Joe Berk

Deer Park Winery and Auto Museum

By Joe Berk

My sister Eileen is a time-share person, and she frequently swaps places to stay with other time-share owners. She recently landed a suite of rooms at the Lawrence Welk Resort in Escondido, so she and Susie and I stayed there for a week. I didn’t realize this before our visit, but there’s a very cool winery and museum literally next door to the Welk resort. The entrance to the Deer Park Winery and Auto Museum is only a few feet away from the Welk resort entrance, so on our first day there we stopped for a visit and a wine tasting.

I was surprised. I had never heard of the Deer Park Winery and Auto Museum before, the collection was substantial, and there are even a few motorcycles (vintage Indians and a Harley, to be specific). Wow, this was going to be fun. I did not have my Nikon, so everything you see here I shot with my iPhone.

Vintage Indians. You gotta love those paint themes.

When we entered, I asked the guy at the counter if the Museum had a focus, and his answer was immediate: Convertibles. And boy oh boy, did they ever have an impressive collection.

A Franklin convertible. These were a luxury American motorcar. They had air cooled engines. See our blog on the Franklin Automobile Museum in Tucson, Arizona.

A beautiful 1948 Chrysler Town and Country convertible.

Imagine that: A woody convertible! At $3,395 (a lot of money in 1948), Chrysler only sold 8,369 of these. Like the initial years of the Chevrolet Corvette, the Woody Town and Country convertible’s job was to get people into the showroom, where salesmen could convince to buy less-expensive models.

There was real Arkansas white ash beneath what you see here; the wood grain is a decal over the real wood. Even back in 1948, wraps were an in thing.

I like this car. I took a lot of photos of it.

The Museum consists of three buildings that display over 100 cars. It starts with a collection in the main entrance building. After seeing it, walking a few feet down the sidewalk brought us to another display area, with a lot of cars parked side by side, crammed into sort of barn-like building. These were cars mostly from the 1950s and 1960s, and they were fun to take in. I think they are, for the most part, restored and repainted cars. I grew up in that era. Lincolns, Imperials, Buicks, and many more, and all were convertibles. A Pierce Arrow was just inside the entrance, parked in front of a 1950 Buick.

A close up of the Pierce Arrow radiator cap. I can only imagine what such a radiator cap would cost today.

A 1960 Imperial Crown convertible. Imperial produced 618 of these costs. MSRP in 1960 was $5,774. They had a 413-cubic-inch engine and a 129-inch wheelbase. Fuel economy was not a concern in 1960.

When walking from one building to the next, we saw other convertibles scattered around the grounds in unrestored condition. They were cool, too, wearing the patina you’d expect on cars that were new when guys like Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johson were in the White House.

A late ’60s Camaro convertible awaiting resoration.

A 1959 Cadillac limo. I’d kind of like to own one of these, too.

An 1950’s Caddy convertible. It’s not on display yet. I spotted walking around the Deer Park grounds.

The entry building and the long barn-like building were interesting. The best part was yet to come, though. It was showroom on top of a hill. We made the trek up to that building, and I was blown away by an absolutely stunning 1953 Cadillac convertible in showroom condition. It’s the photo featured on top of this blog.

The Museum’s centerpiece: A 1953 Cadillac convertible.

The Cadillac you see above was recovered from a fire. The restoration process was essentially a manufacturing venture. The car was stripped down to the frame, and then rebuilt with all new, hand-formed, hand-painted, hand-rubbed body panels. It is stunning. I want it.

The ’53 Caddy convertible’s wire wheels.

An obligatory selfie: Me in the ”53 Caddy’s bumper.

We enjoyed a leisurely walk down the steps to get back to the entrance building, where the Deer Park Winery and Museum offers wine tasting for a modest fee. The wine tastings include five varietals, which vary depending on the time of year (or, you can opt for six wines and select the ones you want). We went with the five wine option. They were all good and the tastings were not small. One was exceptional. That was a dessert wine that I believe would pair exceptionally will with a slice of carrot cake (I went to a sommelier presentation once many years ago, so I now consider myself an expert qualified to make such pairing suggestions).

Deer Park Peach wine. It’s peach-flavored champagne, basically, and it’s good.

The Deer Park Winery and Auto Museum is located at 29013 Champagne Boulevard just north of Escondido, California (the phone number is (760) 749-1666. Tickets are reasonable at $14 (if you’re in the military or senior citizen you can get in for $12).

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The USS Midway Museum

By Joe Berk

San Diego, Calilfornia. I love that town. One of its best attractions is the USS Midway Museum. I’ve been there three times. The first was a few years ago with Susie, and that visit resulted in a Destinations piece in Motorcycle Classics magazine and a CSC Motorcycles blog article. Another time was when I attended the International Association of Chiefs of Police convention in San Diego with good buddy Mike. The IACP had their big evening party on the Midway’s flight deck, and the keynote speaker was James Comey (the FBI Director; we heard his speech literally days before President Trump fired him).

Bring a camera when you visit the Midway. The photo ops are impressive.

Most recently, I returned to the Midway for a visit with Susie and my sister Eileen. You could say I’m a big fan of the Midway and all she represents, and you’d be 100% correct. If you ever find yourself in San Diego, the USS Midway is a “must see” visit.

In the hangar deck, one deck down. The ship is immense.

Susie on the Midway’s 4-acre flight deck.

On the flight deck, looking back at the San Diego skyline.

The Midway has an impressive collection of Navy helicopters on display.

The Battle of Midway was a turning point in World War II in our fight against the Japanese. Movies have been made about it; one of the best is currently streaming on Netflix. Woody Harrelson portrayed Admiral Nimitz and he did a wonderful job. The two men even resemble each other.

Chester Nimitz and Woody Harrelson. Harrelson is a superb actor; he played the role well.

Construction started on the USS Midway during World War II, but the war ended before the ship was commissioned. The Midway went on to serve in Korea, Vietnam, and the Persian Gulf wars. You may remember new stories about our departure from Vietnam and the helicopters being shoved off the flight deck and into the sea to make room for more refugees. Those film clips were on the Midway. I was in the Army and I didn’t have really anything to do with the Navy (other than later working in companies that designed and manufactured products for the Navy), but if I had been in the Navy, I think I would have liked to have served on a carrier. There’s just something magnificent about these ships. You may recall my piece on Admiral Gordon Smith, one of my best bosses ever. Gordon was a carrier pilot. I admire and miss him greatly.

Aircraft on the Midway flight deck. That’s San Diego in the background.

A glorious day, the USS Midway, and a 12-24 wide angle lens with a polarizer…it doesn’t get much better than this!

The Island…we climbed up top to see where air and navigation ops were conducted.

The docents at the USS Midway Museum are all prior service people. They are friendly and gave great talks. When Susie and I were on the flight deck, one of the docents told the two of us about a jet and described it as “my airplane.” Susie said, “Oh, you flew one like this?”

“No,” he answered. “I flew this aircraft.” It just doesn’t get any better than that. Well, maybe it does. When we bought our tickets on our most recent visit, the lady behind the counter asked if any us were former service members. As usual, my mind was in neutral. I kind of just stood there and Susie quickly explained that I had served in the Army. That provided a steep discount and a sticker to put on my pocket designating me as a prior service guy. Every one of the docents asked me about my service as we made our way through the museum. It’s been so long ago (almost 50 years) that I had to stop and think with every question. It was fun. The folks on the Midway made me feel special. You can’t put a price on that.

Up in the island, where the Air Boss and his assistants did their jobs.

A view from the Air Boss’s area, looking over the flight deck.

An enormous flight deck…we were near the front of the ship for this shot.

Back on the dock, looking out under the USS Midway deck across the harbor.

There’s just so much to see and enjoy in San Diego. If you are lucky enough to visit this wonderful town, you might want to stop for dinner or a late lunch after seeing the Midway. One of the best restaurants in town is The Brigantine, just up the road from the Midway along the Embarcadero. The Brigantine’s fish and chips dish is one of the best I’ve ever had. If you like family-run Italian restaurants (they’re at the top of the list for me), try Volare’s (at 3528 Barnett Avenue in San Diego).

On our first visit to the USS Midway, Susie and I drove across to Coronado Island after visiting the Museum. After a fine dinner in Coronado, we took in the San Deigo skyline across the bay at night. It’s one of my favorite photos.

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The Wayback Machine: Jerry and the Jersey Devil

By Joe Berk

If you can find a copy of this weekend’s Wall Street Journal, there’s an outstanding article in the “Off Duty” section on the New Jersey Pine Barrens. We blogged about my ride through the Pine Barrens with Jerry Dowgin and his vintage 305 Honda Scrambler a few years ago. The Journal article’s lead photo was of the Jersey Devil in front of Lucille’s (read on and you’ll see what I’m talking about), and that had my attention instantly. I had a great time with Jerry, and that ride and visit went on to become a featured article in Motorcycle Classics magazine.

Jerry went on to his reward a year or two after my visit, and I miss him. Read this blog, and if you can, the MC article. Jerry was a great guy and a good friend.

Rest in peace, Jerry.

I’d heard of the Pine Barrens when I was a youngster in New Jersey but I’d never been there, which was weird because the northern edge of the Pines starts only about 40 miles from where I grew up and geographically the Pine Barrens cover about a quarter of the state. New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the US, but you wouldn’t know it in the Pine Barrens. Pine trees and sand, lots of dirt roads, and not much else except ghost stories and New Jersey’s own mythological Jersey Devil (more on that in a bit). The region is mostly pine trees, but there are just enough other trees that our last-weekend-in-October ride caught the leaves’ autumn color change. That, the incredible weather, and saddle time on Jerry Dowgin’s vintage Honda Scrambler made it a perfect day.

Kicking back in the Pine Barrens town of Chatsworth. Check out the leaves changing colors in the background.

A 305cc Honda Scrambler, the Jersey Devil, and Lucille’s Country Diner. Life is good in the Pines.

Jerry Dowgin at speed in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. He’s been riding the same motorcycle for five decades. Jerry paid $10 for his Honda Scrambler. I offered to give him what he paid for it, which drew only a smile.

There were other things that made the day great. For starters, that has to include riding with Jerry Dowgin, former South Brunswick High School football hero, vintage motorcycle aficionado, and son of the late Captain Ralph Dowgin. SBHS is my alma mater (Go Vikings!), and the Dowgin name is legendary in New Jersey. I didn’t personally know Jerry when I was in high school (he was four years ahead of me), but I knew of his football exploits and I knew of his State Trooper Dad. Captain Dowgin commanded Troop D of the NJ State Police, and thanks to a photograph provided by lifelong good buddy Mike (another SBHS alum), Trooper Dowgin graces the cover of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles. Take a look at this photo of Jerry, and the Police Motors cover:

In the New Jersey Pine Barrens with former football star Jerry Dowgin and his awesome Honda Scrambler. I only run with the cool kids.

Jerry’s father, Trooper Ralph Dowgin of the New Jersey State Police. This photo was taken in 1936. The one above it was taken 4 days ago.

Trooper Dowgin’s original leather motorcycle helmet. Jerry showed it to me.

My ride for our glorious putt through the New Jersey Pine Barrens was Jerry’s 1966 CL77 Honda Scrambler. Jerry has owned the Scrambler for five decades. Jerry’s name for the Scrambler is Hot Silver, but I’m going to call it the Jersey Devil. The bike is not a piece of Concours driveway jewelry; like good buddy Gobi Gresh’s motorcycles, Jerry’s Jersey Devil is a vintage rider. And ride we did.

Honda offered three 305cc motorcycles in the mid-1960s: The Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. All were 305cc, single overhead cam, air-cooled twins with four-speed transmissions. The CA77 Dream was a pressed steel, large fendered, single carb motorcycle with leading link front suspension. Like its sister Super Hawk, the Dream had kick and electric starting; the electric starter was unusual in those days. The Dream was marketed as a touring model, although touring was different then. Honda’s CB77 Super Hawk was a more sporting proposition, with lower bars, a tubular steel frame and telescopic forks, twin shoe drum brakes (exotic at the time), twin carbs, a tachometer, and rear shocks adjustable for preload. The engine was a stressed frame component and there was no frame downtube. Like the Dream, the Super Hawk had electric and kick starting. It’s been said that the Super Hawk could touch 100 mph, although I never saw that (my Dad owned a 1965 Honda Super Hawk I could sometimes ride in the fields behind our house).

The Scrambler fuel tank. Honda hit a home run with the Scrambler’s styling.

Everything on this motorcycle is well proportioned. The ergnomics fit me perfectly.

The cool kids removed the Scrambler’s bulbous two-into-one muffler and replaced it with Snuff-R-Nots. Jerry is one of the cool kids.

The third model in Honda’s mid-‘60s strategic triad was the CL77 Scrambler, and in my opinion, it was the coolest of the three. It had Honda’s bulletproof 305cc engine with twin carbs, and unlike the Super Hawk engine, it was tuned for more torque. The Scrambler didn’t have electric starting like the other two Hondas (it was kick start only, a nod to the Scrambler’s offroad nature). The Scrambler had a downtube frame, no tach (but a large and accurate headlight-mounted speedo), a steering damper, and a fuel tank that looks like God intended fuel tanks to look (with a classic teardrop profile and no ugly flange running down the center). The bars were wide with a cross brace. With its kick start only engine, the magnificent exhaust headers, and Honda’s “we got it right” fuel tank, the Scrambler looked more like a Triumph desert sled than any other Honda. In my book, that made it far more desirable. I always wanted a Scrambler.

The Scrambler’s speedo. The switch on the left is for the headlight; the amber light is a neutral indicator. The speedometer is accurate; we rode through a highway sign that showed your speed and it matched the speedometer indication.

The Scrambler’s tool storage compartment.

Jerry’s wife Karin made the toolkit pouch. Jerry’s toolkit includes the original Honda tools and a few extras.

A single overhead camshaft, two valves per cylinder, and threaded locknut valve adjustment. Honda’s casting quality was superb for the time.

Jerry and I had great conversations on our ride through the Pine Barrens. We talked motorcycles, the times, the old times, folks we knew back in the day, and more. Other riders chatted us up. The Scrambler was a natural conversation starter. Every few minutes someone would approach and ask about Jerry’s Scrambler. Was it original? Was it for sale? What year was it? I had a little fun piping up before Jerry could answer, telling people it was mine and I’d let it go for $800 if they had the cash. I can still start rumors in New Jersey, you know.

The Scrambler’s rear suspension has three preload adjustment positions.

Relatively sophisticated for the time on a mass-produced motorcycle: Twin shoe brakes.

The Scrambler’s rear brake was similarly equipped.

The 305cc Honda twins of the mid-1960s were light years ahead of their British competitors and Harley-Davidson. British twin and Harley riders made snide comments about “Jap crap” back in the day (ignorance is bliss, and they were happy guys), but at least one Britbike kingpin knew the score and saw what was coming. Edward Turner, designer of the Triumph twin and head of Triumph Motorcycles, visited Honda in Japan and was shocked at how advanced Japanese engineering and manufacturing were compared to what passed for modern management in England. No one listened to Turner. The Honda 750 Four often gets credit for killing the British motorcycle industry, but the handwriting was already on the wall with the advent of bikes like Honda’s Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. I believe we’re living through the same thing right now with motorcycles from China. Or maybe I just put that in to elicit a few more comments on this blog. You tell me.

I’m always curious about how others starting riding, so I asked Jerry if he inherited his interest in motorcycles from his motor officer Dad. The answer was a firm no. “Pop wasn’t interested in motorcycles; he saw too many young Troopers get killed on motorcycles when he was a State Trooper.” Jerry’s introduction into the two-wheel world was more happenstance than hereditary. He was working with his brother and his brother-in-law installing a heating system in a farmhouse when they encountered the Scrambler. Jerry bought his 1966 Scrambler in 1972 for the princely sum of $10. Yes, you read that right: $10. The Scrambler wasn’t running, but the deal he made with his brother was that Jerry would do the work if his brother would pay for the parts (and in 1972, the parts bill came to $125 from Cooper’s Cycle Ranch, one of the early and best known East Coast Honda and Triumph dealers). Getting the Scrambler sorted took some doing, as the engine was frozen, it needed a top end overhaul, it had compression issues, and getting the timing right was a challenge. But Jerry prevailed, and the bike has been a Pine Barrens staple for five decades now.

Jerry shared with me that he plans to leave his Honda Scrambler to his son and grandson. I think that’s a magnificent gesture.

Jerry on his Scrambler at the end of a great day on the road.

Jerry and his Scrambler were featured on the cover of the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club’s magazine about 4 years ago.

Our ride in the Pine Barrens was most enjoyable. It’s amazing how little traffic there is in the Pines, an unusual situation for me. As a son of New Jersey, riding with no traffic in the nation’s most densely populated state was a new experience. But there’s a lot of land down there in the Pine Barrens (the area was a featured spot for dumping bodies on The Sopranos, and that probably wasn’t just a figment of some screenwriter’s imagination). Riding into the Pines (where we saw few other motorcycles and almost no cars), we made our first stop in Chatsworth. Chatsworth is an old Pine Barrens wide spot in the road with only a few buildings and a roadside eatery with no seating. You buy a soda and a dog (of either the hot or brat variety), find a seat on one of the roadside benches, and chat with other riders. It was different and much more fun than what I remembered New Jersey riding to be, but I had never ridden the Pines before. The locals told me it’s always been like this.

From Chatsworth, it was on to Lucille’s Country Diner, a popular Pine Barrens roadhouse more like a California motorcycle stop than a New Jersey diner. Lucille’s is known for its pies, and (trust me on this) they’re awesome. We parked under a carved, presumably life-sized Jersey Devil statue. I’d heard of the Jersey Devil when I was a kid (it’s a New Jersey thing; think of it as a cross between Bigfoot and Lucifer and you’ll understand). We didn’t see the Jersey Devil lurking out there in the pine trees on this ride, but who knows? Maybe he saw us. As a New Jersey native, I know this: Anything’s possible in the Garden State.

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The Wayback Machine: Indian ExhaustNotes!

By Joe Berk

This is a blog we published about 6 years ago. It’s one of my favorites, and I’m hoping you will enjoy it, too.

We were visiting the Planes of Fame last month when I spotted the US Army World War II motorcycle you see below…

At first, I thought it was a Harley WLA 45, but nope, a nice young fellow named Paul was working on the motorcycle and he told me it was an Indian. Wow, you don’t see too many WWII US Army Indians. I was a bit embarrassed (after all, I wrote a book about police and military motorcycles), but the beauty of this motorcycle soon made me forget that. Check out these photos, folks…

When I returned home, I had to look up what I had written two decades ago about the Indian 741 in The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles…

INDIAN WORLD WAR II MOTORCYCLES

During the war, Indian produced about 40,000 motorcycles and essentially devoted its entire operation to military production. It produced few civilian motorcycles (the company did not even bother to print a catalog in 1942), although it maintained a small amount of its production capacity for police motorcycles. It sold its military motorcycles to the U.S. Army and to several other Allied nations, most notably England. Indian offered several models during World War II. These included the Model 741, the Chief, the Model 640B, the M1, and the Model 841.

The Model 741

The Model 741 was Indian’s main military motorcycle. It was the machine Indian had developed in response to the U.S. Army’s ill-advised initial requirement for a 500-cc military motorcycle. The Model 741’s engine actually displaced 30.5 cubic inches (or 500 cc), and for this reason it became known as the “30-50.”

The Model 741 was based on Indian’s Junior Scout. Its 500-cc, V-twin engine was the Junior Scout engine detuned for increased durability. It only produced about 15 horsepower. The Model 741 had a hand shift and a foot clutch like the Harley-Davidson WLA, but the Indian motorcycle put the shifter on the right side of the gas tank instead of on the left side as Harley-Davidson had done. The motorcycle’s throttle was in the left handgrip, in accordance with the army’s initial specification. As Harley-Davidson had done, Indian extended the front forks to give greater ground clearance. Indian also extended the rear frame for the same purpose. The Model 741 also used the much larger Indian Chief’s transmission for increased reliability. The Model 741 had a rifle scabbard on the right front fender and an ammunition container on the left front fender.

The Indian Model 741, like the Harley- Davidson WLA, was not a high-performance motorcycle. Both machines weighed over 500 pounds. Both machines had top speeds of approximately 65 mph. The army was more interested in durability than in top speed.

The U.S. Army used the Indian Model 741 during World War II, as did the armies of Great Britain, Canada, Poland, Australia, and Russia. Indian also sold Model 741s to the British Royal Air Force.

Here’s the best part of this story…The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles is still in print, it’s just $12.95, and all you need to do to order it is click on the link you see here.

Oh, and one more thing. If you live for the sound of exotic ExhaustNotes, I saved the best for last…

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Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum

By Joe Berk

Time has a way of creeping up on you. In looking over my list of Motorcycle Classics “Destinations” articles, I was surprised to see I’ve been pitching and publishing stories for the magazine for 20 years. It all started when a nice young fellow named Landon Hall, MC‘s Associate Editor at the time, saw a few photos I had posted online and asked if I’d be interested in doing a piece for the magazine. Hell, yeah, I would (and I did). I wrote a lot of stories on a lot of fun destinations. I’m not bragging here, folks. I’m just getting old.

A new editorial staff recently came on board at Motorcycle Classics, and my new editor asked if I could focus more on motorcycle museums. As a freelancer, I learned a long time ago that you don’t argue with people who buy ink by the barrel, so I set about finding moto museums. This led me to discover Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum in Pacific Grove, California. I’d never heard of the Jameson before. Come to think of it, I’d never heard of Pacific Grove, either. Both turned out to be pure slices of heaven, as did the ride there and our return home.

Neil Jameson, the man who created Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum.

The story behind the Jameson is a fascinating one, and I heard it firsthand from Staci Jameson Hayes. Neil Jameson was the man who created the Museum (Staci is his daughter). Neil is no longer with us, but while he graced our world, he was one hell of a man. He grew up in Hollister, California, and I found myself wondering if his interest in motorcycles came about as a result of that town’s moto history. Jameson started as a goat farmer, became a firefighter, and along the way, he became a world class businessman, investor, and wheeler dealer (Staci told me he was a horse trader extraordinaire). Neil’s time with us ended in 2021, and during his 82 years on this planet, he was a motorcycle enthusiast, an adventure rider, and a motorcycle collector.

Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum is at 305 Forest Avenue in Pacific Grove, California, directly across the street from the police station and city hall. Neil Jameson bought the building to showcase his collection in 2010; it formerly housed the local newspaper.

The Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum collection is eclectic. Many of the bikes were owned and ridden by Neil (including the ’72 R75 BMW that he rode to the Arctic Circle and back). Some have been restored to original condition; others are in their as-ridden-by-Neil condition. The restorations were performed by Emma Booton, a woman Staci describes as The Restoration Goddess. I’ve been to a lot of museums; the restorations at the Jameson are stunning.

Peering into the Museum through the front door.

Another view of the collection through a wide-angle lens. I recently learned that the best photos of a motorcycle are shot at knee height; getting down and back up again to do that is not as easy as it used to be.

Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum has several BMWs. Neil Jameson rode the one in the center of this photo to the Arctic Circle.

As mentioned above, the Jameson collection is eclectic. For the most part, the bikes are “everyman” motorcycles, the kind you or I might have owned and ridden. Several of the machines really spoke to me, including a 1982 T140E Triumph Electro. By the early 1980s, the original Triumph motorcycle company was in a death spiral. The Electro, an electric start motorcycle, was an attempt by Triumph to counter Japan’s moto success. It was too little and too late, but it was a valiant and magnificent effort. The Jameson’s Electro is the first I have ever seen.

A Triumph Bonneville Electro, a gorgeous motorcycle.

The Electro’s colors are magnificent. Note the timing/cam cover casting, enlarged to accept an electric starter.

Japanese street bikes of the 1970s and 1980s are well represented, including several that showcase the engineering accomplishments and marketing experiments of the era.

The Jameson has stunning Kawasaki two-stroke triples, in both 500cc and 750cc flavors.

Let the good times roll: Fiercely fast with acceleration measured on the Richter scale, and handling that could only be described as scary.

Before venturing into big-bore four strokes, Suzuki tried a couple of interesting and unconventional concepts. One was their rotary-engined street bike.

Kawasaki had air-cooled big bore two-stroke street bikes; Suzuki chose water cooling for their 750cc two-stroke triple. This bike was affectionately known as the Water Buffalo.

Trust me on this: The Suzuki water-cooled two-stroke triple is a mechanical engineering work of art.

Think CHiPs: Back in the day, the California Highway Patrol and many local law enforcement agencies used the Kawasaki KZ1000P police motorcycle. West of the Mississippi River, Kawasaki owned the police motorcycle market (Harley police motors dominated the police market east of the Mississippi). Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum displays a Kawasaki KZ1000P, and the motorcycle didn’t have to travel very far to get into the collection.

The Kawasaki police bikes are beautiful. Their performance was considerably better than Harley’s, with better acceleration, better braking, higher top speed, and run-flat tires.

Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum’s police Kawasaki came from the Pacific Grove Police Department, which is directly across the street from the Museum.

There’s a Bonneville Salt Flats bike, too. It’s a 1965 Honda CB-160 streamliner. My father’s first motorcycle was a 1965 Honda CB-160. I’m pretty sure this one is faster than my Dad’s bike.

As mentioned above, Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum has a great collection of British motorcycles. BSAs, Bonnevilles, and Nortons were the hot ticket in the 1960s, and all three are well represented in the Museum.

A BSA Firebird Scrambler. BSA had this hot rod; Triumph had the Bonneville. The 1960s were a glorious time for British motorcycles.

My two favorite motorcycles of the many beautiful machines on display in the Jameson are the Triumph Electro described above, and an absolutely stunning Ariel Square Four. Ariel based the Square Four’s engine design on two 500cc twins in series, and the result was a visually-arresting motorcycle dominated by its engine. Finished in a deep maroon livery, the Museum’s Square Four is an amazing specimen.

An Ariel Square Four, a massive and impressive motorcycle.

A tighter shot of the Ariel Square Four engine. This is a beautiful machine.

Pacific Grove, California, is a nice little town bordered by the Pacific Ocean, the Del Monte Forest, and the City of Monterey. We rode out to the lighthouse and watched huge waves crashing into the breakers for a bit.

Looking down Forest Avenue, standing in front of Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum. That’s the Pacific Ocean out there.

We fell in love with Pacific Grove, the coastal community in which Jameson’s Classic Motorcycle Museum is located. Everything about the place and everyone we met made us feel like we belonged there, including Staci and her husband, Russ. The town just feels comfortable and it’s a place we’d like to visit again. We enjoyed a fantastic lunch at Toasties, which was surprisingly reasonably priced (especially considering the area). I’m told that Pepper’s Mexicali Café’s burritos are world class. Both restaurants are within a mile of the Museum (Pepper’s is only a block away). Our ride into Pacific Grove took us past the Naval Postgraduate School and the Defense Language Institute; the ride back home took us along California State Route 68, California State Route 17, and the Chualar River Road through the Salinas Valley. It was all magnificent.

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Man, This Is Scary

By Joe Berk

Nvidia stock gains, artificial intelligence, updates to MSOffice…it all kind of came together for me in the last day or so. I confess: I’ve pretty much ignored all the hoopla about AI and I detest senseless change. You know, the change that occurs when computer programs are updated.

I resisted upgrading to Windows 11 for more than a year until I had to, and now I have to relearn a bunch of stuff (including new layouts) that appear to serve no purpose. My iPhone updated automatically last week and the email feature only showed incoming email by category (fortunately for me, I found a way to revert to the former layout that shows all email). MSOffice did the auto-update thing, too, and in addition to learning more new layouts, it now shows a weird little symbol at the start of each new document:

I clicked on that symbol, and it asked for a description of what I wanted Word’s AI feature to generate a story about. Folks, this is both amazing and scary. I first told it to give me a story about collecting pocketknives, and I was blown away with what came back. I opened a new Word document, and told it to generate a story about the 250-3000 Savage cartridge’s history, and I was similarly blown away. I’m going to show both stories here, but before I do that, I’ll give you my pledge: After these two examples, we’ll never run an AI-generated article on ExhaustNotes. What you’ll see after these two examples will always be pure us, warts and all.

The Art and Joy of Collecting Pocketknives

A Journey into a Timeless Hobby

Collecting pocketknives is more than just a hobby; it is a journey into a world of craftsmanship, history, and personal satisfaction. As a collector, you not only savor the thrill of the hunt for unique pieces but also immerse yourself in the rich stories each knife tells. Whether you are an experienced collector or a newcomer to this fascinating pursuit, there is always something new to discover and appreciate in the realm of pocketknives.

The History of Pocketknives

Pocketknives have a long and storied history that dates back thousands of years. The earliest known examples of folding knives were discovered in ancient Rome, where they were used as everyday tools. These early pocketknives featured simple folding mechanisms, often with bone handles and iron blades. Over the centuries, pocketknives evolved in design and functionality, becoming indispensable tools for sailors, soldiers, and craftsmen.

By the 17th century, pocketknives had become popular throughout Europe. In England, the Sheffield region became renowned for its high-quality cutlery, including pocketknives. The craftsmanship and innovation of Sheffield knife makers set the standard for pocketknives around the world. In the United States, the 19th century saw the rise of iconic names like Case, Buck, and Remington, which contributed to the rich tapestry of American knife-making heritage.

Types of Pocketknives

One of the joys of collecting pocketknives is the incredible variety of designs and styles available. Here are some of the most popular types of pocketknives that collectors often seek:

Slip Joint Knives

Slip joint knives are characterized by their simple, non-locking mechanism. The blade is held open by a spring, and it can be closed with manual pressure. These knives often feature multiple blades, each designed for specific tasks. Popular examples include the traditional Swiss Army Knife and the classic Barlow knife.

Lockback Knives

Lockback knives have a locking mechanism that secures the blade in place when it is open. To close the blade, a lever on the spine of the handle must be pressed. This design provides added safety and strength, making lockback knives a favorite among outdoor enthusiasts and hunters.

Liner Lock Knives

Liner lock knives feature a metal liner inside the handle that locks the blade in place when opened. To close the blade, the liner must be pushed to the side. This type of knife is known for its ease of use and reliability, making it a popular choice for everyday carry.

Modern Folding Knives

Modern folding knives encompass a wide range of contemporary designs and materials. These knives often feature advanced locking mechanisms, ergonomic handles, and high-tech blade steels. Brands like Benchmade, Spyderco, and Zero Tolerance are renowned for their innovative approaches to knife design.

Building Your Collection

Embarking on the journey of collecting pocketknives can be both exciting and rewarding. Here are some tips to help you build a diverse and meaningful collection:

Set Your Goals

Before you start collecting, consider what aspects of pocketknives interest you the most. Are you drawn to historical pieces, modern designs, or specific brands? Setting clear goals will help you focus your collection and make informed decisions.

Research and Learn

Knowledge is key to becoming a successful collector. Take the time to learn about different knife makers, materials, and designs. Books, online forums, and knife shows are excellent resources for expanding your understanding of pocketknives.

Start Small

Begin your collection with a few carefully chosen pieces that align with your interests. As you gain experience and confidence, you can gradually expand your collection to include more diverse and valuable knives.

Care and Maintenance

Proper care and maintenance are essential to preserving the value and appearance of your pocketknives. Keep your knives clean, dry, and properly lubricated. Store them in a cool, dry place, and consider using display cases or storage rolls to protect them from damage.

The Community of Collectors

One of the most rewarding aspects of collecting pocketknives is the sense of community among fellow enthusiasts. Knife shows, forums, and social media groups provide opportunities to connect with other collectors, share knowledge, and trade or purchase knives. The camaraderie and shared passion within the collecting community can enhance your experience and open doors to new friendships and opportunities.

Conclusion

Collecting pocketknives is a timeless hobby that offers a unique blend of history, craftsmanship, and personal fulfillment. Whether you are captivated by the elegance of a vintage slip joint or the cutting-edge technology of a modern folder, there is a pocketknife out there waiting to become a cherished part of your collection. As you delve deeper into this fascinating world, you will discover that each knife is more than just a tool—it is a piece of art, a slice of history, and a testament to human ingenuity.

Okay, it’s me, Joe, back on the keyboard again. Did you like that story above? So I tried another one. Check out this AI-generated story on the 250-3000 Savage cartridge’s history.

The History of the .250-3000 Savage Cartridge

A Revolution in Hunting and Shooting

In the annals of firearms history, few cartridges have had as profound an impact as the .250-3000 Savage. Developed in the early 20th century, this cartridge has become a legend among hunters and shooting enthusiasts for its remarkable performance and innovation. Let’s delve into the captivating history of the .250-3000 Savage, exploring its origins, development, and enduring legacy.

Origins and Development

The story of the .250-3000 Savage begins in the early 1900s, a time when the world of firearms was experiencing rapid advancements. In 1915, Charles Newton, a renowned firearms designer and ballistics expert, was approached by Arthur Savage, the founder of Savage Arms Company. Savage sought a new cartridge that could be fired from his revolutionary Model 99 lever-action rifle. Newton accepted the challenge with enthusiasm, and thus began the journey to create what would become a groundbreaking cartridge.

Newton’s goal was to design a high-velocity cartridge that would be suitable for hunting medium-sized game while also being compatible with Savage’s Model 99. The result of his efforts was the .250-3000 Savage cartridge, also known simply as the .250 Savage. This cartridge was officially introduced in 1915 and quickly gained popularity due to its unique characteristics. The name “250-3000” was derived from the bullet diameter of .250 inches and the remarkable muzzle velocity of 3000 feet per second (fps), an unprecedented speed for its time.

Technical Innovations

The .250-3000 Savage was a technological marvel that set new standards in the firearms industry. Its high muzzle velocity was achieved through the use of a lightweight 87-grain bullet, which allowed for flat trajectories and increased accuracy at longer ranges. This made the cartridge ideal for hunting a variety of game, including deer, antelope, and varmints. The combination of speed and accuracy made it a favorite among hunters who sought a versatile and effective round.

One of the key innovations of the .250-3000 Savage was its use of smokeless powder, which contributed to the cartridge’s high velocity and clean-burning characteristics. Smokeless powder had been introduced in the late 19th century, but the .250-3000 Savage was one of the first cartridges to fully capitalize on its advantages. This advancement marked a significant departure from the black powder cartridges that had dominated the firearms landscape for decades.

Impact on Hunting and Shooting

The introduction of the .250-3000 Savage had a profound impact on the world of hunting and shooting. Hunters quickly recognized the cartridge’s capabilities and began using it for a wide range of game. Its high velocity and flat trajectory allowed for precise shots at varying distances, making it a reliable choice for both seasoned hunters and newcomers to the sport. The .250-3000 Savage’s success also demonstrated the potential of high-velocity cartridges, paving the way for future developments in firearms technology.

In addition to its popularity among hunters, the .250-3000 Savage garnered attention from competitive shooters. Its accuracy and consistent performance made it a competitive choice in target shooting and varmint hunting. The cartridge’s reputation for delivering flat trajectories and minimal recoil further solidified its place in the shooting community.

Enduring Legacy

Though the .250-3000 Savage was introduced over a century ago, its legacy continues to endure. The cartridge’s design principles and innovations have left a lasting impact on the development of modern ammunition. Many of the advancements pioneered by the .250-3000 Savage, such as the use of smokeless powder and high-velocity bullets, have become standard features in contemporary cartridges.

The .250-3000 Savage also holds a special place in the hearts of firearm enthusiasts and collectors. Vintage rifles chambered for the cartridge are highly sought after, and reloading enthusiasts continue to experiment with different bullet weights and powder combinations to maximize its performance. The cartridge’s historical significance and enduring popularity ensure that it remains a beloved part of firearms lore.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the .250-3000 Savage cartridge stands as a testament to the ingenuity and innovation of early 20th-century firearms designers. Its high velocity, accuracy, and versatility revolutionized hunting and shooting, setting new standards for performance and reliability. As we look back on the history of this remarkable cartridge, we are reminded of the enduring impact that a single innovation can have on an entire industry. The .250-3000 Savage will forever be remembered as a pioneering force in the world of firearms, a true icon of its time.

Joe again, taking back the keyboard. My head is swirling a bit. Wow, a lot of thoughts here.

The AI-generated writing is generally good. I used to teach engineers how to write. I’d give both articles an A. No spelling errors, no grammatical errors, no capitalization, good organization, just a little bit of semantic noise, and a good, logical sequencing of ideas organized into well-written paragraphs. Students have to love this AI business. Teachers have to hate it. How can you know who wrote what? The student, or Word’s AI feature?

I now understand why I am getting emails everyday about guest blogs on any topic I desire. I delete all of them. But hell, someone using AI could crank out stories all day long with essentially zero effort.

Print media is just about dead. It looks like the writing profession may be heading that way, too.

I asked the AI feature to include photographs, and it basically went belly up on that one. But I suspect that either it won’t be long before it can do that, or I simply don’t know the right way to ask for it. The photo you see at the top of this blog is mine. It shows a very cool Civivi pocketknife good buddy Paul sent to me (thanks again, Paul!) and two 250-3000 cartridges I reloaded yesterday (and by the time you read this, their 87-grain Sierra bullets will have already gone downrange).

The movie Terminator keeps popping into my mind. How long until Skynet becomes self-aware?

Again, my promise: Other than what you read here today, our blogs will never be AI generated. We’re the real deal, for better or for worse.

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Where does the time go?

By Joe Berk

Wow, it’s March already. It seems like just a couple of days ago it was February. Seriously, though, the years are flying by. I had a bunch of things I wanted to mention, so this blog may meander a bit. Bear with me.

Baja John on the road to San Felipe back in 2005.

I got a note from Baja John yesterday. He’s down in San Felipe, which is not that big a stretch for him as he leaves down in Baja now. San Felipe celebrated their 100th anniversary this weekend and John wrote to tell me about it. Baja John, good buddy Marty, and I rode down there for San Felipe’s 80th anniversary, and if your Ph.D is in math, you know that means our ride was 20 years ago this past weekend. Those 20 years sure went by in a blur. It feels like that ride was maybe a couple of months ago.

John and yours truly two decades ago. I rode a Harley in those days. John rode a Virago. The BMW belonged to our friend Marty.

Man, I miss those Baja trips.

Speaking of time, I somehow made the Ball Watch email list. Their watches have a unique way of making the hands glow in the dark, which is kind of cool. I usually don’t find their style appealing, but Ball introduced a watch they call the Trainmaster a couple of years ago, and that one is beautiful. But at $2995 it’s not appealing enough (at least to me). I don’t need another watch. It sure is elegant, though.

The Ball Trainmaster. I would love to own one of these. It’s a GMT, too, one of my favorite watch types.

You may recall that several months ago we explained the origins of the expression, “Balls out.” That one means running flat out, and it is nontesticular in nature (it refers instead to a mechanical governor’s centrifugal balls being fully extended). It doesn’t have anything to do with Ball watches, either. But another expression, “on the Ball,” does. The official watch for railroads back in the 1800s was a Ball pocket watch (the same company that now makes the watch you see above), and if a train was running on schedule, it was said to be “on the Ball.”

Two Old Timers for $26 at Walmart! I already accidentally cut myself with the big one.

The pocketknife thing is in full swing. I thought I had just a few laying around in various spots in the house, so I decided to gather them up and put them all in one spot. I was a little bit embarrassed when I finished. I don’t need any more pocketknives. But that may not stop me. I have one more inbound, and I’ll probably stop after that. Or not. We’ll see.

More good stuff: I’ve had an old Savage 99 lever gun (chambered in 250 Savage) stashed away and neglected for several decades. Well, I finally dug it out a couple of months ago, and the neglect was obvious. It was rusty when I got it, but I let it get worse. Most of the rust is now off and it looks good. I bought some new 250-3000 brass cases and a set of Lee dies. I’m surprised I took this long to get around to the Savage, and I’m even more surprised at just how nice a cartridge the .250 Savage is.

A .250 Savage round in a Savage 99 rifle that is one year younger than me.

I haven’t finished the dialing in the load or the rifle, and I am already getting these kinds of results at 100 yards. The .250 Savage cartridge is a winner!

Another bit of misadventuring: I had a couple of old laptops that weren’t working and I’ve held off on tossing them for fear there might still be data on the hard drives. How do you wipe a hard drive so that whatever was there can’t be recovered? After a few minutes Googling the topic, it seems that the best way is to pull the hard drive and drill a few holes through the disk. Simply deleting the files or even using programs designed to eliminate whatever’s on there really doesn’t get the job done. I have a power drill, but I had a better idea. How about putting the hard drives behind a target and having at them with a .45?

Two guys getting blown away at the West End Gun Club. There was a laptop hard drive behind the head on each target.

ARX .45 ACP bullets meet hard drive. Yep, that worked.

Hard drives rendered unusable: Mission accomplished.

One more last item: You remember I told you about good buddy Lance and how well his end shake shims worked in my Model 60 snubbie. His company, TriggerShims.com, also makes bolt shims for .22 rifles I have two sets coming in for two of my .22 rifles, and I’m going to see how well they work.

CZ 452 Varmint and Remington Custom Shop Model 504 22 rifles. I’m going to try Trigger Shims bolt shims in both.

Stay tuned, and you’ll get the full report right here.

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Galleta Meadows Estate

By Joe Berk

So let’s say you’re a rich guy…not little rich from a corporate job where you’re overtitled and overpaid, but big rich as in inheriting a fortune from Dad. Let’s say Dad was George Avery, the guy who founded the label making company of the same name. We’re talking big bucks here, folks. What do you do with all that money?

Dennis Avery was the guy we’re talking about here. He was George Avery’s son and he was a good guy who did good things with his money. He gave away a lot to worthy causes both in the U.S. and overseas. Kids going to school. AIDS clinics. Authors writing interesting books. Kids’ athletic endeavors. And lots, lots more.

An author Dennis helped was George Jefferson (not the one from the TV sitcom The Jeffersons, but instead a guy who studied geology and dinosaurs). Jefferson wanted to write a book about dinosaurs and with Avery’s support, he did. That brings us to a point where Dennis meets Ricardo Breceda.

The 3,000-acre estate Dennis Avery bought is called Galleta Meadows. “Galleta” means cookie or biscuit in Spanish. It also refers to a species of grass (not marijuana, but actual grass) that grows in the area (see below).

Galleta grass. It grows up to about two feet tall and it thrives in the desert. The name is probably due to the plant’s seeds, which look like little flattened cookies.

But before we get there, Dennis started buying land in and around Borrego Springs, a small desert town northeast of San Diego. Mr. Avery liked it as is, and didn’t want to see it consumed by development as has happened in so many other parts of California. Score one for the good guys here, folks.

Breceda was a guy who grew up in Mexico, came to the United States, tried a few different business ventures, and ended up owning welding equipment. He wasn’t a welder initially, but he learned how to use the welding gear. Kind of like Joe Gresh. Breceda’s daughter had seen the new hit movie, Jurassic Park, and she wanted a dinosaur for her birthday. Breceda had a welding machine. You can see where this is going. After creating a dino for his daughter, Breceda started making and selling large metal sculptures. You can’t miss them. We’ve seen them in various parts of southern California, including a very large mastodon looking over the 60 freeway near Riverside not too far from where we live.

One day, Dennis Avery is driving by, and he notices the large metal creatures crafted by Breceda. He stops in to talk. See where this is going?

What looks like hair on Breceda’s sculptures is actually tiny strips of sheet metal. We have some cool things out in our California deserts.

To make a long and fascinating story a little less long and a little more fascinating, Avery and Breceda struck up a deal to repopulate Galleta Meadows with creatures from the Plio-Pleistocene age (a period combining the Pliocene and Pleistocene eras that began 5 million years ago and lasted until about 12,000 years ago). The concept took off from there, and the art expanded to include other creatures. One is the 300-foot-long dragon/sea serpent you see in the photos at the top of this blog and in the three photos below.

A sense of scale. The sea serpent dragon is huge. That’s my sister Eileen and my wife Susie taking it all in. You can walk under the coils further back.

It’s hard to imagine the labor that went into these sculptures.

We were astounded by the number of sculptures in the immediate area of the sea serpent. It surprised me that we didn’t the others at first; I guess it was because we fixated on the sea serpent sculpture I had programmed into my Waze navigation app.

While we were viewing the sea serpent and taking a bunch of photos, we saw another sculpture almost hidden in the nearby desert. We drove through the area’s dirt pathways to get a better look. Wow. You can walk right up to these things. It was amazing.

Another prehistoric beast, as interpreted by Ricardo Breceda. It almost seems life like.

A better shot, with the sun at my back. The old iPhone was getting a workout and it was doing a good job. I was thinking I could get better photos with my Nikon the entire time I was out there in the Anza Borrego desert. Anza Borrego translates into Bighorn sheep. They’re in the area, but we didn’t see any.

A closer shot of the beast above showing how Breceda used thin strips of sheet metal to simulate hair. Brilliant work, this is.

Then we spotted another sculpture 50 yards or so away. They were popping out like Easter eggs or seeing the whales in Scammons Lagoon down in Baja. At first you don’t see any. Then they suddenly appear in a manner that makes you wonder why you didn’t see them before. We were enjoying the experience.

Oppossums and other modern animals carry their young like this. The artist is brilliant. This rusty old things actually look alive.

Another view of the prehistoric mama and her baby. That dark spot under her tail? It’s another sculpture off in the distance.

After photographing the sculpture above, I looked around and there was yet another one way off in the desert. It was a camel of some sort. This was really cool stuff.

Would you walk a mile for this camel? I would and I will. I’ll be back with better equipment next time.

The entire adventure was sort of an Easter egg hunt, with our spotting yet another sculpture a rifle shot or so away that we hadn’t noticed driving into the area. I think you probably could see them all from the road if you knew where to look for them, but we didn’t know until we were at the sea serpent. I’m glad I didn’t know where to look. I felt like a little kid discovering one more each time I moved on to another. It was great fun.

When I finished taking the iPhone photos you see here, I thought I had captured all the sculptures. Boy, was I wrong. In researching the sculptures, the artist, and the man who sponsored it all, I was astounded to learn that there are actually 130 of these things scattered around the Galleta Meadows Estate. We had seen only a half dozen. You know what that means: Another trip. On the next one, I’ll bring along the Nikon D810 and my tripod, and I’ll get better pictures. That’s going to be really cool.

The obligatory selfie. Maybe I’m a narcissist. It was the middle of February, and it was a comfortable 70 degrees out in the Anza Borrego desert. My wife, my sister, and I had a great time

Getting there was both easy and fun. We started in Escondido and picked up California State Route 78 east. That’s a glorious ride on either a motorcycle or a car, winding through the mountains and then bringing you up to the Anza Borrego desert floor (where the sculptures reside). We stopped in Julian for breakfast and a delicious slice of apple and cherry pie along the way. It was a fun day.

The 70-series roads in southern California are fabulous roads. This is a great ride. If you’re going to see the Breceda sculptures, you can get right next to them in a car; you cannot do so on a motorcycle.

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The Wayback Machine: Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On

By Joe Berk

I took my Model 60 S&W apart to clean it and somewhere along the way I lost the shims I put in to reduce cylinder end shake. A quick email to good buddy Lance Shively and a set of shims later, and I’m back in business. That got me to thinking: I had written a blog on installing the shims several years ago and I thought it would be a good idea to run it again.

I love my S&W Model 60 and I shoot it a lot. It’s particularly cool after I had TJ (of TJ’s Custom Gunworks) do an action job on it. Not content to leave well enough alone, I convinced myself that (after tracing the occasional double action misfire to not-fully-seated primers) that what I really needed was a lighter hammer spring (in addition to the lighter trigger spring I had already installed). Wolff Springs sells a lighter hammer spring kit, and I went for the lightest hammer spring I could get.

The Wolff Springs hammer spring kit. I went with the lightest spring.

The lighter trigger spring affects single action trigger pull after you have already cocked the gun and it has nothing to do with the occasional double action misfiring I had experienced in the past. Double action trigger pull is affected by both the trigger spring and the hammer spring, but the hammer spring is a much beefier spring and it drives most of the resistance when firing double action. The hammer spring, if too light, can induce misfires.

The Wolff hammer spring kit includes a standard strength spring (an 8 1/2-pound spring), a heavier spring (a 9-pound spring), and a lighter spring (an 8-pound spring). I wanted a lighter double action pull, so I used the 8-pound spring. The tradeoff is this puts less force on the hammer, which means it has lower velocity when it hits home, and that ups the likelihood of a misfire.

The hammer spring is easy to change, and if necessary, I can go for either of the two heavier springs at the range. All it takes is a small screwdriver to remove the grips, and the same exotic custom tool used for disassembling the Rock Island Compact 1911 (a bent paper clip). The photos below show how this is done.

The Model 60’s hammer spring, with the hammer in the uncocked position.

The Model 60’s hammer spring, with the hammer cocked. Note that the hammer yoke (the rod running through the center of the hammer spring) has been pushed back, exposing a hole in the rod.

A high tech, German tool steel special assembly/disassembly aid? Nah, it’s a bent paper clip and it works gang busters.

To remove the hammer spring yoke and the hammer spring, insert the paper clip into the yoke and gently release the hammer by pulling the trigger and lowering the hammer.

With the hammer dropped, the spring is captured in a compressed mode and the hammer spring and the yoke can be removed from the gun. Once this subassembly is removed, you can manually push the spring cap to further compress the spring, remove the paper clip, remove the spring cap and spring, and install the lighter hammer spring. Assembly is the reverse of disassembly.

While installing the new hammer spring, I noticed that my normal gun cleaning routine just wasn’t cutting it on the Model 60. There was still a bit of lead in the barrel, and the powder residue was building up around the yoke. I selected a bronze bristled toothbrush and went to work on the cylinder, the yoke, and the frame, and a bronze bore bush for the bore. When the remnants of gunfights past were gone (you know, my encounters with zombies, as previously described), I spritzed the gun with the universal cleaner (WD40) and then I wiped it down before applying gun oil.

That’s when I noticed that the barrel-to-cylinder gap was nonexistent. Zip. Nada. Zero. The front of the cylinder was touching the rear of the barrel. Uh oh. That’s no good. There’s supposed to be a gap there (like you see in the photo below), because if there’s no gap the cylinder will drag on the barrel. That will degrade the double action trigger pull and, in a worst-case scenario, it can drive the revolver out of time (the chamber won’t be aligned with the barrel). The technical term for the fore-and-aft cylinder movement that assures a minimum clearance when the cylinder is fully forward is called end shake. There needs to be some, and there needs to be a gap. Ideally, that should be 0.004 to 0.008 inches. Any less, and powder and lead residue will bind the cylinder, any more and too much gas escapes (and velocity suffers).

The barrel-to-cylinder gap. This is about .004-inch with the cylinder pushed forward, and that’s the gap I want. This was after I installed the TriggerShims.com cylinder shim.

You measure the barrel-to-cylinder gap with a feeler gage, just like you would when setting the valves on a motorcycle. I’ve done that (as you know from reading this blog and any of the CSC shop manuals), and I already had the feeler gages I needed.

My feeler gage. I’ve probably owned this tool for 40 years. It still works. I use it for adjusting valves on my Royal Enfield, too.

After a bit of internet research, I learned that the way to address inadequate gap is by shimming the cylinder and its fit on the yoke. That’s when I first learned there’s a business that specializes in making shims for this exact purpose. In short order I was communicating with Lance Shively, who heads TriggerShims.com.

The cylinder shims from TriggerShims.com. They were well packaged and sent in a standard business envelope.

The cylinder shims out of the pack. I ordered the four-piece set because I had not worked with these before, I didn’t know what I would need, and they were inexpensive. They are color coded by size.

Lance and his wife, Tammy, run a real Mom and Pop operation that manufactures gun specific shims for a living. Lance has an extensive background in small engine repair and tool and die making, and he and Tammy parlayed that into TriggerShims, which has been doing well for more than 14 years now. Lance told me his primary concern is customer satisfaction, and I can tell you my perception in working with TriggerShims is they have mastered it. I had the Model 60 custom end shake shims in three days, there was no postage charge, and the price was more than reasonable for custom gun parts. Lance runs a Christian business, he believes in God and country, and he’s not bashful about letting people know that. He and Tammy also sell select items from other vendors when he finds a company he likes and believes in, but that is a very select group. The two biggest ones are Wolff and Volquartsen.

I received the shims I ordered from Lance in just a few days, and installation was trivially easy. I had to remove the yoke, disassemble the ejector rod from the extractor, install the shim I wanted to use (I went with a single .003-inch shim to give the clearance I wanted), and then reassemble everything. It only took a few minutes, and the only tricky part was remembering that the ejector rod had a left-hand thread.

This screw has to be removed to allow removal of the yoke and cylinder from the revolver. You don’t need to remove the revolver’s side plate.

With the yoke removed, you unscrew the ejector rod (the knurled piece you push on to eject empty brass from the cylinder) and everything comes apart. Hold on to the ejector rod as you unscrew it so parts won’t fly away, and remember that it is a left-hand thread.

The cylinder shim(s) fit beneath the extractor spring. They are pushed into the cylinder by the extractor spring as the cylinder and yoke subassembly are reassembled. The shim(s) position the cylinder further to the rear, increasing the barrel-to-cylinder gap.

TriggerShims.com manufactures over 100 firearm-specific shims with thicknesses from .002-inch to .007-inch, with some specialty items as thick as .010-inch and as thin as .0015-inch. Lance sends shims worldwide, with Australia and Canada being the biggest international customers (he also ships to more than 100 other countries).

Lance and I had a good conversation, during which he told me he enjoyed exploring the ExhaustNotes site and our blog. One thing led to another, and TriggerShims.com is our newest advertiser. You’ll see the TriggerShims.com logo on the ExNotes blog and all ExNotes pages, and Lance asked if he could post links to some of our Tales of the Gun stories on the TriggerShims.com site. Hey, you bet, Lance, and welcome aboard.

I had the Model 60 on the range yesterday morning, and it is a much smoother running revolver.

More Tales of the Gun!

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China’s Shaolin Temple

By Joe Berk

I posted a blog yesterday about Chinese pocketknives and drew a few comments (as I knew I would). One of them mentioned Shaolin martial arts, and that prompted a response from me about the Shaolin Temple in China. Not a lot of folks here in the US have been to the Shaolin Temple. I know of two who rode there on motorcycles (that would be Joe Gresh and yours truly). I covered that visit in Riding China, and I thought it would be good to share a part of that chapter with you today. Who knows…I might even sell a few books by doing so. You know, so you can read the rest of the story about our ride through China.

We continued riding and entered a mountainous region. I liked that a lot. The roads were nice, there wasn’t much traffic, and because we were both moving and climbing, the heat abated a bit. We stopped for a break, and a fellow came along on a 250cc Yamaha that was configured for touring. He stopped and chatted with us and we took turns taking pictures of each other. His bike looked good. We only saw a few other Chinese on our trip who were touring on motorcycles.

A Chinese motorcyclist on a 250cc Yamaha. His luggage is from Lester Peng’s motorcycle luggage company. Lester rode with us last year on the 5000-mile Western America Adventure Ride.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but we were very close to the Shaolin Temple when we stopped to talk to the Yamaha rider. That would be our next destination this day. Another fellow then came by and he had an animated conversation with Sean (our guide). It turns out he was selling, Sean was his mark, and the guy was working Sean hard. This guy owned a restaurant and he wanted us to eat there. He was successful; we did.

We didn’t pause for naps after this lunch, but Sean was soon having another excited conversation with folks outside the restaurant. I didn’t know what they were discussing, but I later realized it was about transportation and how we would get into the Shaolin Temple. The bottom line to this conversation was that we all piled into three small gray minivans that took us about two miles down the road, back the way we had ridden to get to the restaurant.

What I learned later was that there were two ways to get into the Shaolin Temple complex. One was through the main gate, and apparently that cost more. The other was a woodsy trail through the mountains that required a climb over two or three mountains on a slippery muddy trail. If you did that, you could sneak into the Shaolin Temple complex for free. That’s what we did, and that climb was rough. The trail was slippery, and by now the temperature and humidity were up again. Had I known what was going on I would have gladly paid to go in through the front door, but I didn’t realize what we were doing until I was doing my best impersonation of a mountain goat in the hills behind Shaolin.

So here’s the deal on the Shaolin Temple: It’s famous as the home of Chinese Kung Fu. No kidding; it’s both a Buddhist Temple and a world-renown Kung Fu school (the original Kung Fu school, actually). It’s where Bruce Lee learned his craft, and if you’ve ever seen a martial arts movie with scenes that have large numbers of young Chinese guys learning the martial arts, it was almost certainly filmed here.

The Shaolin Temple was beautiful. As we walked along its well-manicured paths, a young guy went into a martial arts routine that was mesmerizing. It was something right out of a movie. The guy was executing all of these snappy martial arts stances (one seemed to flow into the next) in a manner that almost made the display a dance routine. It probably only lasted a minute or two, but when it ended, a large crowd had already gathered and everyone applauded. I enjoyed seeing it, even though I know nothing about any of this stuff.

A martial artist demonstrating his moves at the Shaolin Temple.

More moves. I told the guys I could do this, but I don’t think they believed me.

The Buddhist Temple was beautiful, but by then it was so miserably hot and humid we weren’t enjoying anything. We were in a walled courtyard that allowed no airflow, and I couldn’t seem to get my body temperature down. I was still perspiring from climbing over the mountains.

I shot a few photos of some of the figures inside the temple (yet again, the D810 Nikon’s incredible low light level capabilities came through).

A figure inside the Shaolin Temple. It’s likely Bruce Lee saw these things when he studied here.

Another huge and menacing figure inside the Shaolin Temple. These statues were about 15 feet tall.

On our walk out (we left through the main gate), it mercifully started raining again. The rain finally helped me cool off. So far, this day was the hottest and most humid day of our ride (and I found I was saying that nearly every day for the last several days).

At dinner that night, I thought I would have a little fun with the guys. One of the dishes that evening had black fungus mixed in with the vegetables, and I loved that stuff. As I mentioned earlier, what the Chinese call black fungus is a mushroom of some sort, and I loved the taste of it. A small speck of one of the mushrooms, a black piece about a quarter of an inch long, was on the edge of my dinner bowl. I managed to pick up that tiny piece of mushroom with my chopsticks in preparation for solidifying my reputation as a chopstick martial arts master.

I told Tracy, who was sitting next to me, that I wanted him translate exactly what I was about to tell the Chinese guys in our group. He said okay, but went back to his meal. “No, Tracy,” I said. “I want you to tell the guys to stop eating and listen to what I have to say.”

Tracy looked at me for second, and then he spoke to the group in Chinese. The others stopped eating, looking at Tracy and then at me.

“We all visited the Shaolin Temple today and we saw the birthplace of Kung Fu,” I began. I paused, nodded at Tracy, and he started speaking to the group in Chinese.

“You may not know this, but like Mr. Bruce Lee, I, too, am a martial arts expert,” I said. Tracy looked at me and translated what I just said. The others stared at me, taken in by my serious demeanor.

“You know that I am an expert with chopsticks, as I demonstrated on our second night in the peanut contest,” I said. Tracy diligently continued to translate. “You may not know that I am a master at using chopsticks in the martial arts. In fact, I created a branch of Kung Fu that relies entirely on chopsticks.” As I said that, I motioned with my left hand as if I was shooing a fly away from the food on our table. It was a motion all of us had used across China at all of our dinners to get rid of the flies.

As Tracy continued to translate, and when I saw everybody look at my left hand shooing the imaginary flies away, I lunged out into the space over our table with my right hand, still holding my chopsticks. As I did so, I emitted a piercing “eeeee yah!” (my best rendition of a martial arts cry, worthy of no less a master than Bruce Lee himself). I held up my chopsticks, which still held that small morsel of black mushroom. No one could have confused that speck of mushroom for anything other than a fly captured in mid-air by a martial arts master (with his chopsticks, of course).

A loud gasp of astonishment and admiration went up from all of the Chinese riders. Before they could get a closer look, I plopped the tiny piece of mushroom into my mouth and exaggeratedly swallowed. There was a second of stunned silence at our table, followed by another gasp and heavy applause. Gresh was the only one who rolled his eyes. A legend was born that evening, my friends, and he be me.

We had a great dinner that night (I know, I’ve been saying that about every meal on this trip). Eeeeeeyah! The fly-impersonating black fungus. The chopsticks. The applause. It was wonderful.

After dinner, all I wanted to do was get back to the hotel, take a cool shower, crank the air conditioner all the way down, and get some sleep. I posted a blog that night, I went to bed, and I probably dreamed about being a chopstick martial artist.

They’re still talking about me over there, you know.

The ride across China was amazing, the adventure of a lifetime. You can read about the adventures of dos Joes on the entire trip here: