Baja John, somewhere in Baja’s Valle de los Cirios, making my old KLR look good.
I just got a call from good buddy Baja John, a guy with whom I’ve been exploring Baja for the last 30 years. Part of the call was about what we’d be riding and where we’ll be going on our next Baja foray in December (more on that in a future blog), and part of was about keeping a bike in Mexico. John has a home in Mexico right on the water in Bahia de Los Angeles. The Bay of Los Angeles is about 400 miles south of the border on the Sea of Cortez. It’s a cool place.
Bahia de Los Angeles, denoted by the red arrow.
My good buddy John wants to buy a bike and keep it at his Baja beach house. I think that’s a cool idea. The question is: Which bike? John saw a CSC RX3 for sale near his home here in the US. He already owns an RX3 and he loves it, but the idea of picking up a second one and keeping it in Mexico is appealing.
A second RX3 isn’t the only bike John is considering. He also has an older KLR 650, and he might just move it to Mexico. And, old John is intrigued by the CSC TT250 (he’s heard me talk about its light weight, super handling, and simple maintainability enough and he’s interested). And then there’s the Royal Enfield Himalayan (that bike is getting great reviews, too).
I told John I had my ideas on the perfect beach front bike, and then I thought hey, I’m not the brightest bulb in the room (the room being the ExhaustNotes blog). I asked John if it was okay to post the question here and solicit your inputs, and he thought that would be a grand idea. So, the question is: Which bike would you keep in a Bahia de Los Angeles beach house, and why?
Let’s hear your thoughts in the Comments area of this blog, folks!
Wow, the comments to our blog are pouring in. We’ve only been doing this for a little over two months, and we have something close to 300 comments on the roughly 90 blog posts we’ve done so far. We love getting your comments, so please keep them coming.
Hey, see that space to the right where it asks for your email address? If you add your email to the blog, you’ll get a notification every time we post. You won’t get unwanted emails as a result of signing up here, as we won’t sell or give your email address to anyone else. All you need to do is add your email address, and as soon as a new blog goes up, you’ll get notified. It’s FREE!
Sue and I took a ride to the LA County Fire Museum in Bellflower yesterday. They have a cool collection of vintage and historic fire-fighting equipment, including the actual truck used by the Granite Mountain Hotshots team (you might have seen the movie, Only the Brave), and the fire engine from the old Emergency TV series. It was a cool place to visit. I had the 8mm lens along with my favorite 35mm prime, and it was awesome…take a look!
That’s it for now, with just one teaser photo from an upcoming blog.
Whenever we post anything gun-related, the hits on our blog go through the roof. Good buddy Gobi told me to get another gun blog up on the wire, so my friend Greg and I sent some lead downrange through the Springfield rifles earlier today. Here’s a teaser photo from an upcoming blog showing Greg admiring a real beauty…anybody know what it is? One hint…my Dad paid a whopping $25 for it back in the day.
This photo may or may not be the new Indian FTR1200 that we’ve all been fantasizing about since Indian shoved both H-D and Kawasaki aside and took over flat track racing in America. Posted by Roger Gutterridge and brought to my attention by my internet buddy, Skip Duke, I have no way of knowing if this is the real thing.
Here at Wild Conjecture we don’t concern ourselves with facts. Indeed the very name of the joint suggests half-cocked ideas and squishy logic. But there are a few things that make me think this bike may be real.
What do you think?A great engine.
The engine seems to be based on the regular Scout, at least the bottom-end looks mostly the same. I really don’t see why Indian would try to street-ify a race engine when the Scout unit is reliable and makes decent horsepower. What would be the advantage of creating another dealer parts stream and the exposure to warranty claims for a new engine that cuts a few pounds? The American motorcyclist has proven time and time again that weight is not a deal killer.
The frame looks pretty cool, perhaps a Ducati employee was spirited away to Spirit Lake? Rear suspension has Indian’s patented no-stroke shock absorber technology and by the girth of the spring looks to be mono shock. Front suspension is via the now traditional upside down fork with a steepish rake compared to Indian’s cruiser offerings. Flat track style handlebars top the front end. The front brakes are huge and doubled. Stopping should not be an issue with this bike.
Giant mufflers occupy most of the left rear section but I’m guessing there’s a box underneath to soak up more life saving noise. Body-wise, the gas tank could be a bit further forward and an inch or so higher in the front. As is it sort of looks like someone put the wrong tank on the FTR. I only have this one angle so it may be fine from another angle. The wheels look like they came directly off the race bike but I’m guessing in 17-inch for a wide selection of tires. Shod with flat track treaded tires, they look the business.
Nothing on the pictured bike looks undoable. Indian could start cranking these things out any time they wanted to. Overall, I like the bike. Since Indian began teasing us with hints of the street-going FTR about 482 years ago I’ve heard many comments from the buying public. The general consensus is that if Indian builds a street version of their 750cc race bike we will beat a path to their door.
This doesn’t look like a street version of Indian’s 750cc racer. It looks like a race styled version of their Scout. For real life street riding the Scout engine is the better choice and you won’t miss changing flywheels for an afternoon ride in the mountains. If you really want to race flat track just pony up the $50K and get the real thing.
Wild Conjecture loves the thing pictured even if it’s a red herring. More importantly, what do you think? Has Indian made the flat track bike that you said you would buy? Is this thing a phony? Is it real enough?
Somewhere in New Mexico on the 2005 Three Flags Rally with my ’95 Daytona 1200, a bike I still dream about.
I guess a bike can still be a dream bike if you owned one and then sold it. Hell, I still dream about my Triumph 1200 Daytona, so I guess it qualifies. It was a fantastic bike. A real locomotive. Crude, strong, powerful, and fun. And fast. Wow, was it ever fast!
I first saw a 1200 Daytona at a CBX Honda meet (yeah, I had one of those, too). It was at a guy’s house somewhere in Hollywood, and this dude also had a black 1200 Daytona. Well, maybe that’s not quite right…I saw one at the Long Beach Show even before then, but I didn’t really appreciate what it was all about. This CBX guy was laughing and telling me about the Daytona’s design.
“What they did, har har har, was basically just hang an extra cylinder off the right side of the motor, har har har,” he said. “Here, har har har, take a look at this, har har har,” and with that, he walked behind the Daytona and pointed to the engine. Holy mackerel, I thought. It had been a 900cc triple. Now it was a 1200 four, and the added girth of that extra cylinder stuck out of the frame on the right. They didn’t even re-center the engine in the frame. Anything this crude, I thought, I had to have. Har har har, the CBX guy was right. This was a machine worth owning. I had to get me one.
I guess the feeling passed (they usually do), but that bike stuck in my mind. I had pretty much forgotten all about that Daytona until one day when I received an email, way back in ’02, from my riding buddy Marty. It seemed there was a brand-new 1995 Triumph Daytona on Ebay. 7 years old, never sold, and the dealer in Wisconsin was auctioning it off on Ebay. In 2002.
Jesus, I was still on dial up Internet in those days. I can still hear the squelching when I logged onto AOL to get to the Internet. This can’t be right, I thought, as I studied the Ebay listing. I called the dealer. He was a Ducati and Kawasaki guy now, somewhere in Wisconsin. Used to be a Triumph dealer. He got the Daytona when he was still selling Triumphs, he had put it on display (it was stunning), nobody bit, he was anxious to sell, he lost the Triumph franchise years ago, and he was finally getting around to unloading the Daytona. Yep, it’s brand new, he told me. Never registered. 0.6 miles on the clock. $12,995 back in ’95. I already knew that. It was beyond my reach back then.
I did the only thing I could think of. I put in a bid. Using dial up. On Ebay. My friend Marty was shocked. So was I.
Over the next several days, the price climbed. Then it was D-day. Then H-hour. Then M-minute. The bid was $7,195. For a 7-year old, brand new, originally $12,995 motorcycle. I waited until there were just a few seconds left and I put in a bid for $7,202. On dial up Internet. Nothing happened. That was dial up for you.
The auction ended, my dial up Ebay was flashing at me. I swore up a blue streak, cursing the genes that had made me a cheap SOB who wouldn’t pay extra for broadband. I used dial up to save a few bucks, and now it had cost me big time. I thought I had let that dream bike get away. Then Ebay announced the winner, and it was me.
Yahoo! (No, Ebay and AOL!) I won! Whoopee!
My dream come true, after arriving from Wisconsin by air. I had visions of flying to Wisconsin and riding back, but when I called, the dealer’s wife told me he was out front shoveling snow…I know. Stunning. Mine. A dream come true.Beauty like this can drive ya buggy. The aftermath of a CLASSIFIED high speed run across central California on Highway 58.
A few days later, I had the bike, and my dream came true. I put 20,000 miles on it, I rode the thing from Canada to Mexico on the 30th Anniversary Three Flags Rally with Marty (I was the only Triumph among the 400 bikes that rode the event that year), and then I sold it. A dream come true, and I sold it. I know, I know. What was I thinking?
I can still dream, I guess, and I often do, of that big yellow locomotive with one cylinder hanging off the right side…
Our tiny motorcycle world is flooded with hyper-ventilating products. We are spoiled for choice in both gear and bike models to suit an unfathomable number of riding styles, lifestyles and hairstyles. Motorcycle manufacturers pour increasing amounts of capitol into chasing an aging, dwindling ridership. Adrift, bike makers are doubling down on complexity and exclusivity combined with rich textures and finishes. It’s a Corinthian Leather approach to motorcycling that didn’t work for the Chrysler Cordoba, either. The same technology that helps keep computer memory exponentially increasing allows builders to make a (nearly) unique motorcycle for each and every one of us, for a price. It’s still not working for me.
I don’t understand the desires of today’s motorcyclist. I don’t value the things they value and I don’t even understand the conversation when they start talking farkles. To me, farkles are things that break off in a crash. Big, heavy, cluttered motorcycles are the popular choice amongst riders. Riders like massive, unusable power tamed by tinker-toy mystery boxes and acres of plastic covering automotive-quality mechanicals. Strip the faring off of a modern motorcycle and gaze at the industrial wreckage: That’s not why I got into motorcycles, man.
The last time a motorcycle manufacturer spoke to me was in the early 1980’s, by, of all people, Honda. You guys know I’m pretty hard on Honda. Their recent offerings have been bland and sensible, but there was a time when Honda built some of the most desirable motorcycles in the world.
The bike that called my name…the Honda XL600R.
We have lost the ability to be surprised in this Internet age but in 1983 I walked into San Diego’s Fun Bike Center and ran head first into Honda’s new XL600R. I was blindsided by its superiority over every motorcycle I had ever owned. A pulsing red mist settled in over my eyes. With its long travel mono-shock suspension and potent 600cc single-cylinder engine it was not only perfect for dirt, but the semi powerful disc front brake allowed the XL to do a damn good impression of a sport bike on the pavement. Ask that guy riding the Ninja 600 on Palomar Mountain.
I had to have one right now. With $2000 dollars in my bank account I drained that sucker dry and started pitching the deal to area dealerships. The downtown Honda dealer bit and later the next day I was flat broke but invincible.
The bike was a revelation. Trails that I bounced over at 45 miles per hour were now smooth and level at 70 miles per hour. I could go so fast (95 mph!) in the dirt I was overshooting familiar corners. Dry riverbeds became desert freeways. The bike demanded a recalibration of all my senses and a new riding style. It didn’t like pussy-footing around. You had to slide way up on the gas tank and make every move a hard, aggressive move. Kick starting it was a pain but the endless wheelies and powerslides made it all worthwhile. I put 70,000 miles on the XL600. Sadly the engine reliability wasn’t equal to its overall brilliance. I had to rebuild the engine three times.
$10K, to start. Wow!
I look at the zillions of new motorcycle models and none of them fire my passion like that ’83 XL600R. There is one bike though, one bike that almost duplicates that long-ago blood-lust and oddly enough it’s another Honda. The new CRF450L. At $10,000 I wont be rushing down to the Honda dealer with cash in hand like 1983. I’m older and wiser now, and I may not be able to recalibrate my senses.
Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota…the turnaround point on our 5000-mile Western America Adventure Ride, a wildly-publicized event to show the world that the Chinese RX3 is a reliable motorcycle (and it is; we rode the entire ride with a bunch of bikes without a single breakdown, I wrote a book about it, and the rest, as they say, is history). We cut a meandering beeline (I know…we’re running a special on oxymorons this week) on some of the best roads in the US, from So Cal to South Dakota, turned west and hit more great roads until we ran out of continent, and then turned left again to follow the Pacific Coast back to So Cal. It was an amazing ride (you can read about it in 5000 Miles at 8000 RPM) and it was incredible fun.
My favorite moment? Hands down, it was a photo at Mt. Rushmore. Kyle, one of the Chinese riders, was grabbing a pic of King Kong, Leonard, Hugo, and Tso in front of the world-famous monument. Dumb-ass me…I thought Kyle just wanted a photo of the four with Mt. Rushmore in the background and I wondered why he was making it so complicated. Holding the camera with his right hand and barking orders in Chinese while motioning with his left, old Kyle seemed to be injecting complexity into a situation that required none. At each new Kyle edict, the four guys in the above photo moved this way or that, changed their gaze slightly, and generally responded instantly to their Chongqing taskmaster. It suddenly dawned on me (and the rest of the folks watching this show, who started laughing and cheering at about the same instant): Kyle and his men were creating a “Made in China” Mt. Rushmore!
Highly desirable, as would I be if I owned one (or so I thought): The 1969 SL350 Honda.
The year was 1969 and things were happening. On the world stage, Vietnam was going full tilt with no end in sight; on the home stage, I had finished high school and was enjoying my summer working at the California Speed and Sport Shop (I’ve got to do a blog about that place someday). I was 18 years old, I had a Honda 90, Triumph 650s ruled the streets, and the pizza in New Jersey was the best in the world. Stated differently, life was good.
My cousin Marsha was seeing a cool guy named Don. Don was a little older and infinitely cooler than me and my friends, a perception he solidified one summer night when he arrived on a brand-new Honda SL350. Wow. Candy blue with white accents, downswept pipes and upswept mufflers, a high front fender, knobby tires, and a look that was just right. Honda offered the SL350, if I recall correctly, in candy apple red, candy blue, and candy gold, and the bike in any of those colors had a silver frame. It was perfect. Say what you want about Asian aesthetics; in my opinion, Honda nailed it. Make mine any color, but I would prefer blue (like Don’s) or the candy red. Nah, scratch that…as long as I’m dreaming, make mine candy red. Yeah, that’s the ticket.
The SL350 looked (and sounded) the way a motorcycle ought to look and sound. In my testosteroned and teenaged mind, I would have instantly become infinitely cooler and better looking on an SL350. Every young lady in New Jersey would want to go out with me if I had an SL350, or so I imagined.
Up to that point, my dream bike was a Triumph TT Special (it had similar tucked-in headers and lots more power), but damn, that SL350 looked right. I would have bought one, but by the time I had enough coin to get a bigger street bike Honda had introduced their CB750, and that got the nod. But I’ve always wanted an SL350.
The SL350 was Honda’s answer to Yamaha’s DT series of dual-purpose bikes, but that wasn’t why I thought it was cool. Yeah, you can play spec-sheet expert and point out that the SL350 weighed more than the Triumph TT Special and had way less power, or that the DT Yamahoppers did better both on and off road, but I don’t care. And I know that the SL350 “only” had 325cc and it “only” had a top end just north of 80 mph. My answer to that? Please see Response No. 1: I don’t care.
The SL350 is one of the ones that got away. It hit all the right notes for me (your mileage may vary), and I still want one.
Highway 41. Falling safes and ACME dynamite country. Beep beep!
Highway 41 runs from the Gran Quivira ruins to Highway 380. Forty miles of easy dirt, (unless it rains), the road really doesn’t go anywhere I need it to go but I still take the route if I’m going north/south to Santa Fe and have time to kill. I have lots of time to kill.
The consequences of not keeping your rig in shape?
There are old ranches in New Mexico. This dry land requires thousands of acres to support cattle or whatever hybrid, cactus-eating animals they raise out here. Access to these ranches is via roads like 41. The road cuts through warning signs and fence lines working its way past lonely muster stations that no longer thunder with the sounds of hooves and bellowing cattle. Time continues to function out here, hour by hour degrading nails and planks, erasing the best efforts of past generations. It’s a bygone landscape that appeals to a kid raised on a steady diet of Road Runner and Wiley Coyote cartoons.
Highway 41. The red pin is Gran Quivira.
I’d like to think I could have made a stand out here, been a solitary man roping and fence-mending in the bitter wind of a New Mexico winter, surviving by my wits and taming this vast, high desert. I would have mail ordered rockets and catapults from ACME, the cartoon version of Amazon. I’d build windmills and log cabins. I’d eat snakes and shoot quarters out of mid-air with a six-gun that I took out of a dead man’s holster. Then I’d write a Rustic’s poem about the dead man titled, “His Noted Life Was Not In Vain.” I’d have all the trappings of America’s western lore and I would have shouldered it in stride. A life without comfort or ease would be met with a steely-eyed stoicism that concealed deep emotions surging through my fully realized cowboy-self.
A time gone by.Bring it on, and I’ll still be standing!
Highway 41 is remote, the kind of road that makes you worry about tires or if you have enough water. There’s no cell phone reception and you’ll want your rig in top shape to travel out here. I keep my rig in just-above-collapse shape. Clapped out with three broken engine mounts appeals to my cowboy-self. After climbing a small ridge, 41 becomes increasingly populated by ghosts. Bent and weathered power poles spread their arms, holding nothing. I should have brought more water and a jar of peanut butter.
If you have the time, and the back road leads somewhere you don’t really need to go, I recommend taking Highway 41. There’s adventure in every movement. Joy in discovering a structure that still stands despite it all. America’s private history is waiting to be discovered, starting with the insignificant bits first. It’s on us to record the passing of the Old West. We can be witnesses for unheralded battlefields where stoic cowboys fell to Time and Nature.
The 45 70 is a cartridge that’s been around since 1873, and it’s a whopper. Its designation was originally the 45 70 500 (a .45 caliber, 500 grain bullet, packed with 70 grains of powder). It was an Army cartridge used in the 1873 Springfield rifle, and the recoil was fierce enough that Uncle Sam soon cut the bullet weight to 405 grains. The cartridge was also used in Sharps and other rifles, and the early Gatling guns.
Reloaded 45 70 cartridges, with the 300-grain Hornady bullet. This is a big cartridge. It’s what buffalo hunters and Gatling guns used.
After the Army went to the 30 06 cartridge (in, of course, 1906), the 45 70 just about went belly up. But then Ruger re-introduced the 45 70 in their No. 1 single shot rifle in the early 1970s, and Marlin reintroduced their 1895 rifle shortly after that. The fun started all over again. That’s when I got in the game (back in the 1970s), and I’ve been happily sending those big .45 slugs downrange ever since.
I’m a big fan of the 45 70 and I’ve been told I’m a bad influence, as I’ve had several friends buy 45 70 rifles after hanging around me. It’s been fun, especially reloading the 45 70 and comparing recipes (more on that in a second).
As mentioned above, the Ruger No. 1 was the first of the modern rifles chambered in 45 70, and it’s a beautiful firearm. The Ruger No. 3 was an economy version of the No. 1 that Ruger only made for a few years. The No. 3 rifles were substantially less than a No. 1 when new, but because they’ve been discontinued, No. 3 rifles often sell for as much as a No. 1 (and sometimes more). The Marlin is less than either Ruger, but don’t confuse price with quality (or fun). The Marlin is a hoot to shoot, too.
A 45 70 Ruger No. 1, with Circassian walnut furniture and a 26-inch barrel.The Ruger No. 3, also in 45 70. These rifles sold for about $139 when new. Today they can sell for as much as $1000 in pristine condition.A Marlin 1895 45 70 Guide Gun. I bought this rifle because of its wood. It’s a good shooter, too.
I mentioned that my several of my friends now have 45 70 rifles, and we all reload 45 70 ammo. The idea is that we want to find the most accurate load for our rifles, and every rifle (even the same model) has its preferences. No two guns shoot the same.
Here’s where all this going. One of my buddies tested a load that looked promising in his 45 70 (a load using Trail Boss gunpowder with a 300 grain jacketed hollow point bullet), so I tried his load along with one other, all in the above three rifles, to see how they would do.
I shot at two targets for this test (a standard silhouette target and a 5-bullseye target). I shot each rifle at the silhouette’s orange center first (my aim point) because I didn’t know where the rounds would hit and I wanted to make sure I was on paper. Then I shot a second group from each rifle at the bullseye targets. I shot 3-shot groups except for one, as noted in my results in the table below. Note that all targets were fired at a distance of 50 yards.
First, the targets…
There are five different groups on this target. My point of aim was the bottom of the orange rectangle.The bullseye targets. I wasn’t worried about each group’s location; at this point, only group size was of interest. After picking the best load, I’ll adjust the rifle’s sights.
And finally, my tabulated results….
The first load tested would not chamber in the Ruger No. 1 because the bullets were seated too far forward in the brass cartridge case; better to find this out at the range than on a hunting trip!
The Ruger No. 1 really liked that 16.2 grain Trail Boss load (it was my buddie’s favored load). It delivered a 1-inch group. This load was also good in the Marlin, but not nearly as good as others I have shot in that rifle (the Marlin shoots into 0.6-inch with the right load). The No. 3 Ruger seemed to like the 3031 powder load with the 300 grain jacketed hollow point bullets.
As I mentioned above, every rifle responds differently to a given load, and that’s what we try to find…the best load for the best rifle.
I posted this photo a year or so ago when I was writing the CSC blog, and it’s worth posting again.
Photo by good buddy Burt!
The Reader’s Digest version of the story goes like this: When we did the Western America Adventure Ride (you can read all about that in 5000 Miles at 8000 RPM), one of the places my good buddy Baja John found to spend the night was Panguitch, Utah, just outside of Bryce Canyon National Park. The area and the little town of Panguitch were a lot of fun, we were having a grand time, and then I got to feeling guilty. That happens a lot on the group tours, and it’s because I’m not sharing the adventure with my girlfriend, Sue. But I have an app for that…I do the trip again and bring Sue along.
Fast forward a couple of years, and Sue and I found ourselves waiting to be seated at the Cowboy BBQ, the best restaurant in Panguitch (there’s always a line to get in). When we were seated, another couple came in behind us. Burt saw my Nikon and asked if I was a photographer. One thing led to another, and Sue and I and Burt and Roz had a great dinner that night. We became good friends.
Fast forward a little more and Burt sent the above photo to me, but it was not just any photo. Burt had just won a DPReview.com contest with it (the subject was newlyweds).
Nice work, Burt, and thanks for sharing your fabulous photo with us!
That’s it for now, with just one teaser photo from an upcoming blog.
This photo may or may not be the new Indian FTR1200 that we’ve all been fantasizing about since Indian shoved both H-D and Kawasaki aside and took over flat track racing in America. Posted by Roger Gutterridge and brought to my attention by my internet buddy, Skip Duke, I have no way of knowing if this is the real thing.
