As I mentioned in a recent blog, Sue and I recently spent a couple of days in Death Valley. I love the place. I lived in California for 30+ years before I ever made the trip out there on my KLR 650, and since then, I’ve been back several times. Here’s a short recap of those previous visits.
The Teutonic Twins Run
My KLR in Death Valley on that first visit. I loved my KLR; it was a great motorcycle.Good buddy Dennis, who won the chili-eating contest at Brown’s BMW.
That first ride on the KLR 650 didn’t just happen because I decided to finally get out there to see the hottest place on the planet. It came about because the guys at Brown BMW had a chili cookoff and eating contest followed by a two-day ride to Death Valley. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have made it out there. I was the lone KLR rider; all the other guys were on big BMW twins. I’d ridden with those guys before and they were too fast for me. Nope, I was happy as a clam poking along on my 650cc single. I left right after the chili cookoff because I planned to meander along through other parts of the Mojave before spending the night in Baker, which was to be our jumping off point the next morning. It was fun, that ride out to Baker was. Just me and the KLR. I explored the desert around Kelbaker (southeast of Baker) and the old train depot there.
The next morning, we all had breakfast at the Mad Greek (a Baker and southern California icon), and then rolled out on California State Route 127 to the lower end of Death Valley. That’s a good highway that cuts through the desert. There’s nothing else out there, and the Teutonic twin crowd quickly left me in the dust. They were running well over 100 mph; the KLR might touch 100 on a good day. But I didn’t need to run at those speeds that day. I was enjoying the ride.
The charcoal kilns in Death Valley, I’m sure glad I didn’t skip seeing them on that first Death Valley foray.
When I left Death Valley on that first trip, I left through the northwestern part to pick up the 395 back down to southern California. That was a good thing. I saw a sign for Wildrose Canyon Road and another sign for the charcoal kilns pointing down a dirt road. I was by myself and I was in no hurry. I didn’t have any idea what the charcoal kilns were all about, but I was interested in learning more. I took that road, and I’m glad I did. Every time I’ve been in Death Valley since that first trip, the road to the charcoal kilns was closed, including on this my recent trip. If you are ever out there and the road is open, you might consider seeing them. The kilns are interesting, and Wildrose Canyon Road (as the name suggests) is a beautiful ride.
The Hell’s Loop Endurance Run
Following Arlene and TK on 150cc California Scooters into Death Valley.
Another ride in was when good buddy TK, good buddy Arlene, and I rode in the Hell’s Loop endurance rally on the 150cc California Scooters. That was a challenging day. We rode 400 miles into and through Death Valley and then returned to Barstow. It was cold and the hardtail CSC 150 beat me up, but it was fun. That little 150 never missed a beat.
We had lunch at the Furnace Creek Inn, and shortly before turning off the road, we saw this guy. He is obviously well fed.As soon as we sat down for lunch at the Furnace Creek Inn, this guy landed a couple feet away. We had just seen the coyote. I asked the roadrunner if he owned anything made by Acme, or if he was being chased by old Wiley. He responded with but two words: Beep Beep.
My next Death Valley adventure was a photo safari with Sue. We did that one in my Subie CrossTrek in a single day. It was a long day, but the photo ops did not disappoint. What was kind of cool about that trip is that when we rode through Badwater Basin, we saw a coyote loping along the road headed north, and a short while later when we stopped at the Furnace Creek Inn, a roadrunner landed right next to us as we enjoyed lunch on the patio. Was the roadrunner running from the coyote? Cue in the Warner Brothers: Beep beep!
The Destinations Deal Tour
The Destinations Deal crew overlooking Death Valley from Dante’s View. We covered a lot of territory on that trip.
A few years ago we rode through Death Valley on RX3 motorcycles. That was part of a promotion we ran when I was working with CSC. We took a half dozen riders through a handful of southwestern states, and Death Valley was the last of several national park visits. It’s where I first met Orlando and his wife Velma. Joe Gresh was on that ride, too. It was fun.
The “My Sister Eileen” Trip
A 20-mule-team borax train.Just like the theatrical title: My sister Eileen. We had a great time on that trip.
After the Destinations Deal run, Sue and I and my sister Eileen had a road trip through California and Nevada, with a run down the 395 through a major league snowstorm. We went through Death Valley the next day (the snowstorm had ended) and it was awesome. I didn’t do a blog on that Death Valley visit (I have no idea why), but trust me on this: Like all trips to and through Death Valley, it was awesome.
That gets me caught up on my prior Death Valley visits. If you want to see more photos and read more about those earlier visits, here are the links:
Watch for a series of Death Valley blogs. The first will be about our most recent visit, and then I’ll post blogs about Death Valley history, Death Valley geology, things to do around Death Valley, Shoshone, nearby Red Rock Canyon National Park, and maybe more. Stay tuned.
Good buddy Paul recently told me about a custom crafted flintlock rifle he bought from rifle maker Tom Caster at a steep discount because the stock had been broken. A stock break sounds like a major defect, but actually it is not that uncommon and repairing the broken stock, if done correctly, makes the stock stronger than new. Paul is a serious black powder shooter and he builds custom rifles, so he knows what he is doing here. Both Paul and Tom gave me permission to share this story.
Here’s what Paul wrote to me about this rifle:
When I first saw it I had the same reaction as you. It ticked off all my boxes for a rifle of this style and caliber as I did not have a .40 caliber muzzle loading rifle. They are supposedly an accurate target rifle. He sent me a target that he shot at 25 yards and seven of the ten shots were around a 2-1/2″ cluster which is not bad for the first time the rifle was shot.
I asked Paul about the accuracy. Here’s what he said:
That flintlock target is good for the first outing of the rifle. From there you will test out different powder amounts, different patch thickness and ball diameters if you want better groupings. The .40 caliber is mostly a 50-to-75-yard gun so you would be hunting squirrels or small game up to small deer. A lot of states only allow .45 caliber and bigger for deer hunting, so the .40 caliber is used for varmints and target work.
Here’s the story on this rifle from Tom Caster:
I finished up this pretty little .40 cal Armstrong rifle last week and was putting a coat of wax on the stock when it slipped off my table and broke in two at the wrist!
Scrapping was never really considered (too much work into it) because I have always been about fixing things that happen on the job or in the shop. It was a pretty clean break, so I set it up in my two vices and glued it back together with Tite-Bond II. After that set up, I drilled a 3/8″ hole from the breech down thru the wrist 8″ deep and glued in a 3/8″ hickory RR in place. After drilling out the holes in the rod for lock screws and the sear area, I sealed the inside up with epoxy.
The crack barely shows now but it is there when you look close. The stock should be fine to use now.
Some guys would use a steel threaded rod instead of wood dowel, but I didn’t want to add any more weight to a 7.6 lb. rifle.
I plan to sell it after the first of the year at a discounted price if anyone is interested.
After another inquiry about the rifle, Tom added the following:
As far as the wood choice goes, I purchased this “in the white” from the estate of my old friend Fred Schelter. He purchased the Getz barrel and had Fred Miller (I believe) inlet it and pre-shape the stock in 2000-2001. Whether it was his wood or Miller’s, I don’t know. He had two Armstrong stocks done this way at the same time, one was a .50 cal (sold) and this .40 cal, rifle. Fred S. did the carving and inlay of the patchbox, butt, toe plate, nose cap, and trigger and guard. He had made the forend escutcheons for the barrel keys but didn’t inlay them.
Both stocks were inletted and drilled for a large Dlx. Siler Flintlock, but only one lock existed and it was curiously interchangeable. So I had to buy a second lock to complete this one. I fashioned a new trigger for a lighter pull and made a patchbox release, side plate and sights. Then I did the engraving and finish work.
…so, now you know…the rest of the story!
Tom Caster
In his email to me, Paul included several photos from Tom. As the photos show, the detail and workmanship on this rifle are stunning. Take a look:
It will be interesting to see if Paul shoots this one. I’m going to visit with him again (hopefully in the not too distant future) for a trip to the range. I’ve never fired my Colt Walker (it is a black powder revolver) and I know very little about shooting these weapons. Paul knows a lot, and I hope to get educated.
As I mentioned at the start of this blog, repaired stocks are not that big a deal. I had an experience where a seller did a poor job packaging a Ruger No. 3 he sent to me. I had the repair accomplished and the stock refinished by a competent shop, the rifle looks better than new, and it is now one of my favorites. It is exceptionally accurate, too. You can read that story here.
This is a follow up to the recent post on my recently reacquired Nikon N70 film camera.
In the prior blog, I mentioned the N70’s rear door gooification issue and that I had read on an Internet forum it was a common issue. My camera’s rear door was like fly paper, with all kinds of debris stuck to it. I used the approach the forum commenter mentioned: A shop rag and alcohol, a little elbow grease, and the goo came off. The plastic underneath has a nice glossy black finish that matches the camera’s other exterior surfaces. It looks good. Here’s a pair of before and after photos:
Good buddy Greg spotted me three rolls of ISO 400 35mm film. He told me the film was 6 or 8 years old, but he thought it still might be good. I loaded a roll in the N70.
I don’t like UV filters and that’s what the Tamron 28-105 lens had on it when I took it home from New Jersey. I prefer a polarizer unless I’m shooting at night or using the flash. At one point I probably had a 62mm polarizer, but I tossed a bunch of camera debris and detritus a few months ago and if I ever had a 62mm polarizer (which is what the Tamron takes), it went out with that batch. No problem; I found a 62mm polarizer and a 62mm lens cap on Amazon. I ordered both, along with three rolls of ISO 200 35mm film. I figured if the film Greg gave didn’t work out, this film would because it was brand new. Even if Greg’s film was good, I’d need more eventually.
You know, it’s not easy to find 35mm film in stores like it used to be. Costco used to have a big area stocked with all kinds of 35mm from Fuji and Kodak, ranging from ISO 100 to ISO 1600 (with everything in between). They also had a huge section for processing film and making enlargements. The Costco film developing and printing services were inexpensive, they did a great job, and they turned it around in under an hour. It’s all gone now. Wiped clean from the face of the earth, as they say. Sometimes I feel like turning around, walking out, and shouting at the clouds. I’m an old man, so I can do it. But I don’t.
Anyway, to get back to the Nikon story, I shot up that first roll of expired ISO 400 film. Just silly stuff…pictures of the house (which immediately caused my neighbor to come over and ask if we were listing the house), my office area, and a couple of motorcycles. The roll of film provided just 24 exposures and it went quickly. When I shoot digital, I might take a hundred shots in a single stop. Shooting film, though, is like shooting a single-shot rifle. You think more. You have to make each shot count.
A quick Google search on film developers near me showed that there weren’t too many, but there was a guy across the street from Costco. I had used him once before to get some older negatives scanned for a magazine article, so I knew he was good. I rolled over there and to my surprise, I had to stand in line. What do you know? There are other people who still shoot film. As I patiently waited my turn, I thought that this guy probably doesn’t mind Costco exiting the film business.
When I was my turn, David (the guy behind the counter) remembered me. He asked if I wanted the negatives and the prints. At first I said yes, but then I remembered I have gobs of old prints and negatives stuffed away all over the house. So I said no, I just want the scanned images. David’s shop scans in either of two resolutions (medium or high); he didn’t know what the DPI (dots per inch) for either. My digital Nikon shoots at 300 DPI, but I have to knock the images down to 72 DPI in PhotoShop for the ExNotes blog (everything you’ve ever seen on the blog is 72 DPI). David told me the digital images (scanned from my negatives) would be in my Dropbox account the next day (he actually delivered them that same night). The medium resolution images were at 256 DPI.
When I opened the scanned images, at first I thought that the expired film may have, in fact, expired. The images were faded, and because I was shooting ISO 400 film, they were also somewhat grainy. Okay, so the film guys were serious about that use by date. I played with one, though, to see if I could bring it to life. Here’s what it looked like initially:
Here’s what it looked like after I worked on it a bit in PhotoShop:
The next step was to try the new ISO 200 film. Sue and I spent a couple of days in Death Valley, and I tossed the N70 into my overnight bag for that trip.
I don’t think it’s possible to have a bad stay in Death Valley, although I understand that the folks who named the place might have thought otherwise. I love it there. This time, we explored the surrounding areas, including Tecopa Springs a few miles away. Tecopa Springs sounds a lot more exotic than it really is. There’s a bar and pizza place so I ordered one of their craft beers and a pizza. I took a photo of it before we dug in and when I received the scan after I returned home, it was depressingly bland. Here’s what it looked like:
The scan with this roll of new 35mm ISO 200 Fuji film, as delivered, looked about the same as the stuff I had shot with the expired film. Maybe the developer didn’t automatically tweak it to highlight the colors. I opened the scan in PhotoShop, cropped it, adjusted the levels and curves, cranked in a little vibrance, deleted the distractions in the upper left corner, and hit it with the shadows feature to brighten the image’s upper half. That brought it to life a little better.
Here’s another set of before and after images in Death Valley’s Artist’s Palette area. This is the photo on the road heading there before any PhotoShop trickery:
Here’s that image with its levels and curves adjusted:
In the photo above, the mountains and the road look exactly as I remember them. The sky is a bit too vibrant, but that’s the polarizer earning its keep.
This is another pair of images at Artist’s Palette. The first is the scan as I received it from the developer:
This is the image above with its curves and levels adjusted:
Again, the sky is too deep, but the rest of the image is true to how I remember it. The guy in the image is using his iPhone, which probably returned the bright colors you see in the PhotoShop-tweaked photos without him doing anything. That’s because the iPhone does all the mods automatically.
So what’s the bottom line? Digital, my brothers. Film photography is fun, but for me it’s a huge step back. I’ll take my Nikon D3300 or D810 over film any time I’m out. The N70 is interesting, but it’s digital all the way for me. With two or three exceptions, and those are the other film cameras I brought back from New Jersey, including a very nice Honeywell Pentax ES (if I can find the right size battery for it). Stay tuned.
For me a motorcycle’s appearance, appeal, and personality are defined by its motor. I’m not a chopper guy, but I like the look of a chopper because the engine absolutely dominates the bike. I suppose to some people fully faired motorcycles are beautiful, but I’m not in that camp. The only somewhat fully faired bike I ever had was my 1995 Triumph Daytona 1200, but you could still see a lot of the engine on that machine. I once wrote a Destinations piece for Motorcycle Classics on the Solvang Vintage Motorcycle Museum and while doing so I called Virgil Elings, the wealthy entrepreneur who owned it. I asked Elings what drove his interest in collecting motorcycles. His answer? The motors. He spoke about the mechanical beauty of a motorcycle’s engine, and that prompted me to ask for his thoughts on fully faired bikes. “I suppose they’re beautiful to some,” he said, “but when you take the fairings off, they look like washing machines.” I had a good laugh. His observation was spot on.
A 1200cc Harley Panhead motor I photographed at the Rock Store in Malibu.
My earliest memory of drooling over a motorcycle occurred sometime in the 1950s when I was a little kid. My Mom was shopping with me somewhere in one of those unenclosed malls on Route 18 in New Jersey, and in those days, it was no big deal to let your kid wander off and explore while you shopped. I think it was some kind of a general store (I have no idea what Mom was looking for), and I wandered outside on the store’s sidewalk. There was a blue Harley Panhead parked out front, and it was the first time I ever had a close look at a motorcycle. It was beautiful, and the motor was especially beautiful. It had those early panhead corrugated exhaust headers, fins, cables, chrome, and more. I’ve always been fascinated by all things mechanical, and you just couldn’t find anything more mechanical than a Big Twin engine.
There have been a few Sportsters that do it for me, too, like Harley’s Cafe Racer from the late 1970s. That was a fine-looking machine dominated by its engine. I liked the Harley XR1000, too.
A 1000cc Harley Cafe Racer photographed at one of the Hansen Dam meets. When these were new, they sold for about $3,000.
I’ve previously mentioned my 7th grade fascination with Walt Skok’s Triumph Tiger. It had the same mesmerizing motorrific effect as the big twin Panhead described above. I could stare at that 500cc Triumph engine for hours (and I did). The 650 Triumphs were somehow even more appealing. The mid-’60s Triumphs are the most beautiful motorcycles in the world (you might think otherwise and that’s okay…you have my permission to be wrong).
A 1966 Triumph Bonneville and it’s 650cc twin-carb engine. My Dad rode a Bonneville just like this one.
BSA did a nice job with their engine design, too. Their 650 twins in the ’60s looked a lot like Triumph’s, and that’s a good thing. I see these bikes at the Hansen Dam Norton Owners Club meets. They photograph incredibly well, as do nearly all vintage British twins.
A late1960s BSA at Hansen Dam. These are beautiful motorcycles, too.
When we visited good buddy Andrew in New Jersey recently, he had several interesting machines, but the one that riveted my attention was his Norton P11. It’s 750cc air cooled engine is, well, just wonderful. If I owned that bike I’d probably stare at it for a few minutes every day. You know, just to keep my batteries charged.
Andrew Capone’s P-11 Norton. You can read about our visit with Andrew here.
You know, it’s kind of funny…back in the 1960s I thought Royal Enfield’s 750cc big twins were clunky looking. Then the new Royal Enfield 650 INT (aka the Interceptor to those of us unintimidated by liability issues) emerged. Its appearance was loosely based on those clunky old English Enfields, but the new twin’s Indian designers somehow made the engine look way better. It’s not clunky at all, and the boys from Mumbai made their interpretive copy of an old English twin look more British than the original. The new Enfield Interceptor is a unit construction engine, but the way the polished aluminum covers are designed it looks like a pre-unit construction engine. The guys from the subcontinent hit a home run with that one. I ought to know; after Gresh and I road tested one of these for Enfield North America on a Baja ride, I bought one.
The current iteration of Royal Enfield’s 650cc twin. I rode this bike through Baja and liked it so much I bought one when I returned from Mexico. Here’s more (a lot more) about that adventure.
Another motorcycle that let you see its glorious air-cooled magnificence was the CB750 Honda. It was awesome in every regard and presented well from any angle, including the rear (which is how most other riders saw it on the road). The engine was beyond impressive, and when it was introduced, I knew I would have one someday (I made that dream come true in 1971). I still can’t see one without taking my iPhone out to grab a photo.
A 1969 or 1970 Honda CB 750. This is the motorcycle that put the nail in the British motorcycle industry coffin. I had one just like it.
After Honda stunned the world with their 750 Four, the copycats piled on. Not to be outdone, Honda stunned the world again when they introduced their six-cylinder CBX. I had an ’82. It was awesome. It wasn’t the fastest motorcycle I ever owned, but it was one of the coolest (and what drove that coolness was its air-cooled straight six engine).
A Honda CBX engine photographed at the Del Mar fairgrounds near San Diego. The CBX was a motorcycle that added complexity where none was required. It was an impressive machine.
Like they did with the 750 Four, Kawasaki copied the Honda six cylinder, but the Kawasaki engine was water-cooled and from an aesthetics perspective, it was just a big lump. The Honda was a finely-finned work of art. I never wanted a Kawasaki Six; I still regret selling my Honda CBX. The CBX was an extremely good-looking motorcycle. It was all engine. What completed the look for me were the six chrome exhaust headers emerging from in front. I put 20,000 miles on mine and sold it for what it cost me, and now someone else is enjoying it. The CBX was stunning motorcycle, but you don’t need six cylinders to make a motorcycle beautiful. Some companies managed to do it with just two, and some with only one. Consider the engines mentioned at the start of this piece (Harley, Triumph, BSA, and Norton).
I shot this photo at Hansen Dam, too. I always wanted a mid-’60s Moto Guzzi. Never scratched that itch, though. They sound amazing. Imagine a refined Harley, and you’d have this.
Moto Guzzi’s air-cooled V-twins are in a class by themselves. I love the look and the sound of an air-cooled Guzzi V-twin. It’s classy. I like it.
Some motorcycle manufacturers made machines that were mesmerizing with but a single cylinder, so much so that they inspired modern reproductions, and then copies of those reproductions. Consider Honda’s GB500, and more than a few motorcycles from China and even here in the US that use variants of the GB500 engine.
The Honda GB500, Honda’s nod to earlier British singles. It’s another one I always wanted.
The GB500 is a water cooled bike, but Sochoiro’s boys did it right. The engine is perfect. Like I said above, variants of that engine are still made in China and Italy; one of those engines powers the new Janus 450 Halcyon.
The Janus 450 Halcyon I rode in Goshen. That resulted in a feature story in Motorcycle Classics. It’s engine is by SWM in Italy, which is a variant of the Chinese copy of the GB500 engine. I liked the Janus.
No discussion of mechanical magnificence would be complete without mentioning two of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made: The Brough Superior SS100 and the mighty Vincent. The Brits’ ability to design a visually arresting, aesthetically pleasing motorcycle engine must be a genetic trait. Take a look at these machines.
The Brough Superior SS100. Its engine had a constant loss lubrication system. This is the same motorcycle Lawrence of Arabia rode. One of my grandsons is named T.E. Lawrence.The mighty Vincent. This and the Brough Superior above were both photographed at Hansen Dam.
Two additional bits of moto exotica are the early inline and air-cooled four-cylinder Henderson, and the Thor, one of the very first V-twin engine designs. Both of these boast American ancestry.
Jay Leno’s 1931 Henderson. He told me he bought it off a 92-year-old guy in Vegas who was getting a divorce and needed to raise cash, and I fell for it.
The Henderson you see above belongs to Jay Leno, who let me photograph it at one of the Hansen Dam Norton gatherings. Incidentally, if there’s a nicer guy than Jay Leno out there, I haven’t met him. The man is a prince. He’s always gracious, and he’s never too busy to talk motorcycles, sign autographs, or pose for photos. You can read about some of the times I’ve bumped into Jay Leno at the Rock Store or the Hansen Dam event right here on ExNotes.
A Thor V-twin photographed at the Franklin Auto Museum in Tucson, Arizona. You almost need a four-year mechanical engineering degree to start one of these. Thor made the first engines for Indian.
Very early vintage motorcycles’ mechanical complexity is almost puzzle-like…they are the Gordian knots of motorcycle mechanical engineering design. I photographed a 1913 Thor for Motorcycle Classics (that story is here), and as I was optimizing the photos I found myself wondering how guys back in the 1910s started the things. I was able to crack the code, but I had to concentrate so hard it reminded me of dear departed mentor Bob Haskell talking about the Ph.Ds and other wizards in the advanced design group when I worked in the bomb business: “Sometimes those guys think so hard they can’t think for months afterward,” Bob told me (both Bob and I thought the wizards had confused their compensation with their capability).
There’s no question in my mind that water cooling a motorcycle engine is a better way to go from an engineering perspective. Water cooling adds weight, cost, and complexity, but the fuel efficiency and power advantages of water cooling just can’t be ignored. I don’t like when manufacturers attempt to make a water-cooled engine look like an air-cooled engine with the addition of fake fins (it somehow conveys design dishonesty). But some marques make water cooled engines look good (Virgil Elings’ comments notwithstanding). My Triumph Speed Triple had a water-cooled engine. I think the Brits got it right on that one.
My 2007 Triumph Speed Triple. Good buddy Marty told me some folks called these the Speed Cripple. In my case, that turned out to be true, but that’s another story for another blog.My 2015 CSC RX3. Before you go all nuts on me and start whining about Chinese motorcycle quality, I need to tell you I rode these across China, through the Andes Mountains in Colombia, up and down Baja a bunch of times, and all over the American west (you can read about those adventures here). It was one of the best and most comfortable bikes I ever owned.
Zongshen is another company that makes water-cooled engines look right. I thought my RX3 had a beautiful engine and I really loved that motorcycle. I sold it because I wasn’t riding it too much, but the tiny bump in my bank account that resulted from the sale, in retrospect, wasn’t worth it. I should have kept the RX3. When The Big Book Of Best Motorcycles In The History Of The World is written, I’m convinced there will be a chapter on the RX3.
The future of “motor” cycling? This is the CSC RX1E. I rode it and liked it. The silence takes some getting used to.
With the advent of electric motorcycles, I’ve ridden a few and they are okay, but I can’t see myself ever buying one. That’s because as I said at the beginning of this blog, for me a motorcycle is all about the motor. I realize that’s kind of weird, because on an electric motorcycle the power plant actually is a motor, not an internal combustion engine (like all the machines described above). What you mostly see on an electric motorcycle is the battery, which is the large featureless chingadera beneath the gas tank (which, now that I’m writing about it, isn’t a gas tank at all). I don’t like the silence of an electric motorcycle. They can be fast (the Zero I rode a few years ago accelerated so aggressively it scared the hell out of me), but I need some noise, I need to feel the power pulses and engine vibration, and I want other people to hear me. The other thing I don’t care for is that on an electric motorcycle, the power curve is upside down. They accelerate hardest off a dead stop and fade as the motor’s rpm increases; a motorcycle with an internal combustion engine accelerates harder as the revs come up.
Wow, this blog went on for longer than I thought it would. I had fun writing it and I had fun going through my photo library for the pics you see here. I hope you had fun reading it.
A few weeks ago I posted a blog about riding in the rain. With all the snow blanketing parts of the US this winter, I thought it fitting that I post a blog about getting caught in the snow. I’ve ridden in the snow four times and none of them were fun.
Crater Lake
On this ride, my buddy Marty and I were on our way home from Calgary to California after completing the 2005 Three Flags Classic rally. Marty was far more worldly than me and he knew all the good spots to stop. One was Crater Lake in Oregon. We rode in from the Oregon coast where the temperatures were cool but not unbearably so. We pointed our front wheels east and rode to Crater Lake. It was a brutally cold ride, and it grew even colder the further we climbed into the mountains.
We had an interesting encounter with a herd of elk on the way to Crater Lake. We had been seeing road signs warning of elk, but we hadn’t seen any until that day. A monstrous bull stepped out in front of my Triumph Daytona from the forest on the right side of the road. He stood broadside 50 yards in front of me, and he looked directly at me as if to say, “What’s your problem?” If he was attempting to intimidate me, it worked.
I stopped and Marty stopped on his BMW K1200RS behind me. My visor started to fog from my breath. It was just the three of us on that cold, cold morning: Me, Marty, and the Big Bull Elk. After what seemed like several minutes (during which I wondered how quickly I could execute a u-turn and accelerate away from those immense antlers), the elk turned his head and lazily sauntered across the road into the forest on the other side. Yeah, you’re bad, I thought.
I started to let out the clutch and moved forward a tiny bit when two more elk stepped out of the forest onto the highway. These were female elk following the alpha male who had successfully stared me down. So I pulled the clutch in again and waited. The ladies crossed the highway and I started to let the clutch out again. Then another lady elk appeared from the right. This went on for the next several minutes. Maybe as many as another 20 elk, all female, repeated the sequence, two or three at a time. I remember thinking the first one, that big bull, probably didn’t get much sleep with that harem to take care of. I wished I had grabbed a photo, but truth be told, I was too scared and shocked to react. I can still see it vividly in my mind, though.
The Daytona 1200 along Crater Lake in Oregon. A few miles earlier, we had a magical several minutes with a herd of elk.
After the elk episode, we continued our climb up to Crater Lake. The sun was getting higher, but we were climbing and instead of warming the temperatures continued to drop. There were bits of snow on both sides of the road, but the road was dry and we were doing okay. I used a Gerber electric vest in those days. It was a godsend.
Another view of Crater Lake. Note the snow in the foreground.
Crater Lake was interesting. I took a bunch of photos and checked that destination off my bucket list. Incidentally, on that trip I was still shooting with film. I had the N70 Nikon I blogged about earlier.
After taking in Crater Lake, Marty and I started our ride down off the mountain. The ride down was on the western side of the mountain, and the road was in the late morning shade. That section of the road had not warmed up. The snow was still there in two different forms…hard pack white snow in some places, and black ice where the snow had melted and frozen over. It was the first time I had ever ridden in such conditions on a big road bike, and I quickly realized my Daytona 1200 was way different than the Honda Super 90 I rode in the snow when I was a kid in New Jersey. Piloting that Triumph down off the mountain was an extremely demanding and mentally-draining 15-mph riding experience requiring intense concentration.
Fortunately, I remember thinking, Marty and I were the only two guys out there and I didn’t have to worry about anyone else on the road. Marty was in front and we both were taking things very easy. Then in my left peripheral vision I sensed a yellow vehicle starting to pass me. I was pissed and confused. Who the hell else is out here, I thought. Can’t they see I’m on a motorcycle, I’m on ice, and why the hell are they passing me?
Then I realized who it was. What I saw in my peripheral vision wasn’t another vehicle. It was my motorcycle in the rear view mirror. The big Triumph was sliding sideways. The yellow I had picked up peripherally was my rear tail light cowling. Damn, that was exciting! (And terrifying.)
Marty and I made it down off that mountain, but it was a religious experience for both of us.
The Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup
This was a ride coming h0me from the Annual Rattlesnake Roundup in Sweetwater, Texas (I wrote about the Roundup before and you can read that story here). We spent a half day at the Rattlesnake Roundup, another hour or so at the gun show in the hall next to the Rattlesnake Roundup, and then had a late afternoon departure headed home. The first portion of that ride was okay, but as the sun set the temperature dropped big time and the wind across Interstate 10 kicked up dramatically. We crossed into New Mexico and the wind was blowing so hard it felt like the bikes were leaned over 30 degrees just to keep going straight.
Very cool photo ops abounded at the Sweetwater Rattlesnake Roundup. Check out the fangs; this is the stuff of nightmares.
We pulled off the highway in Lordsburg, New Mexico, around 10:00 p.m. and stopped at the first hotel we saw. It was one of those small old Route 66 type motels (you know the type…a cheap single-story structure still advertising they had color TV). One of us (I can’t remember if it was Marty or me) decided we wanted to look for something nicer. We continued on into town and found a nicer hotel, but the desk clerk told us they had no rooms left. “With this wind, every trucker is off the run and in a hotel,” he said. The next town was 50 miles further down the road. I looked at Marty, he looked at me, and I made the case for doubling back to the Route 66 special.
We entered the lobby and two other people looking for a room followed us in. We were lucky. We nailed the last room in Lordsburg (which, I know, sounds like the title of a bad country western song). The folks behind us were out of luck. I have no idea what they did.
Most of the snow was gone after we returned from breakfast.
When we woke up the next morning, the bikes were covered in snow. There was no way we were going to ride in that, so we walked across the parking lot to a diner and had a leisurely breakfast. By 10:00 a.m. there was still snow on the ground, but the roads were slushy (not icy) and we could ride. When we were back on Interstate 10 the slush had disappeared and the road was dry. It was cold. I again enjoyed my Gerber vest. We made it back to southern California late that night. It was pouring rain (that’s the bad news), but it wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been and there was no snow (and that’s the good news).
The Angeles Crest Highway
I met my buddy Bryan at a water treatment company. Someday I’ll write a story about that company and the guy who started it. He was a crook (the company founder, not Bryan) and I’m not exaggerating just because I didn’t like the guy. He actually was a crook who was later charged with financial fraud and convicted. I know, I’m digressing again. Back to Bryan, me, motorcycles, and riding in the snow.
Good buddy Bryan and his VFR at warmer times in warmer climes.
Bryan was fascinated by my motorcycles (I owned four or five at the time), and within a few weeks he had purchased a Honda VFR. That VFR was a nice motorcycle (one I never owned but always wanted), and Bryan and I started doing a lot of rides together. We both live in southern California at an elevation of around 1700 feet above sea level, and it is rare to see snow here. I think in the 40+ years I’ve been in So Cal I’ve seen snow twice at my home, and it both cases it didn’t stick.
Bryan and I often rode the Angeles Crest Highway. We would take the 210 freeway to Glendale to pick it up, ride over the mountains on the Crest (the Angeles Crest Highway), stop for gas and sometimes a meal in Wrightwood on the other side of the San Gabriels, and then head home through the Cajon Pass on Interstate 15. It’s one of the best rides in the country.
A typical weekend parking lot scene at Newcomb’s on the ACH. Those were glorious days.
One day in the winter months, it was comfortable So Cal winter weather when Bryan and I decided to ride the ACH, but in the opposite direction. We rode up the 15 to the 138, we rolled through Wrightwood, and then we picked up the Crest heading over the mountains to Glendale. It got cold fast, and by the time we were on the Crest it was brutal. Then it started to snow. It didn’t seem that bad at first and we pushed on. I was on my Daytona 1200 again, and I could feel the bike moving around beneath me. I’d already ridden the Daytona on icy roads in Oregon (see above), so I thought I’d be okay. But this was worse. I could feel the big Daytona sashaying around like an exotic dancer in a room full of big tippers.
Bryan and I stopped. “Think we should turn around?” one or the other of us asked. “Nah, it probably won’t get worse and it’s shorter to keep going than it would be to turn around,” one or the other of us answered. We had that same conversation telepathically three or four more times. The weather was worsening and we hadn’t seen another vehicle on the road since we started. No motorcycles and no cars. It was just us.
Finally, we made it to Newcomb’s, a legendary Angeles Crest roadhouse that is no more (a pity, really…you’d see all kinds of moto exotica and sometimes Jay Leno up there on the weekends). We stopped for a cup of coffee and a bowl of chili. The parking lot was empty, but the place was open. The bartender was shocked when we entered. “How did you get up here?” he asked.
“We rode,” one or the other of us said.
“How did you do that? The road’s been closed because of the snow and ice.”
Well, what do you know? We had our coffee and chili and we warmed up. When it was time to leave, we kept going toward Glendale. No sense going back, we thought. We already knew the Crest behind us was bad. But we soon learned the road ahead wasn’t any better. It was a white knuckle, 15mph ride all the way down, and man, was it ever cold. But it made for a hell of story. I’ve ridden the ACH many, many times…but only once on snow and ice when the road was closed.
The “Build Character” Ride
In my opinion (and I’m the guy writing this blog, so it’s the one that counts) riding in the snow and ice is dumb raised to an exponent. If you’re already on a trip and you get caught in it, it’s sort of understandable. Making a decision to intentionally ride into the snow, though (at least to me), is a really dumb move. But yeah, I did it. Once. Peer pressure is a bitch, let me tell you.
The story goes like this: A bunch of us guys used to meet every Saturday morning at the local BMW dealer to listen to and tell tall tales (said tall tales usually involving motorcycles, women, or both). We did a lot of rides together, this group did. Baja. The American Southwest. The Three Flags Classic. Weekend rides up the Pacific Coast Highway to Pismo Beach for a barbeque dinner in nearby Nipomo at Jocko’s. And more. We were not spring chickens, either. I was in my late 50s and I was the youngest guy in the group. Most of the other guys were real deal geezers in their 70s. One guy was in his 80s.
Geezer riding buddies in the Jocko’s parking lot after coming down out of the mountains. Trust me on this: None of these guys needed to build any more character.
One day at one of our Saturday gatherings one of the guys had this brilliant idea that instead of simply getting caught in the rain, it would be a grand idea to start a two-or-three day ride in the rain when rain would be forecast for the entire ride. You know, a tough guy ride into bad weather. We would do the two-day run up to Pismo, through the mountains and along the coast, and do it on a weekend when it would rain all weekend. “It will build character,” said the geezer whose idea this was. Mom had warned me about guys like that. I should have listened.
Everybody was in. Like I said, peer pressure is a bitch. I had ridden plenty in the rain, and if you are properly attired, it’s not that bad. But snow and ice? Nope, that’s positively not for me. That’s what happened on this ride. Remember I said along the coast and in the mountains? Well, it was that mountain part that did us in. It was in the winter, we were at higher elevations, and sonuvabitch, all of a sudden that rain wasn’t rain any more. It was snow. The roads never froze over, but it was plenty slushy.
Somewhere along our descent, the snow reverted to plain old rain again, and we made it to Pismo without anyone dropping their bike. I noticed on the way home, though, we rode the coast (where it was modestly warmer) all the way back. I guess each of us felt we had built enough character to have banked a sufficient amount.
There you have it…my thoughts on riding in the snow. The bottom line from my perspective is that motorcycles and snow don’t mix. Your mileage may vary. If you think otherwise, let us know.
This blog compares two modern Italian reproductions of the famed .44 caliber 1858 Remington New Model Army revolver. One is manufactured by A. Uberti S.p.A. (it’s the one on top in the big photo above); the other is by F.LLI Pietta (the revolver on the bottom). Here’s another shot of the two:
The Uberti in on top right, the Pietta is on lower left.
The 1858 Remington New Model Army was a competitor to Colt’s blackpowder percussion sidearm. The Army went with both versions but primarily bought the Colt (it was 50 cents cheaper than the Remington). Then the Colt factory had a fire in 1864. At that point, the Army starting buying Remingtons in quantity. The Remington was considered to be the stronger revolver because it has a top strap over the cylinder (the Colt does not), and some folks feel the Remington is easier to aim because the rear sight is cut into the frame (instead of the hammer, as on the Colt). And there are other advantages to the Remington, which Jose covers. With that as a background, here’s Jose’s article on the modern Uberti and Pietta reproductions. All photos in this blog are by Jose.
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If you’ve never fired a percussion revolver you’re really missing out on huge part of firearms history. But maybe you didn’t know that even here in California you can order one of these fine blackpowder revolvers online or over the phone with a credit card and have it shipped to your doorstep without background check or going through an FFL. Your state rules may vary.
Cap and ball packpowder sidearms were a huge part of arms on both sides during the American Civil War. The Union Army had a contract for the Colt 1860 Army, but when Colt could not keep up with demand Remington Model 1858’s were ordered. Many troops preferred the Remington over the Colt for a number of reasons. The Remington has a top strap making it stronger, and the Colt was prone to having loose percussion caps jam the cylinder.
Uberti 1858 Remington Revolver
I’ve had the Uberti for about 10 years. It’s an awesome piece of fine craftsmanship. There is nothing cheap about this revolver, the fit and finish are supurb. The cylinder and barrel are a deep blue, the steel frame is color case hardened, and the trigger guard is polished brass, ans walnut stocks, giving it a very classy look. The gun is a six shot .44 cal, rifled 8-inch barrel with 1:18 LH twist, and weighs in at 2.7 pounds.
454 cal pure lead balls, Remington #10 percussion caps, waxed felt wads, and the Uberti 1858 New Army.Powder measure, balls, waxed felt wads, and caps.
I use .454-inch diameter balls cast from pure soft lead (stick on wheel weights or plumbers lead, BRN 7) weighing in at 143 grains. It fires best when loaded with 35 grains of FFF blackpowder (I don’t like substitute synthetics), a felt pad soaked in bore butter over the powder, and the ball over the top. The felt over the powder charge prevents a chain fire from jumping between cylinders, and also adds some lube to the barrel between rounds helping prevent a buildup of powder. Either Remington or CCI #10 percussion caps provide the spark.
The color case hardened steel frame on this model Uberti is off set nicely by its polished brass trigger guard.The loading lever on the Remington 1858 is used to ram the ball into each cylinder, after loading powder and waxed wad. The percussion caps are placed on the cylinder nipples only after all cylinders have been loaded.The cylinder doesn’t require removal between loadings, only for cleaning.
The Uberti is very well balanced and feels good in the hand. The cylinder locks up very tightly. There are noches between the cylinder nipples to rest the hammer on making it safe to carry with all six cylinders loaded. The rear sight is a V-notch on the top strap, unlike the Colt 1860 which has the notch on the hammer because the 1860 lacks a top strap. It’s no exaggeration that out to 40 yards my the Uberti 1858 holds about as tight a group as my Ruger Super Blackhawk .44 mag!
The Remington 1858 has a top strap over the cylinder making it stronger than the Colt 1860 and older firearms. It also allows for placement of a stable V-notch rear sight as opposed to the Colt’s rear site which is a simple notch filed on the back of the hammer.Nice sight picture. This Uberti has a 1:18 barrel groove twist and holds groups as tight as my Ruger Super Blackhawk out to about 40 yards.
Properly cleaning and blackpowder revolver after a day in the field is a good exercise in gunsmithing. The revolver should be entirely disassembled, down to the Springs, removing hammer from the frame, cylinder pin, loading lever, trigger, mainspring, nipples from the cylinder – everything except for removing the barrel from the frame and front sight.
The notchs between the nipples are for the hammer to rest, allowing the six-gun to be safely carried with all cylinders loaded.
A good set of gunsmithing drivers and properly fittjng nipple wrench are mandatory to keep from damaging the screws. Owning a blackpowder revolver will help anyone gain confidence to start Barking simple dunsmithing repairs and parts replacements on other types of firearms. If you don’t already have a blackpowder gun order one today! They are a blast.
Pietta 1858 Remington Revolver
This one was recently purchased because the price was right. It looks like it has never been fired, and I’ve not fired it yet, either. The specs are essentially the same as the Uberti; however, the claimed weight of the Pietta is only 2.4 pounds compared to Uberti’s 2.7 pounds. For whatever reason the Uberti feels much lighter and more well balanced. The Pietta is noticeably front heavy. The Pietta has a little play at cylinder lockup. The hammer pull and trigger feel smooth and crisp, similar to the Uberti.
The Pietta, another quality Italian replica in a slightly lower price range.
The really nice thing about the Pietta is that it came with an optional .45 Colt conversion cylinder. I’ve always wanted to get a conversion cylinder for my Uberti but they are very expensive, about 2/3 what I paid for the gun, and they always seem to be out of stock.
This Pietta came with a .45 Colt conversion cylinder.The conversion cylinder has an upper plate that holds a separate firing pin for each cylinder.
The conversion cylinder for the Pietta fits very nice, locks up tightly, and came with a box and a half of .45 Colt ammo which I have no intentions of using. Remington first started converting Model 1858 revolvers to .46 cal rimfire metallc cartridges in 1868. These were still blackpowder cartridges as smokless powder hadn’t yet been developed. So I will hand load .45 cartridges for the Pietta using blackpowder to stay traditional.
I’m looking forward to shooting these two together on a side-by-side comparison soon. For now, I hope you enjoy the photos.
Zongshen ended production of its iconic RX3 motorcycle and CSC sold the last of its RX3 inventory. I was tangentially involved in bringing the RX3 to America and I had a ton of fun on that motorcycle. Knowing that the RX3 is no longer in production is like hearing an old friend has passed away. In the end, the S-curve prevails for all of us, I guess. But it still hurts. The RX3 was and still is a great motorcycle.
An early clay mockup of what would become the RX3 in Zongshen’s Advanced Design center.
According to my sources in Chongqing, Zongshen first started thinking about a 250cc offroad and adventure touring motorcycle in 2010. Engineering development took about two years (excluding the engine). China’s initial and traditional 250cc was based on a Honda CG125 air-cooled engine, which evolved into 150cc, 200cc, and 250cc variants (the 250cc CG engine was actually 223cc; it is the engine that powers CSC’s current TT 250). The CG-based variants didn’t have the performance Zongshen wanted for its new adventure touring motorcycle, and that led Zongshen to develop a 250cc water-cooled, four-valve engine for Megelli in Italy. It went into the Zongshen NC250 motorcycle. This engine also went into the RX3.
Yours truly with former Sears president and CSC advisor Carl Mungenast on Glendora Ridge Road. I rode the CSC 150 Mustang replica in this photo to Cabo San Lucas and back.
For CSC, the Zongshen connection started with a search for a larger CSC 150 engine. The CSC 150 was the Mustang replica Steve Seidner designed and manufactured in 2009. I was already in China for another client, and it was only an hour flight from Guangzhou to Chonqging for the initial visit to Zongshen. To make a long story slightly less long, CSC started purchasing the Zongshen 250cc engines for the little Mustangs. I think most of the folks who bought those Mustangs really didn’t care if it was a 150 or a 250. Both were capable bikes; my friends and I rode the 150cc version to Cabo and back. It was the 250cc Mustang engine that established the relationship between CSC and Zongshen, though, and that was a good thing.
When CSC’s Steve Seidner noticed an illustration of the RX3 on the Zongshen website, he immediately recognized the RX3 sales potential in the United States. Steve ordered three bikes for evaluation and he started the U.S. certification process. Steve and I did a 350-mile ride on two of those bikes through the southern California desert and we both thought they were great.
Showing the Zongshen execs in Chongqing possibilities for a ride in America. The Chinese sponsored the Western America Adventure Ride as a result of that discussion. It was awesome and the bikes performed magnificently.
Zongshen was not targeting the U.S. market when they developed the RX3; they thought the U.S. market had different requirements and consumer preferences. The initial RX3 design did not meet U.S. Department of Transportation lighting and other requirements. It was back to China for me to help set up the specs for the CSC RX3 and the initial order.
On the Western America Adventure Ride, we rode from southern California to Mt. Rushmore, back to the Pacific across the top of America, and down the Pacific Coast to return to Azusa. Here King Kong, Leonard, Hugo, and Tso emulate the American presidents at Mt. Rushmore.
On that early visit, the Chinese told me they wanted to ride in America. They sent over a dozen bikes and as many riders, and we had an amazing 5,000-mile adventure we called the Western America Adventure Ride. Baja John planned the itinerary and mapped out the entire ride; we even had special decals with our route outlined made up for the bikes. We let the media know about it and it was on this ride that I first met Joe Gresh, who wrote the “Cranked” column for Motorcyclist magazine. I made a lot of good friends on that trip. After the trip through the American Southwest, Zongshen invited Gresh and me on a ride around China, and after that, I was invited by AKT on a ride through the Andes Mountains in Colombia.
In Medicine Bow, Wyoming, on the Western America Adventure Ride. Two Colombians also participated, which resulted in an invitation to ride in Colombia.On the road in the Andes Mountains. The sign says the elevation is 3950 meters (that’s 13,000 feet above sea level).Joe Gresh and I gladiating near Liqian, China. The China ride was the adventure of a lifetime.
At CSC, we had a lot of discussions on the initial marketing approach. We were looking at a $50,000 to $100,000 hit for an advertising campaign. Maureen Seidner, the chief marketing strategist for CSC and co-owner with Steve, had a better idea: Sell the bikes at a loss initially, get them out in the market, and let the word spread naturally. We knew the price would stabilize somewhere above $4K; Steve’s concept was to sell the bike for $2995. Maureen had an even better idea. $2995 sounded like we were just futzing the number to get it below $3K; Maureen said let’s make it $2895 for the first shipment instead. I wrote a CSC blog about the RX3 and CSC’s plans to import the bike. When I hit the Publish button on WordPress for that blog, the phone rang literally two minutes later and I took the first order from a guy in Alaska. Sales took off with CSC’s introductory “Don’t Miss The Boat” marketing program.
I wrote another CSC blog a week later saying that I was eager to get my RX3 and ride it through Baja. I thought then (and I still think now) that the RX3 is the perfect bike for Baja. The bike does 80mph, it gets 70mpg, it has a 4-gallon gas tank, and everything you needed on an ADV touring machine was already there: A skid plate, good range, good speeds, a six-speed gearbox, a comfortable ride, the ability to ride on dirt roads, panniers, a top case, and more. We started getting calls from folks wanting to ride with me in Baja, and the orders continued to pile in. That resulted in our doing an annual run through Baja for RX3 owners. We didn’t charge anything for the Baja trips. It was a hell of a deal that continued for the next four or five years. I had a lot of fun on those trips and we sold a lot of bikes as a result.
The Western America Adventure Riders in Arizona. This photo is prominently displayed in the Zongshen main office building lobby. That’s Baja John in front; he did nearly all the work organizing the ride.
CSC’s enthusiasm surrounding the RX3, the CSC company rides, and CSC’s online presence did a lot to promote the RX3 worldwide, and I know Zongshen recognized that. I visited the Zongshen campus in Chongqing several times. One of the best parts of any Zongshen visit for me was entering their headquarters, where a 10-foot-wide photo of the Western America Adventure Ride participants in Arizona’s red rock country dominated the lobby.
The RX3 was controversial for some. RX3 owners loved the bike. A few others found reasons to hate it, mostly centering around the engine size and the fact that the bike came from China. I spent a lot of time responding to negative Internet comments until I realized that the haters were broken people, there was no reasoning with them, and none were ever actually going to buy the motorcycle anyway. These were people who got their rocks off by throwing rocks at others.
When RX3 production ended recently, I contacted one of my friends at Zongshen and I thought you might enjoy some of what he told me. Zongshen sold 74,100 RX3 motorcycles (35,000 in China; the rest went to other countries including Mexico, Colombia, other South American countries, Singapore, Turkey, and the United States). Colombia alone purchased 6000 units in kit form and assembled their bikes in Medellin. I watched RX3 motorcycles being built in the Zongshen plant in Chongqing; I was also in the AKT factory in Colombia and I saw the RS3 (the carbureted version of the RX3) being built there. Ultimately, RX3 demand dropped off, but 74,100 motorcycles is not a number to sneeze at. The RX3 greatly exceeded Zongshen’s expectations and their initial marketing forecasts, especially in overseas markets. CSC had a lot to do with that success, and playing a minor role in that endeavor has been one of the high points of my life.
The CSC 650cc RX6 twin cylinder motorcycle. The Chinese motorcycle industry is moving to larger displacement bikes.
Chinese motorcycle companies today are emphasizing larger bikes. We’ve seen that here with the CSC RX4, the 400cc twins, and the 650cc RX6. I’ve ridden all those bikes and they are great. I like larger bikes, but I still think a 250cc motorcycle is the perfect size for real world adventure riding. I think the emphasis on larger bikes and the decision to drop the RX3 is a mistake, but I haven’t sold millions of motorcycles (and Zongshen, with CSC’s help, has).
That photo you see above at the top of this blog? It’s good buddy Orlando and his wife Velma riding their RX3 up to Dante’s View in Death Valley National Park. Orlando thinks blue is the fastest color, but I know orange is. Sue and I recently visited Death Valley again; watch for the ride reports here on the ExNotes blog.
We’ve had a string of cool days here in California (cool for us, anyway, with temperatures in the high 40s and low 50s) and when it gets cold, I really enjoy a bowl of chili. I suppose the easy thing to do would be to head over to a restaurant and order up a bowl, but with restaurant prices verging on the ridiculous lately, I only visit restaurants when I’m traveling. Sue and I usually prefer to cook at home. The cost is way less and the food is better.
One of my buddies mentioned a good pot of chili he ginned up and I asked for his recipe. A few days later when I was in Trader Joe’s, I saw the shaved beef my friend told me he used in his chili. I was about to put it in my cart when I thought I really didn’t want to put that in my body. Then an idea hit me: Vegetarian chili. I’ve had some good ones but I had never made vegetarian chili before. I quickly Googled vegetarian chili recipes on my cell phone, mentally merged the ingredients that appealed to me, and I picked those up instead.
I do a lot of my cooking in a crock pot. I like the idea of getting all the work out of the way in the morning and letting the brew simmer all day long. The aromas are always great, and my vegetarian chili was no exception. crock pots are cheap, too. They are an easy way to prepare a great meal.
Here’s my recipe for what turned out to be a great vegetarian chili:
1 chopped medium yellow onion
1 chopped red bell pepper
1 cup of shredded carrots
3 cloves of minced garlic
1 15.5 ounce can of can pinto beans
1 15.5 ounce can of black beans
1 15.5 ounce can of kidney beans
1 28 ounce can of fire roasted tomatoes
3 cups of low-sodium vegetable broth
2 tablespoons of chili powder
1 tablespoon of ground cumin
2 teaspoons of dried oregano
1 tablespoon of extra-virgin olive oil
I drain and rinse three different kinds of beans before adding them to the pot. After everything is in the pot, I mix it up a bit with a big wooden spoon and then put the pot on the low heat setting. Eight hours later, it’s ready.
The bottom line? It was delicious.
Pro tips:
I always use the San Marzano brand for any recipe calling for canned tomatoes (they have the best flavor).
All the vegetarian chili recipes called for adding salt. I don’t. There’s enough salt in the canned beans and fire roasted tomatoes.
When serving our chili, we add a scoop of sour cream and shredded cheddar cheese.
Most chili recipes call for a jalapeno pepper or red chili flakes. You might want to consider that if you like your chili spicy. The recipe included here makes a tasty dish and the flavors don’t compete with the heat from a jalapeno or red chili. The two tablespoons of chili seasoning alone are just about perfect for a modest amount of spiciness.
What I’ve found with any crock pot recipe is that the time doesn’t have to be exact, and 8 hours is a minimum time. If it goes another couple of hours, it’s no big deal.
The sizes on the ingredients listed above make for a full pot; Sue and I will get four or five meals (each) out of this recipe. I’ve found that chili makes for a good omelet, too.
I visited with my sister a couple of weeks ago and she gave me four 35mm film cameras. You know, the ones we used to use before everything went digital. One was a point and shoot Minolta, another was a Chinese copy of a Minolta single lens reflex non-autofocus camera, another was my Dad’s old Honeywell Pentax ES (with four Takumar lenses that were known as some of the best glass available back in the 1960s and 1970s), and a fourth was my old Nikon N70, complete with a Tamron 28-105mm zoom lens. I had given the N70 to my sister when I bought a Nikon F5, which was a huge top-of-the-line film camera when film ruled the roost. The N70 made the full circle, coming back to me again after being gone for more than 20 years. The N70 is the focus (pardon the pun) of this blog.
The N70 and it’s Tamron 28-105 zoom lens. I can use some of my other Nikon digital camera lenses on the N70, too.
The N70 was the second camera I ever purchased. The first was a 35mm Minolta X700 that I bought a week before my first daughter was born because my wife told me I needed a camera to record the occasion. I bought the Minolta because it was what the store (a large Fedco, which is no more) sold and everything was automatic (except for focusing, which no one offered at the time). And, it was what my brother-in-law shot (he was a photography enthusiast, so I figured it had to be good). The Minolta was a far better camera than I was a photographer, but I really wasn’t getting the eye-popping photos I saw in the photography magazines (and I did a lot of my learning through magazines; there was no internet in those days).
The N70 had what Nikon called a command dial. It wasn’t well received in the market back then. I’ll have to relearn how to use it. It was one of the first film cameras to have an LCD screen interface, a common feature on today’s digital cameras.
Nope, in those days, my Minolta was a manual focus camera, and I figured what I really needed was autofocus. The ticket in for me was the Nikon N70 (the very one you see here) sold to me by a very competent young salesman at our local Ritz camera store. It used to be that every major shopping mall had a Ritz camera store; with the advent of the internet, they’ve all disappeared, too.
I didn’t know very much about photography back then, but autofocus really made things better. My pictures (all print, of course) were turning out great. I liked the reaction my little 4×6 prints were getting at family dinners, and I started reading more and more about the art of photography. You know, all the stuff the camera did automatically. Apertures. Shutter speeds. Different ISOs. How to use the flash, even in daylight. And then I learned more. Composition. The rule of thirds. Lighting. The more I learned, the more I shot, and the more I shot, the better my photos became. Then a funny thing happened. I went back to my old Minolta (without autofocus) and my photos with it were way better, too. Who would have thought?
The world continued to change. Ebay became a thing, and so did digital photography. I resisted digital photography, partly because I am a cheap SOB and partly because I thought I was a purist. Until I tried digital. The difference was incredible. I sold all of my film cameras and the lenses that went with them.
With my sister’s generosity and my newly-rehomed collection of four film cameras, though, I am regressing and I hope to soon be rediscovering the wonders of film photography. Or going back to my roots. Or becoming more traditional. You can choose the words you like.
Nikon didn’t do an adequate job selecting the rear camera door rubberized covering. As it aged, it turned to a sticky, gooey mess.Where the film goes. The N70 didn’t require threading the film in. Simply plop the film in the camera with about three inches pulled out of the canister, close the camera back, press the shutter button, and the film feeds in automatically. It advances automatically after each shot (a cool feature 30+ years ago).
Anyway, the topic du jour is my N70. I just ordered a few rolls of Fuji ISO 200 film for it from Amazon, and I’ll put the old Nikon through its paces when the film gets here. When I picked up the N70 from my sister, I thought she had spilled something gooey on the back cover because it was all sticky. But it wasn’t her doing. I did a Google search and it was a common complaint. Apparently Nikon had applied a rubber-like material on the cover, which degraded over time. I had that happen on a Bell motorcycle helmet one time (a shame, really; I loved the artwork on that helmet). One of the guys who wrote about the Nikon N70’s gooification issue said that the rubber goo came off with alcohol, so I’ll try that on mine.
The Nikon feels good in my hands (the gooey cover notwithstanding). I packed it on a lot of motorcycle rides, including the Three Flags Classic nearly 20 years ago. Handling it is like coming home to an old friend. Watch for my photos with the N70; I’ll post them in a future blog (if I can find a place that still develops 35mm film).
Just to preface this blog, I am not too much of a political person. For me, the current political scene is an ongoing series of Melrose Place episodes that play out in the background as entertainment. I really don’t give it too much thought otherwise. For others it seems to be deeply rooted in them to be for one side or the other, even at times they switch sides like when Macho Man became a bad guy in the WWF. At any rate, I wanted to state that prior to this write up. Enjoy!
In 2016 I found myself dating a girl I had met on Day 1 in boot camp at Fort Jackson, SC. Soldiers were still segregated then between male and female, except on KP. We hit it off and dated for a bit in Fort Gordon, GA as we were both communication specialists. That faded as I was shipped off to Korea for a year and we lost contact. Fast forward 23 years or so and we happened to reconnect when we were both living in Seattle. I was working remotely and she was quite high up in Seattle’s city government. She was very politically active (as you can imagine being in Seattle). That was fine and I didn’t give it much notice or bother, and I was always well behaved at dinners with the mayor and the other work functions I tagged along on.
It didn’t take long for her to start pushing me to take my career more seriously and move from being a project manager to higher management positions. The push wasn’t a bad thing from her perspective I am sure, but I was content where I was. I was great at my job, I could travel, and I had a great team (both on my projects and in my managers).
This didn’t stop her from mentioning at every dinner with friends about her wanting me to take my career to the next level. The nagging just didn’t end. Quite often when I am being pushed to do something I really don’t want to I either dig my heels in and refuse or… I go FULL into it so obnoxiously that the point comes across pretty clearly as to where I stand. Even as a child if I got in trouble at school (a daily occurrence) my Mom would make be bring wood up from the basement and to protest this more than once I would bring up so much, and stack it so high, that they would need a step ladder to use the top pieces. For good or bad, my mentality hasn’t changed much over the years and with the girlfriend and her crew constantly nagging me about my career it was time to take action and put this to bed.
It was a Friday evening in 2016 and we had a group of her city workers and their spouses over for dinner. As the conversation drizzled on I was waiting for my moment. As she was telling one of her friends how well I had been behaving the past week, I decided it was time. I took a knife and softly dinged my wine glass. “I have some big news, guys. I have formally applied for an upper management position. Actually, a VP position and I feel I have a great chance here and this can really boost my career.” Everyone was happy; a few claps even ensued. I was then asked what company was this VP position in? I proudly slammed the write up below down on the table while loudly saying “VP OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, BABY!!”
Dear Sir, I would like to apply to be your Vice President in 2024. I am a highly motivated individual with valued skills both in leadership and management which will enable us to lead this country as it has never been led before. My skills have been honed beginning in my youth as a soldier with the 82nd Airborne Division. These skills have only grown throughout my life as a successful graduate of Boston University, and as a leader in the field of project management. Thank you for your consideration and I look forward to working with you to make America great again.
Sincerely,
Michael Huber, PMP
Well, as you can imagine that announcement went over like a fart in church. Nonetheless I stuck with it and doubled down asking if any of them had applied for the VP position. Of course, none had, so I made it very clear that I now had a better shot than any of them. Needless to say, I got the reaction I was looking for and my career aspirations were never discussed again. I accomplished my objective.
Now, in 2024 I find myself currently without a job, so I formally applied yet again and, so far, I have only received the photo reply you see above. My Dad says I will have to return and work from Washington D.C. if I get the job, but I think as a VP I can be remote and work from abroad (I will negotiate that once I am formally offered the position). I am expecting either an offer letter in the mail or a phone call in the next week or so. I will keep you in the loop on how this new career path works out.
Here’s that image with its levels and curves adjusted:
