Category Archives: Motorcycling

It’s not just a ride.

Benefit Run

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Today was the benefit run for David Wilson, a Hillsborough, NJ police veteran and motorcyclist, now battling leukemia. Cancer sucks.

The weather turned out to be fantastic and the turnout nothing short of amazing. Judging from the staff comments, the number of bikes that showed up far exceeded expectations. Staging and parking were, well, chaotic. We arrived to stage at Hillsborough Volunteer Fire Company #2 literally minutes before scheduled departure, registered and entered the queue. It’s not my favorite position, way in back. Last out is last in, and that makes for long lines later for food and beer.

I heard that about 1,500 bikes were expected. I think there were quite a bit more than that. From a rider’s perspective, these group rides are considerably more perilous than ordinary traffic. The riders around you are often strangers, their skills unknown. You’re riding in close formation, sometimes on unfamiliar routes, and situational change occurs constantly at speed. You’re looking out not only for yourself but for those around you. There’s simply no room for mistakes.

We were fortunate, those around us proved competent. Well, there was one bagger nearby that had trouble keeping his position; I guess he was into his music too much. I quickly adapted to giving him plenty of room. It was a short ride, maybe 35-40 miles through the rolling Sourland Mountain area. (They call it a mountain but hey, this is New Jersey – there ain’t no real mountains here!)

These events usually follow a pattern. You register, stage, ride, return, then eat and drink to live music. This was no exception. The roast pig was delicious, the beer flowed freely and the weather was perfect. I saw the colors of more clubs than I could count, a heavy representation of law enforcement and related public service clubs.  (There was a distinct lack of 1%ers, conspicuous by their absence.) Everyone was smiling and laughing and having a great time.

This winter’s been one of the worst in a several years, not much snow but bitter cold. Finally, way too many days after the calendar says, it felt like spring had finally arrived!

I heard that David, having been hospitalized in New York for chemotherapy, had been discharged to rest at home nearby. It’d be nice if he had been able to see the turnout. If not, I hope he at least heard the thunder of thousands of bikes. Here’s to your recovery, David!

Ed. March 6: A newspaper article today that David did indeed make it to the event. The link I had placed here expired after a time and has been removed.

2008 Dyna Parts Manual Typo

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Yesterday I found that the 2008 Parts Catalog for the Dyna, publication number 99439-08A, contains a typo.

On page 64 there is an illustration (duplicated on page 66) of the front fork. The screws for the axle holder (end cap) are shown as having different lengths and index numbers. Index number 1 is listed on page 65 as part number 4042, which is correct. Index number 31 is listed on page 67 as part number 46614-06. This is incorrect, as are both illustrations.

According to an H-D tech I spoke with yesterday, you should use two part number 4042 screws to secure the end cap, even though the illustration shows a shorter screw on the trailing side of the cap.

It logically follows that the lockwasher, index number 3, part number 7062, should be used in both places as well.

New Jersey Motorcycle Spectacular 2008

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A week and a half ago Pam and me rode over to the CyclePro show at the Garden State Exhibit Center. The funny thing is that I probably wouldn’t have gone except that Pam suggested we ride over. Now, I ride pretty much year-round. Pam doesn’t, but this year she’s been challenging her tolerance of lower temperatures – this would be a good ten degrees lower than her usual lower limit. It wasn’t something to be passed up – she wants to ride, we ride – that’s good enough for me.

The show itself was pretty good! It wasn’t too crowded, which probably didn’t thrill vendors too much but was fine for me. Probably yet another effect of today’s troubled economy. I was hoping Dr. Dyno would be there; my Dyna’s been running strong lately and I kinda wanted to measure it. It wasn’t to be. But there was a good mix of vendors in attendance. Bikes new and old, of course, and more individuals than usual with parts arrayed on the floor. An indication of a resurgence of the swap-meets that seem to have been displaced by commercial interests? I snapped a few pictures between beers as we wandered the floor.

There was the requisite tattoo contest and, much to my surprise, Pam wanted to show off her ink! So up on stage she went…

Pam on stage showing her ink to the MC

Pam on stage showing her ink to the MC

Pam getting photographed for the magazine

Pam getting photographed for the magazine

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, she didn’t win (she says it’s because all they look for is super-ornate stuff) and that was a little disappointing but it was a lot fun anyway. And now we have a reason to visit the shop more often – to pick up the magazine with the pictures.

Afterward we went for some food (and more shots and beers) over at the Brunswick Grove. The sports-orientation ain’t exactly what I look for in entertainment, but the atmosphere and food are pretty good. Excellent pizza. Pam and me try to drop in every now and again.

By now the sun had long set and the temperature had dropped some more. Decision time: slow ride takes longer, fast ride chills you faster. Six of one…

All in all, an unexpectedly fine day!

Eye Protection

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When you ride a motorcycle you subject your eyes to all manner of risk. The importance of quality eyewear can’t be understated. It’s astounding how many riders donordinary sunglasses and think that they’re protected. I guess they’re okay if you wear them beneath a helmet visor that’s never lifted, but I prefer a helmet without a visor and that calls for glasses or goggles designed specifically for bikers.

I’ve had a number of pairs of goggles from Harley-Davidson. They go far to convince you that their apparel and other rider gear – Motorclothes ™ – are second to none. Well, not in my opinion. First, you’ll be hard-pressed to find anything in their line that’s made in USA. But specifically, their goggles didn’t last very long for me. Like most eyewear, there’s a gasket that fits between the frame and your face. Theirs is foam with a felt-like surface that actually touches your face. After a short time – as little as a month or two – the felt on every single pair peeled back, leaving the foam right on my face, there to absorb sweat and grime. I tried gluing it back on. Contact cement works best but it doesn’t last. As if that isn’t enough, the strap tension adjuster is plastic and when it breaks that’s that. So I can’t recommend Harley-Davidson eyewear.

If you’re into goggles, Body Specs makes a quality product. My personal favorite is the BSG line. They fit well and the gasket is both high-quality and replaceable. In fact, their warranty will replace a failed gasket. When I had them replace one under warranty they told me that failures were rare and sent me two for my trouble. I’ve had several sets of BSGs and my biggest complain is that the elastic strap will eventually lose its stretch. The BSG line is convertible; you can snap in glasses temples in place of the strap but none have ever fit me well enough to use that way.

Today it’s all about convenience. I wear polychromatic glasses which self-adjust to light levels so I’m never caught with the wrong lenses installed. For the past year I’ve been using the same pair of Panoptx Diablo. Oh, look, they’re now marketed under the name 7EYE. Not sure what that’s about, but there you go. Anyway, the glasses are a pit pricey but the lenses are bulletproof (not a scratch on ‘em in a year), they’re very comfortable, and the gasket is still like new. My complaint about them is the finish of the frames which began to peel. It’s kind of like they had a plastic coating that’s flaking or peeling off. They have an excellent warrany, though, so I’ve sent ‘em in for repair. I’ll let you know how that goes once I get ‘em back in the next week or two.

In the meantime I’ve picked up a pair of WileyX. My wife picked up a pair and I liked them so I figured I’d try them out myself. So far so good, but it’s only been a few hundred miles. The lenses are polychromatic, the replaceable gasket has a good fit, but the temples don’t loop around the ear like the Panoptx. Instead they’ve got a rubber-like area that just stays put, kind of like Oakley sunglasses. WileyX is pricey, too, but still a good deal less than the Panoptx.

The quest for the perfect eyewear seems never-ending sometimes. What’s your favorite?

Brief Ride Report

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Yesterday was quite a day.

I ‘celebrated’ eleven years of shaving my head. I went ‘down the shore’ with my wife and kid to walk the boardwalk, eat some boardwalk food (the Midway Steak House at Seaside Heights has the best sausage sandwiches around), play some games (a Ziplock full of quarters equals an afternoon of mindless fun), have a few beers (Jack & Bill’s). I’m not going to mention how the cost of such a trivial (in the days of my youth) afternoon has risen – what’s the point? When I got home I found my dad’s cat, Buffy, had died. Buffy was an old cat, suffered advanced kidney disease (just like dad), and wasn’t in the best of health. Still, I was stunned. I’ve been caring for Buffy since my dad’s hospitalization in mid-May, and he was looking pretty good. They say that pets get attached to their owners that way, maybe with dad gone he figured he had had enough. So you could say the day was kinda packed. And if that wasn’t enough there were a few other things rattling round in my head. I retired to an uneasy sleep.

This morning dawned beautiful, though. We’re two days into the first ‘heat wave’ of the season (it never gets hot enough, long enough for us, but everyone else complains) and it was almost 80 F a little past 7am. After a pot of coffee I put the computer aside and set off to do a hundred miles before breakfast. I’m breaking in an engine on the Dyna, so this would be perfect blend of varied travel. Plus, I needed some time to think.

Route 27 south toward Princeton is a good start, nice to get the fluids up to temperature. Few lights and little traffic. Passed through Princeton and picked up 295 south near Lawrenceville for a bit, a bit of freeway to let it breathe a little. There were some clouds ahead, but I figured if I hit a little rain so be it. I wasn’t dressed for it, but so what. Below Trenton I jumped on 29 north: through the tunnel, alongside Trenton proper, and soon onto the two-lane toward Lambertville. Traffic remained light, permitting a good pace that didn’t exceed the posted limit by too much. At Lambertville I peeled off to 179; the number of bikes on the road seemed to grow with every mile. I guess others had the same idea. By Ringoes, 179 changes to 514 but keeps its name - Old York Road – but where 609 crosses it changes to Amwell Road while retaining its 514 number. Who said New Jersey roads made sense? The clouds I mentioned earlier had given way to blazing sun, but there was evidence here that it had rained earlier. On through Amwell, Cloverhill, Neshanic, and into Hillsborough. I decided to divert a bit through Raritan, grab a bottle of water at the Wawa there, and stop out at Branchburg Park. My dad spent many hours there flying model planes. It would be good to sit, hydrate, and watch the models. This map shows where I parked. After that I headed home, with a much clearer head. Riding is good therapy! The roads home were more suburban and a good deal less interesting. 202 to 22, then Foothill Road to 607 into Bound Brook, followed by a quick hop over the Raritan River onto 527 into New Brunswick. Through the city – it’s a campus town – and onto US 1 south for a final blast home.

99 miles, close enough for government work. Time to fire up the grill for some breakfast.

 

A Wrench Report of Very Little Consequence

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Yesterday I dealt with a minor problem with the Harley, one that had been bugging me for a month or so. When applying the rear brake the stop light wasn’t coming on as quickly as I would like.

I was thinking that it might have something to do with the master cylinder rebuild I did some months back. That wasn’t merely convenience, it was a necessity! The pliable parts of the piston had largely disintegrated leaving the rear brake absolutely useless. The switch is actuated by hydraulic pressure so perhaps a bit of debris had made its way down the line and into the switch. Odd, since I completely purged the circuit and bled it thoroughly as part of the rebuild.

I noticed the trouble with the stop light during a pre-ride check so I bled the circuit again. The trouble cleared but soon returned. Another bleed, another temporary fix. This time when the trouble returned I did the electrical checks (all good) and gave in to replacing the switch.

So yesterday was the day. Luckily the local dealer had one for me and lightened my wallet by a twenty. I considered myself fortunate; they usually don’t have whatever part I happen to be looking for. Since it was my first visit to the dealer since they stocked the 2008 models I couldn’t resist browsing just a little…

Back in the garage, it took about fifteen minutes to replace the switch (with a metric wrench, so much for American Iron, eh?) and bleed the circuit yet again. The stop light was back to functioning normally at the lightest pedal touch.

I suppose I should have inspected the old switch to try to determine if it had any debris in it causing the trouble. But I just pitched it in the bin, grabbed a helmet, and went out for a test ride. Today they picked up the trash.

You’ve Got Balls

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I was in the parking lot of the local WaWa strapping a jug of milk to the sissy bar of my motorcycle. For a winter day in New Jersey this wasn’t a bad one – temperature around 40 and the rain of the past several days had given way to overcast. Today’s ride was a good one and now I was on my way home.

The old guy diverted from his path to the store and stopped to talk. “You’ve got balls,” he said, “out riding in this weather. I know – when I was younger I did it, too.” I hadn’t thought of the day as particularly cold. I’ve certainly been out in much worse. We talked for several minutes, and he smiled and laughed as he spoke of the past.

I thumbed the starter. The engine came to life and settled into that characteristic V-twin idle as I pulled on my gloves. I think the old guy walked a little taller, a little straighter, as he continued into the store.

Easy

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Carl Merrell “Easy” Wasson died in Florida on the 18th of October, 2007, following a head injury sustained in a motorcycle accident. As I heard the story, he and another rider had stopped but a rider behind could not. They locked handlebars and Easy went down.

I never met the man, but knew of him through r.m.h. Easy wrote this in 1999, pretty much sums up why we do what we do. Ride on, Easy!

i added it up a while back. 12000 on the two sprints, 41000 on the first sportster, 9500 on the second, 55000 on the fxrs, and 72000 on the dresser. all mileage numbers are approximate of course. 34 years in the saddle, not one year, 34 times. what a long strange trip it’s been.� don’t really have any bad memories, just a few people and places i could do without seeing again, and a whole lot i look forward to seeing again.� all those wonderful mind pictures: sundown in the badlands, sunrise in the hills, the beauty of yellowstone, the grand canyon, the change of colors in the painted desert, mesa verde, yosemite, the high desert of nevada, the expanse of the great plains, high in the smokies with just the mountain tops peeking out of the clouds, the california coastline, new mexico, arizona, colorado, utah, wyoming, montana, idaho, the dakotas, nebraska, kansas, oklahoma, texas, arkansas, iowa, missouri, minnesota, the lakes states, the midwest, kentucky, tennessee, the virginias, the carolinas, georgia, alabama, mississippi, louisianna, florida, and the rust belt. maryland, deleware, pennsylvania. canada, and old mexico.still gotta get to the PNW and NE. some day, some day.� and the people, lots of smiles, plenty of friendly talk: where you from, where you going? nice day. nice looking bike. i/my gramp/dad/brother/uncle had one. old men sharing memories, young kids with the shy smiles, the long looks, and the quick grin when you wave.� the pretty girls, and the interesting women. the friends you make and never see again, and the ones you see every year or so, out there. the little roadside places with the best cheeseburgers and coldest beer in the world. camping on the yellowstone/arkansaw/animas river, cooking over an open fire, listening to the water as it runs by. a billion stars at night. burning up in the heat, drowning in the rain, freezing in the cold, and loving every minute of it. sometimes you’ve got somebody to share it with, sometimes it’s just you and the sound of the engine, and either way it’s just fine. i’ve had the opportunity and privilege to see this great country without it being framed by a windshield, meet the finest of people and share the finest of times because i ride a motorcycle. it’s cost me a fair amount, but it would be cheap at twice the price. biker? i don’t know, and i don’t care, but i am a rider, and i am proud of that.

the big easy. waxing philosophic as the calendar makes another turn.
#39

Hit By A Car

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I was hit by a car. No, it’s okay, really. I wasn’t hurt and no real damage was done.

It was my neighbor, Heather, that did it. My garage empties into a little court leading to the public street. I had rolled my motorcycle out, preparing to run some errands. I saw her car, motionless, and she was talking to another neighbor. I had my back to them as I wrapped some bungies around the sissy bar.

Suddenly, the rear of her car was pushing me against the motorcycle, my leg sandwiched between her plastic bumper and my license plate holder. I hollered, cursing, and she stopped immediately. She had been moving slowly and reacted quickly. The car halted less than an inch from the sheet metal of my rear fender.
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Marauding Bands of Fat Girls

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I often have business near the neighborhood where I grew up. It’s one of the older neighborhoods in the township. Before the surrounding area was developed it existed solely as two roads crossing to form an L with a few one-block cross streets on one leg, no major traffic.

Come summer, back in the day, the neighborhood was absolutely bursting with action. Ball games, kids on bikes, skateboards, you name it – kids everywhere, and the sounds of play could be heard from dawn to dusk.

Today things are different. The streets are largely deserted. I guess everyone’s busy. Kids just don’t recreate outside anymore, the way we used to do so long ago. Instead, what I see most of all in the old streets are� marauding bands of fat girls.
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On Harley-Davidson

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“A Harley Davidson motorcycle is a marvelous, amazing machine. Imagine, you put a motor between your legs. It’s basically an old tractor motor that has been modified and refined and refined and refined nearly to perfection. It’s hooked to a five-speed transmission that you can easily hold in both hands. It sits on two rubber patches that can’t cover much more than 10 square inches of pavement at a time. It will run well over 100 miles per hour. It will leap forward whether the altitude is 0 or 10,000 feet, whether the temperature is 30° or 110°. It will run hour after hour, day after day. It starts every time you hit the button–wet, dry, hot cold–makes no difference. It will carry you and all you need for any length trip (and if that’s not enough, it’ll pull a trailer, too). And, it sounds like no other motorcycle on earth. You can’t help but enjoy just listening to it: when you are at a stop light or when you just cruise for mile after mile at 85 miles per hour.”

“…… you are part of the landscape when you are on a motorcycle, rather than observing the landscape as when in a car.”

Ken Green
July 9, 1999

Near Miss

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It was a nice day for motorcycling. I was riding through Manville, on the main drag, just minding my own business on my way to Costco for a bottle of vitamin E. There was a bit of movement immediately to my right at the curb line, movement that shouldn’t have been occurring. It was the occupied beat-up car I had noticed a moment earlier! The dopey girl was still yacking on her mobile phone as she lurched into traffic. ‘Traffic’, at this particular time, meant ME.

The car behind me hit their brakes – hard, I heard the screech of rubber on pavement. The next traffic light, half a block or so ahead, had opened a nice gap in the oncoming traffic. My escape path!

I jabbed the left handlebar forward. The motorcycle obediently fell off to the left in a hard lean. Simultaneously I dropped to the next lower gear and grabbed some throttle. The sound next to her open window must have shocked the yacker, she fell back some while I surged ahead and moved back into the correct lane. Mishap averted!

Two lights ahead I caught the red. She was behind me but she stopped about three car lengths back, leaving a gap. I turned and glared, shook my head, mouthed “asshole”, turned back to the business at hand. The light went green. I eased off the clutch and continued on my way. I was thankful that my wife or son wasn’t with me. The added weight may have turned success into failure.

Please, don’t drive distracted!