Potpourri Part 1

By Joe Gresh

Clutter tends to accumulate in our lives. The unfinished and the left-hanging gather dust motes and wind up in soggy cardboard boxes of odds and ends. So it is with ExhaustNotes stories: some of them just sort of fizzle out inconclusively yet what remains is not enough meat for a stand-alone follow-up story. In an attempt to close the books on a few articles and give our dear readers peace of mind here are a few loose ends, tied.

The Harbor Freight Tire Machine

I’ve used the Harbor Freight tire machine to change five motorcycle tires and can report a 100% success rate. These successes include installing stiff knobby tires on the wide Husqvarna rims. Five in a row without a leak is unheard of for me. I’ve pinched a tube 5 times in a row! My usual success rate is around 50%. While the tire changer makes the job easier it’s still a bit of a work out. The built-in bead breaker is a godsend for old, stuck on the rim beads and having the rim held securely at waist level is nice on my sore back.

Working the machine, I ended up mostly using regular tire irons instead of the plastic duck-on-a-lever contraption. I haven’t given up on the duck lever and it may be a case of user error. I plan on making the duck part pivot on the lever part to allow it to mate with the curve of the rim better. My experience with the HF tire changer has been positive even if I did have to do a few modifications to make the thing function. I feel like I no longer have to fear the Husky’s tires and am confident I can change them in a reasonable amount of time without too much damage. I’m not sure HF still carries the motorcycle tire adapter so if you want one you might have to check several stores to see if they have the thing in stock.

The Husqvarna 21” front wheel conversion

After spending several hundred dollars and several days labor on the failed Husky wheel conversion I’m happy to report the bike is now back to stock configuration and rideable. After grinding clean through the old caliper I had to buy a new 4-piston Brembo caliper. I also replaced the wheel bearings as the originals had suffered enough of my abuse pounding them out of the wheel hubs twice.

Since I have given up on the 21” wheel idea I bought a Continental TKC knobby in the Husky’s original tire size. The tire cost $140 from Amazon and the knobs are about as high as the worn out knobs of a real dirt tire. The TKC is the knobbiest 17” tire I could find that fit the rim. I’m hoping the TKC will provide a bit more grip off road.


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My buddy Mike graduated from a 390 KTM and has bought a new 890 KTM and I’ll have to work the Husky a bit harder to stay up with his 100 horsepower dirt bike. I’ve also raised the Husky fork tubes up ½” inside the triple clamps, effectively steepening the rake a bit. The old street slick on front would push in the dirt making corners a sit on the gas tank type of deal. Loose gravel was like riding on marbles and mud would coat the old tire within one revolution making the bike feel like it was on ice. Maybe the deeper grooves between knobs will give the mud some place to squish. Anyway, the bike looks much more dirt ready if a bit silly with the tiny front wheel.

Yamaha RT1-B 21” front wheel conversion

After my not so shocking failure converting the Husky to a 21” front wheel I had a brand new 21” knobby tire just sitting in the shed. Mirroring the same poor tire choice issue as the 17” Husky, the 1971 Yamaha’s 3.25 X 19” front tire is an oddball. I have been running through my inventory of $10, new old stock Metzelers but those tires were approaching 30 or 40 years old and had weather checking on the sides. I was getting a bit of chunking on the side knobs also as the rubber was just plain old and breaking apart.

Luckily for me, the Yamaha 21” conversion went smoothly. I bought a 1975 Yamaha DT400 front wheel, which is nearly a drop in conversion. The actual size of the tall-ish Metzeler 19” is only about ¾” shorter than the new 21” tire. I thought the bigger wheel might rub the fender but there’s clearance. I like the low fender look on the old Yamaha so I might raise the fender a tiny bit for more mud room. It’s usable as is, I’ll just have to budget my mud riding.

The old, looping, brake cable guides were in the wrong spot for the new wheel. The brake cable on the new wheel is routed straight up from the wheel, in front of and parallel with the fork legs making the cable shorter and more direct as there is only one turn in the run. So I had to buy a new brake cable. I bent up a small piece of file cabinet to make an upper cable guide, for the bottom I used an off the shelf Adel clamp.

Old Yamaha Enduros are not known for having powerful brakes so I was surprised to see the 1975 conical hub had a ½” larger brake drum. The extra braking power provided by the 6” drum is counteracted by the larger diameter wheel so it’s kind of a wash in the braking department. At least I didn’t go backwards.

At the end of all this back and forth motion I have two motorcycles with new front tires and a warming trend on the way. Spring is right around the corner and Mike has a new 890 KTM that we need to get dirty. We have the whole state of New Mexico to explore. I’ll have some more potpourri for ExhaustnNotes as I continue to tie up those loose ends.


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The Wayback Machine: The Five Deadly Sins of Motorcycle Restoration

By Joe Gresh

My idea of a good restoration and your idea of a good restoration may differ, but you know deep down inside that I’m always right. I am the arbiter of cool. I am the final word, I am…Omni Joe. Here are 5 common restoration mistakes that drive me crazy.


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Sin #1: Gas tank liners.

That sealer crap people pour into their motorcycle gas tanks is the worse invention of all time. Guys swear by this junk but don’t listen to those lazy bastards. When I read the words, gas tank liner and/or Caswell sealer in a motorcycle description I know an amateur’s hands have been fiddling the motorcycle. Who would pour that devil’s goop into a nice motorcycle gas tank? It makes me wonder what else they screwed up. The way to fix a leaking, rusty gas tank is to get rid of the rust and weld/braze any holes. Any other method is destined to fail. There’s no excuse for using devil’s goop, YouTube is lousy with videos explaining how to clean out a rusty gas tank and how to stop it from re-rusting.

Sin #2: Repainting serviceable original finishes.

Nothing annoys me like a guy posting up a 90% perfect, original-paint motorcycle and asking where he can get it repainted. Stop! If the paint has a few chips or is faded a tiny bit leave the damn thing alone. One of the most underused old-sayings is, “It’s only original once.” No matter how shiny and beautiful you think your topcoat turned out its still vandalism. There are many phony re-pop’s running around, don’t make your motorcycle one. By painting over your once desirable survivor you lower its historic value. Listen, I’m not against repainting really bad original body parts, lord knows my Z1 needs it but I know anything I do that covers over the factory work erases a story, and vintage motorcycles are commodities without a story.

Sin #3: Over restoration.

When the Japanese bikes that are considered classic today were first sold they had acceptable build quality. For some strange reason many motorcycle restoration experts go way overboard making the motorcycle a show bike that bears little resemblance to real motorcycles. Chrome back in the day was thin and yours should be too. Nothing depresses me as much as these tarted-up travesties. The nerve of some Johnny-Come-Lately with a fat wallet and no soul thinking he can render a better motorcycle than the factory. Keep it simple and try to match the level of finish that you remember. Otherwise, what’s the point? It’s already worth less because you damaged the original build by trying to improve the bike. Why pour money into the thing making it something it never was?

Sin #4: Giving a damn about numbers.

As people get deeper into the vintage bike hobby they grow ever more insane. It’s not enough to have the correct parts anymore: Now you must have the exact build date on the part to suit your motorcycle’s VIN number. This is madness. Nobody except lunatics and bike show judges will care that your sprocket cover was made a year or two after your bike left the factory. The only part number that matters is the one that can get your bike registered for the road. I’ve seen people on vintage groups debating a slight casting change or a vestigial nub as if it were the most important thing in the world. People like that have no business owning a motorcycle; they should go into accounting or better yet, prison.

Sin #5: Parking it.

The final and biggest sin of all is to restore a motorcycle and then park it. I can over look all the other sins, even tank sealer, if the owner rides his vintage motorcycle. Get the thing muddy. Do a burn out. Ride it to shows in the rain. Honor the motorcycle by using it. A show motorcycle that is too valuable or too clean to ride is nothing, less than worthless. The machine was built for you. It has a seat and controls for you. The engine wants to pull. Do the right thing by your motorcycle and your sins will be washed away, my brothers.


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ExNotes Review: Viking Momentum Tail Bag

Two or three years ago Joe Gresh and I provided product reviews on our Viking motorcycle jackets.   We like them a lot and you may have noticed that Viking advertises on our website.  Both jackets have given us good service and I’ll provide links to those reviews at the end of this blog.

The topic today is the Viking Momentum small street and sportbike tail bag.  I’ve found bags like this to be ideal for my travels through Baja and elsewhere.  I used similar equipment on my KLR 650 and I found that I could carry more than I needed in Baja and elsewhere.  Gresh suggested the Viking bag and I ordered one.  It arrived quickly and it was well packaged.

The Viking Momentum bag arrived in a robust cardboard box.

After taking the Viking bag out of the box, I put it on my Royal Enfield.  The size was about perfect.  What I especially like is that I can swing my left over it when getting on and off the motorcycle.  With larger tail bags, getting on and off the motorcycle becomes a problem, but not with the Viking bag.

The Viking Momentum tail bag.

The Viking bag has a hinged lid and lots of mounting points.  I’ve not used the slotted deal on top of the lid yet.  It looks cool.  The bag also has a carrying handle.   It’s a well-designed and well-built motorcycle accessory.  I examined the bag closely and I am impressed with the build quality.  I could not find any defects and no indications of sloppy workmanship.

The Momentum has a carrying handle and two zipper handles for opening an expanding the bag.

Before I installed the bag on my Royal Enfield, I opened it to see the interior.  The Momentum comes with a rain liner, a set of straps, and spare nylon web bungee cord attach points.  You can rivet these to the bag (in addition to the four already present) or you can use them as replacements if the ones on the bag detach.

Inside the Momentum I found a rain liner and extra straps. You can use the extra straps for additional tie down points. I think I could use the straps to turn the Momentum bag into a backpack.
Extra straps and spare D-ring attachments.

The Viking Momentum bag has four Velcro straps on the bottom.  These pass under the seat, stick to each other, and secure the bag to the seat.

The Momentum upside down. The Velcro straps pass under the motorcycle seat and attach to each other.

To mount the bag, I took the seat off the Enfield.  The Enfield and Viking designs makes this easy.  On the Enfield, the ignition key unlocks the right side panel, it comes off, and that reveals a cable pull button that unlocks the seat.  Easy peasy.

Unlocking the Enfield side panel to gain access to the seat release.
The Enfield’s seat release.
The Enfield seat removed from the motorcycle.

Once the seat was off the bike, it was a simple matter to mate the Viking Momentum’s mounting straps underneath.

The Momentum tail bag strapped to the Enfield seat.

I first mounted the seat so its carrying handle faced forward, as shown below.  Then I reversed it.  I’ll say more about that in a bit.

The Momentum installed on the Enfield.

The Viking bag has two zippers around the exterior.  The upper one is for the lid; it provides access to the bag’s interior.  There’s another zipper around the bag’s base; unzipping it allows the bag to expand and approximately doubles its volume.

With the bottom seat unzipped, allowing the Momentum to expand.

I thought it would be cool if the expanded bag would hold a full-face helmet, but it did not.  That’s okay.  If I put my helmet inside, there wouldn’t be room for anything else.

There are a couple of zippers inside the Viking bag.  One is on the bag’s inner walls.  The other is on the underside of the lid.  You can store things in the lid compartment like your phone, a map, a Baja tourist visa, your BajaBound insurance paperwork, and other stuff.

The Momentum interior.
The underside of the Momentum lid. You can unzip the zipper and store small items inside the lid’s pocket.
Like most motorcycle apparel and many luggage items, the Momentum is manufactured in Pakistan.

The Viking Momentum includes a rain liner.  It packs up compactly.  You can keep your stuff dry in the rain liner inside the Momentum bag.  It’s a nice touch.

The Momentum rain liner.

With the Momentum bag’s handle facing forward, I didn’t like how the bag was positioned on the seat.  It provided adequate room, but no extra room.  The Enfield has a hard seat.  I’m getting older and my butt is aging along with the rest of me.  I need extra room to move around on a motorcycle seat, and with the bag mounted with the carrying handle forward I didn’t have any extra room.  I also noticed that the base zipper (the one you unzip to expand the bag) pull was digging into the Enfield’s Naugahyde surface.  I didn’t want to disrespect the Nauga that gave up its hyde for my seat, so I turned the bag around and moved it more toward the rear.

With the Momentum mounted with the handle facing forward, the expansion zipper toggle is against the seat surface. I turned the bag around to eliminate this issue.

When I did that, the Velcro straps are still captured by the seat’s base mounting points (the bag won’t slide off), and I eliminated the zipper-to-Naugahyde interference.

The Velcro straps secured on the motorcycle seat after reversing the bag.

Cosmetically, the seat looks great in either orientation.

The Momentum mounted in the reverse position.  The expansion zipper handle is off the seat.

I once led a bunch of guys on a short Baja weekend ride about 15 years ago.  One had a Harley, he was new to motorcycling, and he had never done an overnight ride.  We met at a Denny’s before heading for Mexico, and when he rolled up on his Electra-Fried, he and that Harley looked like they escaped from the opening scene on the old Beverly Hillbillies show.  The only thing missing was Granny in her rocking chair.  He told me his saddlebags and his Tour Pak were stuffed, and he also had two or three gym bags bungied to the bike.   This was a weekend trip to San Felipe, about 130 south of the border, and we were only staying two nights.  My KLR had a medium tank bag and nothing else (and that tank bag also held a camera).  “I’m ready for a week down there,” my friend announced from his adventure Glide.

“Well,” I said, “I’ve got my Nikon and a spare set of underwear, so I guess I’m good for a week, too.”

My boat anchor Nikon D810 and a Nikkor 24-120 lens in the Momentum. I really like this.  The camera and the lens cost almost as much as the Enfield.

I guess I shouldn’t make fun of that guy.  I get it; he was at the front end of the learning curve, and we’ve all been there. I once took an overpacked Harley into Baja, too.  We were going to Cabo, taking the ferry to mainland Mexico, heading down to Guadalajara, and coming back through Sinaloa cartel country (you can read about that trip here).  I did not yet know about the virtues of traveling light and good ballistic nylon gear like the Viking Momentum bag.

How not to pack a motorcycle. The Momentum tail bag is a much better approach.

The point is this:  You don’t need to carry a lot on a motorcycle trip (even if you write a blog), and you can get a lot of stuff in the Viking Momentum.  I like it.  The Momentum tail bag is a good deal; on the Viking website it retails for $99.99.

So there you go:  My take on the Viking Momentum tail bag.  It’s a good thing to have for your motorcycle but don’t take my word for it.  Listen to what Bernadette has to say.

I mentioned above I would provide links to the Viking motorcycle jacket reviews.  Here’s mine, and here’s Joe Gresh’s.


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The Casio Marlin

By Joe Berk

I’ve mentioned my Casio Marlin (also known as the Duro) a few times in previous blogs.  I love this watch for any number of reasons:  It’s accurate, it’s rugged, it’s waterproof, it’s comfortable, and it’s inexpensive.  It’s a diver’s watch, but I’m not a diver.  I just like the look of thing.  I’ve worn it on a few big moto trips including the ride around the Andes Mountains in Colombia.  It poured cats and dogs on that trip.  The Marlin was unfazed.

At about $50, this watch has to be the deal of the century.  Just for grins I grabbed a picture of the Rolex Sea Dweller and put it along side the Casio.  If you own a Rolex don’t get your shorts in a knot ((I own one, too).   But the comparison has to make you wonder:  Let’s see, $50 for the Casio and $16,500 (or whatever it is these days) for the Sea Dweller (if you can find one and in today’s market that’s not easy).  As Aristotle would say….hmmmmm.

Yeah, you can go a little deeper with the Rolex (they say down to 3,900 meters).  My Casio says it’s good for 200 meters.  That’s over 600 feet down.  It’s not likely I’ll ever visit those regions and if I ever do I can guarantee you the time of day is not what will be on my mind.

I’ve owned my Marlin for about 10 years now.  I think I’ve had to replace the battery twice.  My guy charges me $3.25 to install a new battery (parts and labor).  The strap got stiff and cracked, so I’ve replaced that once (I think it was $10).  I checked and the cost of a replacement resin Rolex band is close to $300.  On the other hand, the Rolex is self-winding, so it never needs a battery.   Again….hmmmm.


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On that comfort thing…the Casio Marlin is about the right size for a man’s watch and the resin band is very comfortable.  I always forget I have it on and on more than a few occasions I’ve gone into the water wearing it (swimming, showering, and most recently, almost being swept away in my Subaru going to the gun club).  It doesn’t matter to the Casio.  I’d say it’s indestructable, but some Internet weenie would want to get into a urinating contest about that.

Boarding the ferry in Magangué on the Magdelena River.  Even there, the Casio’s good looks and functionality appealed to an onlooker.

When I rode Colombia with Juan and Carlos, one time we had to wait a couple of hours on a hot and humid afternoon for the ferry to come in and carry us down the Magdalena River to Mompos.  While we were waiting in what little shade we could find in Magangué, a young Colombian boy came over and touched the Casio, nodding his approval.  If I had another watch with me I would have given it to him.  I still think about that on occasion and wish I had given it to that kid.  I think when I bought my Marlin, they were $39.  That young fellow most likely would have cherished the Casio the rest of his life (as I will).  Maybe I need another ride in Colombia.  If I go again I’ll throw an extra Marlin in one of the panniers.  You know, just to be prepared.


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Why think small?

By Joe Berk

Half a lifetime ago I was a yuppie, and the symbols of being a successful yuppie included an MBA and a Rolex.  The Rolex was easy (the only requirement was having more money than brains).  The MBA was more difficult.  It required going back to school, which I did.  Getting the MBA definitely gave me a boost.  My career at the munitions company was on fast forward; at one point I was the youngest vice president in the Aerojet corporation (then I got fired, but that’s a story for another time).  I loved being in the bomb business (business was booming, so to speak), and being a former Army guy, I was in my element.

That could have been me in the ’80s and ’90s. I wore a jacket and tie to work every day.  I had the big glasses, too.

Anyway, while I was going to night school for the MBA, one of my classes was titled Human Behavior or something like that.   The guy who taught it was a Ph.D in one of the soft sciences, and I knew pretty quickly that he leaned way left.  That’s okay; in my book you can lean however you want as long as you don’t expect me to agree with you on every issue.

The first night of class the prof had everyone tell the rest of their class their name and what they did.   We were all yuppies, we were all young, and we all had good jobs. It made for good entertainment, but I had a feel for how things were going from the first several yuppies who told us what they did and the prof’s reactions and questions.  Yep, the guy was a definite leftie.  I started to wonder what his reaction would be to me…a guy firmly entrenched in the military industrial complex working for a munitions company.

“So what do you do, Joe?” Dr. WhatsHisName asked.

“Uh, I’m an engineer,” I said, hoping he would leave it at that, but knowing he wouldn’t.

“What kind of an engineer are you, and who do you work for?”

“Uh, I’m a mechanical engineer,” I said.   No sense in oversharing, I figured.  Maybe he wouldn’t notice I didn’t name my company.

“Who do you work for?”

“I work for an aerospace company.”

“What company, and what do you engineer?”  This guy wasn’t going to give up.  I liked my job and I liked what I did, but I wasn’t about to tell Jerry Rubin here I supported the Vietnam War.

“I work for Aerojet, and we make a variety of products.”  It had become a contest, and I was losing.

“What are your products?”  He had me.   Time to ‘fess up.

“I do cluster bombs.”   There.  It was out.  I knew the guy was going to call whoever it is you call when you find someone violating the Geneva Convention.  The good doctor stared at me for several seconds.  The other 30 or so yuppies in the class were dead silent.  It was a pregnant pause if ever there was one and we were pretty close to the 9-month mark.  Somebody’s water was about to break.

“Does your family know what you do?” he softly asked, speaking almost in a whisper.

“My wife does,” I said, mirroring his subdued tone.

“And how does she feel about how you earn a living?”

At this point, I knew I had to come clean.  “Truth be told, Professor, she’s disappointed in me.”  I had hoped that would end the discussion, but the guy would not let up.  He was a dog and I was the bone.  Then I sensed a way out, anticipating what his next question would be.

“What does she say to you?” he asked.

“Well, Doc, like I said, she’s disappointed, and she’s made that known on several occasions.”  The good Professor was nodding knowingly.  He was hearing my confession.   I don’t recall specifically, but I’m pretty sure he was smiling.  I was on a roll and I continued. “You see, Professor, my wife works for TRW’s Ballistic Missiles Division.  They do nuclear intercontinental missiles and she’s always asking me why I’m wasting my time screwing around with conventional weapons.  If you’re going to go, she always says, go big.  Go nuclear.”

My yuppie classmates started laughing.  Me, I was scared.  I was running a perfect 4.00 grade point average in the MBA program up to that point, and I thought I had just blown any chance of aceing this course.  The professor nodded without expression, made a note on his pad, and went on to the next yuppie.  My being a wiseass had earned a good laugh, but that note he made couldn’t have been a good thing and I was afraid it would cost me.

So how did it turn out?  I busted my chops in that course and I got my A.  But I was sweating bullets for the rest of the term.  Little, non-nuclear bullets, but bullets nonetheless.   More importantly, the cluster bombs I helped engineer won the Gulf War a few years later in 1991.   Most of Saddam Hussein’s Republican Guard tanks were taken out with CBU-87/B cluster bombs and GAU-8/A 30mm ammo (and my company, Aerojet Ordnance, also made the ammo for those A-10 Gatlings).  Sometimes when studying human behavior, the guys who know (I mean, really know) reach the only conclusion and solution possible:  An adequate quantity of high explosives delivered on target.  I’m not at all embarrassed about having had a hand in that.  Fact is, I’m proud of it.


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Three Steps to Ease into Moto Camping

By Mike Huber

I know many people on this page camp and ride, but some have yet to dive into mixing these two great passions.  My objective in this article is to help you bridge riding and camping, alleviate any concerns on this topic, and build a foundation of knowledge for those new to motorcycle camping. In doing so you will discover a deeper level of motorcycling that many riders experience.


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Start with Less

With all the social media posts of riders from around the world sharing their epic adventures and providing reviews of the gear they use can cause anxiety.  Intimidation from the expense and amount of equipment people use for moto camping can become overwhelming when starting this hobby.  I’m not saying any of these riders are wrong in the gear (or the amount) they use, but my philosophy while motorcycle camping is less gear is much more efficient and cheaper. My first time moto camping I had nothing other than a one-person Kelty tent (which I still use), a sleeping bag, and a small personal hygiene kit.  I planned to give moto camping a shot and figured I could survive one night out on Washington’s Olympic peninsula even if I was a bit uncomfortable.

I wasn’t uncomfortable at all.  In fact, other than adding a 6-pack of beer and a crushed Subway sandwich my gear didn’t grow or change for the next 8 more years (even after “maturing” from a Ducati Monster M1100 to a BMW GS1200).  Would I have been more comfortable with a sleeping pad, cooking set up, and maybe even a chair?  Yes, but that came years later after learning from others (I am a bit set in my ways even if they force me to be uncomfortable). Starting from such a minimalist perspective and adding gear slowly allowed me to tailor my equipment perfectly.  You will find everyone has a “better” way of doing things; you might want to learn what works best for you and expand slowly.

Start in a Familiar Location

Roaring through the dense rainforest of the Olympic Peninsula on my Ducati Monster I was excited to be camping with my motorcycle for the first time.  In hindsight this choice was probably a further and more isolated location than I should have started with, but it worked for the most part. I had ridden the road several times, I was comfortable with the distance, and I was aware of the ever-changing weather conditions.  Being new to this I didn’t pack rain gear and of course it rained heavily that night (I was forced into my tent by the weather by 7:00 p.m.).  You must pack raingear if you want to ensure it never rains on your moto camping trip.   But even with the weather not cooperating it was a fun first night and it was enough to get me hooked on the lifestyle.

Looking back, a more comfortable way to experience my first moto camping adventure would have been a more controlled environment.  Even for those well-seasoned campers, testing new gear in your home or backyard to learn how to set up, adjust, and break down the equipment makes for a less stressful time in a real-world environment. Purchasing lots of expensive gear, not testing it, and going on a multi-state tour can be a painful way to learn the gear isn’t right for you or the climate.  Another way to learn your equipment and build experience is at a state park close to your home or a KOA.  Even if you have to retreat to the KOA store or end up back inside your house, don’t be discouraged.   That’s what this step is for.  Take notes on what worked and what didn’t, and build off that until you are comfortable with the next step, which can be dispersed camping or a longer distance ride.  It is better to learn in this semi-controlled environment than to have a horrific night with improper gear in poor weather and become completely deterred from ever moto camping again.

Learn From Experience

Having completed a successful test runs with your gear it is now time to begin learning how to increase your confidence in harsher and more remote environments. This point in your experience level is also the perfect time to make gear adjustments based on your notes.  With a few nights camping under your belt you can seek advice and learn from others, including their set up tricks and in what type of climate they moto camp.  In doing so you will fine tune your camping outfit so that it is perfect for you, your motorcycle, and the climate.

During this phase it is important to remain open minded.  Everyone has a method that works best for them.  For some it is a half shelter at a roadside pullout, for others it can be as elaborate as a 6-man tent with copious gear that requires 2 hours to pack.  Normally when I travel and moto camp it isn’t for just one night.   I’m on the road for two to three months at a time with Airbnbs or hotels as resting points or for working.  Even though I am comfortable with my moto camping equipment it’s always fun to chat up other motorcyclists. In most cases, even if their set up is completely different there is usually one or two takeaways I learn from conversing with them.

Conclusions

Moto camping is an easy and inexpensive way to escape the rat race with less effort than many would think.  These experiences and the people I meet along the journey are some of the most best I have had.  Being so removed from everything as you sit relaxing in the glow of a warm campfire reflecting off your moto is a fulfilling feeling that few venture to achieve.


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ExNotes Stock Car Racing Review: Vado Park Speedway, New Mexico

Sometimes the story you set out to write doesn’t want to be written. Something is wrong, there’s no ju-ju, there’s no vibe, or in this particular case, there are no decent photos. I have an expensive Canon 5D that takes beautiful racing photos and I have a pretty good 300mm zoom lens with selectable, 2-axis stabilization. It’s not a professional lens by any means but it can do a fairly good job if you’re steady enough and don’t shoot at nighttime. The problem with the 5D and 300mm lens combo is that it weighs a ton and I don’t like carrying the thing around.

Anyway, it’s foolish pride on my part to try and capture the moment because as soon as I stop to think about a camera it’s not a moment any more. It becomes staged. It seems phony and something like grasping for the shot that will make the story. I don’t want to be a photojournalist and I never was. I learned the basic operation of a camera only because photos were a necessary evil in order to sell a story to magazines.

Oh, how I envy Cameron and Egan. Man, those guys have it made. They write their columns propped up on six pillows in an overstuffed bed between 1000-count Egyptian cotton sheets while green-skinned slave girls serve wine and grapes as they type each 600-word, 10,000-dollar column. And they do it without photos. Sometimes the magazine’s art director will tack on a few squiggly line drawings for the folks that need a picture. When I read their stuff I don’t miss the photos one bit.


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Since I’ve pretty much given up on cranking out content for paper magazines, I find myself wanting to enjoy the story in real time. I want to live the story, absorb all the sounds, sights and smells, and then write about it later. Events may not be recorded exactly as they happened but they record what happened to me. At least I imagine it happened to me. Memories are funny things; each of us views the world looking out from different eyes.

Still, websites are a visual medium and photos do make the page look better. They also attract readers. For the Vado races I brought along the little Canon S100, a higher-end point and shoot camera not much bigger than a cell phone. I thought I could get a few photos good enough to use for this story but the shutter lag was hard to plan for. I’d press the release and a second later the camera would take the photo. In racing things move a long way in a second. Annoyingly, the auto focus kept locking on the barrier fence instead of the cars behind the fence. I have a bunch of really sharp shots of the fence

My first attempts were a mess. The S100 needed the shutter sped up and to do that it needed a higher ISO setting. And then the auto focus had to be disabled in the menu. All these settings required scrolling through the various menu pages or pushing buttons and turning dials, which I had forgotten how to do. Switching the S100 from regular stabilization to panning stabilization took twenty-three keystrokes to accomplish. For the same task on the Canon 5D you just flip a switch.

A man’s got to know his camera and the seductive lure of the cell phone has caused my camera skills to atrophy. While I was staring down into the S100’s tiny screen life was happening all around me. I turned off the camera, put it in my pocket and decided to watch the races.

The whole reason we were at the races in the first place was because of the Sylings. The Sylings are friends of ours who live in Alamogordo. They are forever going on fun outings then putting cheerful, Team Syling posts on Facebook. CT and I decided it would be a good thing to be more like Team Syling so we are making an effort to do fun things around New Mexico. The trip to Vado Speedway was CT’s birthday present/Team Syling adventure. I don’t want you to get the idea I’m not romantic; I also bought her a 12-gauge Mossberg pump shotgun.

Vado Speedway is a fairly new track about 15 miles south of Las Cruces, New Mexico. You can see it from Interstate 10. The track looks small but they claim it’s 3/8th of a mile. Maybe the outside is 3/8 mile. It’s a dirt track, like God intended us to race on, and the corners are banked. The straights are short but the track is wide enough to allow plenty of passing. There are two lines at Vado: the high line and the low line. Both have their advantages but late in the evening the low line became very bumpy at the apex of the corner. Cars were bouncing up on two wheels in the rough. Most of the fast guys stayed up high where it was smooth, only dropping down to block a rival. As the evening wore on cars started to use the outside wall as a contact point like a slot car dragging the rails.

Stock car racing has changed a lot since the seemingly unlimited supply of Chevelles dried up. The night we went all the classes looked like Super Modified. There were no stock bodied cars. The lowest class cars are beat up sheet metal concoctions that look like something a child of three would draw when asked to draw a car. They resemble station wagons with large panels of metal aft to act as air dams. Think of the last outlaw sprint car race you went to with those giant billboard wings on top. It’s the same idea. The front wheels ran exposed on some of the cars. I don’t remember what they were named but in my day this class would be called the Sportsman class except for the homemade bodies.

The next step up from the flapping, crashing station wagon class was more station wagons. For all I could tell it was the same class, maybe “A” to the previous “B.” This class would have been called Late Models when I was going to stock car races back in the days when the planet Mars could still support life. These cars looked like the ratty-class cars but were built much better. The sheet metal was straighter and it didn’t flap around or fall off. The paint jobs and lettering were nicer and they crashed less. Besides being uglier than old style stock cars the Late Models’ engines sounded crisper and revved faster than the other, looser station wagons.

The top-tier division, known to me as Super Modifieds, were really nice cars. You could tell the owners had a ton of money in them, probably as much or more than a NASCAR stock car. They were fast and didn’t crash very often. The Super Modified cars didn’t look like station wagons but they still had acres of sheet metal on the side to assist with corners. All the wheels were covered by bodywork. NASCAR driver Kyle Larson was racing in the Super Modifieds with a Hendricks car and he did fairly well. He got a Main Event second place finish against drivers that spend their entire career in this specialized form of competition.

The racing was very close and heats were frequent. All the classes had several heat races to determine which cars made the main event and the grids were well populated. Driver/teams from Kansas, Wyoming, Illinois, California and other states attended. The stands were another story. When CT bought our tickets she was told they were sold out of general admission so she bought reserved seats. After everyone was seated the grandstands looked about 60% full. Maybe the cold, night air kept spectators away.

When the racing was over the announcers thanked the track owner for keeping stock car racing alive. Whenever you hear that sort of talk it’s not a good sign. South-Central New Mexico used to have a stock car track in Tularosa, another a few miles away near Alamogordo, one on Highway 9 west of Sunland Park near the border with Mexico, and I think Deming might still have a track and maybe El Paso.

Stock car tracks used to be everywhere. Where I grew up there was a track in Medly and one just across the Miami River in Hialeah. Those tracks are gone now. I wonder if dirt oval tracks are disappearing all over America. I believe part of the reason for grass roots oval racing’s decline is that none of the cars racing are related in any way to the cars found in the parking lot. That is if you can find a car in the parking lot.   Today everyone drives bloated SUVs or pickup trucks.

Then there’s the high bar of entry into the sport.  Even those ratty station wagons require a lot of work to build. Maybe the demise of cheap, rear-wheel drive sedans is part of the problem. The class structure never adapted to new realities in the marketplace. Look how NASCAR’s rigid rules have created a situation where you can buy a box stock Dodge, Chevy or Ford off the showroom floor with more horsepower than a NASCAR contender. I know the old time stock cars shared few common parts with the cars they resembled but at least they resembled them and had engines you could check off on the dealer’s option page.

Finally, the “Car of Tomorrow” eliminated the last tentacles connecting the cars on the track and the car you drove to the track. Now all the bodywork is the same and only paint creates the illusion of several brands. The situation is probably not as bad as I’m making it sound. I’ve gotten grumpy as I got old. I liked it when stock car racing was the most exciting thing happening on a Saturday night.

I’ll be back to Vado Park Speedway. Later in the year they are hosting USRA Modifieds, which look a lot like old style stock cars. Then there are the winged and un-winged Sprint cars along with Super Trucks. We all need to do our part to keep this uniquely American form of racing alive. Hopefully a new generation will get interested in stock cars and start racing cheap, two liter, front-wheel drive sedans around those well groomed dirt ovals. I know a couple unused tracks nearb.  Just add drivers.


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The Wayback Machine: Marking Time

By Joe Berk

I’ve always been a watch guy. It probably started when my parents surprised me with a Timex when I was a kid. The thought of having my own wristwatch was heady stuff for a boy back on the east coast (or anywhere else, I imagine). To make a long story short, I’ve been a watch collector ever since. I don’t specialize, and many times I won’t keep a watch forever. If I like the way a watch looks and it’s not crazy expensive, I’ll wear it for a while, with the duration of “a while” usually determined by the time it takes for the next interesting thing to catch my eye.

The real deal: Apollo 15 Astronaut Dave Scott’s Bulova, which sold for a cool $1.625 million at auction.

I make no excuses: I like watches, and I always wonder about guys who don’t wear them. Not wearing a watch is a common thing with young guys today. When I taught in Cal Poly’s College of Engineering, one of my topics focused on how to do well in an interview. My guidance was simple. Dress sharply, be early, look the interviewer right in the eye, speak up, don’t use the word “like” incessantly when you speak, and wear a watch. A lot of kids today don’t wear watches. If they have any interest in knowing what time it is, they look at their iPhone. That’s a no go, I’d tell my students. If you don’t wear a watch, the person interviewing you will conclude you have no sense of time-based urgency. It’s what I always concluded when someone showed up not wearing a watch.

Anyway, to get to the subject of this blog, I want to tell you about the Bulova Lunar Pilot. It’s a cool piece with an interesting story that goes like this: With the advent of the Apollo lunar exploration program (the NASA endeavor to put men on the moon), the US government decided we needed an official space watch. Omega won the competition with their Speedmaster watch, and for the next 14 missions, that’s what astronauts wore.

Here’s where it gets complicated and where the story gets Internet-fuzzy. Depending on which source you believe, Astronaut Dave Scott wore a Bulova watch on the Apollo 15 mission for one of the following reasons:

He wore the Bulova watch because his Omega broke.
He wore the Bulova watch because he felt like it.
He wore the Bulova watch because Bulova was trying to replace Omega as the official NASA watch.
He wore the watch because the US government, Bulova, or other parties wanted the official watch to be something made in America.

Whatever the reason (and you can find stories supporting each of the above floating around in that most authoritative of all sources, the Internet), Dave Scott wore the Bulova on the Apollo 15 mission, and Omega went from being “the only watch worn on the moon” to “the first watch worn on the moon.” It could not have gone over well at the Omega factory.

Dave Scott’s original Bulova, the one he wore on the moon, sold at auction a few years ago. The predicted auction price was $50,000. As predictions go, it wasn’t a very good one. When the gavel came down and the dust cleared, Scott’s Bulova sold for a cool $1.3 million. Throw in the auction commission and other fees, and you’re talking about a $1.625-million wristwatch. Wowee!

Bulova, today no longer an American watch company (they were bought by Citizen a few years ago) recognized a marketing opportunity when it fell into their laps, and they re-issued an internally updated version of Scott’s watch as the Bulova Lunar Pilot, complete with a 262 kHz Accutron movement. I have no idea what a 262 kHz movement is, except that the Bulova marketing hype tells me it means it’s super accurate.

The not-so-real deal, but a hell of a deal nonetheless: The Bulova Lunar Pilot, purchased for just under $300.  Yep, as I type this, I’m wearing my Bulova.

The increased accuracy really didn’t matter to me when I saw the watch (I’m retired now and I seldom need 262 kHz accuracy when I decide I feel like going somewhere), so that’s not what prompted me to pull the trigger. I just like the way it looks, I like the swirl of stories around the original Bulova moon watch, and my Dad wore a Bulova when I was a kid.

Oh, one other thing helped…a trick that has prompted me to pull the trigger on other discretionary purposes.  You know how the Internet spies on us, right?  I mean, folks complain all the time about looking at something on Amazon or whatever and then it starts showing up in their Facebook feed.   That’s not always a bad thing.  When I first looked at the Bulova Lunar Pilot it was a $600 bauble.   I wasn’t going to pay that kind of money, and I guess the spymasters/Internet marketeers figured that one out.  They and I knew it was a waiting game to see who would blink first.  Because I had looked for the watch on Amazon, I started getting emails from different retailers to buy the watch for less, and I let those roll in.  Delete, delete, delete, and then one day, an offer floated into my inbox for $299.  Hmmm.  Delete.  And sure enough, a day or two later and that $299 offer came with a coupon for $20 off and free shipping on my first order.  Ka ching!


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Charles Darwin, Alive and Well

You know those signs that tell you not to drive into flooded areas?

Every time I’d see one, I always wondered about the target audience.  I mean, who would be stupid enough to drive into a flooded area?  And if they were that stupid…well, maybe ol’ Darwin had the right idea.


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Based on the cover photo, you may have already guessed where this story is going.  I don’t have to look very far to find someone stupid enough to “enter when flooded.”  I see that guy in the mirror every morning when I shave.

You see, there’s a creek that flows across the dirt road out to the West End Gun Club.   I’ve been driving across it for close to 40 years now.  Most of the year, it’s a dry creek bed. After a rainy spell, we’ve had times when it was so obviously flooded I wouldn’t attempt to cross it.  Most of the time.  But other times when the water was flowing, it didn’t look bad enough or deep enough to keep me from taking a chance.  I mean, what could go wrong?

I guess I’m one of those guys who has to urinate on the electric fence to see for himself.  Yep, I finally got stuck, and stuck good.  I always figured with my all wheel drive Subie I could get out of anything.  But you know, AWD ain’t the same as 4WD.    Something I learned today.

When I heard the underside of the Subie hit the ground on the ledge (that was now more of a bank than a ledge), it hit hard.  I felt it as much as heard it.  I was in trouble.  I tried to back out, but I knew from the downward facing hood the Subie’s butt was in the air and I could feel the front wheels spinning in the water.  I was balanced on the bank, and I could feel the car rocking and pivoting slightly to the right.  It was like being in a formulaic movie or a bad dream when a car has gone out of control and is hanging over a cliff.  I opened the door and the bank was directly under the opening, and as I looked at the ground, the bank was eroding.  In the wrong direction.  Water started coming over the door sill and into the car.

I beat a hasty exit out the passenger door.   Other folks going to the range, wondering if they could cross, had stopped and were watching me.   I had set the example.  The spectators tried to help by pulling down on the rear bumper.   It did no good.  I was high sided, and if anything, the car was moving more toward the stream, which was starting to look like Niagara Falls.  Yikes.

I called the Auto Club, but they put me on hold.  The bank continued to give way under my Subie, so I called 911.  They took my info and I never heard from them again, nor did anybody show.  You know the old saying…when seconds count, the cops are only minutes away.  The other spectators drifted away.  I was on my own.

Then a miracle occurred.  Good buddy Lee, who I met for the first time this morning, came by in a Jeep.  A real Jeep.  With a winch.  We connected (literally and figuratively), but it was no good.  As the winch did its thing, it dragged the Jeep toward the Subie.  Lee and I looked at my  situation.  Lee put boulders in front of the Jeep’s wheels, and the winch dragged them along, too.  “If I could hook up to another vehicle,” Lee said, “we could make this work.”

Then the second miracle occurred.  Another newly-met good buddy named Aaron rolled up in a big Dodge pickup.  He hooked up to Lee’s Jeep, Lee hit the winch button, and just like that (with some God-awful undercarriage scraping and grinding), I was free.   For a few seconds, I thought my future held a commission as a U-boat commander, but no more.  Lee and Aaron, wherever you are, thanks much!


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Setting Up Lee’s Classic Turret Press

By Joe Berk

This blog outlines the first steps in setting up the Lee Classic Turret Press Kit. Although it’s easy, there are a lot of steps and it’s more than you or I want to cover in a single blog.  I’ll present additional blogs covering this topic in the coming days.

The Lee Classic Turret Press includes good instructions. The kit includes the turrent press, the handle, a spent primer catch tube, primer arms, and hardware.

After the turret press has been secured to your reloading bench (you can view the Lee bench plate installation blog here), attach the primer catch tube to the barb fitting beneath the ram.

This barbed fitting on the ram underside captures ejected primers.
The primer catch tube attaches to the barb.
The primer catch tube installed. It’s nice not having primers falling out. This is a well-thought-through design.

Lee provides a clear plastic bag containing the hardware items you see below.

The handle bolt and fittings, the lock ring wrench, and two primer arms (one for small primers, the other for large primers).
The handle attaching hardware.

You can install the press handle to operate the press from either the left side or the right side.  I installed mine on the right side.  To do this, install the bolt from the left side and the two fittings (one goes inside the other) on the right side of the ram linkage.

Intallation of the handle’s half-inch bolt and the fittings in the ram attach point.

Insert the press handle on through the fitting, and then tighten the bolt.

The handle installed on the Lee turret press.

After installing the press handle, you can operate the press to cycle the ram. Each time you do so by raising and the lowering the ram, the turret head will advance a quarter turn (or 90 degrees) counterclockwise.  At this point, it’s a good idea to oil the ram, the ram linkage, and the turret.  I used gun oil on my press.  Lee states in their instructions that any gun oil will do.

The lower arrow points to the ram. The upper arrow points to the twisted 1/4-inch-square bar that cams the turret 90 degrees counterclockwise with each ram cycle. It’s a very clever design.

I’m going to initially reload 9mm ammo on my Lee turret press, so the next step involved installing the Lee Deluxe 4-die set in the turret.    We’ve previously written about Lee’s Deluxe 4-die sets for other cartridges here on the ExhaustNotes blog (we’ll include a set of links below).   In my opinion, they are the best dies available from any reloading equipment supplier.

Lee’s Deluxe 4-Die Set in 9mm.
Lee’s Deluxe 4-Die Set includes a powder dipper, a shellholder, a resizing/decapping die, a powder through-hole expanding die, a bullet seating die, and the factory crimp die. Lee dies are the best dies I’ve ever used.  They are also the least expensive.

I started by installing the 9mm shell holder in the ram. After installing the shell holder in the ram, I raised the ram all the way up.

The 9mm shellholder in the turret press ram.

I next installed the the decapper and resizing die in the turret head.  With the ram fully raised, I screwed the sizing die into the ram until it contacted the shell holder, and then locked it in place with the locking ring.

The resizing die in the turret, locked in place by the locking ring.
I raised the ram fully, and screwed the sizing die all the way down so that the bottom of the die contacted the shellholder. Then I locked it in place with the locking ring.

After doing the above, I lowered the ram and inserted a 9mm case in the shell holder.   I then partially raised and lowered the ram halfway four times.  That rotated the turret to position the sizing die directly above the ram again.  You can also turn the ram manually.  With the sizing die directly over the ram, I raised the ram fully.   The sizing die resized the 9mm case, the old primer was pushed out of the case, and the primer was captured by the tube hanging beneath the ram.

A 9mm case in the turret press.
Raising the ram to resize the case and push the spend primer out (the decapping operation).
When the ram is lowered, the turret is cammed a quarter turn counterclockwise.

The next die, installed one position to the left of the sizing die, was the expander die.   After raising the ram, I screwed it all the way into the turret such that it touched the shell holder, and I locked it in position with its locking ring.  I then repeated what I had done earlier.  I raised and lowered the ram halfway four times to bring the expander die back over the ram.  I put the 9mm case into the shellholder and ran the ram up fully.  It flared the case mouth perfectly, just enough to allow starting a 9mm bullet.

The expander die locked in place with its locking collar. This die is installed in the threaded turret hole one position to the left of the resizing die.
A 9mm, 124-grain plated copper bullet being fit checked in the flared case mouth. I’m not going to seat the bullet yet (we’ll discuss that in a subsequent blog); here, it’s only being fit checked after the case mouth flaring operation.

I then installed were the last two dies.  I installed the bullet seating die by partially screwing it into the turret’s third threaded hole, and then I installed the factory crimp die by partially installing it into the turret’s fourth threaded hole.  I didn’t attempt to adjust the bullet seating die or the factory crimp die yet; that will come later and we’ll discuss this in subsequent blogs.

The bullet seating die is the third die installed in the Lee turret.
The factory crimp die is the fourth die installed in the Lee turret.

Lee includes two priming arms and a lock ring wrench in the clear plastic bag containing the turret press hardware.  You may have noticed that the four dies are right next to each in the turret.  The lock ring is a clever tool that makes it a bit easier to tighten the four dies’ lock rings.

The Lee lock ring wrench (top view).
The Lee lock ring wrench (bottom view).

Two days from now, I’ll cover installing and adjusting Lee’s auto-drum powder measure, and then after that I’ll have a blog on installing Lee’s safety primer feed.  Stay tuned, there’s more coming on this awesome reloader.


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More reloading and more gun stories?  You bet!


Here are links to our earlier blogs on Lee reloading equipment:

Lee Bench Plate
Lee’s Modern Reloading Manual
Lee Safety Powder Scale
Lee Classic Turret Kit Unpacking
Lee .44 Magnum Dies 1
Lee .44 Magnum Dies 2
Lee .44 Magnum Dies 3
Lee .357 Magnum Dies