Author: Joe Gresh

Endurofest Three

I try not to be “That Guy” but sometimes being “That Guy” finds a way. Seven old Yamaha Enduros showed up for the first trail ride of Endurofest 2019 in Flagstaff and the sound of all those cackling dirt bikes was magical. I could listen to that carbon-based music all day long.

Our first stop was a gas station top up. One of the guys knew a short cut through town and we were going to follow him. In all the gassing up and bikes moving around I kind of lost the plot. I took off down the road following a guy on a motorcycle that I thought was one of our group.  That bike turned out to be a VStrom Suzuki so I pulled off the road and waited. And waited. Several motorcycles passed by but no smoking old two strokes. I turned around thinking, “Where the hell is everyone?”

I went all the way back to the gas station without seeing the group. I figured I’d make another slow run to see if I could find them and if I couldn’t I would just go for a ride.  I caught a glimpse of a bike down one of the side streets and it turned out to be one of our group. He led me back to the gang and they were not exactly glad to see me.

“Rule one: If you don’t know where you’re going, don’t go!” they told me. I felt pretty bad holding up progress and all. I tried explaining how I followed another motorcycle but it was pretty quiet.

My wing man, Hunter had gone off looking for me. We waited and waited. The thing turned into a cluster and we had not even make the first turn. Once Hunter returned we headed up into the mountains north of Flagstaff. The trails were fairly smooth but you had to stay alert because often a big rock would be in the middle of the trail. Also it was hunting season so a big, lifted pickup truck might be coming the other direction and you don’t want to end up a hood ornament.

With all seven strokers ripping through the woods I’m sure more than one hunter drew a bead on us after we spooked their game.

Don’s 1973, hot rodded 175 Enduro broke its kickstarter stop and the lever was bouncing against the frame making a hell of a racket. He sorted it with a bungee cord.

In areas with trees the shadows on the trail made it hard to see rocks. It all looked like rocks! Hunter nailed one and it knocked the front end sideways. The bike went down and Hunter landed hard.

I was the 4th rider to get there, Hunter was on his knees hunched over cussing so I figured he was ok. We kind of stood around, asking Hunter if he was ok. He mostly just cussed.

“Help me up.” We got Hunter vertical. I knew he was hurt bad because he said we better call an ambulance. I’ve seen Hunter ride one-handed with broken bones through some rough trails. We got the ambulance on the way.

Hunter asked me, “Can you go get my Jeep and take my bike back to the motel?” Another rider, Larry, and I headed back to town. It was a rough couple miles to get to pavement and I was wondering how that ride in an ambulance would feel.

Four-tenths of a mile from our motel Godzilla died. No sputtering, no hint anything was wrong. It was like someone turned off the key. I kicked the bike until I could kick no more. Then Larry have it a few hundred kicks. It was dead. I could see the Motel 6 but to get there I had to push down Prospect Street over to Butler Street. It was a round about way because of all the fences blocking a direct route. I was fairly gassed so Larry pushed me the last few hundred yards.

We got Hunter’s Jeep and drove back out to the crash site. The boys were still there waiting. Hunter uses one of those bumper mounts to tote his motorcycle and with the rough trail we were worried about breaking the thing. Larry decided to ride Hunter’s bike back to the motel as it seemed undamaged.

Everyone made it back safe and sound but Larry said Hunter’s 1975 DT400 handled like crap. It wasn’t until we were loading the bike onto the bumper carrier when we noticed the entire rear section of the frame was broken. Did it happen before the crash, after the crash or on the ride home? We didn’t know but we blamed Larry and said he was riding too fast.

Hunter is in the Flagstaff hospital with 6 broken ribs on one side. I’m not sure how many ribs there are per side but that seems like most of them.  We are working on logistics, sorting out how to deal with Hunter’s stuff. Hunter’s wife is flying out to take charge of the situation.

Hopefully the rest of Endurofest will be less exciting.

Endurofest Two

After Payson, Arizona and just a little past Pine, Arizona there’s a steep grade that climbs up into the mountains. Hell, it’s all mountains out here in northern Arizona.  Ahead of me was a older Chevy truck, one of those faded metallic burgundy ones that is only burgundy underneath. The topsides were more of a peeled silver with just a hint of grape jam.  The truck was struggling on the grade; it sounded like three or more injectors had lost their tips and raw fuel was pouring into the cylinders. Thick, black smoke flowed out of the tail pipe and I could hear the engine stuttering from 150 feet back.

Brumby, my 2.5, 4-banger Jeep smelled blood. This had to be the first and best opportunity to pass a car on the entire 500-mile trip to Endurofest.  A series of tight corners opened into a short straight. I shoved Brumby into 3rd gear and gunned the little 2.5, neatly slotting Brumby alongside the old Chevy. I could see the driver of the Chevy now. He was long-haired, thin, with no shirt. He resembled one of those backwoods reality TV stars and when he saw Brumby’s hood hove into sight his expression changed from complacent anger to rage.  He gunned the Chevy and a noxious cloud of almost pure dinosaur squeezings engulfed the road behind us. Damn it! That Chevy was picking up speed! I dropped Brumby into second gear and mashed the throttle to the floor. My efforts were rewarded as the Chevy dropped back, still missing and smoking.  All this was happening at about 15 miles an hour. It was slow motion road rage for sure but Brumby passed the test.

Me and Hunter arrived late to the party and as we pulled into Endurofest headquarters several cackling two-strokes were already on their way out to explore our new digs. Next door to the Flagstaff Motel 6 was a combination Subway sandwich franchise and massage parlor. I thought that was pretty cool. I considered going into the massage parlor after eating a foot-long veggie delight but I had pretty good cell reception so I just looked at them on the phone.

Tomorrow I’ll get Godzilla started and join the fun.

Endurofest One

Things have been hopping and getting ready for the 2019 edition of Endurofest has only increased the load on our fragile infrastructure. The Toyota started shaking in that now-familiar way that indicates a bad driveshaft U-joint. And it was. The front joint was a mess and the others looked ok so I went to the auto store and picked up a joint.

While I was at it I figured I’d change the center bearing just because it had a zillion miles on it so add another hundred. The job went as well as any U-joint replacement, kind of a brutal war and a finesse combined to accomplish what needed to be done. Except that the middle u-joint had to come out to split the front drive shaft (to replace the center bearing) and It didn’t look so hot. Another trip to the auto store and I managed to button up the Toyota without further drama.

I turned my attention to Brumby, tackling a loose exhaust system that was an easy fix: One of the rubber hangers had deteriorated letting the pipe swing around playing a tune under Brumby. Another trip to the auto store and a slick-jiffy had the pipe suspended like a proper off road weapon.

The soft top on my tow rig, Brumby, had been damaged by a hailstorm earlier in the year. The ice balls went right through the windows and generally made a mess of things. Amazon sent along a nice Sierra soft top and all I had to do was send them a cool $250. The top went on without issue except for the rear door latch became stuck in the locked position.

The linkages for automobile locks are small bits of bent wire rod and they are held in place by tiny pieces of plastic that snap into the rod. The problem with this system is that after 20-30 years the plastic becomes brittle and breaks. When they break the link rod falls off whatever mechanical device they were supposed to operate.

The fix would be to dismantle the door and replace the plastic bits, assuming you can find them. I don’t have time for this hokey-pokey so I drilled two small holes in the link rod. Using a couple small washers and cotter pins I reattached the link rod and I could open the rear door and finish the soft top installation.

But that’s not all! The Harbor Freight trailer had been sitting in the sun for about a year and the wiring to the lights was rotted off in several places. Luckily there was enough wire to cut out the bad section and splice in new. I really have to replace the entire lighting system on that trailer but it will have to wait for another day.

The trailer was looking a bit like a shantytown and I had some house paint solidifying in their cans so I dumped the stuff onto the trailer in an attempt to make it look a little less distressed.

With the tow rig out of the way I could get Godzilla, the 360cc Yamaha ready. It needed a new tire in the rear but of course I’m not spending the kind of money they are asking for new tires nowadays. I managed to borrow a slightly used M21 from my buddy Hunter when he momentarily turned his back on me. The tire was relatively easy to install. Which really threw off my plans for the day.

I also fitted a new tail bag and assembled a new concrete mixer, the mixer having nothing to do with Endurofest.

Finally all was ready and loaded. Only one small problem remained: somewhere in all this messing about I lost track of the days and I am actually a day ahead of schedule. Ah well, it’s too late to change things now, this train is leaving the station. Next stop Flagstaff, Arizona.

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Top This

I’m a big fan of electric motorcycles. I like electrical stuff in general and I spent most of my working life as an electrician with benefits. Harley’s new Livewire E-Hog is an impressive first effort but at $30,000 dollars a copy it is a lousy deal compared to E-bikes from other manufacturers. You can easily beat the Livewire in both speed and distance for half the cost but that’s not the Livewire’s major problem.

The Livewire’s problem is industry-wide. Harley and those other guys are trying to duplicate the internal combustion experience with an electric motorcycle and they are burning a lot of joules doing it. Electric motorcycles are not direct IC replacements and their riders understand this.

For motorcycles, battery technology today is not compact enough and recharges too slowly for a rider with no fixed destination in mind. Until manufacturers can agree on a standard-sized, easily swappable battery pack we are stuck waiting for the bike. The first battery operated power tools were like this: you had to plug the whole tool in and wait. No work could be done until the thing was charged.

With standard-sized batteries (within a product line) cordless power tools have nearly supplanted the old, outlet-bound stuff. It takes only a second to swap in a new battery and you are back on the job doing whatever it is that you do. No one has range anxiety because there’s always a hot battery in the charger ready to use. Tesla is working on speeding up charge wait times by swapping the huge battery in their cars and it only takes a few minutes. When an electric vehicle can pull up to a gas station and swap in a charged battery as fast as I can change my power drill battery they will have become viable transportation.

The reality is, manufacturers are not going to standardize battery sizes. The best we can hope for is a battery changeable along the lines of the power tool situation: each battery is specific to the brand. Even that will not happen soon and maybe if you move the goal posts it doesn’t need to happen for the majority of users.

That leaves commuting back and forth to work as the ideal use for an electric motorcycle. You can have a charging source at both ends of the ride and you will be busy working or puttering about the house while the bike charges so there’s no down time. Give up on the idea of e-bikes matching IC bikes in all instances. The highest and best use of electric motorcycles is a situation where you have time to kill between rides.

I know The Motor Company is not going to listen to me, but here goes: Harley, stop making expensive, high performance electric motorcycles. I’ve seen your lighter weight electric bikes and they are so far removed from the traditional Harley-Davidson customer they might as well be electric Buells.

Harley’s marketing for as long as I can remember has been based on heritage. Timeless styling and traditional products have served you well. For a successful E-bike look to your past and the Topper scooter; it’s the ideal commuter platform to modernize (not too much) and electrify. The boxy rear section can hold a huge battery bank without looking like it’s holding a huge battery bank. It’s a classic form that simply drips Harley-Davidson heritage and the youth of America will go gaga over the styling. Keep the thing below $4000 so a normal person can afford one. You’ll have to outsource most of the drivetrain components to keep the price reasonable but you can slap the parts together in an old V-Rod factory and call it made in the USA!

Product Review: MY Construction Supply Rebar Caps

We never used re-bar caps back when I was doing construction. I don’t think they had been invented yet. It was a different time: You had to be tough, man and I was. If you tripped and fell onto an exposed re-bar the thing would go clean through you and out the other side. The jobsites I worked on were grisly with dead men impaled on rusting steel. I’ll never forget that smell. In the hot Florida sun the bodies bloated fast, seemingly still alive as they twitched and waved a stiff, blackened hand each time a bubble of gas escaped.

Guys getting skewered on re-bar was so prevalent we didn’t bother to pull them off until it was time to pour the concrete. Why bother, another man will just come along and land on the thing.

I never fell onto a rebar myself. I’ve come close but managed to avoid spearing the bar, because I didn’t run up a bunch of debt going to college or paying exorbitant hospital bills for puncture remedies. Back then people took responsibility for their actions, not like now. Those guys stuck on the rebar? Maybe they should have eaten less fast food or bought a cheaper car. Today you see rebar covers all over construction jobs. It’s all part of the dumbing down of America.

Back to the rebar covers, I’m reinforcing the ground surrounding The Carriage House and there are a bunch of re-bars sticking up from the retaining wall. I’m not so worried about falling onto them (because I made wise life choices) but the damn things are sharp. The bars will eventually be bent down into the formwork and covered with concrete, until then I’m getting cut to ribbons. A good-sized gash to the elbow was the final straw.

At first I was going to use empty beer cans to cap the bars. That visual might be too much for my wife to handle and anyway I’d have to drink like 75 beers to get the job done. I’ve been trying to lose weight by drinking gin and tonics as a calorie saving measure. Processing that many beers through my gastrointestinal system was a non-starter. I found the MY caps online for 50 cents apiece.

The caps fit rebar from 3/8” to ¾”, inside the cap are 4 vanes that conform to the different sizes. It’s a good set up. The bright orange color alerts you to the bar so there’s less tripping and zero cutting on my jobsite.

They’ve been out in the sun for a few weeks and the color hasn’t faded yet. Kind of funny that the packaging says “Does not protect against impalement.” Which is the main reason you buy the damn things. I suspect some cell-phone owning construction worker fell 13 floors onto the MY cap and managed to sue the company.

Go ahead and call me a nanny-state mason. I deserve it. I guess you could say I’m getting soft in my old age. Seeing all those orange caps sitting atop the rebar makes me sad. I miss the old ways. I miss personal responsibility. And, funnily enough, I miss that smell.

Product Review: Marshalltown Grooving Trowel

We human beings spend a large percentage of our life-energy altering the Earth to better suit our desires. Take me, for instance. I’m constantly trying to rise up from Tinfiny’s mud-bound arroyo and beat Mother Nature into submission. New Mexico is no country for old men and I know I will lose in the end. We all lose in the end, our best efforts forgotten by the incurious, but that’s no reason to give up.

One of my favorite ways of taming nature is to pave it over with a layer of concrete. If it worked for Chernobyl’s smoldering, radioactive core it can work for Tinfiny Ranch. My latest attempt to delay the inevitable is the side patio. The ground on the north side of Tinfiny’s Carriage House was washing into the arroyo from heavy monsoon rains and, like the calcified bones of a long-dead Tyrannosaurus, the Carriage House’s foundation was laid bare. This is not good.

About 10-feet from the foundation I dug a footer and laid some blocks to serve as a seawall. I’ve been slowly filling it in with dirt, reburying the exposed foundation and compacting the fill in 8-inch lifts. It’s all going about as well as can be expected.

As I bring the north side up to grade I’m pouring a sloped, concrete patio to stop erosion and re-direct rain water away from the Carriage House’s foundation towards the arroyo. I love concrete as much as the next guy but even I know that great slabs of it are not the prettiest things to behold so I’m finishing the slab in smaller sections with each section grooved to resemble the cut blocks used in The Great Wall of China.

For grooving I’m using a Marshalltown trowel that I ordered online. The thing was not impressive right out of the box. It’s a flimsy looking tool that is not quite wide enough and it tends to create a border to your groove. You’ll need to practice a light hand for best results.

I thought the single direction canoe end would be a hassle, what with having to change the tool’s orientation with each stroke, but I was wrong. Grooving is much less labor intensive than edging so the back-and-forth motion used with an edger tool is replaced by a single stroke with the groover. One pass with this tool and the groove looks pretty well done. You’ll need to hit it a couple more times as the mud goes off but it’s easy as pie.

My initial reaction proved wrong: once you get the hang of it this thing really makes a nice groove. I’m free-handing the cuts just because I’m lazy and I don’t want all the lines perfectly square. The non-canoe end lets you get right up against the form. Except for making it a couple inches longer and a bit wider I am happy with how it performs. It has started to rust already but all my concrete finishing tools rust. I should probably oil them after use.

I’m so happy with the Marshalltown trowel I think I’ll keep on going around the side of The Carriage House and on into the back yard using the same method of construction. After all, you can’t let Mother Nature wash your house into the arroyo without putting up a fight.

What’s The Bright Idea?

The Husqvarna 510 SMR came stock with a 35-watt/35-watt incandescent headlight bulb that was nearly useless. I say nearly because when it was lit it provided a weak beam limiting nighttime speeds to 30 miles per hour. But it was worse than that because for some reason the motorcycle constantly blew the bulb leaving me to get home using the little parking light bulb (which never blows out). The plastic headlight fixture shows signs of melting even with the standard bulb so I set about trying to find a better idea.

Husky uses an S-type light socket base like you’ll find in scooters and mopeds. This bulb was used as my baseline for temperature and current draw. I figured if I didn’t exceed the standard bulb on these two measurements the plastic headlight should survive and the electrical system would be able to keep up with the program. Baseline was 2.5 amps @ 13-volts and 230 degrees. I did all the tests using highbeam.

The stock incandescent light surprised me. It’s the oldest technology, they’ve been around more than a hundred years, yet it wasn’t the worst of the bunch. I had to try and find something better, though.

I bought the LED bulb off of Ebay and I have no ratings on it because I can’t find it for sale again. The bulb has no markings. It was like a one-shot deal I guess. The reason I chose this one was that unlike the other LEDs it didn’t have the large heat sink or cooling fan behind the bulb. It was a direct fit for the Husky’s push-and-twist bulb socket. The LED used so little power I had to check a few times to believe it. Only 0.14 amps were required to fire the thing up! It also ran much cooler than the other bulbs, producing only 134 degrees. I’m thrifty so I loved the thing but there’s a reason those other LED bulbs have such a big big cooling system: The light output from the minimalist LED was weaker than the stock bulb by a lot.

The halogen was a 50-watt high and low beam. I tried to find a 35-watt halogen but couldn’t at the time. I’ve since found a 35-watt and I’m going to get one and try it. As you would expect, the higher wattage bulb drew more current and ran much hotter: 4.9 amps and 337 degrees (still rising fast). I stopped the test early because I didn’t want to melt my headlight shell. The Halogen was very bright and did a great job projecting all that power to the front. It was the brightest bulb by far. I’d love to be able to run the halogen but I think I’ll have a meltdown if I do.

I found a HID bulb-ballast combination with a multi-fit base that would fit in the Husky’s socket but I would have to gut the contacts to allow the harness passage through. I didn’t want to do this so I just held the bulb in the reflector housing. It was a disappointing bulb consuming more power and putting out less light than the incandescent bulb. If you’ve ever had one of those adjustable, wide/narrow beam flashlights you know how little it takes to change the beam pattern. Bulb position is critical for good output and the HID must not have been in alignment with the reflector’s focal point.

In the video link you’ll see the four bulbs I tested and the statistics on each one. All the bulbs had their pros and cons but none of them solved the problem. I ended up using the LED even though the bulb was the weakest. I was going on a trip to Utah and wanted to see if it would stay together longer than the incandescent. It is still going after 2400 miles. The stocker never lasted as long.

I think I will have to replace the entire headlamp on the Husky to get a decent light. The plastic construction limits how much wattage I can use and is borderline melting at stock levels of heat. I don’t ride much at night but sometimes you get caught out and have to muddle through. I added a bright off-road light to the Husqvarna just for those situations.

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Product Test: Progressive 412 Series Shock Absorbers

Most people I’ve spoken to are happy with their Progressive Suspension products. If you went by damping action alone I would be, too. The problem I had with the two sets of Progressive 412 shocks I’ve bought is that the damn things leak. When I say leak I mean like after a couple thousand miles of off road riding. Conversely, some of my riding buddies have the same exact shocks and report no leakage after several years.

Godzilla, my 1971 Yamaha RT-1B 360cc endure, has about 4 inches of rear wheel travel. When new, the Progressive shocks did a fantastic job damping that short distance. The bike would bottom out if you hit big ruts at speed but the rear end stayed in line and didn’t swap places with the front. It was a great boost to my confidence. I was able to gain some serious speed across open desert while the Progressives swallowed up big holes and bumps without spitting me off. I’m not saying it was a smooth ride, but it was controlled.

The shocks were great on hills. They helped the rear knobby tire follow the contours of the earth and allowed Godzilla to climb some really steep inclines. If I accidentally spun the wheel by feeding in too much power I could close the throttle and then bog the motor, taking advantage of the big two-stroke Yamaha’s grunt at low RPM without stalling the engine. It was a traction seeking beast, I tell you. I’ve replaced the 412’s with a cheap set of remote reservoir shocks and the difference in performance is huge.

The first set of Progressives lasted about 10,000 miles before one of them sprung a leak. I chalked it up to the rough trails Hunter leads me on. Since I liked the Progressive action so much I sucked it up and bought another set. The new set was just as good, except they started leaking after only 2,000 miles. The second set of Progressives failed dramatically: Both shocks went bad simultaneously and projectile vomited hydraulic oil all over the rear of the bike. I thought the engine crankcase had broken.

To give the shocks their due I was riding an extremely rough trail with lots of boulders and steep drop offs. The rear suspension was bottoming on the big stuff but I felt conditions were no worse than normal.

The leaking wouldn’t be a big deal if the shocks were rebuildable. Progressive 412 shocks are not. They roll the shock body over the upper shaft guide and seal. It’s a machine process that is difficult to replicate in the average home shop. Even if you did manage to un-roll the shock body, the seals are made by NOK and are proprietary to Progressive (and Progressive won’t sell the seal). The shocks are made in Mexico so I doubt they have any to sell. In my correspondence with Progressive the only solution offered was to buy yet another set of shocks.

At $250 a pair this was getting expensive, you know? Since I had so many leaking Progressive shocks I decided to cut one open to see if there was any way to modify the seal area to take a seal that is available. It looks doable. I will need to get my South Bend lathe up and running to spin out a new top bushing with an O-ring on the outer part to replace the crimped end. To keep the top bushing from popping out on full extension I’ll need a few screws around the circumference of the shock body. Any nitrogen charging will have to be replaced with air from a simple Schrader fitting.

I’ll do another blog on the seal/bushing refit but don’t hold your breath. None of this is going to happen in time for October’s Yamaha Enduro Fest held in Flagstaff this year. The remote reservoir shocks are so bad I’ve got a cheap set of Red Line shocks coming from Ebay to tide me over. For those of you keeping count, I’ve had the original shocks, two sets of Progressives, the remotes and now the Red Lines. Hopefully these last two won’t leak.

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Dream Bikes: Buell M2 Cyclone

I like all the Buell models and the Buell M2 Cyclone is my favorite Buell of the bunch. I mean to have one before I shuffle off this mortal torsion. Unlike most of the motorcycles I want to own, this is one Dream Bike that is very affordable. Even an Internet blogger wannabe can pick up a running, low mileage copy for a couple thousand bucks. And if I ever get a couple thousand bucks ahead I’ll get one.

The M2 was manufactured in that brief window of history before Erik Buell went totally crazy. After the M2 Buell started mixing up all the traditional systems on a motorcycle just to show you that he could. Yeah, it worked but the motorcycling public wasn’t ready for inside-out brakes and aluminum frames full of gasoline.

The frame on the M2 is plain old steel tubing with a sturdy rear sub-frame that can support a passenger or luggage. The value of a sturdy sub-frame was made apparent to me on a recent trip to Bonneville, Utah. The swaying luggage on my pencil-necked Husqvarna 500 frame was nerve wracking. Similar to an old Norton, the M2 frame isolates all the motorcycle parts a rider comes in contact with from the shaking, quaking Sportster engine. That feature comes in handy on a long trip.

Steel is relatively easy to bend and weld. Even the most basic repair shop will have a set of 0xy-acetylene torches that can fix anything on the M2’s frame. I also like the standard gas tank position and conventional forks. I don’t road race on the street so the added stiffness of a cool, upside-down front end is wasted on a peon like me.

The engine on the M2 is a hot-rodded 1200cc Sportster putting out around 90 horsepower. 90 horsepower is a lot of go-go from a half-century-old design that puttered along at 50 horsepower for decades. Just getting a new 883 Sportster engine up to the 90 horsepower level would cost more than an entire Buell! Later, crazier Buells had even more power and more Buell-specific engine parts while still being based on the Sportster. Buell even used, God forbid, Rotax engines! I can see parts for those engines becoming scarce within the 100-year time frame I like to operate. No such problems with the M2 engine as it’s mostly plain-old-plain-old and parts for the Harley-Davidson Sportster engine will be available on into the next millennia.

The M2’s styling has hints of Buell’s Blast but it looks good to me. I like a standard-style motorcycle, one that can go from touring bike to trail machine with only the removal of a few bungee cords. It’s a model I keep a weather eye on in case a steal of a deal pops up on one of the Internet for-sale sites. And yellow is the fastest color.

Product test: Lucas Fuel Treatment

I won’t feel bad if you don’t believe a word of this story. I don’t believe it myself and I was there.

Here’s the thing: my 2008 Husqvarna SMR510 single cylinder thumper has always gotten around 50 miles per gallon of gasoline. Sometimes it does 47mpg, other times 52mpg. These are mostly highway mile ratings because traffic doesn’t exist in La Luz, New Mexico. Rain or shine, for 12,000 miles the fuel usage has been consistent. That’s not bad mileage for a high-strung, near race bike engine so I’m happy.

The Husky seemed to be stalling more frequently than I like on the trip to Bonneville. The clutch was dragging a bit, the oil was overdue for a change, it was 100 degrees plus everyday and the 510 spins only the barest of flywheel to ensure quick revs. Added to all this is the Husky’s tall first gear, which requires a bit of slip to get off the line. I checked the intake system for air leaks and tightened the hose clamps and gave all the whatnots a good look over. Everything seemed ok. Maybe Joe Berk is right: Maybe I just don’t know how to ride a big 4-stroke single.

My riding buddy Mike and I were at the Pilot fuel station in Wendover and he suggested I try some Lucas fuel treatment. “That’s good stuff, pour some in the tank each time you fill up and see if the bike quits stalling.” Normally I put no faith in fuel additives. It’s all snake oil to me but I figured I’d humor Mike and pour some in for appearances. Nothing happened. The bike kept stalling. It ran exactly the same. I made a special effort to rev the piss out of the engine to keep from stalling in traffic and went about my business.

It was on the ride home that the strangeness started. I was getting well over 50 miles per gallon at our first gas stop. I dumped a little more Lucas snake oil in the fresh tank. The next couple gas stops I didn’t bother to check the mileage but each time I filled up I dumped a little of the Lucas sauce into the tank.

On the second day of our homeward trip the Husqvarna did 70 miles per gallon. I was stunned. I figured I must have been doing something wrong so I dumped a little more Lucas in the tank and ran 100 miles down the road. This next tank was only 67 miles per gallon. These mileage numbers kept up all the way back to La Luz. I’m out of snake oil so it will be interesting to see if the fuel consumption increases.

How is this possible? How can a few ounces of yellowish liquid increase mileage by 40%? What am I doing wrong? Get this: normally I can go about 150 miles before running out of gas. With the magic sauce I can go 210 miles! I can’t believe it. Has anyone else experienced this phenomenon? Tell me about it in the comments section, please. I need to know that I’m not insane.