to settle, we chatted around the camp fire for a while and when Bob and Elise left for Aspen, they invited us up to his place in Aspen. Hey, would we turn down an invitation from the Sundance Kid? Not likely.
But the next morning dawned cool and gray, with light rain falling. We made slow time crossing Independence Pass which was so foggy visibility was reduced to less than 200 feet. We eased on down to Aspen and made our way to Bob’s place where he welcomed us in. We crowded around his huge fireplace trying to dry out and warm up.
A faint smell began to permeate the room. As we began getting warmer, the source was tracked down to Carol’s muskrat coat. After a while, it became unbearable and was taken outside. We had a nice brunch, talked with Elise and Bob for a while and then had to get headed on down to South Pass for the night.
As we crossed Slumgullion Pass, the rain hit us again. This is not a great day, but at least most of the places we stop for gas and snacks have big fireplaces which means that Carol’s coat is getting ranker by the hour.
After being thrown out of a restaurant, Carol is gettin’ more than a little testy about her coat now. No matter; soon enough, we’re on our way crossing South Pass and heading down to Salida for our last night in Colorado. Fortunately, we camp at Texas Creek on this night and Carol’s coat is not mentioned again.
Up early next day and we’re on our way before 0700. We roll into the little town of Trinidad about three hours later and descend upon a Wendy’s that has just set up the noon buffet tables. Have you ever been so fatigued that your hands are like clumsy softballs? Try riding a motorcycle for 5 hours in cool weather on sharp twisted roads and see if they don’t cramp up something bad.
With this impaired fine motor control of fingers, we made a hell of a mess of the salad and hot food bar. It looked like a pack of rats had run through. We felt bad about the mess, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. We also decorated our shirts with food particles and left Wendy’s somewhat embarrassed.
Next stop; Garden City, Kansas. We’ll stay overnight here and make it home tomorrow. We stayed at the Wheatlands Motel and trashed that restaurant as well. Damn, we sure were messy. Tomorrow will be warm and still with mostly straight roads so the fumble fingers should go away.
By 1630, we were home. Bill and Terry rode ahead as some of their accessories for their new bikes should be in and they couldn’t wait to put on all the lights, bells, and whistles. This was a good break in ride for those two bikes.
Carol parted company with her muskrat coat as the smell was really fierce and intense by now; not unlike a wet dog. It was warm enough to where she wasn’t cold any more anyway.
But, Hugh kept his raccoon cap. Seemed he would rather let his gourd get wet than to mess up his new headgear.
Gary and Carolyn headed for their bakery to see if the vacation staff had broken anything.
Judy and I went home to write up the trip report. Thus ended the story of the fast Colorado Trip. Or...did it?
The aftermath of this story had some unforeseen amusing effects. You may recall that Gary and Judy T were among the original group that were going on this ride. We had tried to contact them to see if they wanted to go along with our fictitious ride, but could not reach them.
There was an excellent reason why we couldn’t reach them. They had ridden out to Colorado and crossed the passes we only wrote about!!! They were the only ones who actually went, but sad to say they were not even mentioned in the story! They were somewhat miffed, to say the least!
But the couple that was really offended was Wayne and Pat. Wayne checked his mail that fateful day and brought the newsletter in to read with his supper. As he read about our trip to Colorado, he got real mad, stopped reading, and threw the newsletter away. He really thought we had all left without them.
Next day, Pat retrieved the newsletter and read the whole wacky story, laughing like hell when she realized what we had done and how Wayne had been taken in. Best of all, we didn’t disappoint those folks who fell for this fiction and really thought we had a great trip.
Unintended consequences. Hey, sometimes less is more!!
First off, two couples cancelled a couple of weeks before the departure date due to work demands. No big deal, we’d miss them but we still had five couples. Oops, did I say five? For a moment there we did, but then, another couple had to cancel for illness in the family. Again, no biggie. A smaller, more manageable group would actually be more efficient. Four couples left. Just the right size for entering restaurants for quick service. We can still do this.
But the damage is not yet done. Another couple backs out because of more family illness. Now we’re down to three couples; Gary and Judy T, along with Wayne and Pat will go with us. Well, they are all superb traveling companions and we’ve ridden lots of miles with them. Good folks to ride the river with.
Monday morning before the departure time on Friday afternoon sees the final cruelty strike. I too, must cancel out because of work issues! This snowballs because Wayne and Pat then dropped out thinking Gary and Judy T were bailing too.
Damnation! What evil is being visited upon our small, round, heads? How can everybody cancel out on a great trip like this? What about all the pre trip publicity we wrote about in the Intercom Newsletter leading up to this trip?
Departure time came. Went. Nobody left. We all felt so sorry for ourselves. This surely would have been a great trip.
After a couple of weeks, Judy and I started putting together “The Intercom” which was the name of our monthly newsletter. What would have been a great trip report left a huge gaping hole in our little publication.
As I sat there suffering from writer’s block, it came to me in a flash that I should go ahead and write up a trip report any way! I would use what is called poetic license and fabricate a fantastic trip! So, what follows is the story that was printed in the monthly newsletter.
Bill and Terry, accompanied by their wives, decided to go to Neosho Honda in Neosho, Missouri on Saturday morning since the trip was cancelled. While there, they traded bikes as they had offers they couldn’t refuse. Also they learned that their reason for cancelling the trip was rescheduled so suddenly they were free to go!
Plus they had brand new bikes to ride on the long awaited trip. They called us and excitedly told us the double dose of good news; brand new bikes and the trip was on again for them!
We had good news of our own. My planning meetings scheduled for the next week had also been rescheduled. I too was suddenly free to go! So now we are three couples and four bikes. We called Gary and Carolyn, Carl and Carol, and Hugh and Carol. Since they had cancelled because most of us had cancelled, they were only too happy to load up and leave out right away. So the only ones missing are Gary and Judy T who we could not reach on the phone.
Bill and Terry said they knew a short cut from Neosho, Missouri to Colorado Springs, Colorado. Great! We’ll all meet up at the Silver Saddle Motel in Manitou Springs tomorrow. (for those who live in Topeka, look at the map. Short cut? Impossible!)
Gary and Carolyn, who owned the Bakery and Deli of Ah’s (pun on Oz, get it?) said they had planned a surprise for us and left a few hours earlier than the rest of the gang. Said they would meet us at the campsite at Dillon Lake. (I just realized how many Gary’s and Carol’s we have in our group)
Blessed with great weather, we high tailed it to WaKeeney, Kansas for our first night. Getting an early start the next morning, we made it to Manitou Springs to find Bill and Terry waiting for us. We looked at the beautiful new bikes and congratulated them on moving up. Early next morning we left for Dillon Lake.
We arrived there in mid afternoon to find Carolyn busy baking bread, pies and twice baked potatoes in rented ovens. So...this was the big surprise she had planned. No, not quite all; Gary had set out long fishing lines in the lake and caught many, many, Rainbow trout. Boy, were we going to eat good tonight!
Next morning there was a heavy frost and ice rimmed the water glasses we had left out. Carol, who is always cold, went into Dillon to buy a warm coat. Hugh went along with Carl and Carol to buy a warm hat to keep his head warm. What bargains they found.
Carol bought a splendid muskrat coat and Hugh picked up a raccoon hat with ear flaps and a tail for his head. Every one was really having a good time on this trip. While there, Carol struck up a conversation with a nice fellow that was in the store. She talked quite a while before she suddenly took a hard look at him He turned out to be; Robert Redford!! His own self!
He was on a new BMW and was accompanied by a really pretty girl named Elise, who was some kind of French film star, whatever that means. Bob and Elise followed them back to our camp and had supper with us. He had brought along several bottles of high dollar white wine to go with our trout and homemade bread supper.
Allowing our supper to settle, we chatted around the camp fire for a while and when Bob and Elise left for Aspen, they invited us up to his place in Aspen. Hey, would we turn down an invitation from the Sundance Kid? Not likely.
But the next morning dawned cool and gray, with light rain falling. We made slow time crossing Independence Pass which was so foggy visibility was reduced to less than 200 feet. We eased on down to Aspen and made our way to Bob’s place where he welcomed us in. We crowded around his huge fireplace trying to dry out and warm up.
A faint smell began to permeate the room. As we began getting warmer, the source was tracked down to Carol’s muskrat coat. After a while, it became unbearable and was taken outside. We had a nice brunch, talked with Elise and Bob for a while and then had to get headed on down to South Pass for the night.
As we crossed Slumgullion Pass, the rain hit us again. This is not a great day, but at least most of the places we stop for gas and snacks have big fireplaces which means that Carol’s coat is getting ranker by the hour.
After being thrown out of a restaurant, Carol is gettin’ more than a little testy about her coat now. No matter; soon enough, we’re on our way crossing South Pass and heading down to Salida for our last night in Colorado. Fortunately, we camp at Texas Creek on this night and Carol’s coat is not mentioned again.
Up early next day and we’re on our way before 0700. We roll into the little town of Trinidad about three hours later and descend upon a Wendy’s that has just set up the noon buffet tables. Have you ever been so fatigued that your hands are like clumsy softballs? Try riding a motorcycle for 5 hours in cool weather on sharp twisted roads and see if they don’t cramp up something bad.
With this impaired fine motor control of fingers, we made a hell of a mess of the salad and hot food bar. It looked like a pack of rats had run through. We felt bad about the mess, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. We also decorated our shirts with food particles and left Wendy’s somewhat embarrassed.
Next stop; Garden City, Kansas. We’ll stay overnight here and make it home tomorrow. We stayed at the Wheatlands Motel and trashed that restaurant as well. Damn, we sure were messy. Tomorrow will be warm and still with mostly straight roads so the fumble fingers should go away.
By 1630, we were home. Bill and Terry rode ahead as some of their accessories for their new bikes should be in and they couldn’t wait to put on all the lights, bells, and whistles. This was a good break in ride for those two bikes.
Carol parted company with her muskrat coat as the smell was really fierce and intense by now; not unlike a wet dog. It was warm enough to where she wasn’t cold any more anyway.
But, Hugh kept his raccoon cap. Seemed he would rather let his gourd get wet than to mess up his new headgear.
Gary and Carolyn headed for their bakery to see if the vacation staff had broken anything.
Judy and I went home to write up the trip report. Thus ended the story of the fast Colorado Trip. Or...did it?
The aftermath of this story had some unforeseen amusing effects. You may recall that Gary and Judy T were among the original group that were going on this ride. We had tried to contact them to see if they wanted to go along with our fictitious ride, but could not reach them.
There was an excellent reason why we couldn’t reach them. They had ridden out to Colorado and crossed the passes we only wrote about!!! They were the only ones who actually went, but sad to say they were not even mentioned in the story! They were somewhat miffed, to say the least!
But the couple that was really offended was Wayne and Pat. Wayne checked his mail that fateful day and brought the newsletter in to read with his supper. As he read about our trip to Colorado, he got real mad, stopped reading, and threw the newsletter away. He really thought we had all left without them.
Next day, Pat retrieved the newsletter and read the whole wacky story, laughing like hell when she realized what we had done and how Wayne had been taken in. Best of all, we didn’t disappoint those folks who fell for this fiction and really thought we had a great trip.
Unintended consequences. Hey, sometimes less is more!!
Friday, October 1, 2010
40. Deep Dish Apple Pie
Imagine, if you will, a piece of apple pie in the round, 6 inches in diameter, 4 inches tall, with tart, crispy, crunchy, Granny Smith apples, covered with a delicate buttered cinnamon crust, and topped off with a double scoop of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. A meal unto itself.
Sitting around the bike shop in Big Spring, Texas, one Friday evening, someone suggested that we ride over to the Triple T Truck stop(actually Omar’s Hiway Chef Restaurant) in the morning and partake of this tasty treat. The more I heard about it, the more I became convinced I had to try this.
So bright and early the next morning, promptly at 6:00 am, a motley crew of six of us, headed west on I-20 bound for the only truck stop that specialized in this rare treat. The day was magnificent for West Texas, very little wind, hence no blowing sand. Mild temperatures, bikes running strong, CB chatter better than an FM radio with all the irritating commercials, we were on a super trip for deep dish apple pie! I couldn’t wait. Our destination was the Triple T truck stop. Yeah, baby, lead me on!
Over the years, on our rides, I have been conditioned to simply follow Miss Judy. As a result, I rarely look at a road map, trusting instead to the lead bike choosing the way. In this fashion, I can zone out and just enjoy the ride. I can now tell you, this was not wise today, but ignorance is bliss as the saying goes.
Everyone should know the final destination so that if the group becomes fragmented, no one will have to ride recklessly fast to catch up. Just a good safety rule, but sometimes...ah, well. That’s what makes for great stories.
After a couple of hours westbound on I 20 as we stopped at the Monahans rest area, I thought it prudent to ask Willie, the ride leader how soon we would enjoying this deep dish apple pie. Just a little while yet, but it’s really worth it. All righty, then. Hammer on down.
Pretty soon we were seeing signs that I 20 would be merging with I 10 west bound. I also noted the trip meter was showing close to 250 miles since we left Big Spring. This was becoming a damn long pie ride if you ask me.
A couple more hours go by and I’m noticing that we’re approaching El Paso on our left . As we enter New Mexico, it begins to dawn on me that there’s more to this pie ride than I am aware of. When we stop in Las Cruces, New Mexico, for gas and a quick hamburger, I grill Willie about where the hell is this truck stop.
At this point I am told it’s the Triple T truck stop that has this fine pie. Yeah, I got that before we left, but what I don’t get is where is the Triple T truck stop. I mean just where in the hell is the Triple T truck stop!!??
It’s in Tucson, Arizona.
Oh. Oh? OH!!!!
Belatedly, I get out the road atlas and discover the distance to Tucson, Arizona, one way, from Big Spring, Texas, is a mere 653 miles! Judy was fit to be tied when I called to report in and mention I would not be home till late Sunday night! Maybe even...Monday morning.
Damnation! Everybody laughs at my reaction as I realize I have been snookered and slowly accept that fact. Oh, what the hell, it’s been a grand ride so far and I am, after all, in the company of evil companions. Seeing as we’re well past the point of no return so I might as well relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.
We continue on past towns with exotic names; Dona, Akela, Deming, Lisbon Siding and as we enter Arizona, we pass Roadforks!
We ride on and on, passing Pomerene, Mountain View, and Vail. Suddenly, there it is! The Triple T truck stop is just ahead. It’s nearly 3:00 in the morning and we’ve been on the road since 7:00 am the previous day. This pie better be good.
The pies come out of the ovens at 3:00 in the morning, and are served piping hot with Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. This then, was the reasoning behind the day long ride. I rode all this way to experience this phenomena, so I ate the whole thing. Was it good? Oh, yeah.
Good enough for a 1,400 mile round trip? Yes, sorta, but if I had known the distance before hand, I would have planned a longer trip to further explore southern Arizona over several days. Regardless, after we finished the pie, we headed for a rest area Willie knew about.
Under a covered pavilion, on picnic tables, we grabbed about two hours sleep, wrapped up in rain gear for warmth. Light was just breaking in the east as we pulled back on the road; hell bound for Big Spring, Texas. Gonna be a long day.
One thing about super slab travel, the miles just fall away, but the quality of the ride is not what the more sedate back roads provide. But in cases like now, we have to get back to Big Spring in time to get a little rest. The work week begins in less than 24 hours and we have 660 miles to go.
So, the speed increases, the rest stops get shorter and further apart, and meals are grab ‘n go. No one is talking on the CB as it just takes too much energy. So the trip home becomes a journey of endurance. Not really unpleasant, just sort of...empty.
But this too has it’s rewards. It’s a good place and time to think serious thoughts or just review upcoming events. This is something that is an unexpected benefit of long distance touring.
So we overcome the distance with efficient riding, limiting the frequency and duration of rest stops and finally around midnight we are approaching the Midland/Odessa exit which means we are about an hour from home.
At last I pull into the garage at home and switch off the engine. Thanks to this trip I will have to change the oil and filter again and do a major clean up before the next ride. Judy wants to know all about the trip, where did we go, was the pie that good. Arrgh! I can’t talk now. I collapse on the couch and am asleep in nano seconds.
A few weeks later, I’m back at the bike shop on a Friday evening. Guys are setting around talking about setting up a schedule of rides when a newcomer, Randall Rocket enters the shop to purchase some items. He’s offered coffee, we introduce ourselves and learn that he’s from back east; New Jersey, for cryin’ out loud. A real pettyfoggin’ Yankee! He even rides a wimpy BMW!!
Then someone casually mentions how nice it would be to ride over in the morning and get some Deep Dish Apple Pie. Randall asks all the right questions about this ride and before you know it, he’s hooked! Yeah, buddy! Randall thinks this sounds like fun.
Ah, yes, Randall, m’ boy. It will be fun. Welcome to Texas!
Sitting around the bike shop in Big Spring, Texas, one Friday evening, someone suggested that we ride over to the Triple T Truck stop(actually Omar’s Hiway Chef Restaurant) in the morning and partake of this tasty treat. The more I heard about it, the more I became convinced I had to try this.
So bright and early the next morning, promptly at 6:00 am, a motley crew of six of us, headed west on I-20 bound for the only truck stop that specialized in this rare treat. The day was magnificent for West Texas, very little wind, hence no blowing sand. Mild temperatures, bikes running strong, CB chatter better than an FM radio with all the irritating commercials, we were on a super trip for deep dish apple pie! I couldn’t wait. Our destination was the Triple T truck stop. Yeah, baby, lead me on!
Over the years, on our rides, I have been conditioned to simply follow Miss Judy. As a result, I rarely look at a road map, trusting instead to the lead bike choosing the way. In this fashion, I can zone out and just enjoy the ride. I can now tell you, this was not wise today, but ignorance is bliss as the saying goes.
Everyone should know the final destination so that if the group becomes fragmented, no one will have to ride recklessly fast to catch up. Just a good safety rule, but sometimes...ah, well. That’s what makes for great stories.
After a couple of hours westbound on I 20 as we stopped at the Monahans rest area, I thought it prudent to ask Willie, the ride leader how soon we would enjoying this deep dish apple pie. Just a little while yet, but it’s really worth it. All righty, then. Hammer on down.
Pretty soon we were seeing signs that I 20 would be merging with I 10 west bound. I also noted the trip meter was showing close to 250 miles since we left Big Spring. This was becoming a damn long pie ride if you ask me.
A couple more hours go by and I’m noticing that we’re approaching El Paso on our left . As we enter New Mexico, it begins to dawn on me that there’s more to this pie ride than I am aware of. When we stop in Las Cruces, New Mexico, for gas and a quick hamburger, I grill Willie about where the hell is this truck stop.
At this point I am told it’s the Triple T truck stop that has this fine pie. Yeah, I got that before we left, but what I don’t get is where is the Triple T truck stop. I mean just where in the hell is the Triple T truck stop!!??
It’s in Tucson, Arizona.
Oh. Oh? OH!!!!
Belatedly, I get out the road atlas and discover the distance to Tucson, Arizona, one way, from Big Spring, Texas, is a mere 653 miles! Judy was fit to be tied when I called to report in and mention I would not be home till late Sunday night! Maybe even...Monday morning.
Damnation! Everybody laughs at my reaction as I realize I have been snookered and slowly accept that fact. Oh, what the hell, it’s been a grand ride so far and I am, after all, in the company of evil companions. Seeing as we’re well past the point of no return so I might as well relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.
We continue on past towns with exotic names; Dona, Akela, Deming, Lisbon Siding and as we enter Arizona, we pass Roadforks!
We ride on and on, passing Pomerene, Mountain View, and Vail. Suddenly, there it is! The Triple T truck stop is just ahead. It’s nearly 3:00 in the morning and we’ve been on the road since 7:00 am the previous day. This pie better be good.
The pies come out of the ovens at 3:00 in the morning, and are served piping hot with Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. This then, was the reasoning behind the day long ride. I rode all this way to experience this phenomena, so I ate the whole thing. Was it good? Oh, yeah.
Good enough for a 1,400 mile round trip? Yes, sorta, but if I had known the distance before hand, I would have planned a longer trip to further explore southern Arizona over several days. Regardless, after we finished the pie, we headed for a rest area Willie knew about.
Under a covered pavilion, on picnic tables, we grabbed about two hours sleep, wrapped up in rain gear for warmth. Light was just breaking in the east as we pulled back on the road; hell bound for Big Spring, Texas. Gonna be a long day.
One thing about super slab travel, the miles just fall away, but the quality of the ride is not what the more sedate back roads provide. But in cases like now, we have to get back to Big Spring in time to get a little rest. The work week begins in less than 24 hours and we have 660 miles to go.
So, the speed increases, the rest stops get shorter and further apart, and meals are grab ‘n go. No one is talking on the CB as it just takes too much energy. So the trip home becomes a journey of endurance. Not really unpleasant, just sort of...empty.
But this too has it’s rewards. It’s a good place and time to think serious thoughts or just review upcoming events. This is something that is an unexpected benefit of long distance touring.
So we overcome the distance with efficient riding, limiting the frequency and duration of rest stops and finally around midnight we are approaching the Midland/Odessa exit which means we are about an hour from home.
At last I pull into the garage at home and switch off the engine. Thanks to this trip I will have to change the oil and filter again and do a major clean up before the next ride. Judy wants to know all about the trip, where did we go, was the pie that good. Arrgh! I can’t talk now. I collapse on the couch and am asleep in nano seconds.
A few weeks later, I’m back at the bike shop on a Friday evening. Guys are setting around talking about setting up a schedule of rides when a newcomer, Randall Rocket enters the shop to purchase some items. He’s offered coffee, we introduce ourselves and learn that he’s from back east; New Jersey, for cryin’ out loud. A real pettyfoggin’ Yankee! He even rides a wimpy BMW!!
Then someone casually mentions how nice it would be to ride over in the morning and get some Deep Dish Apple Pie. Randall asks all the right questions about this ride and before you know it, he’s hooked! Yeah, buddy! Randall thinks this sounds like fun.
Ah, yes, Randall, m’ boy. It will be fun. Welcome to Texas!
39. The XS Eleven - Part Two
As mentioned earlier, this wonderful little bike came to a bad end when I took my eyes off the road for a moment to wave at one of the Administrative secretaries.
The front wheel T-boned a Fire Bird, sending me flying over the hood and inflicting severe damage to the XS Eleven.
The front fork tubes were bent, the framed was tweaked, the fairing was destroyed, and the rider was whacked around by the owner. We sent out the fork tubes to be straightened; and after a period of recovery from my battle wounds, I used a porta power device to push back the angle of the forks from 25 degrees to 27.5 degrees. Factory specs call for 29 degrees.
I picked up a cheap fairing for $50 and slid the rebuilt fork tubes into the triple tree. Hmmm, something seems to be amiss. When installed properly in the recessed grooves and tightened to the specified torque, the bike somehow seemed...taller. That’s a serious deflection for a mere 1.5 degree change.
I raised the tubes up to compensate for the changed angle and took it for a ride. It still had the pavement scorching performance and it tracked true, but the reduced angle made the bike much quicker to handle. Just think about changing lanes and you were there.
Sadly, I knew the bike had come to the end of it’s time with us. Judy would never trust it again, nor could I so we sold it cheap, telling the new owner about the bent frame. He told us he was going to have that straightened on a frame machine over in Odessa and it should be good as new. Sad day for all concerned.
Motorcycles have individual personalities and this one for sure had a fine spirit. Let‘s hope it‘s happy in its’ new home.
The front wheel T-boned a Fire Bird, sending me flying over the hood and inflicting severe damage to the XS Eleven.
The front fork tubes were bent, the framed was tweaked, the fairing was destroyed, and the rider was whacked around by the owner. We sent out the fork tubes to be straightened; and after a period of recovery from my battle wounds, I used a porta power device to push back the angle of the forks from 25 degrees to 27.5 degrees. Factory specs call for 29 degrees.
I picked up a cheap fairing for $50 and slid the rebuilt fork tubes into the triple tree. Hmmm, something seems to be amiss. When installed properly in the recessed grooves and tightened to the specified torque, the bike somehow seemed...taller. That’s a serious deflection for a mere 1.5 degree change.
I raised the tubes up to compensate for the changed angle and took it for a ride. It still had the pavement scorching performance and it tracked true, but the reduced angle made the bike much quicker to handle. Just think about changing lanes and you were there.
Sadly, I knew the bike had come to the end of it’s time with us. Judy would never trust it again, nor could I so we sold it cheap, telling the new owner about the bent frame. He told us he was going to have that straightened on a frame machine over in Odessa and it should be good as new. Sad day for all concerned.
Motorcycles have individual personalities and this one for sure had a fine spirit. Let‘s hope it‘s happy in its’ new home.
Monday, August 30, 2010
38. The XS Eleven
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!
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!
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.
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