I think the time has come for me to try a motorcycle rally to see how much fun they are. The whole idea of a motorcycle rally is to put in simply a motorized scavenger hunt over a number of hours. The object is to accumulate as many points as you can safely get by visiting a number of bonus locations and getting information or photos at those locations. At the end you must submit your rally packet to the rally masters for scoring and whoever gets the most points with proper documentation wins.
A rally is a physical and mental test. The physical is obvious, riding for 10-12 hours or more in a day or for the bigger rallies like the Iron Butt Rally, for 11 days over 11,000 miles. Even in a shorter rally, the endurance and physical is a test because to finish high in the standings, you will probably have to ride between 400-600 miles in the allotted time frame. The mental test is your ability to route a safe, logical and high point producing route that will allow you to get back in time.
I know I can ride the distance in a day...that isn't an issue. What will be the biggest test will be my routing ability. Having never done a rally before, it will be a new experience to try to route a ride from an unknown to me starting point to places I've never been to and have no idea of the difficulty that getting to them may entail other than the mileage to them. I find this part of the challenge really interesting.
My first rally will probably be Ed's Last Resort Rally, hosted by Ed Tillman in Surrency, GA May 13-15. The actual rally will be a 12 hour affair on May 14. I had the chance to meet Ed at Stagecoach this past December and he assured me that I would have a great time...or my money back, less handling fees ;) I have talked to a couple people that have participated in his rally in the past and they said it was a hoot.
So wish me luck and good weather for the weekend. Hoping that David will join me for this too. It would be fun to share this adventure with him.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Joy of a Short Ride
Not having the available time to take any long rides lately, I have resorted to taking some shorter, more local rides. Maybe a 30-50 mile ride around the county, stopping to visit a county park or a state wildlife area to see what is there.
It has been an enjoyable experience. There are tons of interesting places to visit around here that are free to see. One of the ones we have visited has a nice elevated walk-way and some benches that you can sit on to enjoy the scenery.
Getting in a ride and a little exercise isn't a bad thing either. At least the KawaTanker is getting out and about some.
Hurray for short rides!
It has been an enjoyable experience. There are tons of interesting places to visit around here that are free to see. One of the ones we have visited has a nice elevated walk-way and some benches that you can sit on to enjoy the scenery.
Getting in a ride and a little exercise isn't a bad thing either. At least the KawaTanker is getting out and about some.
Hurray for short rides!
Friday, April 1, 2011
Jonesing for a Long Ride
When I started planning for my 2011 riding calendar there were many rides that I had read about and dreamed of doing. Reading on the many interweb sites I frequent on a regular basis fills my head with visions of two lane roads in places all over the country and the world. Looking at the MTF forum, the Long Rider forum, KawaNOW and many others give us all ideas of that "next great ride of rides" or a bucket list type adventure.
My plans centered mainly around some of the MTF RTE's that are held in the spring riding season. Being out of active coaching now, I thought my weekends would be freed up enough to take a few of these opportunities in this year. Events like the Master's RTE in Augusta, GA, the Moonshine Lunch Run in IL and maybe even Ed's Last Resort Rally in Surrency, GA. Man, my head and heart were on the same page, if not my wallet.
As oft times happens, events planned are interrupted by events of life that are out of our control. As the weeks progressed from the start of the year it seemed one more ride would be missed because of life's interruptions. Moonshine was the first because a dear friend is getting married that day. Master's was next due to a family situation that developed and had to be taken care of that weekend. Ed's may work but I'm not counting on it.
I'm not bitter about this happening. All the things that interrupt my plans are things that are important enough that I need to be part of them or to take care of them. Friends and family are the things that are important to having a good life. It just seems that I get my hopes up and darned if something always comes up.
So with that being said, I am quite simply "jonesing" for a long ride. We did take a long ride to north Georgia and Tennessee in early March but my appetite for a long ride hasn't been quenched yet. Maybe I'll have to do something silly like ride to see my nephew graduate from my alma mater in May, make it a SS2000 or maybe ride to surprise my son in Oklahoma for his birthday in April. Both sound kinda cool.
Who knows? I know I have to get out for a long ride soon!
My plans centered mainly around some of the MTF RTE's that are held in the spring riding season. Being out of active coaching now, I thought my weekends would be freed up enough to take a few of these opportunities in this year. Events like the Master's RTE in Augusta, GA, the Moonshine Lunch Run in IL and maybe even Ed's Last Resort Rally in Surrency, GA. Man, my head and heart were on the same page, if not my wallet.
As oft times happens, events planned are interrupted by events of life that are out of our control. As the weeks progressed from the start of the year it seemed one more ride would be missed because of life's interruptions. Moonshine was the first because a dear friend is getting married that day. Master's was next due to a family situation that developed and had to be taken care of that weekend. Ed's may work but I'm not counting on it.
I'm not bitter about this happening. All the things that interrupt my plans are things that are important enough that I need to be part of them or to take care of them. Friends and family are the things that are important to having a good life. It just seems that I get my hopes up and darned if something always comes up.
So with that being said, I am quite simply "jonesing" for a long ride. We did take a long ride to north Georgia and Tennessee in early March but my appetite for a long ride hasn't been quenched yet. Maybe I'll have to do something silly like ride to see my nephew graduate from my alma mater in May, make it a SS2000 or maybe ride to surprise my son in Oklahoma for his birthday in April. Both sound kinda cool.
Who knows? I know I have to get out for a long ride soon!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Part 4: Who is that dude?
Our next leg takes us toward Homestead and point seven, Flamingo Visitor Center in Everglades National Park to look for a plaque. Getting into the Homestead area, we head south, looking for gas. We decide on a Shell station and pull in. Getting off the bikes and fueling we talk briefly. Both Mike and I need to hit the facilities. We notice that the station has a drawer to pay through and the door is baracaded. Maybe we will be lucky and they have outside restrooms...nope, no dice. So now we head back on the road, bladders full and toward Flamingo.
The road to Flamingo is probably a very pretty sight in the day light. At 0130 not so much. The actual road into the park is two lanes with trees on each side, I have no idea what type but they make a nice tunnel. The view never changes: road in front, tunnel to the sides. I'm getting tired, been up for 20 1/2 hours now and this view is driving me insane.
R: Mike, can you hear me?
M: Yeah
R: Nice view
M: Yeah, boring as heck
R: Keep talking dude cause I'm about to fall asleep
M: Me too. Pull over if you have too
R: Don't see that happening, no place to do it. If we have to we will.
So we continue on, Greta telling us that we are slowly, ever so slowly getting closer. The speed limit is 35/45 but we up it a little but not much. The road is, shall we say it PC, not the best. We endeavor to reach the end.
Lights, parking lot to our left, buildings...is that it? Mike's GPS says we have to go further, mine says turn...NOW! I tell Mike that Greta says turn around. He says go for it. So we execute a U-turn worthy of the Long Riders and we are in the lot. I head toward the visitors center, not having a clue what we are looking for.
We park our bikes next to the sidewalk in front of the visitors center and dismount. The time is now 0230 or there about. It is about 45 out and we are about spent. Both of us looking around for the plaque and find it straight ahead. Cameras out, flags out, pictures taken. I head back to the bike to put my camera away. Where is Mike? Hello? Mike? Out of the bushes pops Mike, looking refreshed. Ahhh, ok, I understand. Like the plan.
At this point we both decide that liners in the pants are in order. So back into the bags to get them. Off come the riding pants and we are both now putting liners in our pants, standing in the 45 degree warmth...refreshing! A good wake up for both of us, if not a little chilly.
The bikes and we are now ready to continue to the eighth point, the Card Sound Toll Booth, off US 1, just north of Key Largo. As we head out of the parking lot I notice a number of cars and trucks, not many but a few. Getting closer to the exit I look over in the trees to my right.
R: What the heck?
M: What?
R: Look over there. Some dude is staring at us.
M: What the heck?
R: Dude, we are out of here...now!
I hit the gas a little harder than normal and we are off. The conversation over the next few miles consists of numerous off the cuff and off color comments about our voyeur in the woods. I won't recount any now but they kept us laughing for 47 miles out of the tunnel.
As we head back into the real world I'm in the lead. We travel through town and head toward the entrance to Card Sound toll road. Down the two lane we go. I swerve to miss some type of critter in the road, probably an armadillo I think. We continue on with heightened awareness of our route.
When we pull up to the sound toll booth, the lovely lady at the gate greets us and we strike up a conversation with her about the ride. Pictures are taken and the conversation turns to a fellow rider that isn't too far ahead of us. Did he purposefully start late or did he have trouble like me? Hmmm...if he started with the group there is no way he is going to make it because it is around 0400 now.
Mounting our trusty machines, we wave goodbye to the nice lady and head toward the Crocodile Lake National Refuge, our next destination. Mike is in lead now and this is what I hear for the next 10-15 miles:
M: Two deer on right
R: Huh?
M: Another deer, keep your eyes open
R: Um, ok (I have yet to see the first two)
M: Dang, a bunch of rabbits
R: Wow (what rabbits, man, I'm still looking for the two deer)
At Crocodile Lake, we get ready for the pictures, but there is one problem...the flash makes the sign wash out or without flash, you can't see the flags. Dang, this is a PITA to get. Mike finally gets it figured out and we got the pictures. Glad he understands those digital cameras or we'd still be there.
We make the decision that I will lead up to a gas stop somewhere on the Florida Turnpike on the next to last leg to Daytona and a picture of alligators at a mini-golf place on A1-A. Onward trusty steeds, we have miles to do before we sleep.
Up on the greatness that is the Florida Turnpike we decide that the first available gas stop is what we need because both of us need a break and something to drink. It is now about 0500. We fuel the bikes, get some coffee to take off some of the chill of the night and find someplace to sit and stretch. Mike calls Nat to fill her in on the ride (she gets up early) and I talk to the lady working in the convenience store, enjoying the heated space.
Back on the bikes again and heading out of the Dade/Broward area with a goal of getting out of the area before the traffic gets too bad from rush hour. I tell Mike that we will make our next stop somewhere north of Palm Beach and then get over on I-95. He is in agreement and we make haste north.
Our exit off the turnpike is in the Jupiter area, at around 0700. We are now in sunlight and heading toward McD's for a bite to eat and gas up again. As we sit down at a booth, I look up at the images on the flat screen and see scenes of the earthquake in Japan. What the heck? Mike and I sit in stunned silence, not knowing what has transpired and unable to comprehend the images we are seeing. We finish our rest stop and head to the bikes, in silence.
North, north to Alaska...oh wait, to Daytona we go. I-95 is probably the absolute worst interstate to travel on. Everybody is in such a hurry...us included. We go with the flow of traffic, riding with Mike in lead and running with bikes from time to time heading toward Trailer Week in Daytona. We pass bikes on trailers. One time I think that Mike's Connie blipped a little at one of the bikes on a trailer, mocking it...honestly.
We did see one sight that I have to share. We were fast approaching what appeared to be a small bike, probably a 650-750cc bike heading north. It had saddle bags...not on the bike but on the passenger! The poor bike was obviously overloaded with people weight. Needless to say, the conversation became filled with many comments about the poor bike.
Getting into Daytona wasn't too bad. We hit some traffic and slowly made our way to the mini golf destination. We noted the six guys out admiring each other's trailers...what happened to Bike Week anyway? Is it all about your trailer now? Guess so for some. We found our alligators, I took both cameras and got the picture in bright sunlight at about 1000 or so. Back to A1-A and toward I-95 again.
Gretta wanted us to take US 1 to I-95 but I knew that was a bad idea because everyone was heading out toward Destination Daytona that morning. So we head out SR 40 and onto I-95 and the end of the ride. One more fuel up for Mike, the KawaTanker would make it with fuel on board, before we get to Jacksonville and end our ride.
When we get to our exit in Jacksonville, we go to the Cheveron station that was the scene of our second start and fill back up to end our ride. The time stamp on the receipt was 1159...almost 30 full hours since we had gotten up on Thursday and 1945 after we had started our second attempt. We were done! Now to the hotel and confirmation of the ride.
As we got into the hotel, we musta looked great. I know I felt a sudden surge of energy but I know I was tired to the bone. Mike and I headed to the check in and a short wait before we could have the ride confirmed and accepted. I talked briefly with the gentleman at the table, discussing the receipts and pictures, explaining why we had to restart and he congratulated both of us.
I spied Mike Kneebone, the IBA president and king of all things IBA. I told him I never wanted the #1 again and we both laughed. We had kept him abreast of our trials and he was glad to hear our brief recount of the ride we experienced, laughing about the life vest and the creeper in the woods.
With handshakes around and a decision to head back home, we got back on our mounts and headed the 130 miles or so back to home, warm showers and a real meal. Gator 1000 now finished and a tale to tell all our friends.
The road to Flamingo is probably a very pretty sight in the day light. At 0130 not so much. The actual road into the park is two lanes with trees on each side, I have no idea what type but they make a nice tunnel. The view never changes: road in front, tunnel to the sides. I'm getting tired, been up for 20 1/2 hours now and this view is driving me insane.
R: Mike, can you hear me?
M: Yeah
R: Nice view
M: Yeah, boring as heck
R: Keep talking dude cause I'm about to fall asleep
M: Me too. Pull over if you have too
R: Don't see that happening, no place to do it. If we have to we will.
So we continue on, Greta telling us that we are slowly, ever so slowly getting closer. The speed limit is 35/45 but we up it a little but not much. The road is, shall we say it PC, not the best. We endeavor to reach the end.
Lights, parking lot to our left, buildings...is that it? Mike's GPS says we have to go further, mine says turn...NOW! I tell Mike that Greta says turn around. He says go for it. So we execute a U-turn worthy of the Long Riders and we are in the lot. I head toward the visitors center, not having a clue what we are looking for.
We park our bikes next to the sidewalk in front of the visitors center and dismount. The time is now 0230 or there about. It is about 45 out and we are about spent. Both of us looking around for the plaque and find it straight ahead. Cameras out, flags out, pictures taken. I head back to the bike to put my camera away. Where is Mike? Hello? Mike? Out of the bushes pops Mike, looking refreshed. Ahhh, ok, I understand. Like the plan.
At this point we both decide that liners in the pants are in order. So back into the bags to get them. Off come the riding pants and we are both now putting liners in our pants, standing in the 45 degree warmth...refreshing! A good wake up for both of us, if not a little chilly.
The bikes and we are now ready to continue to the eighth point, the Card Sound Toll Booth, off US 1, just north of Key Largo. As we head out of the parking lot I notice a number of cars and trucks, not many but a few. Getting closer to the exit I look over in the trees to my right.
R: What the heck?
M: What?
R: Look over there. Some dude is staring at us.
M: What the heck?
R: Dude, we are out of here...now!
I hit the gas a little harder than normal and we are off. The conversation over the next few miles consists of numerous off the cuff and off color comments about our voyeur in the woods. I won't recount any now but they kept us laughing for 47 miles out of the tunnel.
As we head back into the real world I'm in the lead. We travel through town and head toward the entrance to Card Sound toll road. Down the two lane we go. I swerve to miss some type of critter in the road, probably an armadillo I think. We continue on with heightened awareness of our route.
When we pull up to the sound toll booth, the lovely lady at the gate greets us and we strike up a conversation with her about the ride. Pictures are taken and the conversation turns to a fellow rider that isn't too far ahead of us. Did he purposefully start late or did he have trouble like me? Hmmm...if he started with the group there is no way he is going to make it because it is around 0400 now.
Mounting our trusty machines, we wave goodbye to the nice lady and head toward the Crocodile Lake National Refuge, our next destination. Mike is in lead now and this is what I hear for the next 10-15 miles:
M: Two deer on right
R: Huh?
M: Another deer, keep your eyes open
R: Um, ok (I have yet to see the first two)
M: Dang, a bunch of rabbits
R: Wow (what rabbits, man, I'm still looking for the two deer)
At Crocodile Lake, we get ready for the pictures, but there is one problem...the flash makes the sign wash out or without flash, you can't see the flags. Dang, this is a PITA to get. Mike finally gets it figured out and we got the pictures. Glad he understands those digital cameras or we'd still be there.
We make the decision that I will lead up to a gas stop somewhere on the Florida Turnpike on the next to last leg to Daytona and a picture of alligators at a mini-golf place on A1-A. Onward trusty steeds, we have miles to do before we sleep.
Up on the greatness that is the Florida Turnpike we decide that the first available gas stop is what we need because both of us need a break and something to drink. It is now about 0500. We fuel the bikes, get some coffee to take off some of the chill of the night and find someplace to sit and stretch. Mike calls Nat to fill her in on the ride (she gets up early) and I talk to the lady working in the convenience store, enjoying the heated space.
Back on the bikes again and heading out of the Dade/Broward area with a goal of getting out of the area before the traffic gets too bad from rush hour. I tell Mike that we will make our next stop somewhere north of Palm Beach and then get over on I-95. He is in agreement and we make haste north.
Our exit off the turnpike is in the Jupiter area, at around 0700. We are now in sunlight and heading toward McD's for a bite to eat and gas up again. As we sit down at a booth, I look up at the images on the flat screen and see scenes of the earthquake in Japan. What the heck? Mike and I sit in stunned silence, not knowing what has transpired and unable to comprehend the images we are seeing. We finish our rest stop and head to the bikes, in silence.
North, north to Alaska...oh wait, to Daytona we go. I-95 is probably the absolute worst interstate to travel on. Everybody is in such a hurry...us included. We go with the flow of traffic, riding with Mike in lead and running with bikes from time to time heading toward Trailer Week in Daytona. We pass bikes on trailers. One time I think that Mike's Connie blipped a little at one of the bikes on a trailer, mocking it...honestly.
We did see one sight that I have to share. We were fast approaching what appeared to be a small bike, probably a 650-750cc bike heading north. It had saddle bags...not on the bike but on the passenger! The poor bike was obviously overloaded with people weight. Needless to say, the conversation became filled with many comments about the poor bike.
Getting into Daytona wasn't too bad. We hit some traffic and slowly made our way to the mini golf destination. We noted the six guys out admiring each other's trailers...what happened to Bike Week anyway? Is it all about your trailer now? Guess so for some. We found our alligators, I took both cameras and got the picture in bright sunlight at about 1000 or so. Back to A1-A and toward I-95 again.
Gretta wanted us to take US 1 to I-95 but I knew that was a bad idea because everyone was heading out toward Destination Daytona that morning. So we head out SR 40 and onto I-95 and the end of the ride. One more fuel up for Mike, the KawaTanker would make it with fuel on board, before we get to Jacksonville and end our ride.
When we get to our exit in Jacksonville, we go to the Cheveron station that was the scene of our second start and fill back up to end our ride. The time stamp on the receipt was 1159...almost 30 full hours since we had gotten up on Thursday and 1945 after we had started our second attempt. We were done! Now to the hotel and confirmation of the ride.
As we got into the hotel, we musta looked great. I know I felt a sudden surge of energy but I know I was tired to the bone. Mike and I headed to the check in and a short wait before we could have the ride confirmed and accepted. I talked briefly with the gentleman at the table, discussing the receipts and pictures, explaining why we had to restart and he congratulated both of us.
I spied Mike Kneebone, the IBA president and king of all things IBA. I told him I never wanted the #1 again and we both laughed. We had kept him abreast of our trials and he was glad to hear our brief recount of the ride we experienced, laughing about the life vest and the creeper in the woods.
With handshakes around and a decision to head back home, we got back on our mounts and headed the 130 miles or so back to home, warm showers and a real meal. Gator 1000 now finished and a tale to tell all our friends.
Gator 1000: Part 3, What is that under your bike?
As we left Gator Harley in Leesburg, the plan was to take a couple back roads to I-75, fuel up at the SR 52 exit and roll toward St. Petersburg to get our next mandatory shot, the north entrance to the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. Mike took the lead and we headed off into the setting sun. The leg would prove to be a challenge due to riding directly into the setting sun for the first 30-45 minutes.
As we turned onto I-75 we got a respite from the sun and got a chance to let the bikes run out a little. Mike was still in the lead and he let the Connie eat some pavement. I'm not saying he was going overly fast but I had to twist the KawaTanker's throttle a little bit more than usual. We got to the exit around sunset and pulled into a packed truck stop to fuel, get a drink and maybe make a call or two if our phones worked.
Mike had a chance to call his daughter, after all, it was her birthday and what are dads supposed to do anyway, right? His phone had charged enough that he was successful in calling her and his wife Natalie. I decided that I would take this opportunity to call home too. One problem...the phone was almost dead. The Target recharger I had dropped $15 on did not work after all. Should I chance running out of juice on one call or save the juice for a few strategic text messages. Text message it was. After all, my SPOT was on and tracking so everyone could see where we were.
Mounting the bikes, Mike motioned me to the lead...oh great, just what I wanted to do, lead down through Tampa and into St. Petersburg, not one of my favorite places to ride. Off we go, back onto the super slab and heading south. I got a little giddy up in the KT and we were on our way. I'm sure Mike felt the pace a little on the slow side.
As we rode through downtown Tampa and out onto the Howard Franklin Bridge, or as we call it Howard Frankenstein Bridge, I noticed the wind had picked up and was blowing quite nicely out of the north-west. As we approached the bridge, I looked off to my left and right to see what the water looked like in the dimming light. Nice swells with white caps, excellent! That meant a great little crosswind would await us as we reached the apex of this bridge and with any luck, an even nicer one on the Skyway. How lucky can we be?
Down the apex we come amid the fast paced traffic, cages and trucks flying down the road oblivious to the stated 65 mph speed limit, intent on nothing else but getting home to watch American Idol or something of that sort. I scanned the road and saw that the far left lane was pretty empty and lead us into the empty lane, glad to get out of the mess in the other two lanes. As we made our way toward the far end of the bridge I caught a glimpse of something on the road to my left...couldn't make it out but thought it was just blowing paper or something inoquece.
About 100 yards later Mike appears to my right, motioning toward the bottom of my bike. What does he want? That isn't a sign for fuel, heck we just stopped. Does he think my tires are low? Checked that earlier, all was good. Maybe he needs to stop and his radio isn't transmitting.
He gets in front of me now and turns on his turn signal so I decide to follow. We slowly make our way over toward the shoulder. What is going on? Is my bike on fire or something? I sniff the air...smells like sea water, which it should because we are over Tampa Bay. I look down at my pants to see if they have oil on them, nope. Now we are stopped and Mike turns around in the saddle and yells something. Silly Mike, I have earplugs in.
M: Down there
R: What?
M: Look under your bike man, what the heck is that?
R: What the heck?
M: What is it?
R: I have killed the life jacket! I'm king of the world!
M:
The strange object I saw out of the corner of my eye was a life vest that had gotten blown out of somebody's boat as the pulled it toward their intended destination. As we pull away it starts to dawn on me how close that was to being a very bad situation. If the vest hadn't caught the spring on my kickstand, it could have very easily become lodged between the rear tire and the fender or the drive shaft. That would have probably been a very bad situation indeed.
Onward toward the Skyway again and my thoughts change to how much wind will we encounter on when we get there? Will the winds be down or will our 150 foot climb end up with gusts over what we have already seen? Approaching the entrance to the north toll booth we slow and pull of to the side to take our next photo. Mike decides that we should simply have one guy take the photos and the other hold the rally flags for speed purposes. Okie dokie, I'll hold, you take the pictures or should you hold and I take the pictures. We go with plan A.
The wind was now a non-factor because it was at our backs so up the bridge we go. I will say it was a gorgeous sight to see the area from the top of the Skyway by night, something I had never done before. Seeing all of Tampa and Bradenton/Palmetto in your field of vision with all the lights is something to see for sure. Our time was now around 2000 and I was starting to feel the day take its toll.
Still in the lead and on I-75 proper now, I put the KawaTanker on cruise. This was going to be a boring ride down toward Naples, about 150 miles +/- of nothing but flat roads and a few cities with crazy drivers. We motored on down the highway, listening to our Sirius radios and trying to figure out why Mike couldn't hear me on the radio. I had no clue what was up with my radio, probably rain got into it earlier in the day and rendered the transmissions unhearable by Mike.
We pulled into Naples at about 2200 and refueled at our exit that lead to our intended next road, US Hwy 41 across Florida to our next 5 points of the rally. We decided that a drink and some food would be good so we took a little longer break here, enough to get some water, a snack and send my last text. Simple message: Naples at 10 PM, battery dead, follow SPOT.
Now we head out into the vast southern reaches of Florida...the Everglades. The road signs warn of alligators and panthers in the area. I'm hoping for no sightings of either. The temperature was now in the low 50's so I was pretty sure that we wouldn't see an alligator. Panther...they spook easy so probably not that either. Still it will be a slower ride now, night time speed limits are 45, so we aren't going to haul it through, nice and easy.
Destination is Smallwood Store and Museum, somewhere east and south of Naples. I say that because my GPS, Gretta the Lyin Machine, has decided she didn't want to work either. She froze up hours ago and I'm waiting for her to die so I can restart her. Big Jim had told me how to reset it once but I can't remember how to save my soul. Oh well, Mike has his so we are all good.
We make the turn south toward Smallwood. I hadn't looked at the route too much in advance of the ride so I had no idea what we were in store for. This place is was out in the middle of nowhere, through a couple small town, down a goat trail, then a cart path, and finally some lane and a half path to a small building built on stilts. We position our bikes so the headlight are aimed at the plaque and get the flags in position for the picture. The entire time I'm thinking: I sure hope some back water local don't think we are robbing the place and come out with guns ablaze and asking questions later. Whew, done and back heading north, out of the backwoods.
Back on 41 and heading for point number 6, the Miccosukee Indian Village and an appointment with a giant Miccosukee Indian wrestling an alligator. It was around 2330 when we were heading that direction. My GPS suddenly decided it was going to become compliant, probably because she noticed the KawaTanker wasn't successful earlier in the day with the same shenanigans. I KNEW WHERE WE WERE NOW! Most excellent. We were exactly in the middle of nowhere, heading for south nowhere in a little bit.
We rode on and on and on toward Miami, the GPS saying we were getting close to our intended destination. I looked off to my right and saw a village or something that resembled one but continued to follow Mike's lead. He turned on his turn signal and we entered a store/air boat place. Mike stopped. I pulled up beside him.
M: I think we are looking for something up by the building
R: You sure
M: Yeah Gotta be up ahead by the building.
R: Ok buddy, you have the pictures.
Pulling up toward the building, we are looking for a big Indian wrestling an alligator...nothing but pictures of food on the sign and an air boat. Dang, did we miss it? Mike says we missed it, have to head back west, back to the village we passed a mile back. Oh well, first mistake of the day in routing.
Turning into the parking lot, we see the giant statue and aim our bikes across the lot at it. As we pull up and get off our bikes with our headlights properly aimed, we both noticed two security cars to our west in the far area of the parking lot. Probably Miccasukie Indian guards. I think this is what they were saying as they looked at us:
G1: What the heck are they doing?
G2: Looks like two biker dudes but I can't see what they are doing.
G1: Should we go investigate?
G2: Probably just some more of those silly guys we saw earlier in the afternoon taking pictures. We'll just watch them and make sure they don't do anything stupid.
G1: Ok, but I'll get my one bullet ready just in case.
Leaving Barney and Andy behind, I'm in the lead heading toward our seventh point, the infamous Flamingo Visitors Center in beautiful Flamingo, FL to search for the Guy M. Bradley plaque. Little did we know that at 100 hours we were getting ready for the worst and scariest part of our trip yet.
Have you ever put your pant liner in while looking out onto Straight of Florida? Or better yet, ever seen a spooky dude leering at you from the woods in the middle of nowhere?
Part 4: Who is that dude?
As we turned onto I-75 we got a respite from the sun and got a chance to let the bikes run out a little. Mike was still in the lead and he let the Connie eat some pavement. I'm not saying he was going overly fast but I had to twist the KawaTanker's throttle a little bit more than usual. We got to the exit around sunset and pulled into a packed truck stop to fuel, get a drink and maybe make a call or two if our phones worked.
Mike had a chance to call his daughter, after all, it was her birthday and what are dads supposed to do anyway, right? His phone had charged enough that he was successful in calling her and his wife Natalie. I decided that I would take this opportunity to call home too. One problem...the phone was almost dead. The Target recharger I had dropped $15 on did not work after all. Should I chance running out of juice on one call or save the juice for a few strategic text messages. Text message it was. After all, my SPOT was on and tracking so everyone could see where we were.
Mounting the bikes, Mike motioned me to the lead...oh great, just what I wanted to do, lead down through Tampa and into St. Petersburg, not one of my favorite places to ride. Off we go, back onto the super slab and heading south. I got a little giddy up in the KT and we were on our way. I'm sure Mike felt the pace a little on the slow side.
As we rode through downtown Tampa and out onto the Howard Franklin Bridge, or as we call it Howard Frankenstein Bridge, I noticed the wind had picked up and was blowing quite nicely out of the north-west. As we approached the bridge, I looked off to my left and right to see what the water looked like in the dimming light. Nice swells with white caps, excellent! That meant a great little crosswind would await us as we reached the apex of this bridge and with any luck, an even nicer one on the Skyway. How lucky can we be?
Down the apex we come amid the fast paced traffic, cages and trucks flying down the road oblivious to the stated 65 mph speed limit, intent on nothing else but getting home to watch American Idol or something of that sort. I scanned the road and saw that the far left lane was pretty empty and lead us into the empty lane, glad to get out of the mess in the other two lanes. As we made our way toward the far end of the bridge I caught a glimpse of something on the road to my left...couldn't make it out but thought it was just blowing paper or something inoquece.
About 100 yards later Mike appears to my right, motioning toward the bottom of my bike. What does he want? That isn't a sign for fuel, heck we just stopped. Does he think my tires are low? Checked that earlier, all was good. Maybe he needs to stop and his radio isn't transmitting.
He gets in front of me now and turns on his turn signal so I decide to follow. We slowly make our way over toward the shoulder. What is going on? Is my bike on fire or something? I sniff the air...smells like sea water, which it should because we are over Tampa Bay. I look down at my pants to see if they have oil on them, nope. Now we are stopped and Mike turns around in the saddle and yells something. Silly Mike, I have earplugs in.
M:
R: What?
M: Look under your bike man, what the heck is that?
R:
M: What is it?
R:
M:
The strange object I saw out of the corner of my eye was a life vest that had gotten blown out of somebody's boat as the pulled it toward their intended destination. As we pull away it starts to dawn on me how close that was to being a very bad situation. If the vest hadn't caught the spring on my kickstand, it could have very easily become lodged between the rear tire and the fender or the drive shaft. That would have probably been a very bad situation indeed.
Onward toward the Skyway again and my thoughts change to how much wind will we encounter on when we get there? Will the winds be down or will our 150 foot climb end up with gusts over what we have already seen? Approaching the entrance to the north toll booth we slow and pull of to the side to take our next photo. Mike decides that we should simply have one guy take the photos and the other hold the rally flags for speed purposes. Okie dokie, I'll hold, you take the pictures or should you hold and I take the pictures. We go with plan A.
The wind was now a non-factor because it was at our backs so up the bridge we go. I will say it was a gorgeous sight to see the area from the top of the Skyway by night, something I had never done before. Seeing all of Tampa and Bradenton/Palmetto in your field of vision with all the lights is something to see for sure. Our time was now around 2000 and I was starting to feel the day take its toll.
Still in the lead and on I-75 proper now, I put the KawaTanker on cruise. This was going to be a boring ride down toward Naples, about 150 miles +/- of nothing but flat roads and a few cities with crazy drivers. We motored on down the highway, listening to our Sirius radios and trying to figure out why Mike couldn't hear me on the radio. I had no clue what was up with my radio, probably rain got into it earlier in the day and rendered the transmissions unhearable by Mike.
We pulled into Naples at about 2200 and refueled at our exit that lead to our intended next road, US Hwy 41 across Florida to our next 5 points of the rally. We decided that a drink and some food would be good so we took a little longer break here, enough to get some water, a snack and send my last text. Simple message: Naples at 10 PM, battery dead, follow SPOT.
Now we head out into the vast southern reaches of Florida...the Everglades. The road signs warn of alligators and panthers in the area. I'm hoping for no sightings of either. The temperature was now in the low 50's so I was pretty sure that we wouldn't see an alligator. Panther...they spook easy so probably not that either. Still it will be a slower ride now, night time speed limits are 45, so we aren't going to haul it through, nice and easy.
Destination is Smallwood Store and Museum, somewhere east and south of Naples. I say that because my GPS, Gretta the Lyin Machine, has decided she didn't want to work either. She froze up hours ago and I'm waiting for her to die so I can restart her. Big Jim had told me how to reset it once but I can't remember how to save my soul. Oh well, Mike has his so we are all good.
We make the turn south toward Smallwood. I hadn't looked at the route too much in advance of the ride so I had no idea what we were in store for. This place is was out in the middle of nowhere, through a couple small town, down a goat trail, then a cart path, and finally some lane and a half path to a small building built on stilts. We position our bikes so the headlight are aimed at the plaque and get the flags in position for the picture. The entire time I'm thinking: I sure hope some back water local don't think we are robbing the place and come out with guns ablaze and asking questions later. Whew, done and back heading north, out of the backwoods.
Back on 41 and heading for point number 6, the Miccosukee Indian Village and an appointment with a giant Miccosukee Indian wrestling an alligator. It was around 2330 when we were heading that direction. My GPS suddenly decided it was going to become compliant, probably because she noticed the KawaTanker wasn't successful earlier in the day with the same shenanigans. I KNEW WHERE WE WERE NOW! Most excellent. We were exactly in the middle of nowhere, heading for south nowhere in a little bit.
We rode on and on and on toward Miami, the GPS saying we were getting close to our intended destination. I looked off to my right and saw a village or something that resembled one but continued to follow Mike's lead. He turned on his turn signal and we entered a store/air boat place. Mike stopped. I pulled up beside him.
M: I think we are looking for something up by the building
R: You sure
M: Yeah
R: Ok buddy, you have the pictures.
Pulling up toward the building, we are looking for a big Indian wrestling an alligator...nothing but pictures of food on the sign and an air boat. Dang, did we miss it? Mike says we missed it, have to head back west, back to the village we passed a mile back. Oh well, first mistake of the day in routing.
Turning into the parking lot, we see the giant statue and aim our bikes across the lot at it. As we pull up and get off our bikes with our headlights properly aimed, we both noticed two security cars to our west in the far area of the parking lot. Probably Miccasukie Indian guards. I think this is what they were saying as they looked at us:
G1: What the heck are they doing?
G2: Looks like two biker dudes but I can't see what they are doing.
G1: Should we go investigate?
G2: Probably just some more of those silly guys we saw earlier in the afternoon taking pictures. We'll just watch them and make sure they don't do anything stupid.
G1: Ok, but I'll get my one bullet ready just in case.
Leaving Barney and Andy behind, I'm in the lead heading toward our seventh point, the infamous Flamingo Visitors Center in beautiful Flamingo, FL to search for the Guy M. Bradley plaque. Little did we know that at 100 hours we were getting ready for the worst and scariest part of our trip yet.
Have you ever put your pant liner in while looking out onto Straight of Florida? Or better yet, ever seen a spooky dude leering at you from the woods in the middle of nowhere?
Part 4: Who is that dude?
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Gator 1000 or The Ride That Wouldn't End--Part 2, What is that noise?
We had done all the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out if we could finish the ride that we had already started but with 7 hours already gone, it would have been virtually impossible to finish in 24 hours. With the KawaTanker now back among the living, Mike and I decided to head back to Jacksonville to restart the ride. Attempt number 1 was now history.
Our plan was to get back to the IBA hotel, rest awhile and then try to get started around 1900. When we got back to the hotel, we went to our room to see if we could get the room for Friday night, that way when we got back to the hotel around 1400, we would be able to crash for a few hours before the banquet that night.
Mike got on the phone while I attended to some things on the bike, mainly getting tools put back in some decent fashion from our earlier work and try to dry them off a little (they got pretty wet and the tour pac took on some water). When I got to the room, I saw that look of bad news on Mike's face...front desk informed him that the room had already been booked for the night and we would be on a waiting list. This was at 1400 or there about. The conversation from there went something like this:
R: Well, that stinks (used a few other words, but I'll keep it clean)
M: Yep, pretty much. So what we gonna do now?
R: I guess we can crash or we can get going and restart the ride.
M: I'm thinking that if we get restarted soon, we'll be done by 1200 tomorrow. Then we can find somewhere to crash for a couple hours.
R: Sounds like a plan. Lets pack these bikes up and get going.
Before we left, we made calls to Ross (Trosco for those on KawaNOW)who lives in Jacksonville and David (Dragonfly) who was staying locally with Ray (Skyking), to see if we could hook up local for a place to stay on Friday. We got an affirmative from Ross and left messages with David. Only problem was that both our phones where now almost dead from the calls and internet usage we had earlier in the day. So a trip to Target would have to be made to get chargers. Off to the bikes we go, with all our stuff from the room, not knowing if or where we would be crashing on our return.
Mike gets his bike all loaded and I am just a tick behind him. As I fire up KawaTanker, we hear a strange noise, a loud thumping at regular intervals. Mike tells me to cut it off. I look down and softly tell the ol' girl to quit being obstinant. Mike gets degeared again, and tells me to try it again. The thumping starts again.
M: Cut it off before something major happens.
R: Shoot, now what?
M: Let's get the tank off because if it isn't there, it is a main bearing or something serious.
R: #$%@*%#@
(Sound of tools being unloaded, again)
We got this tank removal down to a science now, Mike has the speedo cable undone in no time, I got the nachel off and he is unhooking the electrical connections. Three minutes tops, it is on the ground, again. We decide to start the bike off the rear tank. Both of us listen and look for what it could be. Eureka! It is found quickly. I had moved the fuel pump when we were searching earlier in the day. A quick push up on the pump and we are reassembling the KawaTanker after her third open heart surgery.
Off to Target and then fuel for the new starting receipt. We both top off with a starting time of 15:15, a little over 9 hours after our first start and 10 hours of being awake. Mike pulls away and stops to the side of the station to wait on me. I pull away and the KawaTanker makes that fateful noise again...Rrrrr...dead. WTF? Now you have really ticked me off old girl. THIS IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, NOT NOW!
Mike sat on his bike and simply looked at me and said "Maybe we should just call it and head home", a face full of resignation that this quest was over before we even got it started. I said "Like hell it is. We are going to head south and if it breaks, we are closer to home. I think she will be fine." I put the choke on, hit the starter switch, and reved her for all she was worth. You aren't dying on me till the next fuel stop. Off we go!
We hit I-95 again and headed off to the scene of the original crime...Palatka and the Tim Teblow Gator statue. We arrived around 1630 and parked the bikes in the sunshine. KawaTanker, you will remain running now. We got our pictures and headed further southeast toward Leesburg and destination number two, Gator H/D.
The ride to Gator H/D was uneventful and pleasant. We rolled through the forest and some great country. Our destination was reached around 1800, finding a great spot across the street to take the obligatory picture with our flags. I was feeling a little chipper now so KawaTanker was turned off. Mike kinda gave me a sideways glance, like "what the heck are you thinking?". I just smiled, I knew she wouldn't let me down now. When we were done with the pictures, KawaTanker started without hesitation, just raring to go to our next destination...Sunshine Skyway Bridge.
To Be Continued...
Part 3 or What the heck is that under your bike?
Our plan was to get back to the IBA hotel, rest awhile and then try to get started around 1900. When we got back to the hotel, we went to our room to see if we could get the room for Friday night, that way when we got back to the hotel around 1400, we would be able to crash for a few hours before the banquet that night.
Mike got on the phone while I attended to some things on the bike, mainly getting tools put back in some decent fashion from our earlier work and try to dry them off a little (they got pretty wet and the tour pac took on some water). When I got to the room, I saw that look of bad news on Mike's face...front desk informed him that the room had already been booked for the night and we would be on a waiting list. This was at 1400 or there about. The conversation from there went something like this:
R: Well, that stinks (used a few other words, but I'll keep it clean)
M: Yep, pretty much. So what we gonna do now?
R: I guess we can crash or we can get going and restart the ride.
M: I'm thinking that if we get restarted soon, we'll be done by 1200 tomorrow. Then we can find somewhere to crash for a couple hours.
R: Sounds like a plan. Lets pack these bikes up and get going.
Before we left, we made calls to Ross (Trosco for those on KawaNOW)who lives in Jacksonville and David (Dragonfly) who was staying locally with Ray (Skyking), to see if we could hook up local for a place to stay on Friday. We got an affirmative from Ross and left messages with David. Only problem was that both our phones where now almost dead from the calls and internet usage we had earlier in the day. So a trip to Target would have to be made to get chargers. Off to the bikes we go, with all our stuff from the room, not knowing if or where we would be crashing on our return.
Mike gets his bike all loaded and I am just a tick behind him. As I fire up KawaTanker, we hear a strange noise, a loud thumping at regular intervals. Mike tells me to cut it off. I look down and softly tell the ol' girl to quit being obstinant. Mike gets degeared again, and tells me to try it again. The thumping starts again.
M: Cut it off before something major happens.
R: Shoot, now what?
M: Let's get the tank off because if it isn't there, it is a main bearing or something serious.
R: #$%@*%#@
(Sound of tools being unloaded, again)
We got this tank removal down to a science now, Mike has the speedo cable undone in no time, I got the nachel off and he is unhooking the electrical connections. Three minutes tops, it is on the ground, again. We decide to start the bike off the rear tank. Both of us listen and look for what it could be. Eureka! It is found quickly. I had moved the fuel pump when we were searching earlier in the day. A quick push up on the pump and we are reassembling the KawaTanker after her third open heart surgery.
Off to Target and then fuel for the new starting receipt. We both top off with a starting time of 15:15, a little over 9 hours after our first start and 10 hours of being awake. Mike pulls away and stops to the side of the station to wait on me. I pull away and the KawaTanker makes that fateful noise again...Rrrrr...dead. WTF? Now you have really ticked me off old girl. THIS IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, NOT NOW!
Mike sat on his bike and simply looked at me and said "Maybe we should just call it and head home", a face full of resignation that this quest was over before we even got it started. I said "Like hell it is. We are going to head south and if it breaks, we are closer to home. I think she will be fine." I put the choke on, hit the starter switch, and reved her for all she was worth. You aren't dying on me till the next fuel stop. Off we go!
We hit I-95 again and headed off to the scene of the original crime...Palatka and the Tim Teblow Gator statue. We arrived around 1630 and parked the bikes in the sunshine. KawaTanker, you will remain running now. We got our pictures and headed further southeast toward Leesburg and destination number two, Gator H/D.
The ride to Gator H/D was uneventful and pleasant. We rolled through the forest and some great country. Our destination was reached around 1800, finding a great spot across the street to take the obligatory picture with our flags. I was feeling a little chipper now so KawaTanker was turned off. Mike kinda gave me a sideways glance, like "what the heck are you thinking?". I just smiled, I knew she wouldn't let me down now. When we were done with the pictures, KawaTanker started without hesitation, just raring to go to our next destination...Sunshine Skyway Bridge.
To Be Continued...
Part 3 or What the heck is that under your bike?
Monday, March 21, 2011
Gator 1000 or The Ride That Wouldn't End--Part 1
On March 10, Mike and I attempted and completed the IBA Gator 1000, a Saddlesore 1000 ride that was all in the state of Flordia. This one was different in that we would have rally flags with indetification numbers on them and have to stop at predetermined spots and take pictures of our flags at each spot. Sounds fun and simple...oh if only it were true in our case.
The plan was to start with the group at 0545 and be done in about 19 hours (Mike did all the preliminary route calculations from the IBA intended route). The route was to take us from Jacksonville, to Palatka, Leesburg, St. Petersburg, Naples area, accross Tamiami Trail to Miami area, down to Flamingo then back up to Key Largo, then up to Daytona and finish back at Jacksonville. That was the route we were supposed to start and finish. But we ended up doing a little more than that.
We left the hotel at around 0555 and headed toward Palatka. It was a beautiful morning...NOT! The weather guessers had said 30% chance of "scattered showers", yeah right! Scattered right on top of Jacksonville and blanketing most of Florida from I-4 to the Georgia line. Being the true IBA riders we are, or wish we where, we heading out onto I-95 toward Palatka on our route.
We reached our first designated check point at around 0700 to get the first photo in Palatka in a steady down pour. We got our rally flags out, hooked them up, staged the photos and we were ready to roll again...almost.
At this point, the KawaTanker decided that she didn't like running in the rain. As I was starting out into traffic, she said "absolutely not, not gonna happen" She decided to just stop. I tried to talk sweeet nothings in her ear...no dice. I tried some flowery language and she turned a deaf ear to me.
As this was happening, Mike is out in traffic heading toward Leesburg and Gator H/D. I got on the radio and told Mike "Hey, I'm dead in the water here". He heard me and doubled back, got off his bike and helped me get it up the incline and back into a parking space.
We looked at the bike. We looked at each other. Back at the bike and the conversation went something like this:
M: What happened?
R: It just died
M: What'd you do?
R: I was trying to get out on the road and it just went 'Rrrrrr....' and died.
M: Did you try starting it again?
R: Uh...yeah. Want me to try it again?
M: Yeah, try it.
So with that, we started to trouble shoot the bike. Tried choking it, not literally but using the choke to help start it...nothing. We checked battery connections, nope. Next came spark check...that's good. Our next thing was to field dress the KawaTanker in the pouring rain.
Picture two grown men in full riding geat, still in helmets, stripping the tank off the bike in a parking lot with other bikes riding in and taking pictures of a stupid Gator statue with Tim Tebows' number on it. Well, that was us.
We checked everything on the bike that we could think of and some things we didn't think of. Nada, nothing. Mike even went and got some staring fluid spray and tried that. She wanted to crank over but no dice. At about 0815, we decided to call it, there was no way we were going to rececitate the KawaTanker, she was officially dead.
With some help from Natalie, Mike's wife, and one of my fellow teachers back at school, we got some phone numbers to call...at 0900 when the shops open. We retreated to BK for some coffee and to wash their floor with the puddles from our gear. I'm sure they appreciated that :)
At 0900 I started making calls. The first call was to the closest Kawa delear in St. Augustine. They will come and get it! Excellent! Wait, I gotta put you on hold...new guy comes on, nope, we don't do emergency pickup, instant depression. Next call to Palatka Powersports. Service manager says I'll see if someone can come get you and I'll get back to you. Calls me back, no dice but here is the number for towing and they are waiting for you to call. EXCELLENT. Call towing...be there in 45 to an hour! That is waiting for our call?
Fast forward to 1030. I get a call from towing, we'll be there in 10 minutes. Fast forward to 1100, towing shows up. I guess that Palatka time is different than Crystal River time.
When we get to the shop, we offload and the manager says he will work on it when he is done with the bike he finishing up. Mike and I look at each other and we realize that at this point our day is FUBAR. So, we settle into wandering around the showroom, calling loved ones...and Big Jim (I love Big Jim but in a manly way). Big Jim gives me the word that he is ready, willing and able to come get me is need; he had been following our journey on SPOT and realized that we had been at the same red light for an awfully long time.
After listening to a retired guy lament the fact that his bike didn't run and the manager saying "well, that will cost at least $200 to fix" I was think this day is going to get even worse. Mike and I were cracking jokes about everything at this point, from the use of 4 wheel motorcycles to the life story of the old guy and suddenly we heard KawaTanker trying to start back up. Is she still alive? Will she come back to life?
Sloshing around to the back of the shop, we saw her all wired up to life support with the service manager working on her carb. He tried to start her...Rrrrrrrr, nothing. Shot her with so go juice, Rrrrr...nothing again. He had me come over and massage her throttle while he tried again...rrrrrRoar! Success! KawaTanker is Alive!
Turns out, according to our doctor, ah, service manager, she had a bad transfusion of fuel and that I had to make sure she kept running or we would have to drain her carb again and put her back on life support. With that knowledge, it was decided to head back to Jacksonville to restart our quest later in the day. Time was now 1245.
To be continued....
The plan was to start with the group at 0545 and be done in about 19 hours (Mike did all the preliminary route calculations from the IBA intended route). The route was to take us from Jacksonville, to Palatka, Leesburg, St. Petersburg, Naples area, accross Tamiami Trail to Miami area, down to Flamingo then back up to Key Largo, then up to Daytona and finish back at Jacksonville. That was the route we were supposed to start and finish. But we ended up doing a little more than that.
We left the hotel at around 0555 and headed toward Palatka. It was a beautiful morning...NOT! The weather guessers had said 30% chance of "scattered showers", yeah right! Scattered right on top of Jacksonville and blanketing most of Florida from I-4 to the Georgia line. Being the true IBA riders we are, or wish we where, we heading out onto I-95 toward Palatka on our route.
We reached our first designated check point at around 0700 to get the first photo in Palatka in a steady down pour. We got our rally flags out, hooked them up, staged the photos and we were ready to roll again...almost.
At this point, the KawaTanker decided that she didn't like running in the rain. As I was starting out into traffic, she said "absolutely not, not gonna happen" She decided to just stop. I tried to talk sweeet nothings in her ear...no dice. I tried some flowery language and she turned a deaf ear to me.
As this was happening, Mike is out in traffic heading toward Leesburg and Gator H/D. I got on the radio and told Mike "Hey, I'm dead in the water here". He heard me and doubled back, got off his bike and helped me get it up the incline and back into a parking space.
We looked at the bike. We looked at each other. Back at the bike and the conversation went something like this:
M: What happened?
R: It just died
M: What'd you do?
R: I was trying to get out on the road and it just went 'Rrrrrr....' and died.
M: Did you try starting it again?
R: Uh...yeah. Want me to try it again?
M: Yeah, try it.
So with that, we started to trouble shoot the bike. Tried choking it, not literally but using the choke to help start it...nothing. We checked battery connections, nope. Next came spark check...that's good. Our next thing was to field dress the KawaTanker in the pouring rain.
Picture two grown men in full riding geat, still in helmets, stripping the tank off the bike in a parking lot with other bikes riding in and taking pictures of a stupid Gator statue with Tim Tebows' number on it. Well, that was us.
We checked everything on the bike that we could think of and some things we didn't think of. Nada, nothing. Mike even went and got some staring fluid spray and tried that. She wanted to crank over but no dice. At about 0815, we decided to call it, there was no way we were going to rececitate the KawaTanker, she was officially dead.
With some help from Natalie, Mike's wife, and one of my fellow teachers back at school, we got some phone numbers to call...at 0900 when the shops open. We retreated to BK for some coffee and to wash their floor with the puddles from our gear. I'm sure they appreciated that :)
At 0900 I started making calls. The first call was to the closest Kawa delear in St. Augustine. They will come and get it! Excellent! Wait, I gotta put you on hold...new guy comes on, nope, we don't do emergency pickup, instant depression. Next call to Palatka Powersports. Service manager says I'll see if someone can come get you and I'll get back to you. Calls me back, no dice but here is the number for towing and they are waiting for you to call. EXCELLENT. Call towing...be there in 45 to an hour! That is waiting for our call?
Fast forward to 1030. I get a call from towing, we'll be there in 10 minutes. Fast forward to 1100, towing shows up. I guess that Palatka time is different than Crystal River time.
When we get to the shop, we offload and the manager says he will work on it when he is done with the bike he finishing up. Mike and I look at each other and we realize that at this point our day is FUBAR. So, we settle into wandering around the showroom, calling loved ones...and Big Jim (I love Big Jim but in a manly way). Big Jim gives me the word that he is ready, willing and able to come get me is need; he had been following our journey on SPOT and realized that we had been at the same red light for an awfully long time.
After listening to a retired guy lament the fact that his bike didn't run and the manager saying "well, that will cost at least $200 to fix" I was think this day is going to get even worse. Mike and I were cracking jokes about everything at this point, from the use of 4 wheel motorcycles to the life story of the old guy and suddenly we heard KawaTanker trying to start back up. Is she still alive? Will she come back to life?
Sloshing around to the back of the shop, we saw her all wired up to life support with the service manager working on her carb. He tried to start her...Rrrrrrrr, nothing. Shot her with so go juice, Rrrrr...nothing again. He had me come over and massage her throttle while he tried again...rrrrrRoar! Success! KawaTanker is Alive!
Turns out, according to our doctor, ah, service manager, she had a bad transfusion of fuel and that I had to make sure she kept running or we would have to drain her carb again and put her back on life support. With that knowledge, it was decided to head back to Jacksonville to restart our quest later in the day. Time was now 1245.
To be continued....
Sunday, January 2, 2011
New Year
Ok, it has been forever since I've updated this thing but I'm back again. We had a lot of great trips this year but I haven't logged a one on here...duh!
So, what I intend to do is update some of that in the coming days and weeks along with my trips for this year. Started off the year with 58,674 miles on the bike. My goal is to ride as often as I can and for as long as I can.
So, what I intend to do is update some of that in the coming days and weeks along with my trips for this year. Started off the year with 58,674 miles on the bike. My goal is to ride as often as I can and for as long as I can.
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