Cuba Bound

By Mike Huber

So, I had just finished a certification exam that required more studying than I care to discuss. It was December 2008, and I was mentally exhausted and in much need of a beach vacation to reward myself for passing this rigorous exam.  At the time I happened to be visiting Montreal and decided to hit up a travel agent to see what deals were available.  My only criteria were sun, beach, and relaxation.  It is rare that I ever take time to slow down, even on vacation.  It seems most of my vacations leave me more exhausted than relaxed (even though they are pretty rewarding).  At this juncture in my life I needed a “time out” to bask in the accomplishment of passing that exam, so I wasn’t looking for anything too adventurous.

The travel agent in Montreal listened to my criteria and recommended Mexico or Cuba.  As a citizen of the United States, I thought I was not allowed in Cuba and when asking the agent, she assured me it was not a problem.  Cuba was much less expensive than Mexico, it would meet my beach requirements, and it was off the beaten path since Americans were not formally supposed to travel there.  Cuba it is!

The flight to Havana was a short 3 hours from Montreal and I was already yearning for a Cuban cigar and a glass of Havana rum while admiring sights along the white sand beaches.  Once the flight began to descend it hit me as I could see the last of the Florida Keys fading away from the plane window “Wow, I wonder how much that travel agent really knew about the embargo for Americans.” I was about to find out.

Feeling a little bit nervous as I entered the immigration queue, I saw those ahead of me enter this little glass box.  The doors closed, they showed their travel documents, and once the doors opened on the other side they were officially in Cuba.  As it became my turn I entered the glass box, it closed, I showed my American passport when the immigration agent looked at it.  He said “Uno momento” and went in back to gather with four other agents who looked at me, then at my passport, and began passing it around like a Mickey Mantle rookie card.  Ahhhh, this is how my Locked up Abroad episode would begin I thought.

The Cuban people love Americans, and it is so rare an occurrence to see an actual American passport that it draws a lot of curiosity and attention, something I wasn’t particularly looking for.  When the agent went to stamp my passport, I quickly remembered about the embargo.  A Cuban stamp in my passport would not go over well when I returned to the United States next week.

“No Stamp por favor” I said nervously. He laughed said no problem and opened the glass box for me to enter Cuba. I made it! This is so cool!

What little I knew of Cuba was that my entire wallet was now useless. Health insurance, credit cards, ATM access:  Nothing would be accepted in this country due to the embargo.  I had about $200 Canadian and reservations to an all-inclusive resort to ensure I could enjoy a week relaxing and not worryimg about the limitations due to lack of cash.  This idea worked perfectly, with the exception that my travels would be limited to short day trips near the resort in Veracruz, and it wouldn’t allow me to visit Havana.

This was all fine with me.  I was able to relax at the beach while still having the ability to leave the resort to take in some local food and sights.  This included cigar stores, drooling over the 1950’s cars that were still in pristine condition, and of course soaking up some much-needed sun. The resort where I was staying was filled with Canadians and whenever they had those silly contests in the evening they would always ask where the person was from.  I was tempted every time I was called upon to grab the microphone and loudly say “The United States of America,” and then I would revel in the silence that was sure to follow that statement.  For once I listened to my Dad’s advice (Don’t do anything stupid, Mike).  For the entire trip I identified as a Canadian from Toronto (I couldn’t say Montreal as I didn’t speak French) and I successfully avoided the temptation to say otherwise.

As the week came to a close, I had a great tan.  I was relaxed and refreshed both mentally and physically. Mission accomplished!

Once we began our descent into Montreal a revelation hit me: I still had to re-enter the United States, with a tan, in January, from Montreal.  Would the US Immigration agent know I was in Cuba?

When the plane hit the tarmac, I did what any mature person who thought they were about to get into trouble does. I phoned my Mom and let her know that I may have overstepped, and she may be receiving a call from the US State Department in reference to my traveling shenanigans.  After hanging up the phone I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was a friend I had made at the resort.  He happened to be sitting behind me and overheard the conversation with my mom.  He let me know that I could use him as an alibi and that he was a member of a health club in Montreal that had tanning beds.  That seemed to be a solid response to any questioning I might soon face.  I’ll go with that, I decided. I began to feel a bit more confident as I nervously crossed into Vermont. The US Immigration officer had no questions for me and simply said “Welcome home Mr. Huber,” as he waved my car onward. It was only about 10 degrees that night, yet I still could feel the warmth from the Cuban sun glowing while breathing a sigh of relief I happily drove by the “Welcome to The United States of America” sign.  Cuba let me accomplish all my relaxation goals and tacked on a pretty cool story along the way.


If you would like to read more about motorcycling in Cuba, take a look at Christopher Baker’s Mi Moto Fidel.


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Be a Professional Writer For ExhaustNotes!

Berk and I were discussing the challenges of taking on additional writers here at ExhaustNotes. We print new stories about every two days and while we appreciate our loyal readers it wouldn’t hurt to drag a bunch more subscribers into the fold. We’d like ExhaustNotes’ popularity to reflect the quality of the content and to increase ad revenue to match our prodigious output. Plus, younger, less jaded motorcyclists who actually like all the electronic junk manufacturers strap onto motorcycles would be kind of cool.

So we’ve decided to try a thing: Berk says the best way to increase Internet hits and ad revenue is to publish interesting stories from insightful and entertaining writers on a regular basis. To do that, ExhaustNotes will need more than just two guys typing in their spare time. We may need three.  Or four.  Or more.

I don’t know about you but I’m ready for some fresh new perspectives on motorcycling and with Berk pushing 72 and me pushing a crusty 65 we tend to give fresh new perspectives a bit of the old stinkeye. You’ll notice we type a lot of dream bike segments and none of them are modern bikes. Do not stand on our lawns.

Perspectives don’t have to be young to be fresh, just different. Let’s hear how you love the way your motorcycle makes all the power and braking decisions for the rider. Hey, you still get to steer… for now. Tell us about the biker lifestyle and how it differs from the cosplay actors at comic-com. Exactly how do you use a 200 horsepower, full-race motorcycle on the street and stay alive? Tell us in an interesting way and you’ll get paid for doing it!

How much will you make?

Glad you asked: ExhaustNotes uses a simple formula to calculate how much we earn. We take the total site income from advertisers and Google ads and subtract the expense of running the site. That gives us a pool of money to pay the writers. You won’t get paid by the word. For example, if revenue after expenses is $100 and we publish 100 stories then each story is worth $1. Now, say Berk writes 70 stories and I write 30 stories then Berk makes $70 and I make $30. This is the part where you new writers will come in: If we publish 5 stories from you then the split will reflect your contribution.  Berk divvies the money up twice a year, assuming there’s revenue.

On the surface this seems self-defeating, since you’ll be making the same amount per story as me and Berk then we must be losing money. Maybe not. The idea is to increase revenue, build the reader base and create a bigger pie. If it works we’ll all get filthy rich and go live with the prostitutes. Okay, maybe I can’t go live with the prostitutes but one of you guys might be able to.

We understand the unfairness of a 3000-word story earning the same as a 700-word story but life is full of unfair situations.  Writing for ExhaustNotes is just one more. Try to picture this whole ExhaustNotes website thing as a grand experiment that we are opening up to a wider pool of participants. Who knows what will happen?

If you’ve already been a guest columnist for ExhaustNotes you won’t get any money from your past stories. That ship has sailed. This new deal is going forward from today. Mike Huber’s Romanian travel story is the very first one of our new system.

A few other things you should know:  Berk is going to be the editor-in-chief and his word is final, meaning submitting is not the same as getting published.  Punctuation and grammar matter.  If Berk has to re-write your story to make it intelligible he probably won’t use it. ExhaustNotes only pays if we publish your story and we pay poorly at that. You retain all rights to your work and can do whatever you want with it. Remember: You are not going to make a ton of money doing this. If you feel our accounting methods are not strenuous enough don’t submit a story.

Having the proper mindset is critical.  Berk and I write ExhaustNotes for the fun of it. If you factor in our time, we lose money doing it and I see no good reason why you shouldn’t lose money writing for us, too. Any beer money that happens to come our way is gravy that we use to buy mini bikes and reloading components.  Topics are mostly motorcycle related with guns and construction materials thrown in, but any topic that is interesting will be considered. Everyone has to start somewhere; I started my writing career with a simple letter to the editor of The Key West Citizen. Let’s see what starts your writing career.

If you have a story you’d like to propose on motorcycles, guns, Baja, reloading, great rides, great roads, or any other topic you think would be of interest to our readers, email us with your story idea at info@exhaustnotes.us.


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A Sneak Preview…

Wowee, do we ever have some good stuff coming up right here on the ExNotes blog.  Guns, motorcycles, adventure touring in Transylvania, and the results of a content safari through Arizona all the way to Albuquerque.  Here’s an inkling of just a few of the topics coming your way.

What’s the real difference between a $1500 Colt Python and a $650 Ruger Blackhawk?   Watch for our side-by-side, target-by-target comparo.  It’s coming up.

Into resurrections?   Hey, how about CSC’s replica of the original Mustang motorcycle!  You read our recent story about the Al Simmons Mustang motorcycle collection and the origins of the Mustang.   CSC’s Steve Seidner went a step further, and we’ll tell you all about it.

Ever have your well dry?  I mean literally, not figuratively.   Uncle Joe Gresh has, and he’ll tell you all about it.  Gresh is a guy who makes MacGuyver look like an amateur.   You’ll love this story.

We’re going to bring in a new writer or two (or maybe more).  We have a blog loaded and ready to publish from good buddy Airborne Mike on a motorcycle ride through (get this!) Transylvania!  I kid you not.  Transylvania and the Transfagarasan Highway!

On that topic of new writers…Joe Gresh will tell you all about what you need to do to be considered for the ExNotes editorial staff.  Watch for a blog on this topic in the near future.

The Pima Air Museum in Tucson is another treasure.  Wow, that was a fun visit.  There’s so much there we couldn’t take it all in during a single visit, and it’s a place that screams for more than a single blog.  I need to return.  The photo ops were incredible.

More good Joe Gresh stuff straight from Tinfiny Ranch, including the Gresh moto stable and the world famous Gresh project bank.  Motorcycles, the MGB-GT, and more!

How about the Franklin Automobile Museum in Tucson, Arizona?  Never heard of it?  We hadn’t, either, but (trust me on this) it’s Tucson’s best kept secret!

White Sands Missile Range?  Yep, that, too.  Everything from a Nazi V-2 to current US weaponry, and we’ll have the story right here.

How about White Sands National Park?   Think Sahara Desert, and you’ll have a good idea about what these rolling snow white gypsum hills look like.  It was awesome!

The New Mexico Museum of Space History, with a guided tour by none other than Joe Gresh?  That was a really fun visit with lots of cool exhibits.  It’s coming your way.

How about sacred Native American ruins in New Mexico?  We saw several and they were impressive, including the Kuaua Native American site along the Rio Grande River.

Albuquerque is quite a town, and Old Town Albuquerque is quite the place.  We had a lot of fun wandering around and taking photos.  It’s in the mix for a future blog.

And the Albuquerque 50th Anniversary Balloon Fiesta…wow, was that ever spectacular.  The excitement and wonder of that event is one of the most impressive things I’ve ever experienced.

Stay tuned, folks.   It’s quite an adventure, and it’s onging!


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Back in print, and only $9.95!

The Complete Book of Military and Police Motorcycles is back in print. I wrote the book over 20 years ago.  Then the Internet accelerated and the printed book market tanked.  Paladin Press (the publisher) went out of business, and just like that, so did the book.  But that was then and this is now, and The Complete Book of Military and Police Motorcycles is back in print and available on Amazon.

You might wonder:  Where did I get that fantastic cover photo?  The photo shows Trooper Ralph Dowgin, a New Jersey State Trooper who went on to command Troop D (the Troop that patrols the New Jersey Turnpike, the most heavily-traveled road in the country).   I actually met Trooper Dowgin when I was a boy (my Dad knew him).   The photo came to me from my good buddy Mike B, who retired as the New Brunswick, New Jersey, Chief of Police.  Like they say, it’s a small world.

The story of police and military motorcycles is an intriguing one, espeically as it applies to the US War Department, Indian, and Harley-Davidson. During World War II, the US government bought motorcycles from both Harley and Indian, but the positions taken by Harley and Indian were worlds apart.  The Feds told both manufacturers they had to stop producing for the civilian market and focus exclusively on military motorcycles.  Indian did what they were told.  Harley told the government that they, not some government bureaucrat, would decide who to sell motorcycles to. Harley called the government’s bluff, and they got it right.  The War Department continued to buy Harleys as Harley continued selling to the civilian market, and the results were predictable: When the war ended Harley still had a civilian customer base and Indian did not.  Indian struggled for a few years trying to regain market share, but the damage was done and the handwriting was on the wall.  Indian went under in the early 1950s.

If you buy a copy of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles, understand that it describes the market as it existed when the book was published in 2001.   Things are a little bit different now.  Future plans call for an update to include today’s military and police motorcycles, but that’s far in the future and the book will sell for a bunch more than $9.95.   I’ll have a Kindle ebook version at some point in the future, too, but it’s not going to be immediate.  For now, it’s print only, and it’s only $9.95.  Spend the bucks, make a friend for life, and don’t forget:   Click on those popup ads!


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The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boys of CSC

“Time’s fun when you’re having flies,” as the frogs like to say.

Susie and I were headed north in the Subie and we stopped at the In-N-Out in Gilroy.  I had an Animal Style burger.  We had just had a nice telephone conversation with Steve Seidner, CEO of CSC Motorcycles.  The two events had me thinking about the California Scooter Steve donated to the In-N-Out foundation.  I realized that had been 11 years ago.  Time speeds up as we age, I think.  It feels like it was yesterday.

Steve donated a custom built bike to the In-N-Out charity auction every year during the California Scooter days, each one painted with a custom theme, with all proceeds going to the In-N-Out Foundation.  That year, the good folks at In-N-Out asked us to base the color theme on Melanie Troxel’s In-N-Out funny car.

Melanie Troxel’s In-N-Out Funny Car.

The 2011 In-N-Out California Scooter was simply magnificent. Chrome Lucky 13 wheels, custom paint, a painted frame, a custom seat…ah, the list went on and on.  I watched Lupe and Tony put the In-N-Out bike together and it was a hoot.

That year’s In-N-Out dinner and auction was awesome.   I met one of the principals in the In-N-Out founding family who took me in tow and explained what the auction was all about, the prizes, and bit of the family’s background.  She is a most charming woman…bright, attractive, and articulate.  The CSC bike was the major item to be auctioned that year, she explained, and it brought a good chunk of money into the In-N-Out charitable foundation.  I met and chatted with Melanie Troxel, the In-N-Out funny car driver, who is bright, articulate, and attractive (are you sensing a theme?).  I asked her what it was like to pilot a funny car, and with a wink, she told me it was over before you realized it.

That was quite a night.  Those were good times.  And those were interesting little motorcycles.  We rode them all the way to Cabo San Lucas and back.  Yep, we rode to Cabo and back on 150cc motorbikes (you can read that story here).  And it all happened more than a decade ago.  It seems like it was yesterday.  Or did I mention that already?


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More epic rides are here!


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Moto Colombia on Sale for Just $2.99!

We’re announcing a substantially reduced price on Moto Colombia.  In fact, it’s as low as we can make it:  $2.99.  That’s the minimum Kindle will allow.  I don’t know how much longer we’ll continue it (ah, there’s the impending doom sales close), but hey, as the man in the White House would say:  C’mon, Man, it’s just $2.99.

What’s it all about?  Here’s the blurb:

Ride beautiful Colombia with Joe Berk, Juan Carlos Posada Roa, and Carlos Mesa on Zongshen RX3 motorcycles. This is an adventure tour that has it all: Magnificent riding on dirt and asphalt, tight mountain twisties, elevations from sea level to nearly 14,000 feet, delightful Colombian cuisine, stunningly beautiful women, majestic churches, and more. It’s an 8-day circumnavigation of Colombia’s Andes Mountains, with stops in exotic places most people have never imagined. Visit the AKT Motos motorcycle assembly line and meet Enrique Vargas, the AKT General Manager. Cruise the mighty Magdalena River and ride into the clouds. Fight fog, freezing rain, and volcanic dust at the very edge of Volcan Nevado del Ruiz. Punch through a herd of cattle, visit a coffee plantation, chat with heavily armed-Colombian troopers, ride from the tropics to the sky, and learn how you can do the same!

$2.99.  Click here, and you’re on your way!


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Chongqing!

Other than good buddy Arjiu (that would be Joe Gresh), I’m guessing most of you have never been to Chongqing.  Chongqing is home to China’s motorcycle industry and it was the starting point for your two blogmeisters’ putt across the Ancient Kingdom.  I enjoyed that ride enormously.  Gresh and I had some fantastic times.

I first visited Chongqing and Zongshen as a consultant to CSC when we used Zongshen’s 250cc engine in our Mustang replicas.  One thing led to another, and before too long CSC was Zongshen’s exclusive North American importer, and CSC introduced the RX3 to the US.  I was blown away by Chongqing, the people, the size of the city, the photo ops, the cuisine, and more.  I’ve been there many times and I’d go back again in a heartbeat.

Good buddy Fan shared this video a few days ago, and I knew I had to share it on the blog.  Pro tip:  Hit the little button on the bottom right of the video (after you start it) to view it full screen.  It’s impressive.

You can be a China hater all you want. I know more than a few people over there I call my friends. Yeah, the world is going through some shaky times right now, but that’s not the Chinese people and it’s for sure not the guys I know. I like the place.

If you want to know more about our trip across China, pick up a copy of Riding China.   There’s a link here on the blog.  And take a look at our Epic Rides page, where we have links to posts about that ride.


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Baja Breakdowns

I’ve ridden motorcycles through Baja probably 30 times or more over the last 30 years, and it’s unquestionably the best place to ride a motorcycle I’ve ever experienced.  Many people are afraid to venture into the peninsula for fear of a breakdown.  Hey, it happens, but it’s not the end of the world and it doesn’t happen often.  They don’t call it adventure riding because it’s like calling for an Uber.

Not all “breakdowns” result in your motorcycle being nonoperational.  Some are just mere annoyances and you truck on.  A few breakdowns result in the bike not running, but there are usually ways to get around that.  When it happens, you improvise, adapt, and overcome.  Here are a few of mine.

Heritage Indeed

The first time I had a motorcycle act up was on my beloved ’92 Harley Softail.  It started clanging and banging and bucking and snorting somewhere around Ensenada.  I was headed south with my good buddy Paul from New Jersey.  It was obvious something wasn’t right and we turned around to head back to the US.   The Harley got me home, but I could tell:  Something major had happened.  The bike was making quite a bit of noise. I had put about 300 miles on it by the time I rode it back from Mexico.

A roller lifter that converted to a solid lifter.

One of the Harley’s roller lifters stopped rolling, and that turned it into a solid lifter.   And when that happened, the little wheel that was supposed to rotate along the cam profile started wearing a path through the cam.  And when that happened, the metal filings migrated their way to the oil pump.  And when that happened….well, you get the idea.   My 80-cubic-inch V-Twin Evo motor decided to call it quits after roughly 53,000 miles.  It happens I guess.   Nothing lasts forever.

Potato, potato, potato.

Here’s where it started to get really interesting.  My local Harley dealer wouldn’t touch the bike.  See, this was around 2005 or so, and it seems my Harley was over 10 years old.   Bet you didn’t know this:  Many Harley dealers (maybe most of them) won’t work on a bike over 10 years old.   The service manager at my dealer explained this to me and I was dumbfounded.  “What about all the history and heritage and nostalgia baloney you guys peddle?” I asked.  The answer was a weak smile.  “I remember an ad with a baby in Harley T-shirt and the caption When did it start for you?” I said.  Another weak smile.

An S&S engine in my ’92 Softail. It let me ride a slow bike fast.

I was getting nowhere fast.  I tried calling a couple of other Harley dealers and it was the same story.  Over 10 years old, dealers won’t touch it.  I was flabbergasted. I tried as hard as I could, but there was no getting around it…the Harley dealer would not work on my engine.  It was over 10 years old.  That’s that; rules is rules. For a company that based their entire advertising program on longevity and heritage, I thought it was outrageous.  A friend suggested I go to an independent shop.  “It’s why they exist,” he said.  So I did.

So, I went with Plan B.  I took the Harley to a local independent shop, and they were more than happy to work on my bike.  I could have the Harley engine completely rebuilt (which it needed, because those metal bits had migrated everywhere), or I could have it rebuilt with an S&S motor. I went with the S&S motor (the cost was the same as rebuilding the Harley engine), doubling the horsepower, halving the rear tire life, and cutting my fuel economy from 42 to 33 mpg.

Justin’s Countershaft Sprocket

On the very first CSC Baja trip, I was nervous as hell.  The CSC bikes had received a lot of press and the word was out:  CSC was importing the real deal, a genuine adventure touring motorcycle for about one sixth of what a GS 1200 BMW sold for in those days.  The naysayers and keyboard commandos were out in force, badmouthing the Chinese RX3 in ways that demonstrated unbridled ignorance and no small amount of bias.  And here we were, taking 14 or 15 guys (and one gal) who had bought new RX3 motorcycles that had literally arrived in the US just a few days before our departure.  There was one thought in my  mind as we headed south from Azusa that morning:  What was I thinking?  If the bikes started falling out on this first trip, it would probably kill the RX3 in America.

Hey, it worked. Adapt, overcome, improvise. The adventure doesn’t start until something goes wrong.

I need not have worried.  None of the engines failed.  We had a few headlights go out, but that’s not really a breakdown.  And then, when we were about halfway down the Baja peninsula, I took a smaller group of riders to see the cave paintings at Sierra San Francisco.  That trip involved a 140-mile round trip from Guerrero Negro into the boonies, with maybe 20 miles of that on a very gnarly dirt road.  As we were returning, good buddy Justin’s RX3 lost its countershaft sprocket.  We found it and Justin did a good enough MacGuyver job securing it to the transmission output shaft to get us back to Guerrero Negro, but finding a replacement was a challenge.  We finally paid a machinist at the Mitsubishi salt mining company to make a custom nut, and that got us home.

On every Baja trip after that, I took a spare countershaft sprocket nut, but I never needed any of them after that one incident on Justin’s bike.  Good buddy Duane had a similar failure, but that was on a local ride and it was easily rectified.

Jim’s Gearbox

Four or five Baja trips later, after we had ridden all the way down to Mulege and back up to the border, good buddy Jim’s transmission wouldn’t shift.

Good buddy Jim in the Mulege mission.

That’s the only breakdown I ever experienced anywhere on an RX3 that wouldn’t get us home, and that includes multiple multi-bike Baja trips, the multi-bike 5000-mile Western America adventure ride, the multi-bike 6000-mile ride across China, the 3000-mile circumnavigation around the Andes Mountains in Colombia, and quite a few CSC local company rides.  One of the guys on that Baja ride lived in the San Diego area and he owned a pickup truck, so he took the bike back up to Azusa for us.

Biting the Bullet

A couple of years ago Joe Gresh and I did a Baja road test with Royal Enfield press bikes.  One was the new 650 Interceptor twin (a bike I liked so much I bought one when I got home); the other was a 500 Bullet.  The Bullet was a disaster, but it really wasn’t the bike’s fault. The dealer who maintained the press fleet for Royal Enfield (I won’t mention them by name, but they’re in Glendale and they’re known for their Italian bikes) did a half-assed job maintaining the bike.  Actually, that’s not fair to people who do half-assed work (and Lord knows there a lot of them).  No, the maintenance on this bike was about one-tenth-assed.  It was very low on oil, it had almost no gas in it, the chain was loose and rusty, and on and on the writeup could go.  The bike kept stalling and missing, and it finally gave up the ghost for good at the Pemex station just north of Guerrero Negro.

Joe Gresh, inflight missile mechanic extraordinaire, getting intimate with the Bullet in Baja. “The Bullet needs me,” he said.

Fortunately for me, Gresh had one of those portable battery thingamabobbers (you know, the deals that are good for about 10 battery jumps) and it allowed us to start the bike.  We bought a new battery that didn’t quite fit the bike in Guerrero Negro (big hammers solve a lot of problems), but the entire episode left a bad taste in my mouth for the Bullet and for the Glendale Ducatimeister.

Big hammers fix all kinds of problems.

That bike had other problems as well.  The kickstand run switch failed on the ride home, and Gresh did an inflight missile mechanic bypass on it. Then, just before we made it back to my house in So Cal, the rear sprocket stripped.  Literally.  All the teeth were gone.  That was another one I had never experienced before.  The Bullet was sort of a fun bike, but this particular one was a disaster.  We joked about it.  The Bullet needs me, Gresh said.

John’s Silver Wing Leak

Ah this is another motofailure that tried but didn’t stop the show.  On one of my earlier Baja forays, Baja John had a Honda Silver Wing.  That’s a bike that was also known as the baby Gold Wing (it had all the touring goodies the Gold Wing had).  It was only a 500 or a 650 (I can’t remember which) and it had no problem keeping up with the Harleys (but then, it doesn’t take much to keep up with a Harley).

Baja John and the mighty Silver Wing, somewhere well south of the border.

The Silver Wing was a pretty slick motorcycle…it had a transversely-aligned v-twin like a Moto Guzzi and it had plenty of power.  Unlike the Guzzi, the Silver Wing was water cooled and that’s where our problem occurred.  John’s bike developed a coolant leak.  I was a little nervous about that.  We were more than halfway down the peninsula and headed further south when the bike started drooling, but John had the right attitude (which was not to worry and simply ignore the problem).   The little Silver Wing was like a Timex…it took the licking and kept on ticking, and to my great surprise, it simply stopped leaking after another hundred miles or so.  I guess it doesn’t really count as a breakdown.

John’s KLR 650 OPEC Bike

Baja John had another bike, a KLR 650, that developed a fuel petcock leak on another one of our Baja trips.  As I recall, it started leaking on the return run somewhere around El Rosario.   I get nervous around fuel leaks for the obvious reasons, but John stuck to his policy:  Don’t worry, be happy.

Baja John: The man, the legend.

We stayed in a hotel in Ensenada that night.  The hotel had an attached enclosed parking structure, which immediately started to smell like the inside of a gas tank.  Not that I’ve ever been inside a gas tank, but that parking garage pretty much had the aroma I imagine exists in such places.

John’s luck continued to hold, and we made it home without John becoming a human torch.

The Bottom Line

The bottom line is you basically need four things when headed into Baja:

      • A tool kit.
      • A good attitude that includes a sense of adventure.
      • A well maintained motorcycle.
      • Maybe some spare parts.

So there you have it.  If you’d like to know more about riding in Baja, please visit our Baja page and maybe pickup a copy of Moto Baja.


If you’re headed into Baja, don’t leave home without BajaBound Insurance.  They are the best there is.  If you are nice, they might even fix you up with a cool BajaBound coffee mug!


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Zion National Park

Zion. The name implies something of biblical proportions, something religious or heavenly.  It’s easy to understand that’s what the Mormon settlers thought when they entered this area in the mid-1800s. One of the crown jewels of the National Park system, Zion may be as close to heaven as you can get without a one-way ticket.

Late in the day, entering Zion National Park from the east on Utah SR 9.

I’ve visited Zion many times, and I’d go back again in a heartbeat.  Living in So Cal, Zion is only a day’s ride away.  I’ve been there in cars and many times on motorcycles ranging from 250cc Chinese imports to Big Twin Harleys.  My strong feelings for Zion are personal: It was the destination of my first big motorcycle trip. My riding buddy and departed friend Dick Scott suggested Zion back when we were going through our Harley phase (a phase most of us passed through), and it was beyond beautiful as we rolled into the park on Utah State Route 9.  Zion exceeded anything I could have imagined; I remember feeling like I was riding into a Western painting.  It has this effect on everyone with whom I’ve ever visited the Park.  That big photo above?   That’s Mr. Tso, a very likeable visitor from the Peoples Republic of China who rode with us on the CSC Motorcycles/Zongshen 5000 Mile Western America Adventure ride (a publicity effort that sold more than a few RX3 motorcycles worldwide).

Riding into Zion National Park, peering over the windshield. It’s almost a religious experience.

Nestled where the Mojave, the Great Basin and the Colorado Plateau meet, Zion requires adjectival adeptness to even approach an accurate description. Pastel pink mountains, verdant vegetation, electric blue skies and emerald pools combine with abundant wildlife to create a surreal collage of seemingly endless picture postcard scenes. As national parks go, it’s small, but the scenery is absolutely over the top. I’ve been to a lot of places on this planet, and I can state with certainty that Zion’s beauty is unsurpassed.  The wildlife add to the experience.  On one of the CSC rides (the Destinations Deal ride), we hit what I thought was traffic and had to stop in one of Zion’s tunnels.  I was frustrated until I lane split to the front of the line and found that the delay was caused by a group of bighorn sheep majestically and casually crossing the highway in front of us.  They were magnificent, and no, I did not get a photo.

Stopped by a bighorn sheep herd, with my fellow Zongers in the rearview mirror.
Taking in the splendor that is Zion, this group of riders is stopping to takes photos.
Tony, who is finding Zion to be a bit different than the Peoples Republic of China.

The folks who know about such things think the first humans inhabited Zion a cool 12,000 years ago, hunting local game including woolly mammoths, camels and giant sloths. As these critters were hunted to extinction, the locals turned to farming and evolved into an agrarian culture known as the Virgin Anasazi. The Paiutes moved in when the Anasazi migrated south, and then the Mormons settled alongside the Paiutes in the mid-1800s (that’s when the area received its biblical moniker). Archeologists are still finding evidence of these earlier civilizations.  These earlier folks were moving into Zion around the same time that the indigenous peoples were creating the cave paintings in Baja.

A wide-angle photo of SR 9 winding through Zion National Park.
One of the tunnels through Zion’s mountains along Utah SR 9.

The Great Depression brought great change in the 1930s, and Franklin Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps built roads and added upgrades to make the park more accessible. The Virgin River cut deeply through sandstone to create magnificent channels and impressive geologic formations, and the CCC work made these areas easier to reach. For most people, a visit to Zion is to see the sights from the valley floor, but you can also take a half-day excursion up the western edge of the park on Kolob Reservoir Road.  From there, you can look down into Zion for a completely different and equally magnificent perspective of the area.

Good buddy Rob, Willie, and more on a ride through Zion National Park.

Let’s talk about the ride — more superlatives are in order here. From any direction, you’ll know you are approaching a magical area. Antelope. Deer. Brilliant blue skies. Magnificent forests. Stunning mountains; it’s all here. From Southern California, you’ll experience tantalizing two-wheeled treats as Interstate 15 cuts through the canyons carved by the Virgin River. Riding in from Arizona’s Grand Canyon region southeast of Zion, the roads are similarly magnificent. And if you’re riding in from Bryce Canyon National Park to the northeast, well, you get the idea. This is one destination that has to be on the bucket list.

An easy ride from southern California…just take I-15 north and exit at Utah SR 9.

Zion National Park is an easy one-day freeway ride from southern California. Grab Interstate 10 East, then I-15 North through Nevada into Utah, to Utah Route 9 East (as you see in the above map).  From the south, pick up State Route 89 North in Flagstaff and watch for the signs where Route 89 crosses 9 West before Mt. Carmel, Utah. From the northeast, it’s I-70 West and grab the exit for Route 89 South.

Looking up from the floor of Zion National Park. In Zion, you are mostly in the canyons looking up.

As mentioned above, unlike Bryce Canyon or the Grand Canyon (two National Parks in which you look down into the rock formations), at
Zion you are in the canyon looking up.  For a different Zion perspective, take the Kolob Reservoir Road from the north to see things looking down into Zion. Check weather conditions first, as the road climbs to over 8,000 feet and may be impassible during the winter months.  Kolob Terrace Road begins in Virgin, Utah, about 13 miles west of Springdale. Look for the sign to the Kolob Reservoir.

If you’re looking for a good place to eat, Casa de Amigos Restaurant in Springdale, just before you enter Zion from the south, is a good spot (the shredded chicken burritos are my favorite).  It may be a victim of the pandemic, as Google indicated it was closed temporarily.  If you enter Zion from the east, Mt. Carmel is the last town before you reach the Park and there are several restaurants and hotels there.


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If you would like to learn more about our 5000-mile christening ride through the American West on Chinese 250cc motorcycles, pick up a copy of 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM.

Bryce, Grand Staircase-Escalante, and Capitol Reef

Utah, hands down, is the most beautiful state in the Union.  I’ve been to every state in the US except North Dakota, and unless there’s something hiding up there, Utah gets my vote.   There are places in Utah with scenery and riding that are as close as you can get to heaven without a one-way ticket.  There’s Zion National Park (to be covered in a future blog), there’s Bryce Canyon National Park, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, and Capitol Reef National Park (which I’ll cover in this blog), there’s Cedar Breaks National Park (a topic for a future blog), there’s Kodachrome Basin State Park (another future blog), there’s Flaming Gorge National Park (that’s coming up in another blog), and there’s Arches National Park (to be yet another blog).  And then there’s the Dinosaur Highway.  I’ve been to all of them, and I’m telling you, if you like road trips it doesn’t get any better than Utah.

Panguitch on the western end of this trip, and Hanksville on the eastern end. It is a grand ride.

There’s a reason I’m touching on Bryce, Grand Staircase-Escalante, and Capitol Reef in one blog.  Two reasons, actually:  State Routes 12 and 24.  These two roads run through all three National Parks, and they are two of the best roads I’ve ever ridden.  If you want to plan this grand adventure, start in Panguitch, ride Utah SR 12 and 24, and spend the following night in Hanksville, Utah. I’ve got good places to have dinner in both towns, and I’ll share them with you in this blog.  It’s a full day’s ride to get from one to the other (maybe longer if you want to stop and see the sights).

The large featured photo at the top of this blog is in Bryce Canyon National Park. This is another photo in Bryce. Unlike Zion ((where you are in a basin looking up at the rock formations), in Bryce you are up top looking down into the colorful canyon. Bryce has stunning views.

This is the most beautiful stretch of the planet I’ve ever ridden. The colors and the riding are stunning. Think bright blue skies, vibrant and verdant pine trees, and multi-colored pastel rock formations. The formations include stunning pinnacles called hoodoos, plus arches, large rock mounds, exposed vermillion cliffs and monstrous domes and folds in the Earth’s surface. Although the region was once alive with dinosaurs, you most likely won’t see fossils. But you will see an artist’s palette of pleasing pastels: reds, pinks and browns due to iron in the sandstone, yellows and creams created by limonite, and purples presented by pyrolusite. Whatever the chemistry, the display through this stretch is dazzling.

The spot for dinner in Panguitch is the Cowboy’s Smoke House Cafe. You’ll probably have to wait to get in. Trust me: It’s worth it.

You can ride US 89 from Panguitch to pick up SR 12 at its western end. Head east and in just a few miles you’ll be at Bryce Canyon National Park. Bryce is one of America’s jewels, with hoodoos arranged in several natural amphitheaters. An early morning start will help capture dramatic photos; the sun will be low in the eastern sky and the resultant lighting makes the colors pop. Native American Paiutes thought these hoodoos were ancestors turned to stone. Take a long look at some of these formations and you’ll see why.

Stay on SR 12 after Bryce and you’ll skirt Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument on tantalizing twisties. All of SR 12 is breathtaking; it is something out of a dream. It takes you through a series of red rock formations and then winds along a ridge with sheer drops on either side. Forget about guard rails and shoulders; you’ll feel as if you are riding the sky. Cook a corner too fast on this stretch and you’ll wish you were wearing a parachute. This area, more than any other I have ever ridden, is a near-religious experience.

The red rocks of Utah along SR 12.
It was tough to keep going on Utah SR 12…I wanted to stop after every corner for photos.
One of many scenes along Utah SR 12. You need to ride this road. It’s one of the best.

State Route 12 tees into SR 24, but you’ll be able to see Capitol Reef National Park long before you get to SR 24. Head east on SR 24 toward Hanksville and you’ll ride through much of the accessible portion of Capitol Reef. It’s perhaps the least known of Utah’s national parks, but its scenery is as stunning as any of the other parks.

Capitol Reef and Utah SR 24.

Only a portion of Capitol Reef is visible from SR 24, but it is outstanding. Hundreds of miles of unpaved roads into Capitol Reef offer similar scenic views. The park’s unique white sandstone domes (similar to the U.S. Capitol building) were formed by a warp in the Earth’s crust 65 million years ago. “Reef” refers to any barrier to travel, and when you see these formations, you’ll certainly understand the name.

Another scene along SR 24 heading east.
Gabriel, Juan Carlos, and Uncle Joe along SR 24 after rolling through Capitol Reef. We rode 5000 miles through the western United States on brand new 250cc CSC motorcycles. It was a great ride with great guys.

State Route 24 follows the Fremont River through Capitol Reef National Park, and as it twists and turns on its way to Hanksville, you’ll be thanking me for turning you on to these very special roads.  The Whispering Sands hotel is a good, clean place to spend the night, and Duke’s Slickrock Grill is a great place for dinner.  Try the trout; it’s wonderful.  And don’t miss the photo op standing next to Duke.


Want to discover more great moto destinations?   We’ve got you covered!