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GONE TO TEXAS
By Jim Douglas,
Fiddletown, California
Originally written July
15, 1997
It's
1:30 Friday afternoon and I am finally on the road. Having sushi with Diane and Joe Meyers last Sunday, Joe and I
got to talking about how the front end of my K1100RS felt as I
accelerated around the on-ramp. With
only Ayla on the back, the front end seemed exceptionally light. New fork springs before the River City Beemers' Club day at
Thunderhill Raceway seemed to make things worse instead of better, can't
even adjust the headlight down far enough to see at night...Joe says
"How long have you been in denial?"
At 36,000 miles, the
stock rear shock has probably been gone for at least 10,000.
So, the new Works Performance rear shock I ordered Monday did not
show up "by Thursday at the latest!", Instead, after a 3 PM
call, it was shipped overnight and arrived at 10:30 this morning, as
"guaranteed". It
took 90 minutes to mount and adjust, another hour to load bags and
finish the drip irrigation system I had started on, to occupy my time as
I waited for the UPS truck. Finally,
the odyssey begins. Proposed
itinerary: the Chief Joseph BMW Rally at Heppner, Oregon, then to the
BMW-Motorcycle Owner's Association National Rally in Fredericksburg,
Texas, returning via Denver to visit family, 4600 miles minimum.
On the road, I-5 North
of Sacramento is always the same, although unseasonably cool for
mid-afternoon, 90 degrees is much warmer than it would have been at 6
AM. Headwinds begin mildly
but pick up by Williams. This
reduces my fuel economy for the first 200 miles to 39 miles per gallon. Temperatures cool as I cross the reservoir and climb towards
Mt. Shasta, now a gorgeous blue and white giant that I have been
watching grow in the sky since departing Sacramento.
The lowland haze is gone and the high altitude air is crisp and
clean. My new shock is
great, adjusting the spring to 4 out of 5 makes everything just right
for this heavy load. Traffic
throughout Oregon is pretty reasonable, not too heavy, and the new
higher 65 mph speed limit on US 97 means I can legally make better time
to Heppner at the Northern border.
At 9 PM in Redmond, the Sheriff radar trailer says "43 - 11
- 34 - 46.." my speedo says I'm OK.
The gas clerk says it is about 2 and a half hours more to
Heppner, she did not say which route. The route I chose was straight on my map, but the scale of my
map couldn't show the 30 miles of switchbacks, which would be great in
daylight. Instead of an
11:45 arrival, the tight roads, dear and skunk populations basking in
the full moon all conspire to delay my arrival until half past midnight.
650 miles in 11 hours, and the beer garden is close.
A full moon is great for setting up a ten, though, and I am
de-compressing by 1 AM.
Saturday morning,
breakfast for $4 seems a bargain, but coffee is extra and (Starbuck's)
is made "special" for 200 people from four (4) Mr. Coffees
(!?!?). I spend a little
time visiting with fellow River City Beemer riders, Gary Stofer
introduces me to two other guys heading to the National in Texas, but
they want to leave way too early for me tomorrow morning.
Today, I ride across the Columbia River gorge to Washington, just
to say I did. On the way
back, I ride with Dorothy and Toto out amongst the freshly plowed
fields, wind blown dust and muddy rain reducing visibility to 30 feet.
Glad I staked my tent! Not
everybody did, and I wonder if they ever found their stuff.
At the awards ceremony, Roy Stenzel asks if I am really going
down to Texas where all that flooding has been going on, I have not seen
or heard of it, but "yes, I am still going."
I win the 50/50 easing the financial outlook of this trip, now I
can afford one of those $2 - 10 oz. Coors at the beer garden.
Right! (132 miles
today)
Sunday morning and I am
up at 5, camp struck, packed, loaded and on the road by 6 AM.
As I head toward La Grande, I decide to take U.S. 395 south to 26
to I-84 North of Boise. It
is clear and crisp. Beautiful
green fields, volcanic sills terrace the countryside. The new shock is wonderful in the twisties.
I notice I am waiting for the bike to settle and wallow.... no
need for that now. Bad
habits induced by gradual degradation of both suspension systems can be
forgotten now. As I ride, I
am further convinced that the worn out shock was what felt funny at
Thunderhill. Maybe it
wasn't me. As I ride, it
also gets colder, MUCH COLDER. By
9am, all my muscles are beginning to ache and cramp, my toes are stuffed
up under the engine and they are still cold.
By noon, I am finally able to remove the sweatshirt and turn off
the electrics - but keep them on under the leathers.
Catching I-84 NW of Boise, I can bump up the pace with legal 75
mph posting. Scenery is
great, road is smooth and fast, but young-ish potato-heads clog the #1
lane doing 65 mph. Pretty
much the same through Utah, taking I-15 lane splitting through accident
and construction backlogs, on to Route 6 through Price and Green River
and the Mancos Rose Motel, where the high velocity AC unit dries my
ten/fly/bags packed wet this morning in Oregon.
(862 miles in 14 hours)
Monday brings the Utah
heat early on US 191. Like
20 years ago, Moab is bustling with buses of tourists going rafting,
only now there are twice as many mountain bikers added to the fray.
A double espresso and some City Market muffins hold me till
dinner past Albuquerque. I
love the desert, memories of college geology field trips flood my mind,
the Entrada and Navajo sandstone formations making up Canyon Lands and
Monument Valley are breathtaking. I
miss this part of the country more than Colorado.
Missing the turn to Teak Nos Pos, I add nearly 100 miles to my
route and end up in Kayenta, AZ where a 6 bike Wing-Ding is in progress
at the gas station, they are on their way to their Montana gathering.
As I pump, they are replaced by Karlos and his brother from
Deutchland riding rented R1100R and R1100GS motorbikes from L.A. They are heading to Colorado to wear down the outside edges
of their tires to match the flat centers.
Karlos looks longingly at the car stereo and tapes in my
tank-bag, says he'll have to do that for his K1100RS when he gets back
home. He is surprised I
have the "catalyzer" on my bike, it is optional at home.
Past Chin-le and Canyon de Cheille, past one of the worst road
construction sites I have ever seen (and I am a highway engineer!) the
Navajo Police have a Zero Tolerance quota to meet (traffic school in CA
is an acceptable solution and I qualify).
Into New Mexico and onto I-40, the Albuquerque Police use a
hydraulic lift to poise the radar operator and his radio buddy 30 feet
above traffic, truly shooting fish in a barrel, and 6 ground units can't
keep up with them. The 100+
heat and steady pace against a strong headwind deplete fuel early, but
not before the pressure builds and blows my vent hose leaking fuel and
severely grunging the rear wheel with road grime - not a drop of grease
from anywhere though. I
head south on State Route 84 into nowhere, mindful of the grimy wheel,
hoping it really was just the fuel venting. (3
months later I learned it was actually the rear main seal JPD) In
Roswell, where I was born, hotels advertise that Aliens swim in their
pool. With the upcoming 50th
anniversary of "The Incident", the USAF has just released
another denial fueling even more interest.
I press on to Carlsbad under a New Mexican night sky that is ripe
for inexplicable sights, mysterious and beautiful, and full of BIG bugs.
(825 miles in 14 hours)
Tuesday and I am up and
on the road by 6 again (PST). Southeast
New Mexico is pretty plain by day, but soon I cross the border into
Texas where the heat and humidity begin to climb.
Along I-10 for the final 300 miles, strong and gusty Northerly
winds wear me out, but keep the temperatures moderate. I arrive at the Lady Bird Johnson facilities in
Fredericksburg at 3 PM CST. The
registration tent is busy, but I am pre-registered so I am in and out in
a flash and quickly spot the note from Joanie Barbier, whom I am to meet
from Colorado. Ayla and I
met Joanie before we left Steamboat Springs back in 1986.
She was dating my best friend at the time, and when he found out
I was going to the National, he said, "Hey Joanie is going,
too...." I find the site and soon have my tent set up and gear
stowed...My Wisconsin neighbor's offer of a cold Lonestar is gratefully
accepted. (433 miles in 7
hours, total 2,898 in 46 hours, so far)
I grew up in Colorado
and dry dusty fairgrounds are what I expected when we went to the
National Rally in Durango two years ago.
By my standards, the Lady Bird Johnson facilities are
outstanding. If this is what others expected in Durango, no wonder they
were disappointed. The
sheer size of the place is amazing, acres and acres of clean well tended
and treed grasslands, pool, covered buildings, room for vendors and
seminar tents and it was all ours for the week.
3800 riders attended, some stayed away due to expected heat that
did not come (Hey! We live in Sacramento for goodness sake, we can take
a little heat!), some due to the news coverage of the unusually severe
flash floods the week before, and some because of the tornadoes months
before. So we had at least
twice the area of the Durango facilities and only 3/5 the attendees.
The seminars were great, the vendors were good, mechanics
exceptionally busy, the food vendors had quite a variety, thought the
Cajun booth from Louisiana was my very favorite with their spicy sausage
& shrimp gumbo, Ummmmm-mmmmm-ummmm!!!
The bands were good and the beer was plentiful.
In town, there were a number of attractions, though I never made
it to the Fredericksburg Brewery, they had the best T-shirts rivaling
the official one.
Wednesday and Thursday
morning, a 30-minute workout in the pool feels good, and there are no
lines for the showers. There
are two other River City Beemer members here, and today I run into
Harold just outside the Radar lecture.
I hope I was not rude in leaving him, I had to get the 'expert'
advice on how to avoid another discussion with John Law.
Got a new tire mounted in time to make it to my Aunt's house for
Wednesday dinner, missing the IBMWR photo shoot.
Another rider had gone out to China Grove to se the 'sleepy
little town...down around San An-tone' as the Doobie Brothers described
it. He came back disappointed, there were only 4 houses...and I
happened to be in one of them eating a familiar home cooked southern
meal with my aunt & uncle. 21
years since I have seen them, I can't believe how much alike she and my
dad are; smile, mannerisms, great sense of humor, and their memories of
a backwoods Georgia childhood. I
stuff myself with 5 different kinds of garden vegetables, rice and
chicken, washing it down with a gallon of 'sweat-tea', just like home.
I felt great. The
80-mile ride back was uneventful, as the inbound rainsqualls had
dissipated along with the earlier rush hour traffic.
Thursday I fiddle with
the bike, it is running rough, turns out to be an exhaust leak.
I assume it is the notorious weld at the collector.
It is tolerable for now, but that will likely change as it is
already fouling the #4 plug. Today
is the day to pick up the souvenirs, T-shirts and stuff to take back,
pack up for the next leg, and generally get things cleaned up and
organized. Departure
tomorrow is "early" and I will likely have "A" beer
tonight. Today I run into
Dr. Bruce (Hilger, the Shop Doc) outside the Country Store and we
exchange trip stories and remembrances of our day at Thunderhill, all
RCB'ers present and accounted for.
Tonight the band is quite a hit with its renditions of past chart
toppers, including imitations of the artists.
The Lonestar is still in plentiful supply.
Friday morning and
Joanie, has finished breakfast, is packed and ready to ride at 6:30, the
same goes for me. Last
night with her friends, we had all agreed on an early departure, but
never said what time "early" was.
Her friends wander over around 8:30 asking when we'll be
ready....I think "this could be a long day."
We get on the road by 9 AM, two ST1100's, a GS, Joanie's K75S,
and my K1100RS. Not really knowing these folks and just happy to have someone
to ride with, I bring u the rear. At
10 AM, we stop for a Big Breakfast....hmmm, this could really be a long
day. Somewhere around
11:30, the leader is gunning it through yellow lights in Big Springs,
and detouring down side streets looking for bars he once knew.
Joanie and I decide Taos may be a better route for us from here
as the others choose to head for Amarillo for the night. By 1 PM, my engine is real rough and the muffler is not
muffling. By 3 PM, I am
calling every dealer in the Anonymous Book for a thousand miles around.
My bike sounds like a beat up VW with a hole in the
manifold...gas mileage decreases, embarrassment ensues at fuel stops.
The only bright spot is that BMW of Denver, my next destination
to visit family, has a replacement exhaust and takes down my VIN data so
they can be ready for me on my arrival tomorrow.
My biggest concern is that I might damage the engine.
Thanks to the BMW mechanics at the dealer in Albuquerque, I am
reassured that gentle riding should do no harm, just don't ride it hard.
Time to bag Taos and head straight to Denver.
The only good thing
about today's ride has been the phenomenal lightning storm we witness as
we head north to I-40 on US 84. The
twists and turns of the road played with us as we progressed towards the
storm, then parallel to it, then into, then parallel.
We ended up getting a few minutes of rain, but for nearly an
hour, we were treated to the most beautiful lightning storm I have ever
seen. By the end of it
though, we were too close for comfort, as the hairs on my neck were
standing up and the delay between the lightning flash and the sound was
less than a second (Vs=1100 ft/sec).
From the hotel room in fort Sumner, I call my wife, Ayla, and
update her on the trip, the bike, the probable fix waiting in Denver,
and how much I miss her. If
not for starting a new job, she would be here on her R1100R.
(519 miles today, I stopped looking at the clock on this one)
Saturday is pretty
uneventful, though around 9 AM, the bike stops making its horrible
blatting sound as the affected plug fouls completely, leaving me running
on 3 cylinders for the next 300 miles.
As Joanie leads me into BMW of Denver at 2:30, I breathe a sigh
of relief. "Ahhh, your
the guy with the bad exhaust....Follow me."
The crew is ready and waiting.
Vern, the service writer, takes his time with me easing my
concerns and apologizing that it may be after closing at 6 before they
will be done replacing the exhaust.
I say that is OK by me, I am in no hurry now.
In less than an hour, they are disassembling the system, the
welds test fine. The
problem turns out to be a mangled exhaust gasket that was apparently
munched when this system was installed.
Trying to balance the whole piece and get all four of those
little lead donuts to stay put is tough.
But hey, it lasted for over 26,000 miles like this, and Clem's
crew replaces all 4 in less than anhour of labor, under warrantee.
i am so stoked, I got First class treatment by Clem's entire
staff, the bike runs better than it has in a while, and no cash out of
pocket. What could be a
better fix? THANKS CREW!!! Now I am off across town to mom & dad's in Aurora.
(460 miles today)
The next couple of days
are spent visiting family. Mom,
Dad, brother, sister, nieces, and nephews, all around the Denver and
Colorado Springs area. Nephews
are a hit when they arrive at baseball practice on the back of their
uncle's big motorcycle. Visiting
with the family was the main impetus for this trip, the rallies just
made it convenient to get away to do it.
Timing it all is a bit of a challenge, but it is good to get back
home. I only regret not having more time to visit the old friends I
miss as well.
Tuesday morning, I head
from North Colorado Springs toward Canon City and my route home.
U.S. 50, the Loneliest Highway in America.
Hwy. 50 takes me through Gunnison, where I graduated from College
in 1977. I stop at the W Cafe for some breakfast, parking next to a GS
and several other bikes. Their
owners invite me to join them and we chat about our respective trips.
They trucked their bikes from San Jose to Moab last Saturday and
have been touring the dirt and back roads from there to here.
While fueling for
departure, I hear the Harleys I passed at the base of Monarch Pass an
hour or so ago. One of them
turns around and comes back to ask if I was the one who passed them.
I say "Yeah..." thinking he wants to chat, I mean I sat
behind him with my 130 watt high beams on for half a mile waiting for a
passing lane, when he pulled to the right and made a motion to pass
him..."No sir! I did not! And I would appreciate it if you would
wait for a Man to give you a signal to pass. I didn't know you were
there...." I guess he
was not paying attention and I scared the *&$%
out of him. So I
apologize to him and assure Him and His Woman that it won't happen
again. And here I was
feeling like one of the Brotherhood, a Harley rider letting me pass him
in his lane and everything....guess not.
So I pass them again a few miles later, providing a wide berth,
with no remorse.
Highway 50 through the
high country is beautiful and Blue Mesa Reservoir is more full than I
have ever seen it. We used
to jump 80 feet from the cliffs to the water (I still have the welts!)
but that is probably only 15 feet or so now.
The hills and mountains are a deep green with the stark reds and
oranges of the cliffs dropping straight into the water.
The land dries rapidly as I descend along the Black Canyon.
Montrose is still Montrose, on through Delta and into GJ, past
the Colorado National Monument. West
of Green River, Utah, the temperatures subside as I rise up the Comb
Ridge Mono-Cline. The buff,
scarlet, and maroon formations behind me are set on fire by the setting
sun. The rest of the trip
is true to the nickname of Highway 50, with very little traffic in
either direction. I make it
to Ely after being confused by a 55-mph limit from I-15 to the Nevada
line, where it jumps to 70. Of
course, high-speed antelope crossings may be the reason for this limit
on such a straight unpopulated roadway.
(731 miles today in 14 hours including two sit-down meals)
.
Leaving my rain fly off
for the night at the Ely KOA, my winter bag is just barely enough.
but the night sky is full of stars, and it is worth the view.
In the morning, I leave 4 beers (unopened) on the bikes with
Swiss plates. They were
early to bed and late to rise, so I did not get to talk with them.
From the dirt on their Triumph Tigre and Africa Twin, I would say
they were enjoying themselves. The
last 500 miles are all on autopilot, until the new application of
rubberized AC crack sealer on the downhill from of Echo Summit, West of
Lake Tahoe. Wiggling around corners with a full load is unsettling at
best. I arrive home at 3 PM
and Ducati, my dog, is just beside himself with excitement.
Tige, Ayla's son, has left me a cold beer in the 'fridge, Alyla
calls home from work just as I pop it. After 12 days and 5383 miles, it
is great to hear her voice and know I am home.
It was a great trip
with; a lot of miles in a short time.
Some of it was just slabbing it, but most of it was two-lane
highway. All of it was very
scenic for someone like me who loves the Western United States.
Temperatures were moderate the entire time, and I only use the
rain gear twice. Other than
the exhaust gasket, the bike and the new Works shock performed
flawlessly. Fuel economy
ranged from 34.16 mpg with strong head winds to 56.24 running downhill.
Overall, I averaged 46.77 mpg and 70 mph. I only wish I had invested in an Aeroflow or Parabellum
windscreen extension for this trip.
Even though I wore earplugs constantly, ten days later, I can
still tell some loss that is surely permanent.
The next big trip, I'll try to keep up with Ayla on her R11R, as
we travel Mountain View Road to Mendocino for our 9th
Anniversary in September.
Editor's note
2/10/2000: The author reports the loss is permanent and a slight hum is
heard constantly when all outside sounds are absent.
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