Five Hundred Miles...

A Vintage Motorcycle Parade

2008-03-28T21:34:00.003-04:00

I came across this set of photos from the 2007 Legend of the Motorcycle meet in Bay, CA and just had to share it. Some truly beautiful machines here and a testament to those old builders. We will never see their likes again. The Banquer Deluxe featured in the slideshow was featured here in 2007.
Now, I'm headed out to the AMA Vintage Days for some first hand look at the oldies...

A NEW SEASON BECKONS

2008-03-08T10:18:00.007-05:00

Okay, winter's almost over, and it's time to get back on the road. The 800 has been in the shop all winter and I've been feeling like I lost my right leg for the past four months. It's also been kind of slow on the blog here, because there weren't any rides to write about.

I haved lived on the road vicariously though, reading international road stories from KLR650.NET and Horizons Unlimited. One of the best I've come across is Allen Karl's Blog. on July 4, 2005, he began his RTW motorcycle journey, and I think you'll agree with me that his insights and journals are great reading. He's doing what we all dream of doing and doing it well. And for a change, some solid writing on what it takes to do something like that. Good luck Allen...

In comparison, my goals for this year are far more modest, and while they may not even come close to rivaling those great international stories, they will be do-able by most of you if you want to follow along.

So I've got the maps spread out on the floor (yes, I still use those old paper things and there's going to be a post along the way on why) making plans that are at least within reason. I'll be heading up along the Erie Canal once again to continue what I started years ago, possibly turning it into a multimedia presentation and seeing Western New York along the way. It's great country, great people and great riding.

I'll also be heading down to the New Jersey Pine Barrens, out again along Rte 30, visit Gettysburg and Antietam battlefields as all of my Civil War buff friends say I must.

I'll be slipping down to North Carolina for a Vulcan Riders rally. I never intended this blog to be brand specific, but that place has met so much to so many that I have been remiss in not mentioning them earlier. A truly unique and wonderful online motorcycle club. It'll give me a chance to do some North Carlina stories that have been piling up.

I'm not a rally rat, but I have to make Americade this year, if for no other reason than to say I've been. I'm really looking forward to going back to the AMA Vintage Days though. This is where you want to go for vintage motorcycles on display and racing.

So, those are the plans for the year. Lurking in the back of my mind are rides to points west, where I've never toured. I just may take it in my head to point the front wheel across the bridge and not stop until I see the Pacific. One never knows, do one?
In the meantime, let's get this show on the road, eh?

A New Venture.....

2008-02-13T22:00:00.001-05:00

A CURE FOR PMS

2008-01-26T04:23:00.000-05:00

So here I sit, the middle of January, 25 degreees F outside, the 800 in the shop until March, suffering a bad case of PMS (parked motorcycle syndrome)

Well, somewhere in the world people are riding, and I came across Norm Garon's story. It is the stuff we all dream of. The 65 year old retired US Navy diver has just completed a four month, 18,700 mile tour of Australia, told here in two parts. It's a great read, so pull up a chair, pour youself two fingers of whatever whets your whistle, and enjoy

Part One

Part Two

A NEW YORK CITY RIDE

2007-12-08T15:34:00.000-05:00

I cut my motorycle-riding teeth on the streets of New York, and after a twenty year hiatus, returned. Nothing had changed except the size and speed of the bikes.
The MSF course was a neat tidy world, and the proficient riding guides and books paint pictures of clearly delineated lanes, cute stick figures moving at predictable times and set piece scenarios. It just ain't that way This is the way it is.

There are constants. Everybody messes with you if you ride a motorcycle. To stay alive is to be alive, to reach a Zen-like state of heightened awareness, senses finely tuned; every nerve alive, feeling, hearing, seeing every nuance of every movement, every grain of road, registering an instant analysis of every other car on the road, every threat, every breath of danger, and becoming almost pathologically paranoid. You will come to know that truck drivers won’t see you, car drivers will see you as a nuisance at best, a threat at worst, cab drivers who will use you for a target; coffin sized potholes, construction sites and steel decked streets. Out there, in the Real World, you are alone, all alone.

BE CAREFUL OUT THERE, HEAR

2007-11-12T17:25:00.000-05:00

I Was going to do a story on city riding this year but never got around to it, and NYC started hasslin' riders off and on all summer but I came across some sobering visuals and facts

http://www.break.com/index/car-blows-red-light-and-hits-biker.html

The poster reads...He may be tough on the outside, but he's soft and squishy inside.
Ain't we all

Even though it's the end of the season here in New York, and the bike is up for the winter, plans are being made for next season, the video was a sobering wake up and just thought I'd put it up along with new initiatives being enacted to make automobile drivers more aware of us, and to make us aware of our vulnerabilty...

Be careful out there, folks. It's a dangerous world we ride in.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARINES

2007-11-10T11:57:00.000-05:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARINES....
You do us all proud.

For the uniformed, here's how and why

JAR HEAD ON
Adam Buckman Column, NYP, 2/21/07
February 21, 2007 -- THE people who volunteer for the Marine Corps are special people indeed.
Just consider what they're signing on for: A job whose chief requirements include fighting, killing and possibly dying on command.

And just to get to the point where they're allowed to do that, they have to endure several months of physical and psychological training so intense that it would cause most of us to run home to our mamas in about 10 minutes.

Fortunately for us wimps, though, enough men (and, increasingly, women) are interested in taking on the rigors and responsibilities of a career in the United States Marine Corps that we don't have to.

And after watching "The Marines," a new 90-minute documentary on the history and culture of the Corps, you still might not have any desire to hop on the next bus to Parris Island, but you will have a greater understanding of what the USMC stands for.

And that's an order!

Produced for public TV by the PBS station in Buffalo, WNED, "The Marines" takes you inside the USMC Recruit Depot (the official name of the Marines' famed basic-training facility at Parris Island, S.C.) where raw recruits arrive by bus in the middle of the night to begin 12 weeks of boot camp.

The documentary also takes you to the Marines' Officer Candidate School (OCS) in Quantico, Va., where officers-in-training endure some of the same humiliations as the raw recruits, including crawling on their bellies through mud, marching day and night, and enduring loud harangues from omnipresent drill sergeants.

Of course, these training exercises have been seen before on TV documentaries, but what sets this documentary apart from the other ones is its consideration - in its final half-hour - of the nature of warfare and the Marine/warrior's place in it.

"Marines understand that what they do is a brutal business, but they never lose their humanity," says Col. Robert Chase Jr., commanding officer of the OCS, describing how the Marines train their personnel to kill, but to do so (hopefully) with honor.

This documentary is filled with such seeming paradoxes, including the statement of one officer, who says of the Corps, "There is no better friend and no worse enemy than a United States Marine."

Other interview subjects describe the Corps as "a cult that works" and "a gang that's lawful." In addition, much is made of the Marine credo to "run to the sound of the guns" rather than away, as instinct would direct most of us to do.

How does someone get to the point where they are willing to run in the direction of oncoming bullets?

Gen. Michael W. Hagee, commandant of the Marine Corps, tries to explain the Marine mindset.

"Marines," he says, "believe in something larger than themselves."

Semper fi.

I TOOK A RIDE TO SHANKSVILLE

2007-10-24T12:35:00.001-04:00

This was supposed to be a story about a ride along two hundred miles of Route 30, the Lincoln Highway, one of the nation's first cross country roads. It isn't.

It was supposed be about Gettysburg and the history of travel in the early 20th century...

Of country roads...

That go on forever through an America that no longer exists

AND THEN I STOPPED AT SHANKSVILLE FOR PHOTOS
I'm on route 30 Westbound, twenty five miles west of Bedford, at an otherwise nondescript interseciton with Lambertsville Road, a simple sign pointed left, to the
FLIGHT 93 MEMORIAL.

Turning, I stepped off the world, riding into a small patch of peaceful observance, a bubble of soltitude, where over 130,000 come each year to pay tribute.

If there is any doubt in your mind wheher anyone still cares, those doubts will be put to rest by a forty-foot wall covered with bits and pieces of the American soul, surrounded by tributes large and small, evidence that people still care, people still remember.

On 9-11-01, the local residents in those very modest homes on Lambertsville Road were probably focused on what was happening in New York and Washington, completely unaware of what was about to happen to their little corner of the world.

Flight 93 came in from the north, and when it crossed over Lambertville Road it was little more than five hundred feet in the air and upside down. What was going on inside that plane is beyond anyone's comprehension, As was the bravery of the passengers and crew who prevented it from reaching its target in Washington. There are no words to describe the debt we all owe them.

It plowed into the earth in this former strip mining field a hundred yards short of the treeline, where a simple American Flag now marks the spot five hundred yards from the gravel memorial area.

There will be a proper monument here someday, but this is the People's Memorial, created by those of us who will not forget. Ever.

I too, left a little bit of myself, and I'll be back.

I WENT FOR A LITTLE RIDE

2007-10-12T11:46:00.000-04:00

There was a very cautious man,
who never laughed or cried.
He never risked, he never lost,
he never won nor tried.
And when he one day passed away,
his insurance was denied,
For since he never really lived,
they claimed he never died.

And you haven't lived until you've almost died...

AN ADIRONDACK MOUNTAIN SOJOURN

2007-08-27T06:28:00.000-04:00

The Adirondack Mountains comprise six million acres of nothingness, and this is as it should be. But in this nothingness is so much to see and do that you will wear out many sets of tires before you see it all. Susan and I took four days and while we filled every day, we did not even touch the needle on to of the tip of the iceberg.

MORE PHOTOS HERE
Here it is late in the season, and work has kept me off the road, going out six days a week, walking past the 800 in the parking lot, only getting out for some local day trips. I had had to blow off a planned Colorado trip, a North Carolina, West By God trip, Pine Barrens ride and every single grand plan that I had laid out in January. I had to get out.

Anxious to put work-city-civilization-traffic behind, I put the hammer down on the five hour slab ride that put me off exit 30 and onto route 73 west and into the park. The weight of a thousand and one problems lifted off my shoulders with the sight of the High Peaks, and for some reason, I felt at home. I have been coming to these mountains since 1958, and the sight of mountains always warms my soul.

As the evening faded, a canoeist paddled across the lake off the rear deck of our cabin just outside Lake Placid, and we decided that in this nothingness, we would do nothing. No plans, no itinerary, but just follow the front wheel and see where it would take us on the roads that wound through this “Forever Wild” wilderness.

THE FIRST DAY
We began with breakfast and a brief exploration of Lake Placid. If there is a commercial hub here, this is it. Having hosted the Winter Olympics in 1932 and 1980 and the “Miracle on Ice”, Lake Placid has retained its small town feel with an international flair and feel to it; fine restaurants, chic shops, license plates from just about every state and accents from around the world. Even in the summer heat, the Olympic spirit is alive and well. In the village parking lot, the US Luge team is offering introductory rides off a flat bed truck to introduce Americans to this very strange and exciting sport. And, folks, late comers to the game that we are, our kids are doing great.

But I had something bigger in mind. I have been fascinated by bobsledding since I can remember, and here, in our very own Adirondack Mountains is one of two sites in the country where civilians can actually sample a downhill run.

We went.

There is only one word that describes the buck-a-second fifty-five second ride on a wheel equipped bobsled, with the walls mere inches from my head, getting rattled around as it thunders down the half-mile chute……

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
Okay, two words if you’re gonna be persnickety What a rush!!!

AND ON THE SEOND DAY………
We rode.

Lake Placid, for all of its attractions, is not the Adirondacks. To see the mountains, we have to get on the road. We ride out of Ray Brook west on 3, to Saranac lake, then on to Tupper Lake, and turn south on 30 to Long Lake and Blue Mountain Lake. Did I mention that there are a lot of lakes up here? The only thing more common than bikers are kayakers.

The spirit of the mountains is the mountains themselves. The small towns and villages are their heart; the long stretches of two lane blacktop the arteries though which we ride. In the mornings and the evenings, the smell of hikers campfires waft across the roads, reminding me that that there are people in those trees, up on those mountains, camped along those streams and lakes. It is when I get within my head, when the cobwebs clear out, the juices flow, and I suck up every mile as if it is my last. Mile after mile of roadway, through valleys and towns, the only sound that of the V Twin, my arm tired from waving, passing like minded souls alone and in groups, all seeking the nirvana that is mountain riding. And when the signs say “Rough Road Ahead”, they mean it.

I like to do what I call “Snoop ‘n poop” riding. I’m not particularly interested in how fast or how far I go, but what I see and experience; when even getting lost is grist to the mill of the ride. And, you can’t get lost if you don’t know where you’re going, can you?

We found an American Mountain Man encampment at the Adirondack Park Museum in Blue Mountain Lake, where I busted off a round-ball and savored the acrid smell of black powder for the first time in years. The kick of a .54 was comforting though.

The museum is a celebration of Adirondack arts, crafts and history, From Adirondack Guide Boats, and the world renowned Adirondack Furniture

We continued down to Regulator, heart of Adirondack lumbering country, turned west on 30, then north on 8 up to 28 west then north on 28N towards Minerva. I had heard a biker bar, and found Sporty’s Iron Duke Saloon in this little bit of nowhere, a treasure trove of mostly Harley Davidson memorabilia and three bikes on display. I passed on a beer, thank you. Riding two up is new to me, and I was just getting used to it. I had to constantly keep in mind that I was riding for two.

AND ON THE LAST DAY..

Of the forty six high peaks in the Adirondacks, only one--White Face Mountain--is accessible to wheeled visitors. Completed in 1835, the five thousand foot peak provides a world view of the mountains and on some days, you can see Vermont. The view from the top reminds me of how vast this park is. Larger than Rhode Island, it takes in more land and more roads than can possibly been seen on one visit. I leave this story here, because riding out the next day is something I don’t like to think about. In my heart, I’m still in the mountains, and that’s where I want to stay.

COUNTER STEERING 101

2007-06-25T07:59:00.000-04:00

Been way too busy to get out much, too busy to post, a point I'm going to change in the next few weeks, but I came across this great video with is sort of a 1-2-3 explanation of this often mistunderstood concept...Enjoy and I'll see you all next week.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C848R9xWrjc

GROWING OLD AGAINST MY WILL--AND RIDING.

2007-05-05T09:51:00.000-04:00

For you older guys, read this over. There's a lot here, much of it TRUE.

MAY IS MOTORCYCLES SAFETY AWARENESS MONTH, FOLKS.
LET'S ALL STILL BE HERE IN NOVEMBER

We're getting older folks, no bout adoubt it. and whether or not you want to think about it, the facts are there. You ain't what you used to be, especially when it comes to riding. Read on

Some crash analysis studies indicate that as the median age for motorcyclists increased in recent years, the rate of involvement in traffic incidents also increased. According to the National Center for Statistics and Analysis (NCSA) of the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA), fatality rates for riders over 49 years of age increased more than the rates for younger riders. This “Seasoned” (a.k.a., older) Rider Module Fact Sheet provides key factors that illuminate the effects of aging on motorcycle operation.

FACTS
1. There are more than 18.9 million licensed drivers in the U.S. who are 70 or older. By 2020, it is estimated there will be more than 30 million licensed drivers age 70-plus.
2. One of every three drivers in America is now over 55 years of age. The typical U.S. motorcycle owner is about 41 years old compared with 24 years old in 1980.
3. The primary traffic violation committed by drivers aged 50 and over is “failure to observe the right-of-way.”
4. Another common traffic violation committed by drivers aged 50 and over is “improper left turn.”

5. The effects of aging occur gradually over time and deterioration may not be noticed.
6. About 20 percent of people age 55 and 30 percent of those over age 65 are hearing impaired.
7. Relatively few deaths of elderly people, 75 years of age and older, involve motor vehicles; but they have higher rates of fatal crashes per mile than younger drivers.
8. Recent data show that of the more than 57,000 drivers involved in fatal crashes annually, more than 10,000 of those were over 55 years of age.
9. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration reported that about 50 percent of all medications that older persons take could interact with alcohol. Combining medications and alcohol may cause serious adverse reactions and risky behaviors.
10. Countermeasures that have proven beneficial in reducing the more risky aspects of aging include physical therapy, perceptual therapy, driver education, and modern highway and vehicle engineering. Rider Functions

Motorcycle operation, as with the operation of any motor vehicle, is a task that involves visual and perceptual functions, cognitive and attention capabilities, and motor skill responses. These human functions are addressed in the MSF RETS with the acronym of S.E.E., which means Search, Evaluate, and Execute. S.E.E. is a dynamic decision-making process with overlapping functions for maintaining a safety margin. A rider must search for potential crash factors, evaluate the level of risk, and execute a smooth, controlled response in avoiding emergencies. Here are some specific effects and recommendations related to the aging process and S.E.E. that are applicable to seasoned riders.

SEARCH

1. Visual clarity diminishes. This phenomenon is gradual and typically begins between the ages of 40-50. Having a periodic eye exam is a wise choice. Visual acuity declines modestly beyond age 60, as measured by high-contrast acuity charts.
2. Night vision is especially diminished. The eyes gather less light as a person ages making it more difficult to see clearly at night. On average, the older person requires four times more light than the younger person.
3. Peripheral vision diminishes. As visual acuity diminishes over the years, the side or peripheral vision becomes blurrier also.
4. Hearing diminishes. Although most input for decisions in traffic are perceived through the eyes, a rider shouldn’t discount the value of hearing traffic sounds or motorcycle sounds that could indicate a mechanical problem.
5. Eyes are more sensitive to light. The rods and cones in the eyes become more sensitive over time, which makes adjusting to light sources more difficult. This is particularly true when responding to glare or oncoming headlights.
6. Eyes take longer to adjust from near to far objects and vice versa. The muscles of the eyes become less responsive over time and take longer to adjust to changes in the environment as well as changes when moving focal points between far and near.
7. Eyes take longer to adjust to dark. The weakened eyes muscles cause the eyes to dilate less quickly.
8. Depth perception diminishes. This may affect judging appropriate gap selection when passing another vehicle and when crossing or turning at an intersection.
9. Street and directional signs are more difficult to read. Difficulty in early sign recognition may increase the chance of input overload, which occurs when there is more going on in traffic than may be accurately perceived or processed.

EVALUATE
1. Medications affect performance and behavior. Labels should always be read and a medical doctor’s advice should be followed.
2. Complicated signage may be confusing. There are many situations, especially in unfamiliar areas, where a rider must contend with several points of information simultaneously. Often times older riders will need more time to process the information.
3. Space and distance are misjudged more frequently. Most riding decisions are based on input from visual processes. Any deterioration of visual functions will result in potentially misjudging elements of space and distance.
4. Awareness of impending risk is delayed. Eye muscles and body muscles react more slowly, resulting in delayed response time.
5. It may take fewer factors to interact to form a potential conflict. Crashes are typically caused by an interaction of factors. The number of road and traffic factors a rider may handle at any given moment varies, but aging may lower the number of simultaneous risk factors that a rider may be able to respond to safely.

EXECUTE
1. Muscles are weaker. Muscle tone and strength deteriorate as a rider ages. Without weight training a person loses 6-10 percent muscle mass per decade starting at age 30.
2. Endurance is diminished. Oxygen is not utilized as efficiently and the muscles loose their elasticity.
3. Reaction time slows. Responding to factors may require more time and space because correct actions require perception, evaluation, and motor response (muscle) time. Reacting to a hazard may take twice as long for a rider who has moved into middle age (40 to 54 years of age), and up to three or four times longer after age 55 or so.
4. Control sensitivity lessens. The feeling of the road through the tires and handlebars lessens, as well as the feedback that occurs in cornering and braking. This may have serious implications in crash-avoidance maneuvers.

RECOMMENDATIONS

Below are some riding tips and considerations that should be taken into account by motorcyclists. Although these practices may be appropriate for riders of any age, they are particularly valuable for riders who are reaching their more mature years.

RIDING TIPS
1. Keep a greater following distance, perhaps three seconds or more. Some authorities recommend up to a six-second interval.
2. Avoid complicated and congested roads and intersections. “Input overload” is a phrase often used to describe the presence of too much information to be able to process accurately. A good choice is to pick a route that contains less complicated roadways with less traffic flow and fewer turns.
3. Allow larger gaps when moving into a stream of traffic. Selecting a safe gap when passing another vehicle or crossing or turning at an intersection is an important decision for smoothly blending with others.
4. Make a point to check side-to-side at intersections. It is a wise motorcyclist that recognizes that eye movement and muscle movement (head and neck muscles in particular) become more difficult with age. A rider should take an extra moment to double-check cross traffic to get a good look.
5. Keep making good blind-spot checks. Traffic research shows that older drivers don’t check blind spots as well as younger drivers. An extra moment to ensure nothing is hiding in a blind spot may help reduce risk.
6. Have a passenger help you S.E.E. Passengers can be an additional set of eyes to help identify hazards and assess risk.
7. Keep windshield, helmet face shield and eyeglass lenses clean. Dirt and grime on a rider’s “window to the world” may adversely affect quick and accurate perception of factors such as traffic control devices, road markings, debris and other traffic movement.
8. Avoid tinted lenses at night. Any tint lessens the light available to the eyes and makes seeing well at night more difficult.
9. Wear sunglasses when glare is a problem. During daytime glare, good polarized sunglasses may reduce the effects of glare significantly and make identifying a traffic hazard easier.
10. Adjust mirrors to avoid glare from following vehicles. Sometimes a slight mirror adjustment may reduce the distracting effects of traffic behind you and still provide the perception necessary to identify hazards to the rear.
11. Keep the headlight(s) clean and properly adjusted. During routine maintenance, be sure the headlight is aimed correctly. Refer to your owner’s manual for adjustment information.
12. Avoid glasses with wide frames or heavy temples. Eyeglasses or sunglasses may be constructed in a way that creates a blind spot. Be sure the frames do not inhibit side vision or create difficulty in seeing the entire field of vision.
13. Avoid being in a hurry. It is unwise to make up for lost time by riding aggressively. Leaving a little early will result in a more relaxed, enjoyable ride and create an opportunity for choosing greater time and space safety margins.
14. Remember that the average age of the driving population is increasing, and you are sharing the road with others who may be experiencing the effects of aging on their operation of a motor vehicle. Keeping a greater safety margin is a wise choice.

Motorcycle Choice
15. Choose a motorcycle with large dials and easy-to-read symbols. Brightly illuminated gauges may be helpful for riding at night.
16. Choose a motorcycle that fits well and doesn’t cause muscles to strain because of an unusual seating position or because the controls are difficult to operate. How a motorcycle fits its rider may affect overall handling and performance at both low speeds and at higher speeds.
17. Follow manufacturer recommendations in the owner’s manual. Good maintenance will keep your motorcycle operating like new.
Personal Responsibility
18. Wear protective gear. The muscles and bones are more prone to injury and the time for healing is often extended for an older person. Using extra body armor may help mitigate injury should a fall occur.
19. Renew skills often by completing a Motorcycle Safety Foundation ERC Suite Skills Plus RiderCourseSM. The half-day of practice is always fun and helps keep riding skills fresh.
20. Enroll in the AARP Driver Safety Program. (AARP is the American Association of Retired Persons.) It is the nation’s first and largest classroom driver improvement course specially designed for motorists age 50 and older. (It is eight hours in length and costs $10. Insurance discounts may apply. Take the quiz on the AARP website at www.aarp.org under the topic of “Driver Safety.”) Also, AAA offers a course for older drivers called “Safe Driving for Mature Operators” (contact a local AAA club for details) and the National Safety Council has a course titled “Coaching the Mature Driver” (call 800-621-7619 for information). See helpful resources below.
21. Separate alcohol and other impairing substances and conditions from riding. Over-the-counter and prescription medications could cause impairment. And don’t forget the possibility of synergistic impairment that occurs when drugs are used in combination.

PHYSICAL HEALTH AND FITNESS
22. Have annual eye checkups. This is a good recommendation for anyone over the age of 35.
23. If 60 or older, be sure your eye doctor checks annually for cataracts, glaucoma, macular degeneration, diabetic retinopathy and other conditions associated with aging.
24. Have annual medical checkups. Being physically fit and in good health helps ensure the safest, most enjoyable ride possible.
25. Keep an exercise regimen to enhance flexibility, strength and endurance. Fitness is important at any age. Maintain good muscle tone and flexibility to improve the enjoyment of motorcycling.
26. Ask a significant other if they notice changes that might affect safety on a motorcycle. Motorcycle operation is a complicated perceptual-motor skill, meaning it is a skill of the eyes and mind as well as the hands and feet. Identifying deterioration or weaknesses in other areas of normal living that require perceptual-motor skill, whether in the workshop, in the yard, or in the kitchen, should be used as clues that operating a motorcycle safely could also be affected.
27. If/when the time comes to retire from motorcycling, buy a sporty convertible.

RULES OF THE ROAD

2007-05-01T08:16:00.000-04:00

Found on the internet, but I thought worth passing on.
Some are prophetic, some amusing, and some are downright silly...But that's what it's all about, isn't it????

Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.

Life may begin at 30, but it doesn't get real interesting until about
60 mph!

If you wait, all that happens is that you get older.

Midnight bugs taste just as bad as Noon time bugs.

Saddlebags can never hold everything you want, but they CAN hold
everything you need.

It takes more love to share the saddle than it does to share the bed.

The only good view of a thunderstorm is in your rearview mirror.

Never be afraid to slow down.

Don't ride so late into the night that you sleep through the sunrise.

Sometimes it takes a whole tankful of fuel before you can think
straight.

Riding faster than everyone else only guarantees you'll ride alone.

Never hesitate to ride past the last street light at the edge of
town.

Never do less than forty miles before breakfast.

If you don't ride in the rain, you don't ride.

A bike on the road is worth two in the shed.

Respect the person who has seen the dark side of motorcycling and
lived.

Young riders pick a destination and go... Old riders pick a direction
and go.

A good mechanic will let you watch without charging you for it.

Sometimes the fastest way to get there is to stop for the night.

Always back your bike into the curb, and sit where you can see it.

Work to ride & ride to work.

Whatever it is, it's better in the wind.

Two-lane blacktop isn't a highway - it's an attitude.

When you look down the road, it seems to never end - but you better
believe, It does!

Winter is Nature's way of telling you to polish your bike.

Keep your bike in good repair: Motorcycle boots are NOT comfortable
for walking.

People are like Motorcycles: each is customized a bit differently.

Sometimes, the best communication happens when you're on separate
bikes.

Good coffee should be indistinguishable from 50 weight motor oil.

The best alarm clock is sunshine on chrome.

When you're riding lead, don't spit.

A friend is someone who'll get out of bed at 2 am to drive his pickup
to the middle of nowhere to get you when you're broken down.

A yellow jacket in your shirt @ 70 mph can double your
vocabulary.

If you want to get somewhere before sundown, you can't stop at every
tavern.

There's something ugly about a NEW bike on a trailer.

Don't lead the pack if you don't know where you're going.

Practice wrenching on your own bike.

Everyone crashes. Some get back on. Some don't. Some can't.

Don't argue with an 18-wheeler.

Never be ashamed to unlearn an old habit.

A good long ride can clear your mind, restore your faith, and use up
a lot of fuel.

If you can't get it going with bungee cords and electrician's tape,
it's serious.

If you ride like there's no tomorrow, there won't be.

Bikes parked out front mean good chicken-fried steak inside.

There are drunk riders. There are old riders. There are NO old, drunk
riders.

Thin leather looks good in the bar, but it won't save your butt
from "road rash" if you go down.

The best modifications cannot be seen from the outside.

Always replace the cheapest parts first.

You can forget what you do for a living when your knees are in the
breeze.

Patience is the ability to keep your motor idling.

Only a Biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window.

Keep the paint up, and the rubber down!

There are two types of people in this world, people who ride
motorcycles and people who wish they could ride motorcycles.

Pick Up That Bike!!!!

2007-03-30T16:35:00.000-04:00

You're gonna have to do it, so learn how now...Better still, teach her how to do it!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPjYweKeiLk

THE DREAM LIVES ON

2007-01-30T16:38:00.000-05:00

Fred Kunkel
October 5, 1950-January 1, 2007
Son
Brother
Champion Swimmer
Fisherman
Scholar
Husband
Father
Veteran
Grandfather
Cable Splicer
Husband
Woodworker
Motorcycle Enthusiest
Lover
Best Buddy
Dad and GrandDad again
1/2 of the Fred and Mo Show
Built his dream at KSL
We Love You.
(Fred says "OY!")

Fred Kunkel passed away on the eve of seeing the dream he had conceived with Mo, borne out of their dream to own a motorcyclist campground, a place where all riders would be welcome.

In 2006 I turned off Hwy 28 in Stecoah, NC, and into the seven acre Kickstand lodge . I was immediately struck by what a perfect place they had picked. I met Fred briefly that afternoon, and remember thinking later that I would go back and do a story on the man and his dream. We all have dreams, but Fred and Mo acted on theirs, and their dream became a home away from home for riders in the heart of some of the greatest riding country between the oceans.

That story is not to be, but the dream has not died. Mo is carrying it on, and through her, one man's vision will live on.

Mo has taken up the reins, and with help from riders near and far, many members of VROC, she is looking forward to the third year of operation with a few moving additons.

Fred had spoken of wanting a Rider Memorial down by the creek, and a garden, and perhaps a memorial tree. All three will be inaugurated at the KSL weekend in June. There will be a plaque embedded on a stone that was removed from the stream, a memorial garden, and a Motorcyclist Memorial tree--an art sculpture where tags can be placed to memorialize fallen bikers.

Fred and Mo met at a spaghetti dinner in Minnesota in 2002, and it was on thier rides to Key West and Alaska that that the concept of the Kickstand Lodge evolved.

"We wanted a place that would take care of motorcyclist's wants and needs", she says.
They bought the seven acre property off rte Hwy 28 in June, '04, and opened for business on September 25. going into its third full year as a motorcyclist campground, the lodge has five RV sites, five camping cabins a two bedroom camping cabin, four bed bunkhouse and forty one tent camping spots. There is free air, free bike life, free bike wash (do people wash their bikes??)And, she says, "We have the cleanest bathhouse in North Carolina"

For motorcyclists, it is what Fred intended, a home on the road.

family , friends.........VROC .

The final price is paid as we mourn a Husband , father and friend , lost tous for now.as we look into our heart's in fond remember'ance , the price of livinglook's to high but one only has to look around at the assembled to see atrue value.....The fine legacy that Fred's left behind in each and everyoneof us , high-lighted by the very real sadness we feel today.

Fred was a man with a dream ~!!

One he shared with Moe and together they turned a little piece of this earth into ..home.

They had the courage to reach out and grasp it, with the vision alwaysa'fore . Fred with Moe aside, achieved a living testament that many of ushave enjoyed and will enjoy in the years to come.To many , Kickstand Lodge has become a second home , a place of peace and joy given not by the land but by the sweat and toil that was invested . Adown payment in time that's being paid off many times over, by the warmth of smiles . Mirror's each and everyone of them to the heart we've shared .

One half of that heart is now lie'ng be'stilled...the other beat's on carrying forward the vision.To me ,if I ever needed reminding of Fred's grace, it's the way hestood tall as he prepared to make his final payment. In quiet dignity heaccepted the cards as they fell from fates hand and while the illness ravaged his body it never withered his spirit . He shared amidst us his wealth by sprinkling humor upon us like the fine'ist of Jewels ,.his wisdom and the most precious of all........friendship ~!

His laughter rings on........In the hollow's of time.....there will be another tomorrow , one to whit aglance into God's eye's will show us a vision.Through the clouds and riding the sun-litt sky's of ever , is a club we'llall join when we 've paid our fare....Look a little closer.... for there together , returned into the warmth ofNatures embrace.Wolfman ,Sphincter and Kegs.......Capt'n and now Fred , forever chasing awinds tale ,beard's a'flowing and alight'n a glitter'n trail of mirth~!Gods orchestra is playing music for the ear's of Angels , a symphonyconducted by a throttle hand upon the perfect corner.....listen !as with the sweet promise of a lovers carr'ess to the thundering roar of full throttle....laughter laying a'strewn behind them full of the promise,s , kept...Within the cycle's of sunsett's , thu glance's the rear-view mirror..Road markers standing tall , tell'n not of miles or places my friends for there is no longer any destination....no , these markers show the memories within all of us .....* we * are the sign's along the way , proudly showing Fred's highway.

Fred's got his rear pegs down , rear seat ready .......a glint in hiseye ~!Be in no hurry Moe for time's on his side now and await he will....Farewell Fred....God's speed to hither ~!!

Photos by "Chunk" Kiesling and Glenn "Guns" Springer

RIDER'S CHOICE...NOW IT'S YOUR TURN

2007-01-11T06:50:00.000-05:00

Riders Choice Awards - nominations are now open
Are you tired of awards handed out by industry insiders? We are.
Motorcycle Bloggers International (an association of, you guessed it,
riders who blog about motorcycling) decided it was time that the riding
public have a chance to express their opinions. So we created the
Riders Choice awards. This is your opportunity to nominate and
vote for your choices for the best and worst in the motorcycling
world for 2006.There are various categories for events, actions
by a person or group and new products. Some examples:
A rider’s dream - The dream ride, tour or event that given enough
time and money you most want to experience.* Object of lust - The
production motorcycle of any model year that is desired above all
others.* Thumbs up - The person or organization who during 2006,
made the most significant contribution to motorcycling.* Best new
in 2006 every day motorcycle - The production motorcycle most
suited to commuting that was first delivered to dealers in 2006.
* What were they thinking? - The new in 2006 concept or
production motorcycle, related product or other idea that is the
worst idea of 2006.Head on over to www.mbiweb.org to see all
the categories, view nominations already entered and submit
your nominations. Join us in letting the industry know what we,
the riders, think. While you are there, sign up for an email
reminder notice that will be sent when voting for the awards
begins in February. Help us make this awards program a success.
Nominate and vote.

Z-MAN'S NORTON ATLAS, PART DUO

2007-01-07T12:07:00.000-05:00

An Atlast With Attitude...

More years ago than most of us care to admit to, Steve Zedaker was a teenager in love with motorcycles, coming of age when British motorcycle fever gripped the United States. He fell in love with British Iron, an affair that has outlasted the bikes that became part of his soul.
PHOTOS HERE
His first bike, a Honda Super Hawk, gave way to a BSA 441 Victor, which was sold to buy a 1972 Triumph. But he fell in love with the Norton Atlas which he never owned or rode, and it remained his dream.

The Atlas, which bridged the vibrating Dominator and the much smoother and far more popular Commando, was his idea of a motorcycle.

“The Commando looked too sleek and modern” he says, “and British bikes are not sleek and modern”

Now older and more successful, he was able to return to his motorcycling days. While his every day ride is a BMW 1200, he has reached back, restoring the Triumph, which led a peripatetic existence since it was disassembled in the eighties and transported around the country in boxes.
It is back together now, joined by a ’66 BSA Lightning and the venerable first Honda. And one ride short of his crowing glory, last year he added his long sought-after Norton Atlas.

“It wasn’t a rat bike, but it was a good restoration project,” say Oliver Giorigi of the 1965 Norton Atlas he bought in 1992. Oliver restores bikes as a form of relaxation and he spent eleven months relaxing over his Norton.

And a little less than a year after he rolled it into his garage, his modified Atlas took its first ride, completely rebuilt, with changes that make it ineligible for true vintage competitions; a showpiece that he could not show.

First, he bored out the Atlas 650 to the more ballsy Commando 750 specs, with higher compression, larger cams, finished up by porting the heads. He replace the gears with originals, but replaced the stock Amal carbs with twin Mikuni’s. He changed out to a Joe Hunt Fairbanks-Morse magneto, Buchanan stainless steel spokes, and Akront polished aluminum rims, the latter to reduce the un-sprung weight.

He replaced everything but the engine and transmission casings, including the wiring harness, which he wrapped in period-correct cotton tape.

But the most radical change was to the stock Norton mechanical clutch, which he found had too much friction for long rides. His solution was simple: He changed it.

Using a Norton wet clutch conversion kit, a Triumph master brake cylinder for a slave cylinder, a Triumph switch gear converted to Norton electrics, he converted the clutch from mechanical to hydraulic, probably one of a kind on any Norton. And it works.

“It’s got balls, lots of balls” Steve said after he bought it and rode it briefly last year. “It was really fun to ride”

He’ll have it on the road this year. The Beemer will probably spend a lot of time in the garages when local rides are on the agenda.

Danish Traffic Control....

2006-11-19T15:47:00.000-05:00

Only in Denmark, folks. Gotta love those Danes. This has absolutely nothing to do with motorcycling, but then again maybe it does. Watch out for those slowing cages and try to keep your eyes on the road (Fat Chance). Enjoy, but parental discretion advised.
http://speedbandits.dk/

THE HUDSON VALLEY HIGHLANDS...

2006-10-07T12:45:00.000-04:00

.....THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RIVER PHOTOS

The Hudson Highlands on the west side of the river are different; more rural, more agricultural with hundreds of miles of two lane blacktops, small towns that seem to stand still in time. When I need a local ride to clear out the cobwebs and feel the road under my wheels, with the smell of early morning in the air. This is where I go.

There are too many roads, and too much to see to encompass this quite rural area in one trip, or even one weekend. I come here often I never really know where I’m going to go, or what I’m going to see. Most often, I just follow my front wheel.

Some of my favorites are route 218 north of West Point, hugging the face of Storm King Mountain; routes 32 and 7 south out of Kingston, running along the banks of the Walkill River, 44/55 bisecting orange county from west to east, between 209 in the Shawangunk Mountains to Highland on the river’s edge; or 52 from 209 further south into Newburgh. There are really too many to itemize in any one story, but there is also much to see and experience throughout the season.

I always enjoy Kingston, New York’s first capitol, with its covered sidewalks, Saturday Farmer’s Market, and the 1661 Old Dutch Church with its Revolutionary War cemetery, with headstones bearing namesof men lost to history who were instrumental in the movement that created the country. A hotbed of revolutionary fervor, the British burned the town to the ground in 1777.

With that same revolutionary War spirit, visit Washington’s Headquarters in Newburgh, is what may be the most important small home in American history. It was here where the Man Who Would Not Be King wrote the letter that would define what America would become. His “office” is a small bare 10’ X10’ room. It is hard not to experience goosebumps.

See the speed dirt track racing at Lembo Lake Speedway, or experience the quiet serenity of Storm King Art Center. Or check out the Bear Mountain car and motorcycle show every Wednesday night during the season.

Wherever you go, in whatever season, there is always something to see, another vista to experience, another turn to make, another road to follow. The worst part of any ride up through here is when I have to turn south and head home. And I’m always planning my next ride as I cross the river.

POTPURRI

2006-09-20T23:47:00.000-04:00

POTPURRI, or the mental meanderings of the old and feeble.

Okay, I've been falling behind on this whole thing and it's time to get up to speed before the end of the season. I've had plans to getting off to the Adirondacks, the New Jersey Pine Barrens, Pennsylvania Dutch Country and a few other spots over the past month, but weather and other minor scheduling details (Read: gotta make a living here) interfered. Hopefully, I'll get those rides done in the next few weeks....

Changes.....I've not been completely happy with the formatting problems in integrating photos and text in this cyberstory world of ours, so from here on out, the photos for my stories will be stored and displayed on smugmug. it's the best I've found, and yes, it costs $$$, but you get what you pay for. If any readers decide to go for it, using my referral number will get you a five buck discount. Oh, that's 3szLs70AV5bYs.

More News. if you want to subscribe, just click on the link over there on the right, and if I can manage to keep these postings a little closer together, you'll get them automatically, through the wonders of cyber space.

In The Meantime, I've been surfing, and found some sites that wouldn't fit into any given story, but I thought I would pass around.

For those of you too young to rememer it, Bruce Brown's definitive tribute to motorcycling "On Any Sunday" shot in 16mm FILM (remember that, folks??) it shows a time long gone, never to be repeated, when Mc Queen defined cool (okay, even if he didn't make the jump), a hot bike was a Bonneville 650, when the world--and motorcycling--was a much simpler place.

If you get the DVD, watch the last ten minutes when Mr. Cool and his buds are bouncing around the california deserts just having fun!!!. Kind of hard to remember when motorcycling was just that and little more. Here's some artwork that can refresh your memory.

Hmmmmmmmmm I think I'm going to do some redecorating over the winter.

And while we're on a "Back-in-the-day" kick, Try this great Indian site
bringing modern technology to this venerable old ride. He does some great stuff.

From the other side of the pond, I've come across a brit doing the same thing with Vincents that will make you drool. Just another thing on the long list of things I can't afford, but you never know..

In that same vein, seems no one can go anyplace anymore without a guidebook, telling them where to go, where to eat, when to sleep, when and where to do anything and everything without really having to do much thinking. and motorcyclists are no different. Whatever happened to throwing your leg over the saddle, kicking it over and heading off to whatever was out there? I don't know, but in the interests of spreading the word, The Ride Atlas of North America looks like it just wean me off my bundle of well worn folding maps. (Remember those? God, I'm getting old!!!)

In that same exploratory mood, the itnernet turned up two sites really trip my trigger, with some laughs and great motorcycling adventures. Riding Sun from Japan is a hoot, mixing humor, polictics and motorcycling and scads of other MC links and blogsites

Tales from around the globe at can be found here will give you some great reading and dreaming of the ride you would love to take, and may even motivate you to get out there...

See ya next week with the Hudson Highlands..

LADY LIBERTY RIDE FOR GASPAR

2006-09-19T09:52:00.000-04:00

Gaspar Tramma is gone, but his legacy lives on....This sunday, September 24, 2006, The Lady Liberty Ride will honor the man who did so much for motorcycling. He founded the first MSF course in NYC, and today, thousands owe their riding enjoyment to the effort he put into his classes, Including me. "The course is twenty two hours, but we cheat", he told me when I interviewed him for a story that I was going to do on my MSF experience. "We give you twenty seven". I learned more in thos twenty seven hours of non-stop instruction than I have in any other course in any other subject that I have ever taken, and I completed it totally drained. I would run into him from time to time after getting my license and getting more deeply involved in riding and I could always see the joy in his eyes at the idea that I had stayed with it. We did discuss my becoming an instructor, but scheduling prevented it. But every time I ride I can hear his voice whenever I'm going to do a lane change...He stood in front of my bike, hands on the handlebars, looking me right in the eye to correct one of the many errors I made in those three days..."Do those lookbacks, do those lookbacks. You don't, you're gonna be Road Pizza". Those words have saved my life on more than one occasion. The world of motorcycling is smaller indeed for his passing. So even if you can't make the ride, take a moment to remember a man who did so much for what we do.

9-11-06 9:04 AM

2006-09-11T08:53:00.000-04:00

CONCRETE CANYON RIDE FOR THE CHILDREN

2006-08-19T12:34:00.000-04:00

ONE MAN’S MISSION
Photos Courtesy of Theresa Radkey, SCRC
Chapter 384
“In 2002, they gave me five days to live. I’m very happy to be fifty three,” says Dave Kaufman, First Officer of the Southern Cruisers Riding Club, New York City Chapter 384, a life long motorcyclist and cancer survivor, who has created one of the most unique motorcycle fund raisers in the county.

Now, he wants to have children who have not had a chance to live to have that same chance, doing his bit with The Concrete Canyon Run..

During the eight months of treatment in those dark days, he walked around the hospital, wandering past the children’s rooms. The experience was traumatic.
“I saw the kids—kids who had not yet had a chance to live being kept alive, very sad and not understanding what was going on in their short lives. It was a devastating experience”, he says.

After he got out of the hospital, he would return to visit the kids, bringing them do- rags and entertained them with motorcycle tales. The kids loved it. But the downside for him was the kids who did not make it.

“Sometimes I’d go back and one or two of them would not be there. They didn’t make it. It just got to me”.

A life long motorcyclist, he connected with Southern Cruisers and formed the New York Chapter. He found out that the SCRC official charity was the St Jude Children’s Research Hospital, which gave him the chance to give something back. “I was a cancer survivor, and some of these children were not. It was my chance to give something back”, he says

The Concrete Canyon Run was born.

The title is self explanatory; hundreds of motorcyclists from as far away as Georgia, Maine and Michigan rolling through sixty miles of New York’s man- made canyons, from the financial district, to Ground Zero, to Times Square and terminating at Coyote Ugly before heading out to New Jersey for the after-ride party, which goes on to…whenever. You don’t want to miss riding through the below ground-level street tunnels

From a dry run in 2002 of eighty or so riders, the ride grew to over three hundred riders in 2004. the run is the premier event for the chapter’s fifty plus members, who devote untold hours to making it work. In 2005, there would have been over six hundred riders, had the run not been rained out.

To date, the run has earned over thirteen thousand dollars for St. Jude, and 2006 it promises to be even bigger again. “I want this to be a good fun time for everybody, and to raise a ton of money for St. Jude”.
Let’s try and help him out.

IN MEMORIUM

2006-08-19T09:07:00.000-04:00

THANKS RICK, FOR
ALL YOU GAVE US
This road trip actually began almost six years ago, when I bought a used, rather beat up long on mileage and short on looks Kawasaki Vulcan 750, in returning to motorcycling after a much too long hiatus. Aside from being in possession of a newly minted Motorcycle attachment to my license—A first for me, despite having owned two prior motorcycles—I knew absolutely nothing beyond that it had two wheels and a motor.

An internet search put me on to VROC, the Vulcan Riders and Owners Club, a what I then thought was a loosely formed group of Vulcan motorcycle riders and owners (that makes sense, no?) I signed on. It was perhaps the best move I could have made in my motorcycling education.

As a complete, or relatively complete neophyte, I was apprehensive at first, tepidly asking questions, which to my surprise were answered with what was often overwhelmingly helpful advice and solutions to my various motorcycle problems.

But VROC was more than that. I soon discovered that VROC was not something I joined, but a process of osmosis that gradually absorbed me. There was more here than just motorcycles. VROC was about life, And I was gradually absorbed into it.

It was the quintessential “Biker Bar” where everything was discussed, argued, fought over, and once in a while—not too often, remember, this was VROC--resolved. There was politics, religion—or lack thereof—and just about everything in between. It came to a point where if I had a question about just about anything, I would post it, and someone, somewhere knew something about it, or provided a link to someplace with the answer. It became a sounding board for just about every subject under the sun, from a world-wide membership. It can actually be said that the sun never sets on VROC membership.

And I came to know these people whom I had never met.

There were marriages and divorces, an affair or two, posts from family members advising the group of medical progress for various ills some member someplace was going through; and reports—all too frequent—of riders going down, including my own,
There were births and there were deaths. I don’t think I have every witnessed such an outpouring of support and emotion as that I was part of with the death of Foggy to Cancer. I had corresponded with him, but we had never met. His losing battle is the stuff of VROC lore, an experience shared by a world-wide membership that no one ever though would be repeated.
Until August 19, 2005, when we opened up our mail to the unimagined post announced that Big Number Three, Rick Jackubas had taken his last ride.

No. things like this don't happen to somebody I knew, even though I had never met him. It speaks volumes for what he left behind has effected each and every one of us in ways that none of us can explain.

There are no words that will adequately explain what he meant to us, so we will just let the day of silence speak for us. A member of our family passed on much too early in life one year ago today, and he is missed beyond words.
Thanks Rick

THE CATSKILLS, FROM WOODSTOCK TO WHEREVER

2006-08-06T12:33:00.000-04:00

A CATSKILL RIDE

Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men, etc, etc…this ride began as a mid-week brainstorm. I would leave first thing Saturday morning, hit the throughway, pick up 23A across through Hunter, cross over to the west side of the forest preserve, find a room, drop down south on Sunday and come back via Woodstock (a must stop in the Catskills) and the Rondout Valley. It didn’t quite work out that way.

Sleeping in Saturday was the first inkling that it wasn’t going to work. Getting a late start, I knew I was going to have to alter plans, so I took the chance to visit with a local stone carver Ted Ludwiczak before heading north.

Glitch two came on the throughway rest stop.

“23A is closed between Palenville and Tannersville” the guy at the info booth told me. “Washed out’, he says. Damn. This has always been one of my favorite roads, climbing past Katerskill Falls where rock-climbers hang out. Literally

That was confirmed with the flashing sign just south of the Kingston exit, which feeds into 28 and the Catskills from the south end. I take the exit, my plans changing by the minute.

Woodstock it was, via Saugerties, which like a lot of Catskill towns is showing the effects of a new generation of relocated city folk. I poke around briefly before heading west on 212, a nice, curving rolling two lane to Woodstock.

Woodstock the town has absolutely nothing to do with Woodstock the event other than the name, which they have been capitalizing ever since. . It is an upscale wannabe Greenwich Village/Haight Ashbury of the Catskills, with a constant flow of travelers, some of whom may have even been conceived on that muddy field in 1969. Most talk around the ice cream parlors, art galleries and tie dyed shirt shops is of real estate prices and values. . Not quite the Woodstock spirit, but it’s a fun place to visit as evidenced by the steady stream of bikers that come through all day long.

An hour is about all I could handle of ersatz hippiedom before I’m west on 212 for Phoenicia, a greatly overlooked little town that is more representative of a Catskills village that is slowly passing from the scene.

This is a twelve mile run with some “interesting” switchbacks, chicanes and dog legs that demand some attention. It is getting late in the afternoon, and the deer will be moving, but the darkening skies may keep them down. They’re smarter than us.

When I pull into Phoenicia, the sky is black. The clouds burst and I’m soaked in less than a minute, digging to get my cell phone wrapped up. The first thing that I notice is that the sole hotel in town is booked. I decide to sit it out.

Patience not being my strong suit, I pull out the rain gear when it slows to a drizzle. The closest hotel I know of is fifteen miles back to the throughway though.

Oh yeah, cell service here is sketchy at best here, and I couldn’t even confirm that there were any rooms available. Oh hell, I did three quarters of a North Carolina run in the rain, so getting wet and cold is nothing new..

This is where serendipity raised her head. Bucking a headwind and what was now a steady downpour, I was past the Black Bear Lodge before I even saw it. The VACANCY sign stopped me cold. Yes, they had rooms, yes they had a restaurant, yes, they had a bar, and yes, I could park my bike under the canopy at the rear. “That’s what it’s there for” the girl told me.

Turns out that “Bosslady” Kelly Nadler and her husband Scott are making a go of it; creating a friendly feel-right-home atmosphere, upholding the spirit of the country inn-keeper that is hard to find today. And she told me “yes, we are biker friendly. Tell ‘em that”

I head out Sunday morning back through Phoenicia and pick up 214 north, headed back to 23A and Hunter, and I’m reminded of the difference between Eastern and western riding. We don’t get those great scenics, those vast landscapes, those wide open spaces with mile after mile of straightaway and scant traffic. Here, if we’re lucky we can see a few hundred yards ahead, if that, while leaning through curves under a canopy of trees that almost brush your elbows, blind curves and hills curving dips and patches of shadow and light that don’t let the varilux lenses catch up. Someday, I’ll get a chance to ride those western plains and mountains, but for now, I’m having my fun here.

On 23A, I pass through Hunter quickly. A ski town, it is all but shut down, waiting for the snow bunnie season that I hope never comes. In Lexington, I am reminded of the Black Bear again and where the Catskills have been and are going.

Between 1865 and 1915, the Catskills became a Mecca for generations of Americans Thousands flocked here to escape stifling summer heat, and hundreds of Victorian style hotels were built to host them. The Lexington Inn was one of them. I found it in Lexington, long closed, awaiting renovation and reclamation, a reminder of what the Catskills once were.

But this is today, and I head out, going south on 41 back down to 28 and my favorite fourteen miles of road anywhere, and probably the most overlooked little run anywhere in the forest preserve.

I first found 47 when making a run in a hailstorm from Lexington to Monticello in a Chevy C-30 more years ago than I care to admit to; a shoulder-less, twisting ribbon of unmarked two lane blacktop fom Big Indian to Oliveria through Frost Valley, with the added attraction of patches of pea gravel that make two wheel riding especially interesting, it can be a biker’s dream or nightmare. I love it.

Coming out in Oliveria, I pick up 52 towards Ellenville and home. It too is a favorite road, as it cuts through farmland and rises up over the Rounout Valley, where the air currents bring out the hang gliders. I’m in luck. Pulling into a rest area, I stop to admire the dozen or so who have “slipped the surly bonds of earth and danced on laughter-silvered wings” They too, know the freedom that we as motorcyclists pursue.

Fly on friend, whoever you are.

LADIES AND BIKES

2006-08-02T07:19:00.000-04:00

Interesting piece here from the Chrisian Science Monitor 8/1/06. Seems that the ladies are catching up.
Riding a motorcycles is getting a helluva lot more fun these days...http://www.csmonitor.com/2006/0802/p14s03-lign.html And Here are three REAL RIDERS. THEY MAKE THE ROAD A VERY NICE PLACE TO BE....

Z-Man Gets His Norton

2006-07-04T23:58:00.000-04:00

Okay, after half a lifetime, Steve Z got the Norton Atlas he's been breathing deeply about Went to PA to pick it up, hauled it back two hundred miles in the truck and only got one comment...This is a beautiful Bike. Has a few extra non-Norton touches--Check the non-Norton hydraulic clutch--but I was so damned tired when we got back in that I just took these few shots. Going back for some more detailed stuff when it stops raining. Enjoy

THE HUDSON VALLEY PART ONE

2006-06-02T08:57:00.000-04:00

I took a break from a ride in the shadow of Anthony's Nose, at the Hudson River overlook on route 202/6 where I met another rider who stopped by. A Scotsman he was an talk turned to my desire to someday ride highland roads. His next statement put those plans on hold and gave me pause to think.

"What do you want to go over there for when you've got some of the best riding roads right here", he said. He was talking about the New York's Hudson Valley

Three Hundred and ninety-seven years ago, Henry Hudson sailed his Half Moon north from the largest natural harbor along the estuary that would come to bear his name, the Hudson River.

In time it would become the prinicipal water artery connecting the Atlantic Ocean to Lake Erie via the Erie Canal; creating the River Towns that would form the backbone of settlement of what we now call the Hudson Valley. Today, the valley and those river towns provide some of the finest motorycle riding anywhere, a loop de loop through back roads and byways, a tour through American history. If the "Shot heard round the world" at Lexington and Concord signaled the birth of the baby that would become America, the Hudson Valley is where it learned to walk.

Extending north from New York Harbor, the valley has become a place rich in American history and folklore; home to a smorgasbord of of American industrialists, politicians, artists and dreamers, the famous and infamous, knaves and knights, who have lived in and loved its rolling hills and valleys.

It is also a motorcyclists dream, so take a tour and sample those delights. The entire valley can probably be toured in one day, or bitten off in little bites and savored one piece at a time, on long sweepers, twisting and turning two lane blacktops, or quiet country lanes where you can smell the new mown grass and the morning dew as horses laze about their fields.

From the south, first stop at Tarrytown’s Sunnyside, the home of Washington Irving, America’s first author. Irving would create his most famous works here in the writing room overlooking the river surrounded by the idyllic grounds that fostered his imagination; American legends Rip Van Winkle, the mythical Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod Crane and the Headless Horseman.

The infamous chase took place along present day route nine, probably one of the oldest roads in America, extending from the tip of Manhattan Island (aka Broadway) north to Albany and then on to the Canadian border.

In his fertile imagination, Irving created the mythical village of Sleepy Hallow, a dark and foreboding area north of Tarrytown, then as now one of the first stops for travelers between New York and Albany and the entrance to the valley.

En route to the village that did not exist anywhere but in Irving’s imagination until 1995, stop at Patriot’s Park, where three rag-tag privates in the Continental Army stopped Major John Andre, beginning a series of events that would add an everlasting phrase to the American lexicon. He was carrying the plans of West Point, provided to him by the man whom Washington had entrusted its defense: Benedict Arnold.

Andre had walked through the little valley just north of town, past what is today Phillipsburg Manor, a still standing farm with its watermills and spacious grounds where you can sample the lifestyle of the landed gentry of the 17th century.

This is the widest part of the river, where the British fleet dropped anchor, preparatory to attacking West Point. Today however, you will only see pleasure boats, their billowing sails like a hundred white handkerchiefs floating on the breeze, their bows cutting the slate gray bay or resting serenely in the shadow of the Tappan Zee Bridge.

Route nine will carry you north, a generally busy two lane black top for much of the way, widening north of Fishkill, where it becomes a commercial hub, for a dozen or so miles, before returning to its earlier configuration.

But to ride here and savor the valley, turn off onto the myriad two lane blacktops that meander spaghetti-like across the valley, capillaries that connect the main arteries that will whisk you through but show you little. You will pass through small villages where cornerstones were laid over two hundred years ago, where great men--and women--walked; where history was made. Cold Spring, one of the more appealing River Towns was, so the story goes, named by George Wahsington himself, when he stopped by and commented on the fresh clean water that came from the nearby springs. Those same springs would provide the power for the foundry that was buit here in 1817, where canon that helped to win the Civil War were manufactured.

Stop at Olana, where Frederick Church, one of the founders of the Hudson Valley School of art, built his Byzentine castle, furnished with treasured from his world wide travels.

Or head down to Millbrook where Peter Wing and his wife Toni have spent their entire lives buildint the dream castle that Peter promised her when he asked her to marry him.

It was at the Beekman Inn in Rhinebeck is the oldest continually operating inn in America, and the entire history of the Hudson Valley passing through its doors. And yes, George Washington did indeed sleep here. While he planned the battle of Saratoga.

From here, head east to the Rhinebeck Aerodrome and Museum, where thin skinned canvas and wood flying machines carry on their ongoing weekend war, and the museum displays examples of men’s dreams that would someday put footprints on the moon. Here too, you can fly one of those oldies, and have a bird’s eye view of the majestic valley.

And from above, those estates you see just to the south are the palatial estates built by the Roosevelt’s, Rockefeller’s, and Vanderbilt’s, the American royalty; kings of commerce whose families—for better or worse—would build and guide the country that began here.

The Hudson valley is not a trip, it is an experience that cannot and should not be singular. It invites you back simply by being there, sharing its history, character and beauty. There is a lot of that, and more. But every valley has two sides, and next week we'll see the other side of the river.

A JOURNEY THROUGH TIME

2006-05-28T15:45:00.000-04:00

WHEELS THROUGH TIME, WHERE HISTORY ROLLS ON…

Since 2002, Dale Wachsler’s Wheels Through Time Museum in Maggie Valley NC, has been drawing visitors from around the world to this small quiet Smokey Mountain village. It is truly one of the most unique museums in the world, where every machine has a history, every one a story, and every one of them is in rolling running condition. It is a living museum.

Situated on forty two acres, the forty thousand square feet of display space accommodates this incredible and largest collection of historic American motorcycles in existence; including artwork, sculpture, memorabilia, trinkets and trivia of two wheeled history. If it is any way related to motorcycling in America in the twentieth century, it is here.

The collection includes several tons of dirt and stone that were trucked in for the display of limited edition, sometimes one of a kind hill climb motorcycles, which compliments the various displays built around themes of their time, concepts of early twentieth century motorcycle shops and stores, evoking a true feeling of being in another time, another place.

For Dale, this is a labor of love. The 54 year old founder, designer and owner of the museum began his motorcycling career at 15, when he built his first three wheel chopper. Today, there are more than 275 motorcycles on display, including twenty three different marques of historic American motorcycles. Included here are bikes owned by McQueen and Evel Knieval's Harley Davidson, for example, along with many others not so famous, but just as prominently displayed.

“Every motorcycle here has its own story. They are pieces of people’s lives, each with layered bits of history attached to it” Dale said recently.
The Traub 80 ci 1300 cc V-twin of 1917 vintage is the exception. It is the bike with no story, no history that anyone can find.

It was found buried inside the wall of a building in Chicago in 1967, restored and owned by Steve McQueen’s stuntman Bud Ekins. The years 1915-1930 were exciting times in motorcycle history, when new innovations were coming fast and furious, and builders all had their eyes on the prize that Harley Davidson eventually won. Who was Traub? No one knows. Perhaps a man who dreamed dreams that no one else dared to dream, and for some reason or another had to abandon. “It was years ahead of its time”, Dale says.

Steve McQueen had more than the Triumphs that he was always seen riding. It is estimated that he owned in the neighborhood of one hundred and fifty motorcycles, including the Pierce that is part of the tribute to women motorcyclists currently on display, and the rare 1917 Flesher Flyer on its pedestal. All of these bikes are Dale's own; a reflection on his love for American motorcycles and the role that they have played in our history, through two world wars, a depression, and the incredible twentieth century, when every new development was indeed that, not a reworking of an existing design. Everything here is Dale Wachsler, his vision and his dream. "I'm an archaeologist of old motorcycles", he says.

Dale’s proudest possession though is the 1917 Henderson that he rode cross country in 1997, setting an eighty year old cross country record this particular bike had crashed while attempting a board track endurance run and then languished in obscurity for seventy five years. Dale bought it, had it restored and took it cross country, suffering only a single flat tire between California and New York. “It was just another moving on seven days of my life. It wasn’t a stroll in the park”. Says Dale.

The idea of making that kind of ride brings home exactly what those early motorcyclists went through to pioneer what we have today. In a world of electronic ignitions, highly developed streamlined high speed machines, interstates and paved roads, we can only admire what they endured

A PASSION FOR BRITISH IRON

2006-05-10T17:43:00.000-04:00

A Vintage Motorcycle Meet is a Special Place on a Sunday Afternoon

A vintage rally is a place to take a look at where we have been and how we got where we are today.

Motorcycling is just a bit over a hundred years old, and while there have been over seventy American manufacturers over the years, the English, of all the European manufacturers, produced more motorcycles under more marques than any other nation, a tradition that carried right up through WWII.

After the war, in need of export dollars, the Brits discovered America; and Americans discovered what came to be called Brit Iron. Until the arrival of the Japanese bikes in the 1970’s, British motorcycles were the hottest wheels on and off the road. It makes little difference what you ride, on which side of the pond you live, or where your motorcycle roots are sunk, Triumph, BSA, Norton, Vincent, Matchless, and a host of others are a visceral experience that defies explanation. These northeastern rallies pay homage to that allure.

While Harley Davidson more than held its own the wide open west, The northeast was perhaps the epicenter of English motorcycling in the states, with its narrow winding roads, and closed in, highly congested cities.

“We are the oldest all British vintage meet in the country” says Ron Pare, 63, and he should know. He founded and still runs the British Motorcycle Meet in Auburn, MA, where Brit Iron lovers find their nirvana. At the first meet in 1979, they had fifty visitors and about twenty motorcycles showed up. Last year, the attendance was over a thousand with over two hundred vintage motorcycles on display. Staffed entirely by volunteers from New England and Canada, it is a celebration of a very historic part of motorcycling history. "On a bad day, we'll get as few as fifty visitors, on a good day, well over a thousand. We do this just to have fun," he says.

In 1981, when Triumph, the last of the British motorcycle manufacturers closed its doors, Jay Strait took it as a personal affront. Bound and determined to keep the legacy alive, he founded Triumph Day. Financial considerations forced him to end it after twenty years, but it symbolized how Triumph riders, collectors and restorers feel about their Brit Iron.

The British Iron Association of Connecticut and Massachusetts followed with their own formation and shows. These New Englanders are a bit more open minded about what exactly constitutes a vintage bike; vintage lovers will find just about anything that has to do with Vintage motorcycles, or or permutations, from a 1909 Triumph Tourer, perfectly restored Vincents, Scott Squirrels, or even a 1936 Morgan three wheeler with its front-mounted V-twin. You'll find American iron here to such as a 1928 Henderson with sidecar, WWII Harleys, a few Indians, and what many consider the epitome of chopped motorcycles; an in-line deuce, weighing less than a few hundred pounds, perhaps the most stripped down motorcycle on the road. Here, it's all about the bikes.

Whatever form they take, they are cool.

“They looked cool just sitting still”, says Shaun Kelly, the webmaster of BritIron Connecticut, who, like many others was barely old enough to ride when these machines were the hottest thing on and off the road, owns two, a 1970 Triumph Daytona Trophy 500, and a 1975 Norton Commando 850; both inherited from his late father, who was part of that ‘70’s motorcycle scene.

Every vintage bike as a story attached to it, and like many, Shaun’s is particularly personal.

To honor his father, he has completely restored the Trump as a connection back to the times that they spent together riding and working on their bikes. .He went right down to the frame and built it right back up; Brakes, axle assemblies, the works. “It’s a disease” he says. “Once you start, you can’t stop”.

He repeats the mantra of Brit Iron lovers, “British motorcycles make great mechanics out of riders”.

“I know he watches while I worked on this,” he says of the two years he spent restoring the Triumph. “I would be standing there, scratching my head and it’s as though he’s standing therein my ear going ‘Okay, this goes like this, that goes like that, look in the manual’. In the end, I know that he’s going to see what this looks like”.

There are stories like this at every one of these meets. there are small meets like this all over the country. They won’t get a lot of ink, few but the dedicated know about them, but it is worthwhile whereever you are to spend a day and go take a look at a piece of your motorcycle history. Besides, they're just plain fun.

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THE "BROUGH SUPERIOR" THAT YOU CAN RIDE

2006-04-30T09:20:00.000-04:00

Gwen Banquer, 56, of Norco, Louisiana, has owned over three hundred motorcycles in his lifetime; riding, racing, restoring and building so many that he has lost count. “Name just about any motorcycle”, he says “and I’ve probably owned one”

He doesn’t own one today, but he has created and builds to order a modern day version of what he calls “The most awesome motorcycle I ever saw”.

Having restored Harleys and Indians--including a 1906 Camelback single--such as the award winning Crocker overhead convsersion for the Indian Scout 101 and a Yamaha powered Norton, he turned to what he had always wanted: The Brough Superior.

“The Brough is the pinnacle of vintage motorcycles,
but I wanted one that I could ride”, he says. So he built one.

Between 1902 and 1940, George Brough designed, created and built what is considered the “Rolls Royce of Motorcycles”. The fact that he coined the term himself may have contributed to that sobriquet, but he backed it up with the design and performance of these incredibly beautiful machines; including with each delivery a letter testifying to the fact that the motorcycle had been tested and run at over one hundred miles per hour—no mean feat at the time.

Using a variety of V-twin engines, principally Matchless and JAP, electrical components and other modifications, each Brough was almost done to customer specs, creating the first custom-made high quality motorcycles. In fact, there are so many variations of the basic overhead valve SS 100 and side valve SS 80, that it is difficult to trace their genealogy. Brough’s most illustrious customer was T. E. Lawrence, aka “Lawrence of Arabia”, who owned six, and in fact died while riding his SS 100 on May 13, 1935.

Interestingly enough Brough named all of his creations "George" with a numerical designation starting with number 1.

Following that tradition, Gwen designed and built Banquer number 1 in 1998. Starting from scratch, he began with a frame
from Milwaukee Iron, a Harley Davidson EVO 1340 cc motor, Revtech five speed transmission--that he had to convert from belt to chain drive—disc brakes from GMA and Performance Machine front and rear; a Spyke charging system, Dyna ignition, and a Springer front suspension from Paughco. The Springer was standard on the original Broughs, which Brough had in turn copied from the 1926 Harley Davidson JD.

He had to totally fabricate the distinctive Brough tank, the distinctive gas cap T bars and the instantly recognizable exhaust pipes of the Broughs. “The sound was out of this friggin’ world”, he says.

He stayed with the eight-inch Miller headlight, tacked on a Brough tail light that he had hanging on his wall for thirty years, and created the fenders and sheet metal from aftermarket parts that he modified to fit.

“It was amazing how many variances that the original Broughs had”, he says of the challenge of coming up with a singular Brough model design. He stayed with the SS 100 though, which he says “was to me, the pinnacle of vintage motorcycles”.

“I had an impression of what it would be like,” says Eric Engler of Velocity Vintage motorcycles, speaking of Banquer number 2 that he commissioned.
In keeping with the Brough tradition though, he
wanted changes. He went with a Revtech 100 c.i. motor, a luggage rack, and passenger room, eschewing the saddlebags that grace number 1. And Eric was not disappointed. “It was more elegant than I had imagined. It was irresistible”.

Banquer number 3 was commissioned and built for J.F. Gasquet of Bell Chase, Louisiana. The changes were distinctive; a totally chromed out motor, high gloss paint job, gold leaf lettering, and Gwen’s crowning touch, a right side electric hand shift with a left side foot override.

“It’s no Barcalounger, it ain’t a Gold Wing and it ain’t a Super Glide”, he says. "It’s its own thing".
Gwen, his Banquer Superiors and his Crocker will be exhibited at the Legend of the Motorcycle Concourse d'Elegance shows on May 5th.
All photographs courtesy of Gwen Banquer.

A VILLAGE IN TIME

2006-04-29T12:27:00.000-04:00

ERIE CANAL VILLAGE, A TOWN BACK IN TIME

It was forty feet wide at ground level, four feet deep, twenty-eight feet wide at the bottom. It was by dint of geographic anomaly, the object of scorn, derision, political opposition, financial wheeling and dealing, and the end result of one man’s vision. In the life-size mural on the wall of the Village Museum in Rome, NY, it looks puny, diminutive, a carefully carved rain ditch.

Nothing in American history changed the county as did the Erie Canal, and it all began right here in Rome, New York.
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In 1817, newly elected Governor De Witt Clinton secured the money to act on a dream that had stymied earlier generations of explorers--the unheard-of task of linking the Great Lakes with the Atlantic Ocean.

On July 4th 1817, the first shovelful of dirt was turned for what was called by detractors, “Clinton’s Ditch” connecting Rome with Utica, fifteen miles away. It was quite simply, the easiest place to dig. If They could succeed here, they could silence the detractors and generate revenue that would allow them to continue.

“The canal was the leading edge of technology in its day” says Mike Milewski, the Property Manager of Erie Canal Village. “You could say that if there was no Erie Canal, there would be no Statue of Liberty, no Ellis Island, and New York City would not be what it is”.

Rome prospered, becoming an industrial center. The original canal was replaced by the current canal system in the beginning of the 20th century; the old system filled in, built over and forgotten. Some small sections remained as lttle more than water-filled ditches.

In 1966, the city fathers of Rome set aside ninety acres of land for the creation of a 19th century village on the banks of what was left of the original canal. In 1973, it opened. In the ensuing years, twenty-two buildings and homes, many of which were originally built to serve and house canal workers and merchants, were donated and moved here, whole, sectioned, or dismantled completely and re-assembled on site.

The tavern, blacksmith shop, general store, railroad station, church, barn, three period homes, and schoolhouse, among others all came together to form a village that may have existed along the canal, and reflect the effect the canal had on the people who lived along its banks. The schoolhouse came complete with its own records.

“We have records showing the names of children who worked on the canal boats, spending four winter months in our schoolhouse, never to be heard from again,” Mike says, reflecting on the movement of goods and people that the canal created.

Mike’s wife Melody—in her 19th century bonnet and dress--points out the progressive fortunes that the canal created, from the 1801 simple Settler’s house, to the 1840 two bedroom Crosby home, to the 1860 cattle dealer’s two story Victorian with its elaborate furnishings that once sat atop a hill overlooking the Mohawk River. “This guy was making money hand over fist,” she says.

But most interestingly, it is what is inside of these homes. Aside from the Inn being wired for electricity, all of the buildings are now as they were then, with donations from across the state. Things that were everyday items of everyday life in 19th century America are on display from a time when this area was nothing more than dirt roads and cow-paths.

Today, Western New York State offers some of the finest rural riding and driving areas in the country, rich in the history of 18th and 19th century America.

The present day canal system is a modern, sophisticated waterway, with its poured concrete, computer-controlled locks, transporting thousands of tour and pleasure boats annually. Rome’s Erie Canal Village is a glimpse of how it began.

DIRECTIONS......

2006-04-14T20:25:00.000-04:00

DIRECTIONS
I published my first photograph in the August, 1968, on the cover of Black Belt Magazine, and I didn’t get paid for it. It was my introduction to working for publication.

In the intervening years, I photographed and wrote magazine features, photographed, wrote and produced educational filmstrips (you’ve gotta be old to remember those) covered news and features for Associated Press, syndicated features internationally, and spent eight years working for a Norwegian tabloid.

Now we have “Blogs” and I am at this stage of my life looking at a whole new world of cyber-communications. It is probably the single greatest advance in communications since the invention of ink, and I am part of it with this very modest blog.

Where am I going? I haven’t the slightest idea, but the sub-heading probably says it best. To ride a motorcycle is to travel, (why else have one, right?) so will be focused primarily on domestic US motorized travel, American places and people. Think of me as a low rent Charles Osgood. I intend to publish every Sunday morning, and I will try and put out some interesting copy and photographs. As I master the ever-changing technology, I hope to improve the content and its presentation for your enjoyment.
People have said that I’ve had an interesting life, but this will not be about me.

It will be bout those places and those people who I find interesting. They are the real story, and I will try and show some of them here. You will not find any politics or sex here, and nothing that your grandchildren can’t read over your shoulder on a Sunday morning.

There won’t be any Social Security, Medicaid or any advice on growing old gracefully, especially since I do not intend to do so. As I find them, I will post those links under the Service Links to your right.

Which brings me to The Pitch. Over to your right, I have advertisers that are necessary for the economic survival of this thing. It’s an interesting business model and another path that I’m taking. If you connect to any of these advertisers from this site and buy something, I get a commission; it’s as simple as that. The stories are free, as long as you don’t copy and publish them yourself, which is a no-no.

Starting from my base here in the Hudson Valley, we will tour local, northeastern and regional roads, to see those places and meet those people. We will visit a seven million dollar castle, mine for diamonds, float on a canal, participate in the French & Indian War, slip those surly bonds of earth and do whatever it is I decide to do. We will expand to the southeast and Florida, and hey, who knows, wherever I decide to go. It should be fun.
So, throw your leg over the saddle of life, and let’s follow my front wheel. It should be an adventure. Join me.

A DOWNED BIKE IS LIKE A BEACHED WHALE..

2006-03-25T08:05:00.000-05:00

And Thats What It Looked Like

It was Thursday night; I was enjoying my ritual weekly Chinese take out while I settled in for CSI and Without A Trace, when the doorbell rang. I had just pulled the 800 out of the winter storage the previous Saturday. Tuned and cleaned, with new plugs, fresh oil, only a thousand miles on the rubber I put on last fall, I was ready to roll. I had an inaugural three day weekend trip planned, a run up through the Hudson Valley that was to be the inaugural ride report post on this blog. I was so pleased with myself I had even polished the chrome. That’s when the doorbell rang.

It was my neighbor.

“Warren, is your motorcycle in the parking lot?” she asked. I acknowledged that I had. “Well, I think I heard a crash”. I almost ran her down going down the steps, across the lawn and into the parking lot. Barefoot.

There it was.

Now, there is something absolutely viscerally sickening about seeing a proud, powerful, reliable, and did I say, fast, motorcycle laying on the pavement; wounded badly, it’s cover torn, windshield cracked, kickstand ripped out of its mooring, the left side controls broken off or bent completely beyond usefulness.

It had been upright in the four-foot wide niche I had claimed for my own four years ago. Everyone in the complex knows it, knows it’s mine, and knows when I’ve been gone for a few days. They may not know me, but they know the bike. Hell, on Halloween, the kids stand outside my window and call out “Hey, Mr. Motorcycle Man, Trick or Treat” It’s given me a sort of panache among the locals.

And now my claim to fame was down, its front end under the rear end of some nondescript delivery car.

The cop was there, his ticket-writing presence for one a fortunate presence.

“What Happened?” I asked him. . I knew what, but HOW, f’cripe’s sakes? No one could fit in there on their best day, but this idiot had managed it.

“He backed in at about thirty miles an hour” the cop told me. Must be true, he threw it back ten feet. “Goshdarnnit” is not the word I used. The driver, older, grayer, shorter, fatter and yes, dumber than dirt, was sitting on some nearby steps. I started walking to him, asking “gently” what had caused this unfortunate turn of events. Until the cop got between us. Then came the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“--Expletive deleted--YOU” he yelled at me. I sped up. The cop moved a little more quickly. “He’s an old man”, the cop told me. Turns out that he is fourteen months younger than me, so I would have been completely guiltless putting his lights out. Missed opportunities abound.

Not to be outdone, he put a four thousand dollar hit on the car next to my space trying to get away..

I missed Without A Trace, the lo mein got cold, the egg rolls got tossed , and the trip got cancelled. I’ve done the insurance dance, and told them to replace the rusting Cobras with V&H Straightshots, and now I just wait until the line moves up. That’s why there is no ride report.

Positive thinker that I am, the upside to this whole episode is that with an idiot like that on the road, I could have been on it when he hit me. Then I would not be writing this.

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And come back Sunday, I've got two nice stories on the boards (or screen. whatever)

Man of La Matchless

2006-02-23T06:29:00.000-05:00

WHEN AD COPPENS TALKS MATCHLESS, OTHERS LISTEN......

When Ron Gluck bought what he thought was a fairly common 1961 Matchless thumper for twenty five dollars, he tossed it in his barn. When Adrian "Ad" Coppens visited him, he took one look at what he realized was a 1961 G80 TCS 600 single, and said “You know that that’s a Typhoon, right?”
Ron didn’t know until that moment that he owned one of only two hundred motorcycles that were made especially for the American market by the one of England’s oldest motorcycle manufacturers. Ad Coppens knows his Matchless motorcycles.

“I collect pieces that are so bad that other people do not want to touch them, and I make completely new motorcycles out of them”, he says.

Ad has come a long way from the post WWII years, when motorcycles were nothing more than a dream. When he was 19, his mother bought him his first motorcycle a 1957 G80 S 500. He rode that day in and day out, good weather and bad.

He came to America in 1964, and in 1982, he got back in the game buying his first Matchless on this side of the pond, a '67 G80 CS 500 single. That led to another, another and another. Needles to say his passion is—what else? Matchless'.

So much so that he now owns six of them, in addition to another half dozen AJS’, sister brand to the Matchless’. His collection includes a rare 1949 G9 twin 500, for which there are no records of how many were actually made. Rebuilding these singles is a way of life for him, to the point of constantly having to build or buy the machines and tools that he needs to duplicate or fabricate pieces that have not been made for over forty years. His garage was built especially to house his ever-growing pride of little known but exquisitely beautiful machines. The attic would make a legitimate parts shop green with envy where frames awaiting the master’s touch hang, surrounded by hundreds of carefully labeled bins containing thousands of of nuts, bolts, levers, pedals and any possible part that he could ever imagine needing, gathered from his never-ending search through parts bazaars and sales sites. “I can relate to every bolt, and nut on the bike by the time I’m done, and it becomes part of the family”, he says. His always evolving collection includes a mate to Gluck's Typhoon.

The Matchless is a venerable example of English motorcycling, that like the Brough, is known to very few, and appreciated by fewer still. With the exception of BSA and Triumph, however, they outlasted all the rest. The first Matchless rolled the overcast roads of the English countryside in 1899, and inaugurated the first British V twin in 1905. They grew through the embryonic years of British motorcycling when the art of the motorcycle was changing with every innovation that we now accept as the norm, in a mix of colors and shapes that would meld and break away, only to merge and evolve in the then largest national motorcycle scene in the world.
Their roots and greatest success was as racing machines, winning TT races in 1907, 09, and 1910. They made V twins in the 496 and 998cc class, produced engines so coveted and respected that they were used in Brough Superiors, the Cadillac of English two-wheelers.
But their most notable strength was their single cylinder, which are still considered by those who know them to be the epitome of functional, reliable simplicity. “They are quite simply, beauty on two wheels, and their glory was in their singles”, Ad said recently.

They were popular in England, and exported to African, Middle and Far Eastern colonies, their numbers never grew on this side of the Atlantic, due mostly to distribution problems. But the US does have a certified Matchless club chapter, an adjunct to the UK home club, with six hundred members from all over the contiguous lower forty-eight, Alaska and Hawaii. “They were very good in off-road use”, says John Diederich, the current AJSMOC Secretary. “They were really popular in scrambles, and enduros throughout the country, especially in the northeast”

The 600 G80 TCS Typhoon began life as a 500 single that was bored out to a 600 at the insistence of the California distributor, Frank Cooper. Designed especially for California desert racing, there were only two hundred imported to the US before they were discontinued. Ron Gluck still rides his for general on-road riding. When he races in Trials events at Laconia and the AMA Vintage Days in Ohio each year, he rides a 1957 G3LC 350 single.
Now retired, Ad's plans are very simple: “I’m gong to tend to my garden and work on my motorcycles; do some cooking and work on my motorcycles; paint the house and work on my motorcycles, and” …Well, you get the idea.

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STAY TUNED FOR FUTURE ISSUES..Next week we'll visit the Erie Canal, New York's 534-mile water park, possibly visit the Hudson Valley's $7,8000.00 hand-built castle, travel along the highways and byways of the Hudson Valley and the New Jersey Shore. We'll take a little jaunt to North Carolina, dig for emeralds and break rock for diamonds, visit strange places and meet interesting people, most of whom are old enough to know better. I'll have some comments on aging, boomers, the elderly, and whatever strikes my fancy on any given day. Check with your local cable provider.

Hold On, I'm Comin'....

2006-01-21T08:52:00.001-05:00

HOLD ON, I'M COMIN', JUST HAVEN'T GOTTEN THERE YET...

Despite ongoing pleas from myriad fans, groups, publishers and assorted and sundry individuals and groups of people who await my arrival in blogdom with bated breath, my advice: Hang on a bit longer.

I am gestating in the womb of cyberblogdom, trying to figure all this stuff out. I anticipate being loosed on the world kicking and screaming sometime around mid-April, just in time to warm your hearts and minds with some fun Springtime stories from around the USA...Stay tuned...
WDJ