Category: Harley-Davidson

Estrella Warbird Museum

Paso Robles’ Estrella Warbird Museum is way more than just warbirds.  There are military vehicles, a munitions display, classic cars, race cars, vintage motorcycles, small arms, and more.  And then it’s in Paso Robles, a worthy destination all on its own.  We’ll touch on each of these in this blog.

First, the warbirds.  There are a bunch on display, and there are two I feel most connected with personally…one is the F4 Phantom, and the other is the F-16 Air Combat Fighter.

That’s an F4 at the top of this blog.  It’s what the USAF was flying when I was stationed at Kunsan AFB back in the mid-1970s, and it is an impressive airplane.  I was on a HAWK air defense site just off Kunsan, high up on a mountain top overlooking Kunsan.  We could pick up the F4s as they started their takeoff roll on Kunsan’s runway.  When our high-powered illuminators locked on, the pilots knew it in the cockpit.  They’d take off on full afterburner (a sensory and sensual delight for anyone who witnessed it), execute a quick 180, and then fly directly at my missile site coming in at just under Mach 1 below the top of our mountain.  They were trying to break the lock my scope dopes had on them.  Then, at the last minute, they’d climb just enough to clear the tops of the HIPIR’s Mickey Mouse ears.  The radars would flip around 180 degrees in two axes with such force that one side of the radar’s support legs would clear the ground by 6 inches.  Ah, those were grand and glorious days.  At night, in the Kunsan AFB Officers Club, the Air Force jet jocks would ask me about the radars.  My answer was always the same:  Sorry, I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.  They’d laugh.  They thought I was joking.

When I left the Army, my first job was on General Dynamic’s F-16 engineering team, and just about every defense industry job I’ve had since was somehow associated with something on that airplane.  Munitions, 20mm Gatlings, fuel tanks, aerial refueling systems, ejection seats…it all seemed to come back to the F-16.  I loved being around that airplane.

Well, okay…maybe one more airplane, and that’s the F-86.  Yeah, it’s been obsolete for decades.  But when I was at Kunsan AFB in the mid-1970s, the ROK Air Force (as in Republic of Korea) still flew the F-86.   It’s a  svelte little bit of a fighter, and it was on display at the Estrella Warbirds Museum.

As soon as you enter the Estrella Museum, there’s a small arms display.  Hey, I love that sort of thing, and this display grabbed my attention.

I caught something the Estrella curators missed.  See those red arrows in the photo above?  That rifle was labeled as a Mosin-Nagant.  I know my Mosins, and this wasn’t one of them.  It was maybe a Mauser, but most definitely not a Mosin. I told one of the docents. She thanked me, but I don’t think she understood what I was telling her.

The Estrella Museum had a munitions display, too.  It was cool.  I like bombs and bullets.  And mines.  A mine is a terrible thing to waste, you know.

The Museum also houses the Woodland Automobile Display, which includes classic cars and race cars with an emphasis on dirt track oval racers.  The collection was extensive, interesting, and photogenic.

There were military vehicles and motorcycles, too.  I’ll get to those in a second, but first, take a look at this.  How about a water-cooled Harley Knucklehead engine used in midget racing?  That’s what you see in the photo below.

The engine you see above is a Drake-modified Harley V-twin, and it was way ahead of its time.  The Drake/Harley was called a “popper” because it vibrated so much.  These engines produced close to 100 horsepower, and that was way back in the 1940s.  100 horsepower.  Water cooled.  Harley, how could you have ignored this back then?

The Estrella Warbird Museum also has a few interesting military motorcycles, including a World War II US Army WL Harley, an M20 BSA single (used by the British in World War II), and real oddity…a 98cc World War II Welbike used by British paratroopers.

For me, a big part of the Estrella Warbirds Museum was its location.  I love the Paso Robles area.  Getting there is easy.  If you’re coming from the North, pick up the El Camino Real (Highway 101) south.  If you’re coming from the south, it’s the 101 north.  Take California State Route 46 east,  Airport Road north, and watch for the signs.

The best kept secrets in this area?  The obvious ones are not secrets at all:  The riding in and around San Luis Obispo County is awesome.  Paso Robles is a wine producing region, and there are plenty of vineyards.  You can ride west on State Route 46 to get to the Pacific Coast Highway, one of the premier motorcycle roads in the world (it intersects the PCH near Cambria and Hearst Castle; both are worthy destinations).   For a world-class dinner, ride just a few miles south to McPhee’s Grill in Templeton (make reservations, though…you won’t get in without a reservation).  There are great missions all along the 101 attesting to the region’s early Spanish influence (they followed the El Camino Real in developing the missions, you know), including the nearby San Luis Obispo and San Miguel Missions.  Paso Robles is a California destination, and the riding is good year round.  If you’re going in the winter months, dress accordingly.  If you’re riding in the summer, stay hydrated.

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More cool museums?   Hey, you bet!

Bill Morris: The Man

Any story about Bill’s Old Bike Barn has to feature Bill Morris, the man who created it all.  The museum and its contents are amazing.  The man is even more so.

Bill grew up right where I met him:  Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania, the site of Bill’s Old Bike Barn.  Bill started working at age 11 on the farm, and he never stopped.   Bill is 83 now, something I found hard to believe (he doesn’t look or act like it), and his energy level tops most young folks I know.  Let’s start with a Reader’s Digest biosketch.  Bill joined the US Army (Corps of Engineers) from 1957 to 1960, and then went to work for Chrysler building Plymouths and Dodges in Newark, Delaware.  After two years with Chrysler it was back to Bloomsburg and a job with the local Harley-Davidson dealer.

Parts is parts. Keep what you like, sell the rest. That’s a gold-plated Knucklehead engine on the right. As in real gold. “Never could sell it,” Bill said. There was no regret in that observation.

Harley and Bloomsburg Harley were a good deal; Bill went to Harley-Davidson’s motorcycle technician school in 1966.  Yep, he’s a factory-certified motorcycle tech.  He worked for Bloomsburg Harley from 1966 to 1969.

Ah, 1969.  Let’s see…Hollywood was going ga ga over The Wild Angels, Easy Riders, and other miscellaneous motorcycle movie mayhem. The chopper craze was sweeping through America and the rest of the developed world.  Bill wanted a chopper, and a builder in Westminster, California advertised that if you had five old hogs to trade, they would build a California custom for you at no charge.  Bill asked if he sent 18 old hogs, would they build him a California chopper and return some cash?  The answer, of course, was yes, so Bill shipped 18 old Harleys to California and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  He finally went to California to see what was happening and found a rundown chopper shop big on dreams but short on ability.

Bill hung around California for 60 days, bought a pickup truck, and took a partially crafted California chopper back to Pennsylvania.   “I figured if those clowns could make custom motorcycles, I could, too,” Bill explained.  And he did.  The bike Bill hauled back to Bloomsburg needed wiring, wheels, and more, but that was simple stuff.  Bill was, after all, a factory-trained motorcycle tech.

Indeed, a Silent Gray Fellow. It’s one of many Holy Grail bikes in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.

Bill’s Custom Cycles emerged, and Bill’s talent (as a custom motorcycle builder, a collector, and a businessman) took center stage.  Bill purchased his first collectible motorcycle for $20, a 1928 single-cylinder Harley-Davidson, but he quickly realized the best way to acquire collectibles and saleable parts was to buy out other motorcycle businesses and that’s what he did.  When Harley Davidson entered troubled times in the early 1970s, Bill purchased the assets of 28 Harley dealerships in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware, and in an international reach, the Netherlands, Belgium, and South Africa.  Bill tells of a recurring theme:  A dealer would ask $600,000 for their inventory, Bill would offer a quarter of that amount, the dealer would decline the offer, and then came the call a few months later asking if Bill’s $150,000 offer was still good.  It was, of course.  Bill knew his business.

Bill loves sidecars. At one point, he bought a European dealer’s entire stock of 60 sidecars and brought them back to Pennsylvania. He sold them all quickly.
Wow. Just wow. Get used to that word. You’ll use it a lot at Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Would you pay $200 for a used Panhead back in the day? Bill did. I was going to offer him what he paid, but thought better of it.

Bill’s business model was to sell the parts and complete motorcycles from his constantly growing and profitable inventory.  He sold via mail order and became one of the largest sources of Harley parts and Harleyana in the world.   All the while, he kept the collectible motorcycles and parts that caught his interest, and he built custom bikes.

Bill has a way with the ladies. On this road trip, we hit Gettysburg, Hershey, the Flight 93 National Memorial in Shanksville, the Jersey shore, and more. But all the girls wanted to talk about was Bill.

While acquiring the inventories of motorcycle shops and dealers going under, Bill built a massive collection of Harley signs.  That lead to a lawsuit with Harley as the plaintiff and Bill in their crosshairs…Harley didn’t want anyone displaying “authorized Harley-Davidson dealer” signs if they weren’t, you know, an authorized Harley dealer.  Bill eventually settled the suit by opening a second building (the origin of Bill’s Old Bike Barn) where he could display the signs but not sell Harley products.  “That made the lawyers happy,” Bill explained.  It was only a short walk up the hill behind Bill’s Custom Cycles, but it satisfied Harley’s legal beagles.

Bill loves motorcycle signs, so much so that Harley sued him for displaying them a few decades ago.  The lawsuit was a good thing: It was the catalyst for Bill’s Old Bike Barn.

Around the same time, Bill became a Moto Guzzi dealer (one of the very first in the United States) and he still has a love for the Italian motorcycles.  Moto Guzzi was just entering the United States and they approached Bill.  He rented a gas station and just like that, voilà, Bill was a Moto Guzzi dealer (he held the franchise from 1970 to 1975).  As Bill explains it, it was a match made in Heaven:  He had no money and Moto Guzzi had almost no bikes.  The bikes would come in via air one at a time to Teterboro, New Jersey (a two and a half hour road trip from Bloomsburg).

A beautiful Guzzi Ambassador. These things sound more like a Harley than a Harley did. They are beautiful motorcycles. I always wanted one.

Like many people, Bill loved the look and the sound of those early 1970s Guzzis (they sounded a lot like Harley-Davidsons, with a wonderful lopey potato potato exhaust note).

California chopper chic meets Mandello del Laurio.
Paint themes that were all the rage back in the day. Think Dennis Hopper Does Italy.

As a custom bike builder Bill knew a blank palette when he saw one, and he rebuilt an early Guzzi police bike as a 1970s chopper.  It’s on display in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.  In fact, Bill has an entire room he calls Guzziland, but I’m getting ahead of myself.  Guzziland will be the focus of a near-term future ExNotes blog.

Stay tuned, my friends.  Bill’s Old Bike Barn is a fun story.  I’m having a lot of fun writing it.

Miss our first installment on Bill’s Old Bike Barn?  Hey, here it is:

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More museums?  You bet!

Bill’s Old Bike Barn is at 7145 Columbia Boulevard in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania.  Trust me:  You need to see this.

Bill’s Old Bike Barn…a first peek

Stop what you’re doing.  Get off the Internet (and for sure, get off Facebook and the other moronic “social media” time wasters).  Start planning a trip to Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania.  You need to see Bill’s Old Bike Barn. The riding is fabulous in rural Pennsylvania and with Bill’s as a destination, the ride is even better. You can thank me now or you can thank me later, but you will thank me.

Any motorcycle museum that includes in its directions “turn where you see the dinosaurs” should grab your attention.  In the case of Bill’s Old Bike Barn, your undivided attention is warranted.  To say I was blown away would be an understatement of immense proportions.  To cut to the chase, I’ve never seen anything like Bill’s, and I know for damn sure I’ve never met a man like Bill.  That’s Bill artistically framed by Milwaukee iron in the photo above, and yeah, I shot that picture.  I’m proud of it.  It hints at the dimensions of the man and what he’s created out there in Pennsylvania.

During our interview I asked Bill his last name and he told me:  Morris, just like the cigarettes.  I didn’t get it until later, and then I couldn’t stop laughing.  If you don’t get it immediately, you will.  Bill has that kind of slingshot wit.  I love the guy and his collection.  You will, too.

Above all else, Bill is two things: A collector, and a people person.  The extent if his collection…well, I can’t describe it.  You need to see it.  You’ll get just a hint here in the ExNotes series of blogs we’re doing.  When you visit the place, you’ll feel like you owe me.  When you meet Bill, you’ll know you’ve made a friend.  A most interesting friend.

Up above, that’s the building that houses Bill’s collection.  You can’t really see it from the highway.  You have to look for the dinosaurs (just like the directions say), turn, and then head uphill.  You’ll go by the bison, some other cool items, and more.  The building looks deceptively small from the outside.  Inside…you could spend weeks and not see all of what’s in there.

You can learn about Bill’s Old Bike Barn on his website, but we’re going to give you more here on ExNotes.  We’re going to do it over the span of several blogs over the next few weeks, and in an upcoming article in a major moto mag.  Ever watched and enjoyed American Pickers?  Trust me on this (and trust me on everything else, for that matter): Bill Morris puts American Pickers to shame.  You and I have never seen anything like what’s in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.

I’m excited about what I’ve seen and what I’m going to be sharing with you.  I’ll do my best to bring it to life in print and in the photos, but it won’t be enough.  You really need to visit Bill’s Old Bike Barn.

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Baja Breakdowns

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

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

Heritage Indeed

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

A roller lifter that converted to a solid lifter.

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

Potato, potato, potato.

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

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

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

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

Justin’s Countershaft Sprocket

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

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

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

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

Jim’s Gearbox

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

Good buddy Jim in the Mulege mission.

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

Biting the Bullet

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

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

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

Big hammers fix all kinds of problems.

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

John’s Silver Wing Leak

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

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

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

John’s KLR 650 OPEC Bike

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

Baja John: The man, the legend.

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

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

The Bottom Line

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

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

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

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

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Shinya Kimura

When I was consulting with CSC, one day Steve Seidner (the CSC CEO) asked me to go with him to visit Shinya Kimura, a man who builds custom bikes.    Steve thought I might enjoy grabbing a few photos of Mr. Kimura’s shop and a few of his bikes.  Little did I know about what I would see.

From the outside, all I could see was a small shop, but when I entered I was stopped dead in my tracks by one of the most beautiful motorcycles I had ever seen.  It was an early CB750 Honda Shinya had customized and it was visually arresting.   I had never seen anything like it.  The lens cap came off my Nikon, I dialed the ISO up to 800, and I had started snapping away.

Steve introduced me to Shinya, who invited me to look around the shop and photograph whatever I wanted.   And I did, not really knowing who this guy was.  But the shop…wow!  It was more of a studio and a museum than a shop and it was amazing.   The place was a working shop, but the tools, custom motorcycles with a unique, retro-futuristic-formed-aluminum theme, the motorcycle accoutrements, the patina, and more somehow made me feel immediately like I was in a place where I belonged.  It’s hard to describe and I know these words are failing me, but if you’re a gearhead, I think you’ll get it.

But don’t take my word for it.  Take a look.

Later that day I Googled Shinya Kimura.  It’s good I did this later, as I might have spent more time asking him questions than taking photos, and the things I photographed were amazing.  I didn’t know anything about Mr. Kimura, but Google gave me perspective on the man I had met earlier.

That night I went through the raw files I had captured with my Nikon and processed them in Photoshop.   I think they are some of the best photos I’ve ever taken, but that’s not me bragging about my photography or my Photoshop skills.  It was what I was shooting that made the photos what they are.

 

Zion National Park

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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18 Reasons Why You Should Buy A Used Sportster

This blog started out as a snarky collaboration between dos Joes (Gresh and me) as a followup to the recent blog on 9 reasons why you should ride a Chinese motorcycle.  One of the reasons we always hear about why you shouldn’t ride a Chinese motorcycle is that you can buy a used Sportster for what a new China bike costs, as if somewhere there is actually someone trying to make that decision.  You know, a troubled soul asking himself: Should I buy a used Sportster, or a new Chinese motorcycle?  We’ve got a bunch of witty one liners (at least we think they are witty) and I’ll get to them in a second. But before I do (and before all you macho Milwaukee muchachos get your chonies in a knot), you should know that I actually would like to have a used Sportster.  Three, in fact.

The first is a 1977 or 1978 Harley Cafe Racer, one of the most beautiful motorcycles ever made.  When these were first offered by Harley they retailed for about $3K.  I was a young engineer at General Dynamics in Fort Worth, Texas, and I wanted one.  But I couldn’t justify spending $3k on a motorcycle.  I was single; I don’t know who I think I needed to justify it to. I should have bought one.

The next is the 1983 Harley XR1000, which we did a Dream Bikes piece on a couple of years ago.  Man, I’d like to have one of those.  The XR1000 was a stunning motorcycle.  I’d call it visually arresting.

And the last one is a mid-60’s XLCH, preferably in blue or maybe red, like you see in the big photo up top of a restored bike.  These sold for something like $1700 when they were new; I could have bought the one you see above for around $4,600 maybe three years ago.  On the other hand, I saw a fully restored blue ’65 Sportster at the Long Beach International Motorcycle Show just before the pandemic hit and that one had a $20K price tag.

The used Sportsters listed above are the rock stars.  There are also the not-so-exotic/not-so-collectable Sportsters.   These are the ones that cost less than most new bikes but more than most used bikes. It’s a sweet spot, and to hear the folks who hate China bikes tell it, any used Sportster is a hell of deal.  All righty, then…in keeping with the tongue-in-cheek nature of everything we write, here are our reasons why you should buy a used Sportster.

    1. When you buy a used Sportster, you’ll spend less than you would on some new Chinese bikes (which, after all, is what started this blog).
    2. When you buy a used Sportster, you’ll be helping the guy selling it get a Big Twin or a new Sportster.
    3. When you buy a used Sportster, a lot of people on Facebook will think you’re smarter than the guys on ExNotes who keep bragging about Chinese motorcycles.
    4. When you buy a used Sportster, you can hang out at Harley dealerships (the ones that are still open, that is).
    5. When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t have to buy a vibrating chair (you’ll already have one).
    6. When you buy a used Sportster, folks who don’t know anything about motorcycles will think you’re cool because you ride a Harley.
    7. When you buy a used Sportster, you can gain weight big time and your Harley friends won’t call you fat because you’ll still be thinner than they are.
    8. When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t have to ever shift into 6th gear.
    9. When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t ever have to worry about not being able to find your 10mm socket.
    10. When you buy a used Sportster, you won’t have to oil your chain (if you have a newer used one).
    11. When you buy a used Sportster, it’s not likely you’ll ever get a speeding ticket.
    12. When you buy a used Sportster, if you ride in flip flops and shorts no one will ever lecture you about ATGATT.  In fact, they probably don’t even know what ATGATT means.
    13. When you buy a used Sportster, you can wear Harley T-shirts.  For a T-shirt company, Harley makes a nice motorcycle.
    14. When you buy a used Sportster, you can watch Then Came Bronson reruns and not feel silly.
    15. When you buy a used Sportster, if you just don’t feel like riding everyone will understand.
    16. When you buy a used Sportster, you will help cut down the used Sportster inventory. The scarcity helps Janus sell more of their motorcycles because the 1200cc Sportster and the 250cc Janus are almost the same motorcycle performance wise.
    17. When you buy a used Sportster, it allows you to say “I paid less than that for my used Sportster” when the cashier at McDonalds rings up your Happy Meal.
    18. When you buy a used Sportster, if it’s old enough it will have a kick start.  Kick starters are cool.  Or, you could get a kick starter on a brand new TT 250, but hey, this is all about why you should buy a used Sportster.

So there you have it:  18 reasons why you should buy a used Sportster.  If you have more reasons, we’d love to hear from you.  Leave your comments here on the blog.  We know a guy named Richard who always leaves his comments on Facebook, but don’t you do that (in other words, don’t be a Dick).  Leave your comments here on ExNotes, like the cool kids do.

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How Much Milk Is Left?

A few weeks ago I read a Wall Street Journal opinion piece by Peter Funt (of the Candid Camera show).  His article was on the pandemic lockdowns and isolation inducing more folks to publish their memoirs, and Funt made the case that this was not such a good thing.  Most memoirs are God-awful boring.

That got me to thinking about the adventure touring genre.  You know, the books, blogs, videos, and endless Facebook posts and forums about adventure rides.

Adventure rides.

We used to call a motorcycle ride a motorcycle ride.  Now they are all “adventure” rides.  And we don’t tell a story or do a bike test.  Now, it’s a reveal.  Harley is going to introduce a new bike in few days.  But it’s not a new model announcement.  It’s a “reveal.”

Ten to twenty years ago, the place to go to read good riding stories was ADVRider.com and their Rides page (back then, the stories and photography were actually good) and HorizonsUnlimited.com.  Now it’s mostly videos, Facebook, and blogs.  There’s too much of this (and I say that as guy who writes a blog).  I seldom view any of it.  Which is not to say you should stop reading ExNotes.  We’re different, you know.  We’ve never had a “reveal” (other than that one unfortunate wardrobe accident in China) and we never will.

All of the above begs the question:  How much milk is left in the adventure riding cow?

Fads come in waves, and a surefire way to know that a wave is dissipating on shore is when a big company tries to surf in on the little bit of surf that’s left.  Witness the Pan America, Harley’s too much, too late entry into the ADV world.  Harley wants to compete with the BMW GS, KTM, and Ducati high end ADV bikes.

It’s hard for me to see how Harley is going to prevail.  For starters, my feeling is that most folks who ride big V-twin cruisers (folks who form the bulk of Harley’s current customer base) have little interest in adventure touring.   The premise is that Harley will attract a new crop of customers, presumably drawing the sheeple who would have bought BMWs, or KTMs, or Ducatis.  Color me skeptical, but I just don’t see it happening.

No, what’s happening is a sea change, not an opportunity to do a little surfing in a dying market.  The world moves in fads, with each fad having about a ten-to-twenty-year life, and we’re due for a new one.  I just don’t know what it is.  Consider this:

    • In the 1960s, it was British vertical twins.  Those were cool years and the Triumphs, BSAs, Nortons, and Enfields of the day were cool bikes.
    • In the 1970s and the 1980s, it was Japanese machines (the so-called UJMs).   Honda’s 750 Four had five gears, and that fifth one was for the paradigm shift that swallowed the British empire and made us wonder if maybe Japan won World War II after all.  Four cylinders across the frame, with differences between manufacturers that could only be described as trivial.  The UJMs were kind of cool, too, but not as cool as the Britbikes (at least to my way of thinking).  But the Britbikes were toast, destined to emerge two decades down the road as the darlings of a small but well published vintage motorcycle market niche (and in case you missed it, that was a plug for Motorcycle Classics magazine).
    • In the 1990s, it was Harleys and all that went with it.  You know, middle aged guys becoming pirates and bikes festooned with chrome, leather fringe, and conchos.  I was one of them for awhile and I had everything but the tattoos.  Bikes that people with more money than brains bought (often paying over MSRP) so they could don do-rags, denim, and non-DOT helmets, and look pretty much exactly like all the other beer-bellied rugged individualists.  I was one of them for a while, too.
    • Sportbikes had a good run somewhere in the middle of all this, too, with ergonomics that guaranteed significant incomes for chiropractors and physical therapists, who frequently used that money to pay well over list price for a Harley (see above).  Guilty again.  You got me.  I had a TL1000S, a Triumph Daytona, and a Speed Triple.
    • With the turn of the century, the trend migrated toward 650-pound, liter-plus bikes styled like dirt bikes and equipped with electronics rivaling Air Force One.   Denim and do-rags were replaced by Power Ranger clothing.  Everybody wanted to be Charlie and Ewen, but few could afford the chase trucks and mechanics, and even fewer could handle one of the bloated beasts off road.  Most adorned driveways and Starbuck’s parking lots.  I mean, the headlight lenses on some of these things cost $1800; no way anyone was taking those wunderbikes into the woods.  I’m sort of guilty here.  I had a Triumph Tiger.  I took it off road just once and it was terrifying.

I think we are fast approaching the last throes of the overweight off-road $25K-to-$30K wannabee adventure bikes and their thousand-dollar Aerostitch-wearing riders…you know, the guys who stand on the pegs even when riding on level asphalt.  (Sit down, guys…your “sell by” date flew by years ago and I’ll say what everyone else is thinking:  You look silly.)

So what’s next?

Electric motorcycles?  Nope, I don’t think that’s going to happen in any major way.  Alta is gone, Zero is struggling, and the Livewire may have already suffered electrocution as a consequence of Harley’s rewiring.  Electric bikes don’t sound like motorcycles, the range is not there (it’s not going to be any time soon), and I think a motorcycle without an internal combustion engine really isn’t a motorcycle at all.  So what will be the next big moto thing?

Self-driving motorcycles?  Nope.  Dead on arrival, I think.

Even more “mode complexity” on street bikes?  Probably not.  That sort of thing appeals to juvenile minds (ones susceptible to Jedi mind tricks).  I think even the easily-led characters mentioned above recognize this as too gimmicky.  I once had a pimply faced kid ask me at one of the IMS shows how many modes our imported-from-China 250cc ADV bike had, and I told him:  Two.  On, and off.  He nodded knowingly, as if I had let him in on a great secret, and wandered off toward the Ducati booth.

I think the ADV thing is going to dry up, even though we are still seeing sales upticks in the motorcycle market.  Sort of.  ADV-style bike trends have been up, but it always was a relatively small market segment and the current increase (most likely the result of the “more free stuff” crowd rocking Washington these days) appears to be big but actually is not.  Dirt bike sales are up, but that’s for off road dirt bikes only.  Street bike sales are down about 10%.  And that thing about motorcycle sales overall going up?  Yeah, it is, but it’s mostly ATVs (of the 4-wheel persuasion, which are included in the motorcycle sales figures).  One bit of actual data, and that is this:  CSC can’t keep bikes in stock.  They sell out as soon as they arrive.  But CSC delivers real value at a very reasonable price…I don’t know that I ever saw an RX-Anything with conchos and fringe.  And CSC motorcycles are definitely not $25K driveway bling.  Yeah, the big bike ADV thing is fast approaching its “sell by”date, I think.  The fat lady is singing, folks.  It’s almost over.

So, given that the ADV milk is drying up, the next big thing will be…

Hell, I don’t know.

What do you think?  You guys figure it out and let me know.  And if you think you know, leave a comment here.  Curious minds want to know.

ExNotes Product Comparo: Mitsubishi Mirage versus the Milwaukee Eight

Have we finally lost our marbles?  A Mitsubishi Mirage?  I’m comparing it to a Harley Big Twin? No way!

One of the nice things about business travel is the opportunity to sample different cars.  That’s something I like…extended test drives to find out if a car fits.  I’ve rented cars I thought I would really like only to find out I hated them (saved a lot of money on a Jaguar doing that), and I fell in love with a few by accident…mostly because because they were the only thing available and they surprised me in a good way.

My first time for a rental car romance was in August 1972 when I rented a VW Beetle one weekend at the Benning School for Boys (jump school at Fort Benning, Georgia).  (When I say a rental car romance, I’m referring to falling in love with the car, not any sort of an illicit parking lot relationship.)  The Beetle was a blast and I bought one.  I had a cool picture of it somewhere but it was taking too long to find, so you’ll have to trust me on this one.

The same thing happened again when I rented a Subaru (back when Subaru penetrated the US market with dirt cheap rental agency sales).  I was blown away by the Subie’s overall quality and I’ve owned four since (including my dynamite WRX you see below).

A 2006 Subie WRX near the marigold fields above Santa Barbara. That was a fun car.

And then it happened again recently when the only thing left in the Atlanta Enterprise lot was a Mitsubishi Mirage.

Mitzi. More fun than any $14K car has a right to be.

The Mirage is a car that would have never been on my radar, but I liked it.  Oh, it’s tiny and it didn’t have a lot of power, and it only has three cylinders, but somehow that made it even more appealing.  The three-cylinder thing made me think of my old Triumph Speed Triple, but as soon as I stepped on the gas, it was all Harley.  You know…open the throttle and there’s lots of noise and not much else.  But I was in no hurry, and I kind of enjoyed hearing Mitzi’s howling protestations when I poured the coal to her.  Harleys ain’t the only motor vehicles focused on converting gasoline to noise!

Three’s a crowd? Not with my old Speed Triple. Good lord, that was a good-looking motorcycle!

Mitzi.  Yeah, I gave my rental car a name…and that’s a first.

A sparse interior, but the car had cruise control, air conditioning, a heater, a radio, Apple car play, and an automatic transmission. She drove like a comfortable go kart.

Mitzi’s road noise was a subdued sort of thing…not the screaming tire whine like the Chevy Traverse I rented earlier in Houston (I think a more apt name for the Chevy might have been the Travesty).

Mitzi’s ride was firm and the seats were a bit on the hard side, but I liked it.  And Mitzi is most definitely not a lard butt.  She weighs a scant 2,095 pounds, or just a little more than twice what a Harley Electra-Glide weighs.  And you get air conditioning, power windows, Apple Car-Play, and a heater with the Mirage.  The best part?  I rolled all over Atlanta and the surrounding areas for the better part of a week, used nearly a full tank of gas, and when I filled up before turning her back in at the rental agency, she took just 7 gallons for a whopping total of $21.  I like that.

7 gallons. $21. I could learn to live with this.

Mitzi kind of reminded me of a motorcycle, but better.  I mean, think about it.  The new Harley Icon, a beautiful motorcycle to be sure, but damn, it’s $30K and 863 pounds!  Yeah, you get the Milwaukee Eight motor, but there’s no air conditioning, no heater (other than what rolls off the rear cylinder, as Harley riders know all too well), no spare tire, no windshield wipers, no rain protection, no automatic transmission, it only seats two, and the Harley gets lousy gas mileage compared to the Mitsubishi.  And the Mitsubishi will clock an honest 100 mph (don’t ask how I know).  Maybe the Milwaukee Eight will, too, with that 34-cubic-inch advantage it has over my old Harley’s 80-incher.  My ’92 Softail wouldn’t hit 100 mph.  Maybe this 114-cube Milwaukee monster will.

The Harley Icon. All $30K and 863 lbs of her. 863 lbs!

So I started researching Mitzi’s stats online, and our relationship deepened.  Mine was a no frills model (she actually had hubcaps on her tiny wheels, not the cast wheels you see in the photos above).  The base model I drove clocks in at a starting price of $14,625.  That’s not even half what the new Harley costs.  The Mitsubishi has a three-cylinder, 74-cubic inch engine (compared to Harley’s 114 cubic inch twin).  The Harley is mostly made in ‘Murica; the Mitsubishi comes from Thailand.

More Mitzi magic?  How’s a 10-year powertrain warranty sound?  10 years!  That’s  longer than most folks get for murder!  As an aside, when I owned my Harley Softail, Harley wouldn’t even work on the bike when it hit the 10-year mark.  The Mitsubishi would just be coming off its warranty!

I know I like a motor vehicle when I start thinking about what it would be like to take it through Baja, and that’s what I found myself doing as I was tooling around Georgia in my Mitsubishi.  It’s most likely not going to happen, but it sure would be fun to get lost for a few weeks in Baja in an inexpensive, light, air conditioned car that gets 40 miles per gallon on regular fuel.  With a price that starts under $15K, that leaves a lot of money for Tony’s fish tacos.

Tacos by Tony in Guerrero Negro…bring it on!

Don’t run out and buy a Mirage based on this ExNotes blog.  To balance my rose-colored outlook on life in general and the Mirage in particular, consider this opening paragraph from Consumer Report’s review…

The Mitsubishi Mirage lives up to its name. While its low $16,000 sticker price and good fuel economy of 37 mpg overall may conjure up an inviting image of a good, economical runabout, that illusion quickly dissipates into the haze when you drive this tiny, regrettable car. The Mirage comes as a tiny hatchback or sedan, built in Thailand and powered by a small three-cylinder engine.

Eh, Consumer Reports.  What do they know?  I wonder how the CR folks would rate the Harley Icon.  Funny how all this has come around…I used to refer to my ’79 Electra-Glide as my optical illusion.  You know…it looked like a motorcycle.  When it was running.  Which wasn’t very often.

My take? The Mitsubishi Mirage is one of the least expensive cars out there, it has one of the best automobile warranties ever offered, and it was fun to drive.  No frills here, folks.  It’s just an honest car that’s not trying to pretend it’s something it is not.  I like it.  If I buy it instead of the Harley Icon I could pay cash and still have enough left over for a little more than 20,000 fish tacos!

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Pan America Adventure Motorcycle: The World’s First No-Compromise Harley-Davidson

What does that even mean, no compromise?

Hear me out. Like you I’ve read all the reviews on Harley’s new Pan America Adventure-Glide and they have been uniformly positive. Surprising is the word most frequently used by the tattered remnants of the moto-press when describing the Pan America. And it is surprising.

I’m not likely to ever test ride a Pan America. I offer Harley-Davidson nothing but suffering and heartache. Why would Harley loan me a bike in a category I pretty much despise? I can’t stand big Adventure bikes. I don’t like them one little bit. I think they are dangerous off road. Anyone who sends me one to test ride is a fool and Harley-Davidson’s marketing department is not populated by fools. Luckily I don’t need to ride one because Kevin Duke, the hardest working man in motorcycle journalism, says the Pan America is a good bike and that’s all you really need to know.

The no compromise hook in this story is the most impressive part of the new Pan America. It’s the first Harley (since the late 1960s) that competes head to head with the best the world has to offer and does it at a competitive price. In all areas the new bike is acceptable, meets expectations and is even, dare I say, good.

Most all the high-end, heavy, dangerously inadequate offroad Adventure bikes clock in at around 20,000 US dollars retail and they all weigh nearly the same ground-crushing 600 pounds. It must be a class requirement. Check out the manufacturer-provided spec sheets on a GS BMW, Ducati Multi Service, and KTM Breakdown. All of the numbers are within spitting distance of each other.

And that’s the amazing part. Harley-frigging-Davidson has made a competent motorcycle for the same price as everyone else. There’s no brand penalty. Harley-Davidson has made a motorcycle that the owner isn’t required to look through leather-fringed, nostalgia-tinted lenses to justify. No more having to tell non-Harley riders that they don’t get it when their questions turn pointed. Like all cults, the Harley cult requires actively looking the other way when hard facts and performance figures per dollar are bandied about.

With the Pan America there’s no need to believe in the Harley mystique. There’s no need to defend anemic performance by waving an American flag. The Pan America stands on its own merits as a motorcycle, nothing more. Is it as good as the other big Adventure bikes? I can’t say but the fact that it’s spoken of in the same breath and held up in comparison to the world’s best Adventure bikes is a stunning turnaround for a company that seemed hopelessly stuck in neutral by its mad marketing genius.

As much as I hate big Adventure bikes, I love the new Harley-Davidson Pan America.

I hope it’s a harbinger of change. I hope it succeeds beyond Harley’s wildest dreams and ushers in a new era of 150-horsepower Sportsters that handle, stop and are as fast as any other guy’s bikes. The late 1960s was the last time Sportsters were hot. That’s a long, long time to rest on your laurels. Let’s hope the Pan American gives stodgy old Harley-Davidson new life and a desire to be measured against the very best. Listen, if there’s any way you can afford to go out and buy one, go out and buy one. Tell Harley I sent you. Maybe they’ll even let me take one for a ride.

Berk, on right, telling Gresh to go back to Starbucks and fetch a Pumpkin Spice Latte for him.