Tehnical Recap- Preparing for the final leg from LA

I arrived at Chris and Katy's place and relaxed, ran, and dined out, ignoring the looming task of getting the motorcycle started for one last leg. It's getting harder each time. When I finally did get to it, it didn't go well. This is one very tired bike, begging for a bullet: compression is specified as 120psi minimum. The cylinders rolled in at 78psi, 60psi, and 30psi. It's amazing that this thing even starts. Oh, that's right. It won't. Yet.


It also has some pretty severe ignition problems. With the help of my 20Mhz 'scope I just happened to bring along (I don't have a screwdriver or a 10mm wrench in the tool kit anymore, but I do have an oscilloscope), I was able to identify a particularly weak coil that only reliably fires between about 1500 and 4000 RPM. I relocated this bad coil to be paired with the worst cylinder, and the two can just cuddle together in their lame suckiness for the rest of the trip. That change (and a very large hill near Chris' house) woke the XS750 from its slumber for one more ride.

Worried about startability, I worked the rest of the day hoping to find something worth fixing. I checked valve clearances, hoping to find a propped-open exhaust valve, went over the ignition system twice more, and did a quick shake-and-blow-out overhaul of the carbs. Nothing helped. This bike is just 145 years old in human years.

This morning, it passed the only roadworthiness test necessary for this trip- it started cold without a hill or starting fluid. We're good to go!

Dallas to LA, now past tense!

i picked up the old Yamaha from where it had sat in my sister's garage in Dallas, TX, and knocked out the next leg of the saga: Los Angeles, CA. i didn't do any blogging, but here's an email I sent after the ride's one mechanical adventure.

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Yes, if there was ever a situation involving a leaking gas tank that had a good chance of being spectacular, this was f'n it. So full of lucky coincidences that it's deliciously divine.

So ZERO problems with bike for over a thousand miles. Nothing. And very little exposure, too. Route 66 gift shops and service stations every 2 miles, and I40 is so well serviced I only started to think about where to get fuel once I was well into reserve and had about 15 miles left. Easy livin'.

Given all this, I merely shrugged as I headed into the Mojave and blasted past a "no services 58 miles" sign. A little into this gap, I had an urge to troubleshoot a little high-rpm stumble that had been with me the whole trip. I reached down to jiggle the #3 plug wire, pretty sure the problem was thereabouts. Alas, the thing breaks in half, and the plug boot part whisks into the slipstream and vanishes. Shit! The bike wallows down to about 45mph at full throttle and I angled towards the shoulder. Out of service.

That must have been the best of the three cylinders, because the thing wouldnt even idle or restart with the remaining 2. Super out-of-service. Luckily, the bare end of the spark plug wire reached the spark plug, and I lashed it there in place with zip ties. With a visible and audible crackle as the spark jumped the gap to the plug, the bike started and purred. IN SERVICE!

Just as I was about to pat myself all over in congratulations, I became aware of a dripping and sizzling sound that had been going on in the background the whole time. I walked around the bike, and saw a steady trickle of gas running out of the lower seam of the gas tank onto the engine. WTF!? Really? The ONE spot on the trip 40 miles from services and with no cell coverage?

I fiddled with duct tape and electrical tape, but ended up wedging in some folded up paper between the tank and motor and slowing it to a steady sizzling drip. Based on some quick estimations of drip rate and distance, I figured I had a good chance of making it as long as I didn't stop anywhere too long.

Two things occurred to me as I swung my leg over:

1) You couldn't design a better fuel/air bomb. The hot motor instantly vaporized the gas into a dense, shimmering fog, and there was an open, exposed, hot blue spark right on the other side of the bike. Perfect.

2) If I hadn't had the urge to fiddle with the spark plug wire, and if it hadn't broken in half, the fuel would have continued to stream out unchecked as I rode, and I would have completely and unexpectedly run out of gas in the middle of the one hugely exposed part of the trip. I would have been truely and completely stranded, trying to flag down truckers or stand on rocks to try and get cell coverage. Amazing luck.

Well, I did make it out of the Mojave with over a gallon of fuel left. By best accounts I leaked more than half my tank. I'm writing this because I have nothing else to do while the JB-weld cures.

Hope you don't mind, I'll add some pics and make this my only blog post of the trip ;)

Grapevine, TX- Christmas Capitol of the !@#$% World!

I interrupted my relaxing and sleeping at Jen's to round up all the kids and head out to Grapevine, TX, heralded locally as the Christmas Capitol of Texas. The Grapevine Vintage Railroad Association puts on a little "Polar Express" train ride.

Hello, Frisco TX!

I'm a little surprised at myself, but I love the feel of Dallas and Texas! Who'd have guessed? And it's very good to see my sister and nephew and get off the bike.

Yamaha XS750

Leaving Hope, AR in the predawn at 22 degrees was an experience, but now that it's 35 degrees, sunny and warming, riding feels absolutely cozy. I can keep both hands on the handlebars for a while if I want to! It feels like I'm sitting in the sun on a beach with my toes in hot sand. It's all about what you're used to, I guess. Good toughening for ski season.

It took 5000 miles and 6 months, but I finally am starting to like this motorcycle. It definitely has its issues and an attitude; I think the only reason it's still running is because I have my dirty, greasy hand shoved up its ass to my elbow, and can give a fistful of its warm guts a squeeze the second it thinks about giving any trouble. Actually, that's mostly just an allegorical description of the relationship. In reality, I haven't been working much on the bike at all. I just keep a screwdriver and some spare fuses in my pocket and stare at it in a commanding fashion when I walk up to it. But it's still about control and imposing my will. That bike won't stop or break because I won't let it; it doesn't have my permission. Yet. It can break in Texas if it wants. But not Arkansas. Definitely not in Arkansas. God.

Nashville to Hope, Arkansas

Not much to see in AR. It wouldn't have mattered much, because 455 miles and 26 degrees F meant the only thing I could see was the ice crystals forming inside my corneas. In my aqueous humor. Except not funny.

The motorcycle is acting out and protesting very earnestly, but so far in fairly civil ways that I can tolerate or deal with. It really doesn't like cold starts in the morning; it took two trips up and down the hill near Jim's apartment to get it started this AM in Nashville. (No daily Crossfit needed after that!) I was a little nervous about being in the middle of Arkansas with a hard-starting bike, so I got a new battery, fiddled with the carbs, and tried to redo the ignition system(*). Seems much better now, but given the low tonight is expected to be a tingly 22 degF, and there isn't a hill or friendly help within 150 miles, I'm taking extra precautions:



I don't expect any trouble starting it tomorrow morning.

(*) I bought all the parts and tools I'd need to redo the points and caps and set the timing, figuring that would freshen things up, fix the bike's high-rpm stumble and probably make it start easier. When I pulled things apart, it has a completely eletronic ignition! WTF? In 1978?! This thing was as high tech as the F-16s just starting to roll off the assembly line at the time. Well, no maintenance or rebuilding possible. Guess I'm living with a weak spark.

Motorcycle Started

After a couple days in Nashville, I finally got around to tracking down the motorcycle and visiting it to see if it would start. It took some extended cranking, one push down a small hill, and a tiny shot of starting fluid, but it did finally shake off its slumber and start. It appears no worse for the extended sitting.

I leave tomorrow for Little Rock. Everyone in Nashville is alarmed, bordering on horrified, that I would stay or even stop anywhere in Arkansas. It's the kind of reaction I'd give a visitor to Seattle if they told me they were going to walk across Alaska with just a tarp and a couple juice boxes. Maurice Clemmons, the West Memphis 3, and the rape/murder of Daisy Bates were all cited as exact examples of what would happen to me at the end of the first Arkansas exit offramp I took.

We'll see. This isn't 1987 Columbia for God's sake. This is America. Talk to you tomorrow.

TN to TX

I've been in Nashville for two days now, to continue my $600 motorycycle's trip around/across/through the Country. I haven't yet checked on the bike, but there's rumors floating around that it wouldn't start again after I left it in October. I'll check on the bike tomorrow, after more important Nashville priorities and traditions are taken care of. Like making a music video and putting it on youtube.

Unlike previous Nashville music videos, this is perfectly tasteful and serves a grand purpose- to add some pop and flash to the Jim's craigslist ad and help him sell his conversion van. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-TXwSZgpecE

"Death in Nashville", an original music video

Jim and I gave ourselves one hour to write and arrange a song, one hour to record and produce it, two hours to film raw movie footage, and two hours to edit it into an awesome music video.

Here. Warning: some scenes possibly MA-LV.

Pillsburgh to Music City, 572 miles

Pretty uneventful ride. I can hold my breath for 2.8 miles. Kentucky is pretty, but their grammar and diction are unreal.

I take that back. It was eventful. The motorcycle snuck in a pretty good kick to my balls- the throttle cable broke about 2 hours into the day. I now definitely understand why a twist grip was chosen as the standard motorcycle throttle control, rather than pulling on a little piece of cable with your fingers while steering with your other hand. Makes city driving very tough.

I arrived at Suruda's empty apartment in Nashville to find a bottle of whiskey, a brand new western shirt, the internet password, some sort of prescription pain pill, and an assortment of airsoft guns all laid out in front of a special-effects green screen. Curious.

Pretty Fall Farmland Ride

I took this little video clip hoping to show the fall colors and the nice two-lane roads passing through farmland scenes that look like Dairy Council ad hype. New York state really is cool. It may not come across well, I think you have to be there.


PS- in the clip, it may appear that I could possibly be speeding, Mom. I think it's the parallax effect of the camera lens and the unusual sound of a triple-cylinder bike that makes it feel that way. I am very not-speeding. The speedometer is in kilometers per hour ...Kelvin. Thanks.

Ithaca and Onward

I'd originally allotted the whole first morning in Ithaca for getting the motorcycle started. Happily, it snorted to life and was waking late-sleeping grad students up and down the whole block within 10 minutes, freeing up the rest of the morning for fun stuff. Like a huge nap. And heading to a prearranged spot and time to meet some "runner dudes" who Chris set me up with for a good hill-repeat workout. I had a great time visiting Ithaca and Chris- it was hard to leave. Between sticking around for a AM workout at Crossfit Ithaca, and a delicious breakfast put on by Chris' rommate Moe, it was 10:00 the next morning before I was on the road.

The ride was great. Riding through NY and PA was a rural, beautiful, bucolic treat, like tearing through Frodo's Shire at 80MPH. The leaves are just starting to turn, but a few small areas were a little ahead of the game and brilliant enough to warrant stopping. It was cold enough to get across the point that it was definitely Fall and make it hard to count out bills to the gas station clerk after the first leg. "Just take. Cold. Ouch."

This was a short day, and I filled it looking for roads with better fall leaves and taking pictures of road signs while locals shook their heads, but without as much as a second of working on or worrying about the bike. I found Pittsburgh just where they said it'd be (and not where I pictured it, up by the Great Lakes somewhere), and spent an hour trying to get to an address just off the freeway. I saw Northshore, the sports stadiums, Downtown, and Mt. Washington, all on the way to Southside.

Good Sharing

This morning's flight to Newark was the second time I've seen someone try to use their neighbor's footroom storage area in addition to their own. On a full flight. Sweet. You'll never know if you can park your car in your neighbor's driveway unless you just try it, I guess. Throw it out there. See what sticks.

I'm trying to think up some equally bold response if this happens to me again. Maybe I'll just pick up the bag and start going through it, looking for something to eat or any loose cash.

Good Start to the Adventure

There is apparently no 174 from my front doorstep to the airport anymore. It's OK. On a different, new bus, just as creepy as the old 174 was. I may make my flight. This motorcycle trip is going to RULE!

Starting up again

Tonight, things start up again. The $600 Yamaha XS750 triple still sits untouched, exactly where I left it parked on the curb on in New York. I'm confident that the only things I'll need to get headed down to Nashville and return to a life on the road are whatever simple tools they allow me to carry on the plane, and a can of starting fluid that I'll pick up from a 7-11 while I'm walking from the airport. Simple travel plans are the best.

I expect this trip will go better. It will be lonelier, and I will miss watching Jeff pay for most of the gas and set up my tent for me each night, but I will benefit from some important lessons learned:

• Don't take a homemade sidecar.
  
• Forget trying to wire up the phone so you can talk on the road; it'll just get broken.
  
• Blog more.
• Stay ahead on the burpees.
  

I'm pretty excited. I'm looking forward to midnight swimming in Ithaca again (I'll bet it's colder now), returning to Cleveland (I was pleasantly surprised to see the route took me through OH. Based on my feeble grasp of my country's geography, I could have just as easily believed I'd see Virginia Beach or the Carolinas), and visiting Suruda.

Home!

Jeff and I arrived home late tonight after a 6-hour flight. There's two different motorcycles and a sidecar abandoned in people's yards across the nation, the trip cost honestly and literally thousands of dollars more than we'd planned, and our butts may never recover, but I'd still do it in a heartbeat. There's no better way to see the country and meet great people.

Phonecia to NYC

We departed Ithaca early Saturday morning, leaving a unsightly pile of discarded motorcycle sidecars, motorcycles, unwanted camping equipment, tools and chemicals on Chris' parking strip. We drove to the Catskills, where we secured last-minute camping in the town of Phonecia. I had forgotten that it was a weekend day, and we were lucky to score any camping at all, much less a great spot on a festive, well-tubed river. Nina and Elle, two friends of Chris' from Manhattan, took a train out from the city and joined us. They are both doing their residencies at a hospital in NYC, and even though they had both been on call the night before and hadn't slept at all, they did a great job recreating on the river and around the campfire. Respect. We were further joined by Jan and John, two guys at the neighboring campsite who were out from the city celebrating John's 40th. It was the most social camping of the trip by far.









Once in Manhattan the next day, Chris, Jeff and I rented bikes and tore all over the island, leaving Nina and Elle to digest the news that Chris had planned on having us crash at their small apartment. We did Central Park, Times Square, Greenwich Village, SOHO, Tribeca, Chinatown, the Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn, and dinner at a great Peruvian chicken spot back near N&L's place. We went to bed tired.

The next day, Jeff had had it with the dirty heat and biking, but he still stepped up and helped me do some critical bit of shopping on 47th street. All went well.

Even compared to the bad days on the road, continually laying in parking lots wrenching on misbehaving bikes in the hot midwest, I never felt dirtier and more uncomfortable than the two days I spent drenched in sooty, oily sweat while hanging out in Manhattan. Whew! One look at Jeff while we were out and about in the city, and I'm very sure he feels the same.

More Ithaca Visitations

It's pretty cool that Jeff's first time driving a sidecar, the sidecar itself's final and last ride, and my first time riding IN the sidecar all coincided for a trip up through the Cornell campus to the Cornell Dairy Bar for milkshakes. Good times.

Ithaca is Gorges

Thanks to a daring in-flight refueling to get around the pathetic range of the sidecar rig, we were able to make it into Ithaca yesterday with only two legs, arriving about 3PM. I had very different expectations for the Eastern part of our trip, imagining mostly crowded freeway driving and a desperate push for miles. Instead, Cleveland turned out to be my favorite city, and New York state was topped only by Montana for beauty, open roads, and rural charm. We had a great final day on the bikes.










Jeff and I had a lazy evening and next morning recovering while enjoying Ithaca's gorges, waterfalls, coffee shops, and definitely the Cornell campus. I think we're both thrilled that the motorcycle part of the trip is over, but are looking forward to sightseeing in the city and a few more days with new friends and old.

Cleveland Rocks!

We scored another great evening and fine accommodations from Jim and Angela, friends of my friend Joe. They gave us a great tour of the city, and Jim rides a pair of SV650's (one for the track, one for the street), so we had lots of fun talking shop. Thanks guys!

Blue Earth, WI

A fitting name for a town where we had the worst eco-disaster of the trip. I like the Harper's Index style of storytelling, so here goes-

• Quarts of oil added to the Yamaha before realizing the crankcase sight glass was completely full the whole time, not completely empty: 3
• Quarts of oil removed from Yamaha in gas station parking lot: 3
• Quarts successfully contained in used milk jug: 2

Technical Recap

This post just disappeared. Thanks, Blogspot.

One Night in SD, USA

Sioux Falls KOA. Nothing to report.

Sturgis continued

For all its faults, Sturgis does make you feel like a badass, tough biker dude. Word.

Sturgis 2009!

Sturgis! Sweet! If you took the Hot Topic store out of the mall, made it as big as a whole town, and stocked it with Harley-Davidson merch , this is what you'd get!

But I'm glad we saw it. An awesome spectacle indeed.

Welcome to the Midwest

Our luck held out, and we threaded the needle between more huge thunderstorms, then broke into the hot, flat, sunny Midwest. There's nothing to take pictures of out here, so I'll recycle a cute picture from yesterday featuring Jeff and two baby buffalo. I bet Jeff $20 he couldn't punch one in the head while the big mom was looking at him, but he didn't take.



Anyway, the midwest also afforded a lot of boring time to think, so here's my take on the trip, by numbers.



Jim's Index:

• Miles covered: 1221
• Burpees done for the one burpee per mile challenge: 181
• At current rate, projected burpee shortfall at end of trip: 2600
• Cell phones ruined: 1
• Motorcycles ruined: 1
• Number of ratchet straps now an integral part of sidecar frame/suspension: 2
• Comments or interest in sidecar since arriving in Midwest USA/Harley Country: 0
• Number of Suzuki DRZ enduro bikes within 200 miles: 1
• Number of normal-sized women on a Harley within 200 miles: 0
• Average fuel consumption of sidecar rig, in MPG: 33
• Drunk homeless people Jeff tried to start a fight with: 1
• Count of items lost from sidecar: 4
• Dollars spent on lodging/camping so far: 0

Comments now Work, Thanks!

We wrote today off to site-seeing around Yellowstone, with a quick transit from the North to Northeast park enterance, then over the incredible pass on hiway 212 and back up to I-90. There was snow on the ground, and we got hit pretty hard by hail a couple times. But as with every day so far, the weather cleared just in time to let us air our gear and set up a perfect, dry camp before another storm rolled in. I think I actually prefer it exactly this way. Just enough roughness to make a good story, and to make me really appreciate the sun and clear skies we do get. Plus, it's scary and exhilarating to be riding twisty mountain roads as hard as we can with a thunderstorm that looks like it belongs in a Lord of the Rings scene gaining from behind. (And with us and the sidecar, riding as hard as we can on windy roads means 10 below the posted speed limit with a PT-cruiser towing a pop-up trailer riding our ass, signaling to pass.)

We made a good camp just before Billings, and talked the 15-year old kids next door into letting us shoot their BB guns. They were definitely hoping for some of our whiskey in return, but we did the right thing.

First "Bathing" of the Trip

... and presumably the last. 120 degree goodness at Boiling River, WY.

We watched an amazing thunderstorm march up the yellowstone basin last night after our campmates went to bed, with the best fireworks I've seen. I've never lived someplace that had storms like that. Despite the storm that lasted all night, our gear is still dry and we're enjoying a warm sunny day in Yellowstone. Lucky us!

First Guest Post!

OK! So we are here with Jeff & Jim, the funniest motorcyclist of the west! Holy Crap!!!! geeks.
SO we have two very competent intelligent men turn up to Gardiner MT looking for a place to stay, because of the very awesome side car, we invited them into our site. Yamaha 750 3 cylinder bikes rule the world. We've been drinking for a while tonight and the conversation has desolved into mother jokes and who can spell better. (We have to find a rock for the side car so it doesn't tip.) (The bike is on its own. Its on its own track. You fall over and you die. Then the bike comes back to life and eats your brains.)
All in all, eat living peoples.
Blog me long time.

All we want is quantity no quantity!

-Bill and Leoni
Sent on the Now Network? from my Sprint® BlackBerry

First update

Second day: We have settled down in Missoula somewhere on a forest service road. Jim has mellowed a bit. He became a little stressed late yesterday when he "blew a head gasket" ( his engine stopped working and began smoking heavily). We overcame this obstacle through the help of AAA to spokane (60 miles). After some routine maintenance we replaced some parts. The only original equipment that now remains is the sidecar. This is much improved. One 600 dollar bike for another 600 dollar bike. Now for Jim to add...

Super thanks to everyone who made us so welcome at Cheryl's place in Spokane. I don't think we were the greatest houseguests- we were really dirty and smelly, kept asking to borrow cars and large amounts of cash, and made a lot of noise working on and cursing at the bike. But in the end, all turned out well. Like Jeff said, we swapped a couple minor parts into the old Honda, and she runs much better now. We are at most only a couple hundred miles and $600 behind where we planned to be.

On the Road! First Stop

After faking 20 minutes of ignition troubles getting the Honda started this morning so that everyone would think our trip is crazier and more daring, Jeff and I rolled out.

First easy leg to Cle Elem. Great pic showing that Jeff's phone and the Honda's automatic chain-and-sidestand oiler works.

Tomorrow is the Big Day

Tomorrow is the big day. We roll out early and with emphasis from 54's, hoping to be in North Bend by no later than 8PM, and in Coeur d'Alene by night.

We haven't even left yet, but we've already learned so much. So much about ourselves. So much about the world and our place in it.

• How to spell Coeur d'Alene.
• Facebook sucks for blogging and pictures.
  
• How to set up a blogspot blog.
• My motorcycle boots don't fit anymore.
• Buckcherry is playing at Sturgis the night we roll through.

Good luck to us!