Gee, I was gonna buy the RX3 and then I heard they were coming out with the RX4. Then I was gonna buy the RX4 and I heard they were coming out with a 400cc twin. Then I was gonna buy the 400cc twin and I heard they were coming out with a 650cc twin. Then I was gonna buy the 650 and I heard about this new 850cc Zongshen adventure bike.
I’m going to guess the above is a thought that has trickled through more than a few minds. It’s what I’m guessing occurs everytime Zongshen announces or leaks (I’m not sure what the appropriate word should be) that they have something newer, bigger, and better coming down the pike (like the RX850 you see above). Webster defines mayhem as “needless or willful damage or violence” (in a criminal context it’s the intentional mutilation or disfigurement of another human being) and Dictionary.com defines cannibalize as “to cut into; cause to become reduced; diminish.” Both words (i.e., cannibalize and mayhem) somehow seem relevant to Zongshen’s marketing practice of announcing new models just as (and sometimes even before) the preceding displacement model enters the marketplace. You’d think it would cannibalize sales of the models currently in showrooms, especially given our brainwashed belief that more displacement is always a good thing.
But what do I know? I sell one or two used motorcycles every decade or so, while Zongshen sells something like a million new motorcycles every year. I suspect companies selling Zongs both here and in other countries sell every bike they get (I know that’s the case with CSC, and I’ve seen it to be the case in Colombia). I once had a guy write to me who wanted to buy two RX3s so he and his wife could tour Colombia, but he couldn’t find a dealer in Colombia who wasn’t sold out. He wrote to me after reading Moto Colombia to ask if I could intervene with the AKT Motos general manager (I did, good buddy Enrique obliged, and that couple’s ride through magical Colombia went well).
My advice? Buy what you can get now. The 650 Zongshen hasn’t even hit the streets yet, so don’t wait for it or the RX850 you see above. If you want to have a lot of fun for a little money, any of the available Zongs will serve you well. I put a lot of miles on my RX3 and I got good money when I sold it 5 years later.
Oh, one more word I wanted to address, and it’s an adjective: Dormant. Webster defines it as being asleep or inactive. It is a word that is not in Zongshen’s dictionary.
Epic motorcycle rides on Zongshens, Harleys, KLRs, Enfields, and more? It’s all right here!
When I was a kid growing up in New Jersey (a very rural New Jersey in those days), it was a local challenge to take off your shoes and socks and walk across the dam at the Old Mill. The Old Mill is one of those cool places that attracts kids (even old ones, like me). Remote, interesting, a hint of times past, and plenty of ways to get in trouble. There had been a water-powered mill there decades ago (a common approach to factory power in our early history); now, only the dam and the lake it formed remains. We called the area the Old Mill.
The upper arrow points to the Old Mill dam. The lower arrow points to an island (the scene of the goose attack, as will be explained below). The lake formed by the dam stretches upstream for a good distance.The Old Mill dam. We used to wade across the top when we were kids. I wouldn’t attempt it today.
Those were fun times. The Old Mill was a little over a mile from my house and the big adventure when we were kids was to ride our Schwinns there (I wish I still had that bike). Walking across the top in your bare feet was the double dare. The water was about 4 inches deep as it rushed over the top, the dam was coated with algae, and it was slick. And 4 inches of rushing water carried a lot of power. Taking that challenge marked you as a kid of substance (it was sort of a kid’s Combat Infantryman’s Badge). Pauly, Zeb, Verny, my cousin Bobby, me…those were grand times, riding our bikes and pretending they were motorcycles, coasting down Riva Avenue to the Old Mill, and looking for new ways to get into trouble. My Schwinn had chrome fenders and I used to imagine it was a BSA 650 Lightning. Fun times. It’s hard to believe it was 60 years ago.
So, I need to go tangential for a second to give some context to this Old Mill story. When we were kids, my Dad had one cardinal rule I probably heard the day I was born and at least weekly thereafter. It was simple: Never mess with firecrackers. Dad lost two fingers when he was a kid fooling around with firecrackers cutting them up to pour the contents into a pipe to make a bigger firecracker. You know the nutty things kids do. If kids did that today they would be called terrorists. In those days it was just kids doing what kids do. But the results were not good…there was a spontaneous ignition and when it was over, my Dad had two fewer fingers. Hence, the constant Dad drumbeat: Don’t mess with firecrackers.
Well, you might guess where this story is going. I couldn’t wait to mess with firecrackers. My cousin Bobby was 6 years younger than me back then (he still is) and we were thick as thieves when we were kids. One day Bobby, my friend Verny, and I rode our bikes to the Old Mill. Verny had a bunch of firecrackers in his saddlebag. Wow. The forbidden fruit. He even bought matches. Boy oh boy, we were having fun…lighting the things and throwing them out over the water. Bam! Bang! Pow! It was like being in a Batman TV show. Awesome fun. I was playing with firecrackers. It was better than running with scissors.
Boys will be boys, and Bobby was the youngest. It wasn’t too long before Verny and I were lighting the things and throwing them at Bobby. We were all laughing and having a good time. Even Bobby. He thought it was fun, too. Right up until the time one of the firecrackers landed in his collar behind his neck. To this day, I can still see it in slow motion…the little inch-and-a-half Black Cat tumbling through the air, its fuse sparkling, and then lodging in Bobby’s collar. And then…BOOM!
All laughter stopped at that point. Bobby froze, not making a sound after the detonation. The firecracker literally blew all the hair off the back of his head, which suddenly looked like an orangutan’s butt…bright red and bald. Bobby came through it okay. Me, not so much. I knew what would happen when my Dad saw this. It was a death sentence. Verny knew, too. Everybody knew about my Dad and firecrackers. Wow, were we ever in trouble.
Being Jersey boys, we came up with a plan. Maybe if we gave Bobby a haircut, it wouldn’t look so bad. Yeah, that’s the ticket. A quick trim and no one would notice. Ah, if only stupidity were money…I’d be the richest man in the world. We rode our bikes over to Verny’s house, found a couple of scissors, and went to work. After a few minutes, we realized what a sorry state we were in. Instead of just looking like a kid who had all the hair blown off the back of his head, Bobby now looked like…well, a kid who had all the hair blown off the back of his head and a really bad haircut. We were cooked.
All three of us rode to Bobby’s house, where my Uncle Herman (my Dad’s brother) took everything in with a single look. Herman had been there when Dad lost his fingers (which, when I think about it, would have been about 90 years ago now). Uncle Herman knew what the outcome would be if my father ever found out what we had done…I wouldn’t have made it to adulthood, and you wouldn’t be reading this blog. So he did me a whale of a favor…he and Bobby stayed away from our house until Bobby’s hair grew back. Uncle Herman, you’ve been gone for more than half a century now, but trust me on this…I’m still grateful!
Susie and I were in New Jersey a couple of weeks ago and we did what we always do when we’re back there: We visited the Old Mill. The leaves were turning colors and it was spectacular. Visiting the place always brings back memories…especially the ones above.
The Old Mill lake, as recently captured by my Nikon.
The Old Mill was built by the Davidson family (a nearby road is called Davidson’s Mill Road). I have no idea what they milled and I couldn’t find anything about it on the Internet. There was a another mill a few miles downstream that processed snuff (a major industry in this area a hundred years ago), so maybe it was a snuff. Whatever. The mill is long gone, but the dam remains and the area is a county park today.
As I was snapping photos, I noticed a blue-gray speck in front of the little island near the dam (there’s an Uncle Herman story about that island, too, and I’ll get to it in a second). I zoomed in, and it was a blue heron. I’d seen them here before. I wished I could have gotten closer, but my 120mm lens and Nikon’s vibration reduction technology did the trick for me.
A blue heron looking for lunch at the Old Mill.
Once when I was a kid, I rowed my little aluminum boat here all the way from my house. The creek behind my place (Lawrence Brook) flowed to the Old Mill and beyond. Uncle Herman, Bobby, my cousin Marsha, and I were having a good time as I rowed toward that island when we suddenly heard a god-awful hissing. A goose was flying straight at us, low over the water, with what appeared to be a 10-foot wingspan (it probably wasn’t that big, but the overall effect was one of sheer terror and if that goose was trying to intimidate us, it succeeded). The goose had a nest on that island, and we were where the goose didn’t want us.
When I visited the Old Mill earlier this year, the water snakes were out in full force and I photographed a large one below the dam. You can read more about that in the blog I did a few months ago. There are a lot of cool critters in these waters, including frogs, several species of turtles, pickerel, sunfish, and snakes. Good times for kids. It was a good place to grow up.
A very large water snake sunning itself in New Jersey.
On this most recent visit, we were in New Jersey just as the leaves were turning colors. This last photo is one I stitched together in PhotoShop. A click will enlarge it, and then click on it again to see it full size.
If you had asked me a week ago what the Rubber Chicken Ride is about I would have replied, “I have no clue, Bubba.” Held annually in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico the 2021 Rubber Chicken Ride resisted any defining characteristics and after three days participating I still have no clue what it was about.
There’s an entry fee, $50, that goes to the New Mexico Off Highway Vehicle Association, (NMOHVA). I guess it’s a like a fundraiser except a motorcycle ride breaks out while passing the collection plate.
I met up with the near legendary dirt-riding group, The Carrizozo Mud Chuckers at the Truth or Consequences Travel Lodge motel. The Travel Lodge is one of the few remaining old school types where the room doors open out directly onto the parking lot. I like this layout as you can hang out as a group tinkering with the bikes. It fosters community spirit and you can lock your bike to the uprights supporting the overhang. At the motel we met six other Rubber Chicken Riders none of who had any idea what was going on and all pushing 70 years old. That’s like 3 years older than the Chuckers.
This year’s Chicken was stripped to the bare bones due to Covid. No group dinners, no Show Us Your Scars competition, no organizing at all: just show up and ride. Part of the confusion was due to my not bothering to download the GPX files from the Rubber Chicken thread on ADVrider, which I knew nothing about until I was at the event. I probably couldn’t have figured out how to migrate the files to my GPS anyway. It annoys me that those old codgers can download files into their displays and I’m still using paper maps. I think of my GPS is kind of a last resort deal; I use it when I’m not sure how to get home.
That first day we tried to find the Rubber Chicken sign up area at Healing Waters Plaza, a place no one in Truth or Consequences seems to have heard of. Everyone we asked sent us to a different Healing Waters but they were hot springs, not the sign up staging area. The town was named Hot Springs in the past and has quite a few still around. Luckily, my Garmin knew about the palm-lined plaza and after riding past it several times we were able to find the pocket park along with a couple other Rubber Chicken Riders. Oddly, there was no water in sight.
The other riders we met at Healing Waters were as clueless as we were so we sat around and talked bikes for a while then the Chuckers and I decided to ride out to nearby Elephant Butte Dam to check out the scenery. After the dam tour we hit up the local Denny’s. You know how they say landing and take off are the most dangerous parts of flying, that’s how it is for me getting on or off the tall Husky 510. The Husky’s kickstand is so designed that once you’re on the bike you can’t tip it over far enough to retract the stand. This means I have to get on or off the bike with the kickstand up. Not a problem on a normal motorcycle, with the Husky it takes Baryshnikov-level flexibility to toss a leg over the high seat and rear luggage stores. I’m no Baryshnikov.
I got half way off the bike but my boot hung for a life-altering moment, still on one leg the bike started to topple over the far side. I pulled the bike back towards me but pulled a little too much. With my stubby, grounded-leg near the centerline of the wheel track the bike toppled over onto the near side taking me out in the process. In the Denny’s parking lot. In front of everyone.
Back at the Travel Lodge we grilled the other riders. They resisted at first but stopped struggling as soon as they were evenly browned on both sides. The way it was supposed to work is you download route files and load them in your GPS before arriving, then at the plaza meet up with like-minded riders and off you go, a merry band of riders. It’s a great way to meet new riding buddies. There’s no NMOHVA sanctioned rides. This is the loosest possible group ride you can imagine. One of the riders had an old, Rubber Chicken event T-shirt. In a testimony to how damaged things have become since Covid all we got this year was a tiny NMOHVA sticker with a rubber chicken on it.
The second day there was a sign up table at the Healing Waters Plaza. Maybe 15 riders had gathered and we had a good gabfest with the boys and one girl. By now we pretty much had the event figured out so the Chuckers and I headed out to Chloride, an occupied-ghost town for one of the routes: the Chloride canyon loop. We didn’t have GPX files but the Chuckers had paper maps.
At the end of the road in Chloride the road turns hard left and becomes unpaved. It’s sort of rough and rocky being a dry streambed at the bottom of a steep canyon. After about a mile of this abuse we stopped to reassess our riding skills and time left in the day. For a route that 6 guys on dirt bikes had done just a day before there were no tire tracks except the ones we were making. I dreaded turning on the Garmin because I’ve never read the owner’s manual, it always leads to a bunch of button pushing and frustration instead of riding. The Garmin said the road went for 5.6 more miles then dead-ended.
We started doubting our direction. Maybe we are on the wrong route, those 70 year-old guys couldn’t have gone this way. None of us liked the idea of riding this rocky trail 5 miles and then turning around and riding it back. We chose an alternate route. Seeing as there were no official routes anyway we felt we could take liberties with the Rubber Chicken.
Our alternate route was a long, 60-mile stretch of fairly easy dirt bookended between 80 miles of pavement on either side. The route seemed to go on forever. We went over the continental divide twice, once on paved Highway 59, once on Dirt Road 150. The later it got the faster we went. Highway 152 was a marvelous twisty road that we could use as much of the side-tread of our knobbies as we dared. We arrived back at the Travel Lodge at 7 pm; 9 hours of riding over widely varying terrain made for excellent sleeping.
On the third day of the Rubber Chicken Ride, a Sunday, the other riders at the Travel Lodge had loaded up their bikes and gone home. The Mud Chuckers and I decided to leave the Rio Grande Valley and work our way one valley east to Tularosa Valley, our home turf. In retrospect, we didn’t get much for our $50 but it got us away from our usual dirt-riding spots and it supported the NMOHVA so it was money well spent. While I was telling this story to my wife, CT, it must have sounded like I was complaining. Maybe I did bitch a little. She said that volunteer organizations always need help and that maybe next year we should print a few maps, plan a Rubber Chicken route and set up a ride instead of waiting for others to do the hard work for us. That sounded an awful lot like a gauntlet being thrown down to me.
Niagara Falls, New York: It’s been a bucket list destination all my life and I’d never made it there (until last week, that is). Susie and I flew back east, picked up my sister Eileen, and headed west again. Niagara Falls is the largest waterfall in the United States, with more than 6 million cubic feet of water going over the edge every minute. But I’ll get to Niagara Falls in a minute. First, I’d like to tell you about the B&B in nearby Buffalo. The InnBuffalo is where we stayed and we thoroughly enjoyed it.
The InnBuffalo off Elmwood.
Originally built in 1898 by Herbert Hewitt (a wealthy industrialist), the InnBuffalo is impressive. Good buddy Joe Lettieri and his wife Ellen bought the place a few years ago and converted it to a B&B. Joe and Ellen kept things as original as possible, with awesome original interior decor and a comfort level that is off the charts. Take a look at these photos:
The InnBuffalo’s front porch. We sat here every night and enjoyed hot tea.The library on the first floor.The music room in the InnBuffalo.The first floor hallway. The InnBuffalo has several fireplaces.Looking out at the front porch from the parlor.Stained glass windows in the stairwell.
Niagara Falls is a short 17 miles from the InnBuffalo. As we approached the area, my sister pointed out the rising mist in the distance. She correctly identified it as coming from the Falls, but I thought it was just steam escaping from a factory. Nope, my sister had it right. The mist is visible for quite a distance. It was a hint of what was ahead.
You can view the Falls from either the New York or the Canadian side. Folks say the view is more spectacular from Canada, but with the Covid restrictions in place we didn’t want to screw around with medical tests and crossing an international border. Our visit was on the US side and it was great.
Niagara Falls. That’s Canada on the right.
We took the Maid of the Mist boat tour to the bottom of the falls, and with 6 million gallons per minute cascading down (the highest flow rate of any falls in North America), we experienced the obligatory soaking. Even the tour boats are interesting…they are electric and fully recharge in 7 minutes between each tour. If you make it up here, the boat tour is something you ought to do.
We were on one of tour boats and it was a cool experience.The Maid of the Mist. All electric, all the time.
The Niagara Falls State Park area is interesting, too. There’s no admission fee, although there is a fee for the boat tour to the bottom of the Falls. Within the Park, you can get very close to the Niagara River water rushing by (you can see how close in the big photo at the top of this blog). That part was a little unnerving, you know, seeing all that energy rushing by. You wouldn’t want to fall in…it’s not likely you could get out before going over.
Di Camilla’s Bakery is a good spot to stop for lunch (my sister knew about it and she was right…it’s wonderful). Di Camilla’s is located in the town of Niagara Falls just a couple of minutes from the Falls. Try the broccoli pizza (it was exquisite).
Even though we visited in mid-October, the weather was comfortably in the mid-70s. Joe Lettieri explained that temperatures are milder in the Buffalo area than they are further south, which suprised me. I wouldn’t plan a motorcycle ride through the region in the winter, but Buffalo wasn’t the icebox I anticipated.
The roads in and around upstate New York are impressive. There are several roads in the Buffalo and Niagara Falls areas worthy of exploration. On the Canadian side, there’s the Niagara Parkway (also known as River Road), which parallels the Niagara River both before and after the Falls. On the US side, there’s the West River Parkway. And then there’s upstate New York and its plentiful two lane roads. You could take the interstates into Buffalo and then Niagara Falls, but you’d be missing the best parts of New York and the northeastern United States. Folks think of New York as New York City and its massive traffic. Get out of the city, though, and New York is amazingly bucolic, rustic, and all the other favorable adjectives that apply to this area. The great challenge is arriving late enough in the year to take in the changing autumn leaves and their reds, oranges, yellows, and browns, but not so late that you run into winter snow and ice.
One more thing…while you’re in Buffalo, don’t make fun of the Buffalo Bills. I told an old joke about how the Bills got their name (“Boy I like to lose”) and I somehow managed to escape with all my teeth. But it was close. These folks take their football seriously.
More reviews on interesting parks? They are right here!
I like the Remington 700. That’s been true for every one of the several Model 700s I’ve owned over the years, starting with a left-hand 30 06 BDL I bought in the late 1970s in Fort Worth, Texas. I’m right-handed, but the price on that 700 BDL was too good to let it get away. That rifle would put five shots of just about anything inside an inch at 100 yards. One of my good buddies had a teenaged southpaw son who was looking for a rifle and that BDL found a home with him (and the following month he used it to bag a deer, so it was a win-win for everyone except Bambi).
Three decades later I saw the subject of this blog, a Model 700 European in 30 06, new in the box and I had to have it. It had nice figure, it was unfired, and it was the rare European model. The Remington 700 BDL normally came with a high-gloss urethane finish, but in the early 1990s Remington offered the rifle in limited quantities with a satin oil finish. The European 700 BDL model was available in six chamberings: .243, .270, .280, 7mm-08, 7mm Rem. Mag., .30-06 and .308. I’ve never seen another European in any caliber. In 1994, the second and last year of production, the Model 700 European listed for $524.
I kept the rifle for about 10 years without firing it, taking it out of the safe to admire it occasionally. There were a couple of things I didn’t like about the rifle. Remington apparently put only one coat of tung oil on the stock, and the wood was fairly porous. I knew that the stock would be a magnet for moisture in that condition. And, the inletting around the floor plate was sloppy…it touched the metal on one side and had gaps on the other. I needed a project, and the Remington European 700 BDL was it. I glass bedded the action (and the trigger guard/floor plate area) and I went to work on the stock by adding 10 coats of TruOil. Then I found a good load for this rifle using IMR 4166 propellant (that blog is here).
As I added each coat of TruOil, I keep flipping back and forth between leaving a gloss finish on the rifle or knocking it down with 0000 steel wool. I liked the look of the gloss finish, but I liked the satin finish better. I think this one turned out well.
The Model 700 European with seven coats of TruOil, each one polished with 0000 steel wool and wiped clean before applying the next coat.After the ninth coat of TruOil, I was just about there. Ten coats would finish the rifle.
It’s easy enough to put another coat of TruOil on if I want to return to a gloss finish, but for me, the satin look is much more elegant, and that’s what I went with.
Load testing with the glass bedded and refinished Model 700 European.Three shots in under an inch. It will do that with five shots, too, but it’s hard to get game to sit still for five shots.
I’m going to sell the European (through an FFL, of course). I have other toys and the European BDL doesn’t fit the rest of my collection. It’s a sweet shooter and it needs a good home. If you’re interested, drop me a line at info@exhaustnotes.us.
I saw this very interesting post on Facebook from good buddy Reeve not too long ago and I thought you fancy walnut aficionados might enjoy it:
Here’s my take on a Stevens Little Scout. I built it for my grandson from a rough original. The barrel has a new liner, and the stock changed to a pistolgrip. The forend changed from the lifeless little wedge to a Schnabel. The wood is Turkish walnut. I hot blued the metalwork. Engraving and color case by Mike Crumling.
Reeve, thanks for allowing us to share your artistry. I’d say your grandson is a lucky guy on many levels. That is a beautiful rifle, my friend.
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The clutch cable on the RD350 was at max adjustment on the lever perch and the clutch action was a bit stiff so I removed the left side engine cover to clean things up. The cover locating dowel on the bottom was a little corroded so it took some wiggling and wobbling to get it free. Inside I was rewarded with an ignition/alternator assembly that looked nearly new. The screw heads are un-boogered and the cad plating looks like new.
I paid quite a bit for this motorcycle but it’s been worth it as the bike has seen very few ham-fisted sorties into the mechanical aspects of the thing. The sprocket area was well covered in chain grease so I needed to bag up the alternator and clean the area.
Cleaning the clutch release and countershaft sprocket area revealed that the parts were also nearly new. I dismantled the clutch actuator and cleaned up the cover.
I encourage others to leave original finishes alone but the left side cover was missing a lot of paint and had that white corrosion patina that speaks to poor maintenance. A rattle can of Rustoleum satin black matched the original engine color well so I gave it a little squirt. Note I did not polish the bare aluminum parts or touch up the points cover. That stuff wasn’t too bad.
While I had the clutch helix cover apart I decided to install a new chain. I’m not one of those, replace-it-all-or-you’ll-die, type of guys. If the sprockets look unworn I’ll slap a new chain on the old sprockets. I realize this is hearsay in the Big-Sprocket boardrooms but those guys are in the sprocket selling business. The RD sprockets look like new so don’t worry, it will be fine. One glitch was the old tire is a 3.75-18 IRC, the bike calls for a 3.50-18. The narrow swingarm of the RD can barely accommodate the extra ¼ inch. I had to adjust the chain a wee bit tighter than I like to keep the tire from rubbing the front of the gusset. That problem will be solved when I replace the tires.
The RD350 uses a 530-size chain; that’s a pretty heavy chain for a 350’s weight and power. Once these items wear out I plan on going with one of the many 520 chain conversion kits for the RD350. With small displacement engines you don’t want to waste power spinning a heavy chain.
After greasing the clutch release helix and clutch cable, along with the perch pivot the clutch is much smoother and easier to pull in. The RD350 is geared kind of high in first gear so you’ve got to give it some revs and slip the clutch to get it off the line without bogging the thing.
With the new chain and the clutch adjusted I figured I better get the bike legal because there’s no way I’m not going to ride it. I burbled down to DNA title services in Alamogordo with all my paperwork and it was a breeze to swap the title. In New Mexico we have privately run tag agencies in addition to state run agencies. The lines are much shorter at the private places and there’s an incentive to sell you a tag or they make no money. I had my choice of yellow, blue or black tags. I chose yellow because it’s old school New Mexico, like black tags are in California. The transfer, taxes and a two-year sticker cost $265 US dollars.
Arriving home from the title place there was gas leaking from the petcock. Close examination revealed that the hoses were leaking at the petcock barbs. I replaced the leaking fuel hose and added two huge fuel filters along with those springy, compression hose clamps. We will see it the leaks have stopped next ride.
I replaced the funky original Japanese swingarm and brake pedal grease fittings with normal ones that fit the grease gun everybody else on the planet uses. All of the areas were free breathing and took grease ok which makes me think they’re not clogged with hardened old muck.
I still have quite a bit of work to do on the RD350 but it’s rideable as is. I don’t trust the old tires, besides being too big the rear tire is very out of round and who knows how old the tubes are? The front end needs new oil and seals and the steering stem needs greasing. The rear shocks are like pogo sticks. I’ll get to it when I get to it, you know?
This blog started out as a snarky collaboration between dos Joes (Gresh and me) as a followup to the recent blog on 9 reasons why you should ride a Chinese motorcycle. One of the reasons we always hear about why you shouldn’t ride a Chinese motorcycle is that you can buy a used Sportster for what a new China bike costs, as if somewhere there is actually someone trying to make that decision. You know, a troubled soul asking himself: Should I buy a used Sportster, or a new Chinese motorcycle? We’ve got a bunch of witty one liners (at least we think they are witty) and I’ll get to them in a second. But before I do (and before all you macho Milwaukee muchachos get your chonies in a knot), you should know that I actually would like to have a used Sportster. Three, in fact.
The first is a 1977 or 1978 Harley Cafe Racer, one of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made. When these were first offered by Harley they retailed for about $3K. I was a young engineer at General Dynamics in Fort Worth, Texas, and I wanted one. But I couldn’t justify spending $3k on a motorcycle. I was single; I don’t know who I think I needed to justify it to. I should have bought one.
The next is the 1983 Harley XR1000, which we did a Dream Bikes piece on a couple of years ago. Man, I’d like to have one of those. The XR1000 was a stunning motorcycle. I’d call it visually arresting.
And the last one is a mid-60’s XLCH, preferably in blue or maybe red, like you see in the big photo up top of a restored bike. These sold for something like $1700 when they were new; I could have bought the one you see above for around $4,600 maybe three years ago. On the other hand, I saw a fully restored blue ’65 Sportster at the Long Beach International Motorcycle Show just before the pandemic hit and that one had a $20K price tag.
The used Sportsters listed above are the rock stars. There are also the not-so-exotic/not-so-collectable Sportsters. These are the ones that cost less than most new bikes but more than most used bikes. It’s a sweet spot, and to hear the folks who hate China bikes tell it, any used Sportster is a hell of deal. All righty, then…in keeping with the tongue-in-cheek nature of everything we write, here are our reasons why you should buy a used Sportster.
When you buy a used Sportster, you’ll spend less than you would on some new Chinese bikes (which, after all, is what started this blog).
When you buy a used Sportster, you’ll be helping the guy selling it get a Big Twin or a new Sportster.
When you buy a used Sportster, a lot of people on Facebook will think you’re smarter than the guys on ExNotes who keep bragging about Chinese motorcycles.
When you buy a used Sportster, you can hang out at Harley dealerships (the ones that are still open, that is).
When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t have to buy a vibrating chair (you’ll already have one).
When you buy a used Sportster, folks who don’t know anything about motorcycles will think you’re cool because you ride a Harley.
When you buy a used Sportster, you can gain weight big time and your Harley friends won’t call you fat because you’ll still be thinner than they are.
When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t have to ever shift into 6th gear.
When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t ever have to worry about not being able to find your 10mm socket.
When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t have to oil your chain (if you have a newer used one).
When you buy a used Sportster, it’s not likely you’ll ever get a speeding ticket.
When you buy a used Sportster, if you ride in flip flops and shorts no one will ever lecture you about ATGATT. In fact, they probably don’t even know what ATGATT means.
When you buy a used Sportster, you can wear Harley T-shirts. For a T-shirt company, Harley makes a nice motorcycle.
When you buy a used Sportster, you can watch Then Came Bronson reruns and not feel silly.
When you buy a used Sportster, if you just don’t feel like riding everyone will understand.
When you buy a used Sportster, you will help cut down the used Sportster inventory. The scarcity helps Janus sell more of their motorcycles because the 1200cc Sportster and the 250cc Janus are almost the same motorcycle performance wise.
When you buy a used Sportster, it allows you to say “I paid less than that for my used Sportster” when the cashier at McDonalds rings up your Happy Meal.
When you buy a used Sportster, if it’s old enough it will have a kick start. Kick starters are cool. Or, you could get a kick starter on a brand new TT 250, but hey, this is all about why you should buy a used Sportster.
So there you have it: 18 reasons why you should buy a used Sportster. If you have more reasons, we’d love to hear from you. Leave your comments here on the blog. We know a guy named Richard who always leaves his comments on Facebook, but don’t you do that (in other words, don’t be a Dick). Leave your comments here on ExNotes, like the cool kids do.
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We were somewhere in China approaching Aba after leaving the Tibetan Plateau, and somehow it was just Gresh, Sergeant Zuo, and me. I can’t remember why we were separated from the rest of our group. Honking along at a brisk pace and blitzing through one area after another, the photo ops were flying by and I wanted to capture at least some of them with my Nikon.
I finally caught up with Zuo and Gresh and flagged them over. I asked if I could go back a mile or two and they said they would wait. We had passed a Buddhist temple with a gold roof. The overcast skies, the green mountains, the asphalt, my orange and muddy RX3…all the colors clicked. I needed to commit that memory to the SD card.
When I turned around, I was surprised at how long it took to return to the spot you see above (I think we were on China’s G317 highway, but it might have been the G213). Then I felt fear: What if Gresh and Zuo didn’t wait for me? I don’t speak the language, I had no cell coverage, and I wouldn’t be able to find my way back to wherever. It was like being in outer space. It was just one of those crazy psycho unreasonable moments that sometimes hits when you realize you’re not in control of the situation. I snapped a few photos, they looked good enough on the camera’s display, and I wound out the RX3 to get back to my compañeros as quickly as possible. They had waited. I was in clover.
About a month later as we approached Beijing some of the street signs were in both Chinese and English, and it was obvious Beijing was directly ahead. Gresh told me he felt better because if we had to we could find our way home. I guess I wasn’t the only one having those “out in the boonies” feelings. It happens.
Earlier Phavorite Photos? You bet! Click on each to get their story.
Sometimes we’ll do a blog just to get folks fired up, you know, like the mainstream media does. And if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that there’s no better format for lighting a fire than a listicle. Listicles get lots of hits, they’re fun to write, and they offend the easily offended. If the topic is controversial, all three reasons are amplified. With that as an introduction and in these times of human rights violations, a new cold war, and a town called Wuhan, what could be more controversial than a list of reasons why you should ride a Chinese motorcycle?
Reason 1: Cost
Hey, what can I say? Buy a Beemer or a Ducati or a KTM, and you’ll pay twice what those bikes should cost. Buy a Harley….well, I don’t need to finish the sentence. Triumphs and the Big 4 Japanese bikes cost about what I think they ought to, but a Chinese bike will be way lower than any of these. And when you buy a Chinese motorcycle, you probably won’t do so through a conventional motorcycle dealer, so you won’t get bent over a barrel on freight and setup fees.
Nearly $1600 on freight and setup on a $6600 motorcycle!
Chinese motorcycles simply cost less. And if you want to come back at me by claiming Chinese bikes have no resale value…well, read on, Grasshopper.
Reason 2: Resale Value
This one may surprise you. The argument you hear from online motorcycle wizards (when they’re not being online military strategists, political scientists, or infectious disease experts) is that Chinese motorcycles have no resale value. I’m sure glad the guys who bought the two Chinese motorcycles I bought new and rode for several years didn’t know that. When I advertised my RX3 and TT 250, one sold the same day for 60% of what it cost new; the other sold the next day for 70% of what it cost new. And that was after I’d owned those bikes for 5 years.
My TT 250 on Route 66. Freight and setup on the motorcycle in the photo above would have nearly paid for this bike!
I suppose I could have taken that money and bought a used Sportster, but I went another route: I bought an Indian motorcycle. Not Indian as in Scout or Chief, but Indian as in chicken masala or curry. I wasn’t getting into enough catfights riding a Chinese motorcycle, I guess.
Reason 3: Reliability
This is another advantage that will put those who know so much that just isn’t so in low earth orbit. I never had a breakdown on any of my Chinese bikes, and that includes big trips in the US, a ride around China (yep, China), a circumnavigation of the Andes Mountains in Colombia, and lots of Baja. I led tours in the Southwest and up and down Baja for CSC Motorcycles, with 8 to 15 bikes on each of those thousand-mile-plus trips, with only one bike ever needing to be trailered home.
You can tell me about your buddy who knows a guy whose cousin bought a Chinese bike and had problems with it, but I know you know not of what you speak. I’ve been there. I know different. I know a little bit about reliability engineering, too. The Chinese bikes I’ve been around are supremely reliable.
Reason 4: Performance
Will a Chinese bike smoke a Hayabusa? You know the answer to that. Or at least, you know the answer today. Look at what’s coming down the road from China and your answer may not ring true for much longer. China has at least a couple of liter bikes on the horizon. They won’t be slow.
What’s coming down the pike from Chongqing…
Within their displacement classes, the Chinese bikes perform as good as, or maybe even better than the small displacement bikes from Germany or Japan.
Deutschland? Nein! Das ist ein Mumbai maschinen!Japanese? Nope. This puppy will help you Thai one on.
Hell, those other bikes aren’t even made where you think they’re made. Ask me how I know. Want some Pad Thai with your KLR or Triumph Bonneville?
Reason 5: Self-Reliance
“But there’s no dealers!” or so goes the anti-China whine. (Actually, China has some good wines, but I digress.) With regard to the lugubrious (look it up) “there’s no dealer” wails, I have two responses.
I used to be able to say that I’ve seen the same number of BMW, Harley, KTM, and other big name dealers in Baja as I saw for Chinese manufacturers (that number was zero). But I can’t say that anymore. Italika (a Mexican company, the Romanesque name notwithstanding) now imports Zongshens to Mexico, so you’ll actually have better dealer coverage in Mexico with a Chinese bike than you would with a BMW, a Harley, a Triumph, a Ducati, or any other other macho man motorcycle. It’s even more pronounced if your travels take you to South America; Chinese bikes are all over down there.
So that’s one response; the other is: You say “there are no dealers” like it’s a bad thing. Maybe my life experiences are unique, but I don’t think so. Whenever I’ve had work done by dealers, most of the time it was so poorly executed I had to do it over myself. I’d rather save the time and cut the cost associated with letting some kid learn motorcycle maintenance on my bike (while the dealer charges me $125 per hour as Junior learns). Nope, not having dealers is a good thing.
It’s from India and it runs as well as a Chinese motorcycle, which is to say, it’s good. I do all the routine maintenance on the Enfield myself.
I know this approach is not for everybody. Some guys like working on their bikes, some guys like Starbucks, some guys like clutches that rattle, and some guys like tattoos and chrome. Whatever floats your boat.
Reason 6: Fuel Economy
Both my Chinese 250s sipped fuel like The New York Times ingesting truth serum. My carbureted TT 250 got about 60 miles per gallon; my fuel injected RX3 always did better than 70 miles per gallon.
Fuel economy as good as a car!
My last Harley was a 40-miles-per-gallon bike when new, and when I put an S&S stroker motor in it, it joined the 33-miles-per-gallon club and I received a personal thank you note from the Emir. Yamaha’s old V-Max got 27 mpg. Yeah, I know, there’s a huge difference in displacement between a Harley and a China bike. But if you don’t like spending $5 bucks a gallon for Biden gas, a Chinese motorcycle can lessen the pain.
Reason 7: Style
You know, all those years I rode an RX3, the keyboard commandos criticized the bike for copying BMW’s styling.
Gobi Gresh, on a Chinese motorcycle, riding in the Gobi desert. 6000 miles in the ancient kingdom with nine other riders on China bikes, and nobody missed a beat.
Hell, I can’t see much of a difference in any of the ADV bikes’ styling for the last 15 or 20 years. They all look like the illegitmate offspring of a wasp mating with an armored personnel carrier. It’s the ADV style. I think it looks good. And unlike the Teutonic Tower bikes (you know, the Special K and GoSlow machines), I could get my leg over the RX3’s saddle.
Reason 8: Individuality
At one of the Love Rides (do they still even do those anymore?) Jay Leno was the grand marshall, and when he got up on stage, he asked if anybody had seen his buddy. “You know, the gray-haired guy with the black Harley T-shirt and pot belly…” It got a good laugh, but a lot of rugged individualist podiatrists, dentists, lawyers, and other pseudo-bad-asses were looking around nervously. You know what I mean. The folks at the River Runs could be made by a cookie cutter. Their moms all dress them the same. BMW riders? Stop in at any Starbuck’s and check out the Power Rangers inside. It’s the same deal.
One of the Hollister events, where all the individualists converge. They’re all trying to be Marlon Brando.
Ride a Chinese motorcycle, though, and you’ll stand apart. Trust me on this…you won’t bump into too many people riding a Zongshen or a Loncin at the Rock Store. Other riders may make snarky comments about your bike in ignorance, without knowing where many of the parts on their bikes are made (that’s because their manufacturers try to keep it a secret, as explained below).
Reason 9: You May Already Be On A Chinese Motorcycle…
…but you just don’t know it. Some bikes that you think are made in Japan are actually completely manufactured in China. Others have significant Chinese content. I’m not just talking bits and pieces…I’m referring to castings, electronics, and in some cases, the complete engine (it’s no accident you sometimes hear Chinese factory technicians humming the Horst Wessel song). You ubermensch riders on a first-name basis with your barristas know who you are, but did you know you’re already riding a China bike? I know…we live in a free country. If you feel comfortable spending $5 for a cup of coffee when you should be buying 技术支持隆鑫 decals (it means Powered by Loncin) for your $1800 panniers, more power to you.
So there you have it. I could make excuses and blame this entire blog on Gresh (the topic was his idea), but that’s not me. And for all you guys who look at the Chinese motorcycles I’ve owned and tell me “You Coulda Bought A Used Sportster” (sung to the tune of I’m A Yankee Doodle Dandy), well, all I can say is “heh heh heh.”
Got a response? Hey, leave it here…don’t be a wuss and leave it on Facebook. We want to hear from you!
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While I had the clutch helix cover apart I decided to install a new chain. I’m not one of those, replace-it-all-or-you’ll-die, type of guys. If the sprockets look unworn I’ll slap a new chain on the old sprockets. I realize this is hearsay in the Big-Sprocket boardrooms but those guys are in the sprocket selling business. The RD sprockets look like new so don’t worry, it will be fine. One glitch was the old tire is a 3.75-18 IRC, the bike calls for a 3.50-18. The narrow swingarm of the RD can barely accommodate the extra ¼ inch. I had to adjust the chain a wee bit tighter than I like to keep the tire from rubbing the front of the gusset. That problem will be solved when I replace the tires.
