The Vulture's Chronicles
My Son in Law, Tony, has been out of
country for a while and returning home he decided to
acquire a motorcycle. His initial desire was for a
Triumph Speed Triple but the interaction with the sales
person was less than favorable - so no Triumph.
He then thought of a Ducati Monster but my views on those persuaded him to avoid it - good bike, but I think there are better. He noticed we had a used BMW Rockster and I pronounced it a good buy after a test ride. So he bought it.
The problem is he lives in Tennessee and I live in Washington and though he has a lot of dirt bike time he had little real street bike time. Luckily I had vacation planned for the last week in March so I said "Get your MSF course out of the way, fly out here, and I'll accompany you home". Deal.
Tony has a couple days to get to know his bike on local roads and on Saturday, after I quit work, we head out. On the way we hook up with my riding buddy Al and we beat feet for south of Portland, OR. We make Salem and decide to quit as the rain has set in and I'm feeling like I don't want to push too much new stuff at Tony.
We share a room despite my warning that I snore pretty badly. No sweat he says as one of his room mates snores. In the morning Al brings the snoring thing up. Ear plugs will be worn from now on - He He.
We depart about 0600 for as far as we can get with Tony between the two of us. I have to confess some trepidation about a trip like this as we had 4 days to make the ride given a commitment on Tony's part to pick some family up at the airport on the 30th. Weather conditions ruled out the shorter route through Salt Lake City and East across I-80 so, that meant a more than 3000 mile jaunt down through California and East across I-40. Tony is a very athletic man and an accomplished dirt rider but the street environment brings its own dangers and I was concerned - feeling fatherly I suppose.
I was watching Tony in my rear view mirrors and as the day progressed I felt less concerned as he seemed to get a gasp on the bike. Southern Oregon and Northern California's sections of I-5 have some nice uphill and downhill sweepers and I could see his lines getting better and better. So I relaxed some. We pounded down I-5 with more and more dense traffic until I figured we had enough fun/exposure for our first long day. Stopped short of our Bakersfield objective by about 85 miles.
On the road for day 2 at 0600 and through Bakersfield, CA and up Tehachapi pass. Lovely twist bits (for the freeway) and plenty of wind up top. Makes sense to have tons of those very big wind generator things (windmills) along the ridge-line. Past that, and the environment gets dry. We simply motor on for Flagstaff, AZ as a tentative destination. Not much exciting just ride, get gas, ride, get gas, ride - you have the scenario.
The weather forecasts a storm system brewing in a few days with cold wet air moving West and warm wet air coming in from the South. Evidently this sets up ideal conditions for tornado bearing storms. It looks like we will avoid all this given where we are relative to the expected day and location of the predicted mayhem, but the wind is pretty strong.
My new RT handles the side winds well, just rolls into it, but who likes to ride like that hour after hour? The approach to Flagstaff is a long climb to about 7000 feet. We have been noticing weather reports for light rain up there and I wonder about black ice. The light is failing as we get to a rest stop outside Flagstaff and we conclude what looked like ice indicators was simply the road surface. It is cold so fire up the electrics and sally forth to Gallup, NM. At midnight, the waitress asks can she cash us out - truck stops are supposed to be 24 hour operations right? Need sleep anyway.
Day 3 begins with a 0600 departure with Ft Smith, AR as the goal. We pound through NM, TX, and OK in some of the strongest side wind I have been in. Tony later remarked it was weird to see my RT do all that on its side. Truck traffic gets a little more dense but we maintain a steady 75 - 80 and get around most of it just fine.
Most of the day I've been focused on Tony and how he is managing this style of riding. In the end my need for motion took over and I launched. It takes me a couple of days to get the bugs out of my head and get into the ride and that switch got thrown. The end result is an 865 mile day through some hideous wind and ending with some night time rain riding. It also positions us for the last day with only 600 or so miles to do.
Ordinarily a 600 mile day is easy but not this day. The truck traffic from Little Rock, AR all the way to Memphis, TN is sick. The right lane is virtually clogged with 18 wheelers and the left gets backed up when a gaper allows a truck to try and pass the truck in front. Of course the passing truck can only do 2 mph better and the whole operation takes for ever - then another truck does it and then another and so it goes.
One has to pass both gaper and truck on the right or no progress can be made. This really sucks. It consumes time. An neither trucker or motorist is served by this type of mayhem. In California the truckers are managed well by the Highway Patrol and they keep a few truck lengths between themselves, travel at the designated truck speed and all is well. Traffic moves fast in the left lane, you can take a breather between a couple of trucks in the right lane and then launch back into the 20 over the limit crowd in the left lane. If you are a gaper in the left lane you are not from California - guaranteed.
At any rate traffic clears some after Memphis and speed picks up. At a rest stop a middle aged fellow approaches and he chats about his desire for a bike but that he is too old to ride (he is several years younger than either Al or myself). Tony says "could have been me". We depart on the final tank of gas.
The last bit is through super fun motorcycle two lane to Tony's home. We smoke a cigar, beers are consumed, and my daughter and grandson show with supper. Alec has forgotten his desire to build mud pies with Al but he has grown up a lot. He holds a good conversation and is into all sorts of boy things. The topic of dinosaurs came up and I asked if he had heard of a Rinosaurus. "Nope". I was curious as some workers in the Tucumcari, NM McDonalds were teasing a coworker about the Rinosaurus. He'd never heard of such a thing and his buddies were assuring him it was a bad ass that lived the NM area many years ago. I'm relieved that such a thing didn't exist.
One of the fine things of the South is barbecue. Kat brought some of the best ever from a local establishment for our supper. Mission accomplished with no mishaps, great finishing road to ride, family to be with, great food, good cigars. Too bad we couldn't stay. Al has to be home Sunday. I slept like dead people.
We evaluate the route home. The forecast is for the severe storms and tornados to be directly in our path either route, but the clincher was more snow forecasted for the Wasatch outside Salt Lake City (they had 2 feet already) and for cold temps across the plains. Cowards that we are we agree to retrace our route across I-40 and depart at 0600 as usual.
This time we went down to Nashville with rush hour traffic (fast with no gapers) and skirt around on the bypass. Onto I-40 and power West. The traffic is less dense than the trip out and we arrive West of Oklahoma City by dark. All day the sky has been darkening and East of Oklahoma City we get into the rain. The wind has been furious and I figured, with the rain, we had arrived at the severe storm place the weather folk had mapped out. Turns out to be mild compared to what occurred a little while after we rode through. A guy that Al spoke with the next morning said it was grim - lots of rain, hail, nasty wind - grim.
In the morning we do the usual leave at 0600 and ride till we need gas and then have our breakfast. Sky is blue, air temp pleasurable, no wind to speak of. On this day we stop in Altus, OK. I got out of an assignment there and I maybe made a mistake. This is a really nice section of the state and everyone we encountered was friendly. That turned a bit spooky in the McDonalds though - sort of Steven King. Everybody is nice - real nice - real friendly - offering up the senior coffee - make a fresh pot for you kind of nice. No surly faces or dispositions anywhere. The other customers want to make conversation. Made me wonder what the sausage in my Sausage McMuffin was made of.
Snow is forecast for Flagstaff, AZ - we decide to get there first and so haul ass. Texas state troopers are working hard to fill the state's coffers with speeder funds which raises my second resentment with truckers. My radar detector has immense value when I'm breaking the law. I hear the Ka band signal and off the throttle in an instant and start looking for the LEO.
Seems the truckers have bought into the radar jammer thing in a big way. The theory is a scofflaw simply transmits a legal or confusing Ka signal as one rolls down the roadway at illegal speeds. The LEO's receiver can't, as the result, get a useful read on the truck's true speed. OK if it works, but here I am assuming all these signals are LEO doing his/her job - not! Just a bunch of false source signals. I tell you the airways are full of this crap which really sets you up for the real thing. More than once I got complacent. "just another jammer", I say to myself. "Oh shit! it's a for real cop!" Made it though so my reactions are still pretty good.
We notice the sky just black up ahead of us as we close with Flagstaff. Out West you can see your weather assailant out a couple hundred miles and it screws with you. It gets progressively colder and here comes a little drizzle. When we get into town it is snowing. The weather channel says nothing conclusive - I don't sleep well.
There are clouds in the sky when we get up and we decide to get out of Flagstaff and down to a warmer elevation. It is cold and as we get onto the freeway it begins to rain with some snow mixed in. The ride is spooky because the bike feels a little loose, and there is no spray from the tires on the vehicles who pass. I test the surface with my feet and it doesn't feel like tarmac usually feels. It has been snowing during the night. Al and I slither on and gradually get down in elevation to where there is spray coming off tires and we can see the tire marks from trucks - OK Cool - wick it up. A couple thousand feet down and all is good with the roadway. We blast our way up to just North of Sacramento, CA.
Every trip we take together Al and I end up separated. This is due to our riding styles being a little different and our belief in, and practice of, riding our own ride. On the approach to Woodland I signal for the exit, with Al right behind me. My GPS has the Motel 6 located and we are on it right away. When I get off the bike no Al. WTF? Maybe he went for gas first so I register. Still no Al. I go to my room and unload then head for food. No Al. I check the parking lot at the motel next door. No Al's bike.
So we ride our separate ways on the last day. It turns out that he went for gas and decided to make for Redding - he felt good and wanted to have a slow last day. I make it to Redding in short order and then the rain starts and intensifies and finally near the summit it is snowing. A couple of feet of snow has accumulated but the road is wet and by Weed, CA it looks like spring - plenty sunshine and dry pavement. I think Al and I passed each other in Yreka as he said he was having a snack there and I stopped there for gas then rolled on. I will spare you the detailed horror of Oregon drivers and the lame 65 mph speed limit. But I got home safe and sound a couple hours before Al.
Some closing comments:
A long freeway slog like this can't be fun (so I'm told) but to me a ride like this takes me across lovely country and on a motorbike. It tests my endurance and tolerance for the saddle. It is a simple navigation thing so it is ride, gas, ride, gas. sleep, ride, gas, eat, ride, gas and so on - mind numbing I suppose, which is one objective. Can't be considering anything else but the ride so the worries of the job etc., are set aside.
The new R1200RT:
I love everything about this bike except the saddle. It is criminally torturous for longer than an hour or two. Way too soft and narrow. I have an appointment with Rick Mayer for the 27th of June to fix that.
The wind screen is fine - I stayed as dry as a guy can in the rain and it worked well to blow the rain off my face shield. My hands stayed fairly dry as well, protected by the mirrors. I had great visibility to the rear and the headlights are very good.
Handling is stellar. I had occasion to pass (by using the right hand lane) a gaper in Oregon near one of those nice twisty descents where the signs suggest 45 mph and you can blister through at 85. The guy jumped on the gas and I figured I'd created a road rage thing as he was on me like stink on shit. So I just rolled the throttle on and figured one of us would back off or crash. The RT likes twisty stuff. It was almost him - I saw him kind of wiggle a bit in a couple corners then he just gave up. I forgot about it until the guy approached me at a rest area stop, Harley-Davidson T shirt and all. "Man you can ride the hell out of that bike!" Told him I was thinking he was trying to take me out "No I just wanted to read that sign on your license plate and check your bike out - shit that thing is fast - I had to back off" OK, so now you know what the tag says - anything else? "No man - ride safe!" OK.
The RT is very sensitive to fuel quality. Fuel consumption ranges from 41 to 58 mpg. I am almost certain that oxygenated fuels are OK for the environment but the states mandating its use make people buy more gallons of fuel per capita - the energy output per gallon is dismal and accounted for the below 45 mpg readings. I got some real gasoline in Amarillo, TX and even at 85 mph got over 56 mpg even up to 58 for a while. See photo. Most gas sold along the freeway isn't premium grade even when they claim it is. The RT just burns the crappy stuff faster than the good stuff - anti knock works as advertised.
Consumed 1/2 quart oil in 7200 miles.
He then thought of a Ducati Monster but my views on those persuaded him to avoid it - good bike, but I think there are better. He noticed we had a used BMW Rockster and I pronounced it a good buy after a test ride. So he bought it.
The problem is he lives in Tennessee and I live in Washington and though he has a lot of dirt bike time he had little real street bike time. Luckily I had vacation planned for the last week in March so I said "Get your MSF course out of the way, fly out here, and I'll accompany you home". Deal.
Tony has a couple days to get to know his bike on local roads and on Saturday, after I quit work, we head out. On the way we hook up with my riding buddy Al and we beat feet for south of Portland, OR. We make Salem and decide to quit as the rain has set in and I'm feeling like I don't want to push too much new stuff at Tony.
We share a room despite my warning that I snore pretty badly. No sweat he says as one of his room mates snores. In the morning Al brings the snoring thing up. Ear plugs will be worn from now on - He He.
We depart about 0600 for as far as we can get with Tony between the two of us. I have to confess some trepidation about a trip like this as we had 4 days to make the ride given a commitment on Tony's part to pick some family up at the airport on the 30th. Weather conditions ruled out the shorter route through Salt Lake City and East across I-80 so, that meant a more than 3000 mile jaunt down through California and East across I-40. Tony is a very athletic man and an accomplished dirt rider but the street environment brings its own dangers and I was concerned - feeling fatherly I suppose.
I was watching Tony in my rear view mirrors and as the day progressed I felt less concerned as he seemed to get a gasp on the bike. Southern Oregon and Northern California's sections of I-5 have some nice uphill and downhill sweepers and I could see his lines getting better and better. So I relaxed some. We pounded down I-5 with more and more dense traffic until I figured we had enough fun/exposure for our first long day. Stopped short of our Bakersfield objective by about 85 miles.
On the road for day 2 at 0600 and through Bakersfield, CA and up Tehachapi pass. Lovely twist bits (for the freeway) and plenty of wind up top. Makes sense to have tons of those very big wind generator things (windmills) along the ridge-line. Past that, and the environment gets dry. We simply motor on for Flagstaff, AZ as a tentative destination. Not much exciting just ride, get gas, ride, get gas, ride - you have the scenario.
The weather forecasts a storm system brewing in a few days with cold wet air moving West and warm wet air coming in from the South. Evidently this sets up ideal conditions for tornado bearing storms. It looks like we will avoid all this given where we are relative to the expected day and location of the predicted mayhem, but the wind is pretty strong.
My new RT handles the side winds well, just rolls into it, but who likes to ride like that hour after hour? The approach to Flagstaff is a long climb to about 7000 feet. We have been noticing weather reports for light rain up there and I wonder about black ice. The light is failing as we get to a rest stop outside Flagstaff and we conclude what looked like ice indicators was simply the road surface. It is cold so fire up the electrics and sally forth to Gallup, NM. At midnight, the waitress asks can she cash us out - truck stops are supposed to be 24 hour operations right? Need sleep anyway.
Day 3 begins with a 0600 departure with Ft Smith, AR as the goal. We pound through NM, TX, and OK in some of the strongest side wind I have been in. Tony later remarked it was weird to see my RT do all that on its side. Truck traffic gets a little more dense but we maintain a steady 75 - 80 and get around most of it just fine.
Most of the day I've been focused on Tony and how he is managing this style of riding. In the end my need for motion took over and I launched. It takes me a couple of days to get the bugs out of my head and get into the ride and that switch got thrown. The end result is an 865 mile day through some hideous wind and ending with some night time rain riding. It also positions us for the last day with only 600 or so miles to do.
Ordinarily a 600 mile day is easy but not this day. The truck traffic from Little Rock, AR all the way to Memphis, TN is sick. The right lane is virtually clogged with 18 wheelers and the left gets backed up when a gaper allows a truck to try and pass the truck in front. Of course the passing truck can only do 2 mph better and the whole operation takes for ever - then another truck does it and then another and so it goes.
One has to pass both gaper and truck on the right or no progress can be made. This really sucks. It consumes time. An neither trucker or motorist is served by this type of mayhem. In California the truckers are managed well by the Highway Patrol and they keep a few truck lengths between themselves, travel at the designated truck speed and all is well. Traffic moves fast in the left lane, you can take a breather between a couple of trucks in the right lane and then launch back into the 20 over the limit crowd in the left lane. If you are a gaper in the left lane you are not from California - guaranteed.
At any rate traffic clears some after Memphis and speed picks up. At a rest stop a middle aged fellow approaches and he chats about his desire for a bike but that he is too old to ride (he is several years younger than either Al or myself). Tony says "could have been me". We depart on the final tank of gas.
The last bit is through super fun motorcycle two lane to Tony's home. We smoke a cigar, beers are consumed, and my daughter and grandson show with supper. Alec has forgotten his desire to build mud pies with Al but he has grown up a lot. He holds a good conversation and is into all sorts of boy things. The topic of dinosaurs came up and I asked if he had heard of a Rinosaurus. "Nope". I was curious as some workers in the Tucumcari, NM McDonalds were teasing a coworker about the Rinosaurus. He'd never heard of such a thing and his buddies were assuring him it was a bad ass that lived the NM area many years ago. I'm relieved that such a thing didn't exist.
One of the fine things of the South is barbecue. Kat brought some of the best ever from a local establishment for our supper. Mission accomplished with no mishaps, great finishing road to ride, family to be with, great food, good cigars. Too bad we couldn't stay. Al has to be home Sunday. I slept like dead people.
We evaluate the route home. The forecast is for the severe storms and tornados to be directly in our path either route, but the clincher was more snow forecasted for the Wasatch outside Salt Lake City (they had 2 feet already) and for cold temps across the plains. Cowards that we are we agree to retrace our route across I-40 and depart at 0600 as usual.
This time we went down to Nashville with rush hour traffic (fast with no gapers) and skirt around on the bypass. Onto I-40 and power West. The traffic is less dense than the trip out and we arrive West of Oklahoma City by dark. All day the sky has been darkening and East of Oklahoma City we get into the rain. The wind has been furious and I figured, with the rain, we had arrived at the severe storm place the weather folk had mapped out. Turns out to be mild compared to what occurred a little while after we rode through. A guy that Al spoke with the next morning said it was grim - lots of rain, hail, nasty wind - grim.
In the morning we do the usual leave at 0600 and ride till we need gas and then have our breakfast. Sky is blue, air temp pleasurable, no wind to speak of. On this day we stop in Altus, OK. I got out of an assignment there and I maybe made a mistake. This is a really nice section of the state and everyone we encountered was friendly. That turned a bit spooky in the McDonalds though - sort of Steven King. Everybody is nice - real nice - real friendly - offering up the senior coffee - make a fresh pot for you kind of nice. No surly faces or dispositions anywhere. The other customers want to make conversation. Made me wonder what the sausage in my Sausage McMuffin was made of.
Snow is forecast for Flagstaff, AZ - we decide to get there first and so haul ass. Texas state troopers are working hard to fill the state's coffers with speeder funds which raises my second resentment with truckers. My radar detector has immense value when I'm breaking the law. I hear the Ka band signal and off the throttle in an instant and start looking for the LEO.
Seems the truckers have bought into the radar jammer thing in a big way. The theory is a scofflaw simply transmits a legal or confusing Ka signal as one rolls down the roadway at illegal speeds. The LEO's receiver can't, as the result, get a useful read on the truck's true speed. OK if it works, but here I am assuming all these signals are LEO doing his/her job - not! Just a bunch of false source signals. I tell you the airways are full of this crap which really sets you up for the real thing. More than once I got complacent. "just another jammer", I say to myself. "Oh shit! it's a for real cop!" Made it though so my reactions are still pretty good.
We notice the sky just black up ahead of us as we close with Flagstaff. Out West you can see your weather assailant out a couple hundred miles and it screws with you. It gets progressively colder and here comes a little drizzle. When we get into town it is snowing. The weather channel says nothing conclusive - I don't sleep well.
There are clouds in the sky when we get up and we decide to get out of Flagstaff and down to a warmer elevation. It is cold and as we get onto the freeway it begins to rain with some snow mixed in. The ride is spooky because the bike feels a little loose, and there is no spray from the tires on the vehicles who pass. I test the surface with my feet and it doesn't feel like tarmac usually feels. It has been snowing during the night. Al and I slither on and gradually get down in elevation to where there is spray coming off tires and we can see the tire marks from trucks - OK Cool - wick it up. A couple thousand feet down and all is good with the roadway. We blast our way up to just North of Sacramento, CA.
Every trip we take together Al and I end up separated. This is due to our riding styles being a little different and our belief in, and practice of, riding our own ride. On the approach to Woodland I signal for the exit, with Al right behind me. My GPS has the Motel 6 located and we are on it right away. When I get off the bike no Al. WTF? Maybe he went for gas first so I register. Still no Al. I go to my room and unload then head for food. No Al. I check the parking lot at the motel next door. No Al's bike.
So we ride our separate ways on the last day. It turns out that he went for gas and decided to make for Redding - he felt good and wanted to have a slow last day. I make it to Redding in short order and then the rain starts and intensifies and finally near the summit it is snowing. A couple of feet of snow has accumulated but the road is wet and by Weed, CA it looks like spring - plenty sunshine and dry pavement. I think Al and I passed each other in Yreka as he said he was having a snack there and I stopped there for gas then rolled on. I will spare you the detailed horror of Oregon drivers and the lame 65 mph speed limit. But I got home safe and sound a couple hours before Al.
Some closing comments:
A long freeway slog like this can't be fun (so I'm told) but to me a ride like this takes me across lovely country and on a motorbike. It tests my endurance and tolerance for the saddle. It is a simple navigation thing so it is ride, gas, ride, gas. sleep, ride, gas, eat, ride, gas and so on - mind numbing I suppose, which is one objective. Can't be considering anything else but the ride so the worries of the job etc., are set aside.
The new R1200RT:
I love everything about this bike except the saddle. It is criminally torturous for longer than an hour or two. Way too soft and narrow. I have an appointment with Rick Mayer for the 27th of June to fix that.
The wind screen is fine - I stayed as dry as a guy can in the rain and it worked well to blow the rain off my face shield. My hands stayed fairly dry as well, protected by the mirrors. I had great visibility to the rear and the headlights are very good.
Handling is stellar. I had occasion to pass (by using the right hand lane) a gaper in Oregon near one of those nice twisty descents where the signs suggest 45 mph and you can blister through at 85. The guy jumped on the gas and I figured I'd created a road rage thing as he was on me like stink on shit. So I just rolled the throttle on and figured one of us would back off or crash. The RT likes twisty stuff. It was almost him - I saw him kind of wiggle a bit in a couple corners then he just gave up. I forgot about it until the guy approached me at a rest area stop, Harley-Davidson T shirt and all. "Man you can ride the hell out of that bike!" Told him I was thinking he was trying to take me out "No I just wanted to read that sign on your license plate and check your bike out - shit that thing is fast - I had to back off" OK, so now you know what the tag says - anything else? "No man - ride safe!" OK.
The RT is very sensitive to fuel quality. Fuel consumption ranges from 41 to 58 mpg. I am almost certain that oxygenated fuels are OK for the environment but the states mandating its use make people buy more gallons of fuel per capita - the energy output per gallon is dismal and accounted for the below 45 mpg readings. I got some real gasoline in Amarillo, TX and even at 85 mph got over 56 mpg even up to 58 for a while. See photo. Most gas sold along the freeway isn't premium grade even when they claim it is. The RT just burns the crappy stuff faster than the good stuff - anti knock works as advertised.
Consumed 1/2 quart oil in 7200 miles.