Harley – Page 2 – The ExhaustNotes Blog

The Sportster of Seville

By Joe Berk

When I was a kid, I used to watch a weekly television comedy show called The Little Rascals. In one of the episodes, one of the rascals named Alfalfa sang a song from Gioachino Rossini’s opera, The Barber of Seville. Until very recently, Alfalfa’s rendition and a Cadillac made in the 1970s (the Seville) were all I knew of Seville. That changed with our recent trip to Spain.

Cards on the table: I didn’t know anything about Gioachino Rossini’s opera until I Googled the Little Rascals and the Barber of Seville. In so doing, I found out that Warner Brothers also had a Bugs Bunny cartoon with the same song. I know…I digress. Indulge me for 56 seconds more. Here’s Alfalfa belting it out. Told ya…

You might be wondering: What’s with the Sportster in the cover photo up top? I saw it my first afternoon in Seville. Believe it or not, in Spain, the land that brought us Bultaco (the motorcycle, not the Mexican bullfight snack bar delicacy), Ossa, and Montesa (or, as some might say, Montessa), the ultimate motorcycle status symbol is a used Sportster. Hence the title of this blog: The Sportster of Seville. We’ve had a lot of fun with Sportster blogs here on ExNotes, but let’s get to the main topic of this discussion: Seville.

One of our first stops in Seville was the Plaza de España, which is a magnificent building and park area built in 1929 when Seville hosted the Ibero-American Exposition World’s Fair. The Plaza de España is impressive. Today, the building has been renovated and it is used for Spanish government agencies. It’s beautiful.

Photo opportunities abound. This shot of the tower through one of the many arches almost took itself.

Any time there’s water or a mirror, I’m there. You can do a lot with reflections when you shoot a photo.

We saw a bunch of touristy chotchkas in the Plaza de España courtyard that made for good photos (I would never buy this sort of stuff…if I need to generate a breeze, I’ll hop on my motorcycle…you know, to get my knees in the breeze). But it was fun to photograph.

Fans for sale in the Plaza de España courtyard.

My attention then turned to the tilework along the Plaza de España courtyard wall that stretched for half a mile. Each tile-based mural depicts a Spanish province. The work was impressive, but what was even more impressive was what happened next.

One of many tile murals in the Plaza de España courtyard.

Another Plaza de España courtyard tile mural.

Two Spanish motor officers rolled into the Plaza de España courtyard on (get this) police motor scooters. I always thought small motorcycles and motor scooters made a lot of sense in urban areas (I’ll say more on that in a second). I asked the motor officer in the photo below if I could grab a picture and he was cool with it.

A Seville motor officer. If I was 50 years younger and spoke Spanish, I might try out for a job like this. It looked like a great gig, and I like the colors.

I didn’t realize why the motor officers had appeared out of nowhere. All those tourist chotchkas like the fans you see in the photo above? The folks selling their wares there (I’m told they were Gypsies, if you can even say that anymore) weren’t supposed to be there. When I looked up after grabbing the photo above, all the chotchkas (and the chotchka merchants) were gone. They just went poof and vanished. Wiped clean from the face of the Earth (as they said in that Indiana Jones movie). I guess you don’t want to mess with a Spanish motor officer.

On the motor scooter/small motorcycle thing for police motorcycles: When Gresh and I were at the Zongshen factory in Chongqing, one of the many very cool things we saw there were RX3 police motorcycles. Imagine that: A 250cc police motorcycle. I talked Zongshen into giving us (“us” being CSC Motorcycles) three or four of the things so we could market them to police departments in America. Imagine that, too…one short email and poof: Three free motorcycles.

The CSC RX3 250cc police motorcycle. I had a lot of fun on these.

The obligatory blog commercial: The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles. Did I mention these make great gifts?

I thought I knew the police motorcycle market a little bit because I had written a book about police motors. Man, I tried, but it was a bust. The Sacramento Fairgrounds Police were interested, but I couldn’t close the deal. We shipped one to the New York City Police Department (I knew they used Vespas for police work), Andy Sipowicz and crew kept the bike for about two months without ever taking it out of the crate, and then they shipped it back. I took one to a couple of local police departments, but the only thing to come of that was one of the cops told me I wasn’t allowed to ride it around with the red and blue lights and the siren still attached. I told him not to worry; I only used that stuff if people wouldn’t get out of my way. Zongshen, on the other hand, has done fabulously well with their police bikes. They are selling RX1s, RX3s, RX4s, and other bikes as police motors literally all over the world. Just not in America. I’ll do a blog about Zongshen police bikes someday.

I know, I’m digressing again. Back to the main attraction: Seville. We walked around quite a bit (I did 17,000 steps one day) and there were tons of photo ops. Doors, tiles, alleys, and more.

A door in Seville. Spain and Portugal are an artist’s palette. Both were awesome.

A Seville sidewalk. The sidewalks were awesome everywhere we went. Think of the labor that went into this. Joe Gresh, this is your new concrete standard. I’ll take a photo when you finish and put it on the blog.

As we walked around Seville and took in the sights, Jose (our awesome guide) told us we were in the Jewish quarter. I asked if Jewish people still lived there. Very few, he said. You know: The Spanish Inquisition. Oh, yeah. I remember reading about that in James Michener’s The Source (a great story and a great read).

In Seville’s Jewish Quarter. Note the sign on the wall on the right.

Our walk through Seville presented one photo op after another. I had my old Nikon D3300 (the current version is the Nikon D3500), an entry-level consumer grade digital SLR, and the relatively inexpensive (but vibration-reduction-equipped) 18-55mm zoom lens. It was great. The D3300 is a light camera. My other Nikon (the D810) has more capability, but it is much heavier. For this kind of tourism, the D3300 (or the current D3500) is a better deal.

A fountain in the exterior corner of a Seville structure.

I saw this and had to ask: Is Antonio here? Which one, they answered…we have lots of Antonios. Sometimes, my humor is an acquired taste.

We continued our walking tour, and it was on to the Catedral de Sevilla, a massive cathedral built between 1434 and 1517 over what used to be the city’s main mosque (when the Moors occupied the Iberian peninsula). It rivals the Vatican’s Saint Peter’s cathedral (it’s that big).

The 18-55mm lens wasn’t wide enough to take in the entire Catedral de Sevilla. It is a massive church, the largest in Spain.

Susie, my traveling buddy for 40 years, with the Catedral de Sevilla in the background.

The Catedral de Sevilla interior is impressive, but it is dimly lit and flash photography is strictly verboten (I wouldn’t have used flash, anyway), so I relied on finding something to brace my camera against and the lens’ vibration reduction technology (which did a great job). I could do a photobook with just interior shots, including the Catedral de Sevilla’s beyond impressive stained glass windows.

This was but one of many stained glass windows in the Catedral de Sevilla.

Shooting in the camera’s RAW mode and allowing PhotoShop’s Auto adjustment to work its magic brings up features that can’t be captured with jpeg alone.

Incredible sights, incredible detail, and lots of photography fun.

You may not know this (I certainly didn’t) but one of Christopher Columbus’s crypts is in the Catedral de Sevilla (folks apparently spread his remains around a bit). The photo below shows one of his crypts in the Catedral de Sevilla. Columbus was an Italian from Genoa, but his expeditions were funded by Spain’s Queen Isabella.

So there you have it: Seville. There’s more to come from our Spanish adventure, so sign up for your free subscription (don’t forget to tell your email program we’re not spam) or check back often. Or maybe do both. And if you have comments, we’d love to hear them.

Help us bring more content to you: Please click on the popup ads!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Lisbon

I should have paid more attention in my elementary and junior high school geography classes. I remember studying Christopher Columbus (the guy who “discovered” America), but the other explorers’ names are lost among my fading neurons. And here we were, in Lisbon, where Vasco de Gama, Magellan, Henry the Navigator, old Christopher C. himself, and others hung out five or six centuries ago. I wish I could repeat my 7th grade geography class with Mr. Costa for just that reason. Being 12 years old again would be cool, too.

My new good buddy Ibrahim, one of our fellow tourists on this adventure, is a serious photographer. He used my consumer grade Nikon to take the photo below at the Parque Eduardo VII . It was one of the first places we stopped in Lisbon, and the statue at the end is Christopher Columbus. Look at those hedges and think about how much labor is needed to keep them looking this good. By the time you get to the end trimming them, you’d have to go back to the beginning and start over. That’s the Tagus River in the background. Lisbon is right on the Atlantic Ocean. A lot of 14th and 15th century New World explorations started right here.

Susie and yours truly at the Parque Eduardo VII in Lisbon. Photo by Ibrahim Alava.

The photo below is from one of many churches we visited (we saw many churches and a couple of synagogues in Spain and Portugal; before the Spanish Inquisition, there was a thriving Jewish community on the Iberian Peninsula).

Blue and white tiles were a common decor in Spain and Portugal.

Blue tiles were everywhere in Lisbon. Spain and Portugal were occupied by the Moors for centuries. The Moors brought their art, their architecture, and their style (including blue tiles) to the region. The Moors were ultimately driven out, but the tiles remained. I could spend a month in Lisbon just photographing the tiles. The tiles get their blue color from cobalt, which is locally mined.

We wandered through Lisbon’s Alfama neighborhood to a church at the top of a hill, led by a local guide. Our walk here involved a steep uphill climb through narrow streets and alleys. When Sue and I first joined up with our tour group two days earlier, I felt good seeing that the group was mostly made up of old people (I called our group the Portugueezers). I figured our age would hold the walking and climbing to a minimum. I was wrong. We did a ton of walking and climbing. My iPhone told me one day I did over 17,000 steps. Most days were at least 10,000 steps.

A colorful door in Lisbon’s Alfama neighborhood.

I took a lot of artsy-fartsy photos of doors, doorknobs, door knockers, and other things as we climbed the twisting and narrow streets of Lisbon’s Alfama neighborhood. My fellow Portugueezers thought I was a serious amateur photographer when I frequently stopped to grab a picture, and I didn’t say anything to persuade them otherwise (the stops were so I could catch my breath).

I noticed that a few of the homes had printed tiles with photos of older women on their exterior walls. I tried to find out more about this on Google but I struck out (I should have asked our guide while we were there, but I was huffing and puffing too hard to ask). Maybe these women were famous Portuguese mountain climbers. Sue later told me our guide said the tiles tell a bit about the residents of each home. Say hello to Ms. Delmira and Ms. da Luz.

Ms. Delmira, an Alfama neighborhood denizen.

Ms. da Luz, known as Maria to her friends.

We were in an area frequented by tourists and there were lots of shops selling things. Where there were colors, I took a photo or two.

We then went down to the waterfront Belém area along the Tagus River. The statue below is a monument to Henry the Navigator.

An interesting monument to Henry the Navigator in the Belém area.

A closer view of statues on the Henry the Navigator monument.

The Hieronymites Monastery was across the street from the Henry the Navigator monument. Jose, our guide, told us that nuns in this monastery (I didn’t think they had nuns in a monastery, but what do I know?) were famous for their Pastéis de Belém. Jose disappeared for a bit and then reappeared with samples for us to try. They were excellent.

James (one of our fellow travelers) and Jose, our tour guide.

Like Porto and other big European cities, downtown Lisbon was a hotbed of scooter activity. At any traffic light, scooters filtered to the front of the queue, and when the light turned green, it was a multi-scooter drag race. It was fun to watch. I guess Portugal has a helmet law; everyone wore one. But that was it for protective gear. Think full face helmets accompanied by t-shirts, shorts, and flip flops (all the gear, all the time). I’m guessing I saw a hundred scooters for every motorcycle, and when we did see motorcycles, they were mostly 125cc machines. Many appeared to be of Chinese origin, with Honda and Yamaha motorcycles making up the balance. There were a few big bikes; I spoke to a guy at a rest stop who was on a BMW GS. He told me he liked his GS and it was a good machine, but he had another motorcycle that was his pride and joy: A Harley Sportster. “It has a carburetor,” he proudly told me (an obvious vintageness badge). I thought I might refer him to our earlier ExNotes post, 18 Reasons Why You Should Buy A Used Sportster, but he was in a hurry and I had already run out of ExNotes business cards.

Check it out: 18 Reasons Why You Should Buy A Used Sportster.

There’s more, but this blog is getting long enough. You get the idea. After two days in Lisbon, it was on to Évora and then Spain.

Stay tuned, my friends.

Have you bought your copy of our latest book, A Cup O’ Joes?

Live on Amazon!

A Cup O’ Joes is available now on Amazon. Every bathroom in every motorcycle shop and every motorcyclist’s home needs this book. They make great gifts. Check out the blurb:

Joe Gresh and Joe Berk bring you a collection of their favorite articles and stories from the ExhaustNotes.us website, Motorcycle Classics magazine, Rider magazine, Motorcyclist magazine, ADVMoto magazine, and other publications. Ride with the Joes in China, Colombia, Mexico, New Zealand, Canada, the former Soviet Union, and the United States. Read their opinions on motorcycles, accessories, and more. Humor, wit, insight, and great reading…this collection of motoliterature belongs in your library. Published in black and white.

You could wait for the movie, but the movie deal fell through. You know the story…I wanted Leonardo di Caprio to play me or Gresh, the studio countered with Danny DeVito, and things fell apart after that.

Seriously, though, you need this book. It will make you taller, skinnier, more attractive, and a faster rider. Trust us on this.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

ExhaustNotes TV Review: then came Bronson

I’ve been on a then came Bronson kick lately. I can’t find any of the TV shows on YouTube but the website Dailymotion has a few complete episodes available free online and I’ve been watching them one a day for a week or so. A bit of backstory for motorcyclists under the age of 105: then came Bronson was an episodic, 1-hour TV drama about a guy traveling the country on his Harley Davidson Sportster. It was sort of like Easy Rider but without the drugs. This was in the era before Sportsters were considered a girl’s bike. In the late 1960’s the Sportster was a high performance motorcycle that ran with the best of the British bikes…in a straight line.

When tcB was a new show I watched it on a black and white television with maybe a 19” diagonal measurement. I was 12 years old and a TV show about motorcycles and motorcyclists not depicted as Hells Angels had never been done. I remember watching the TV show but I can’t remember specific episodes. In those pre-internet, pre-DVD recorder days if you missed the air date it was gone forever. Watching the old show on the Dailymotion site has been like seeing them for the first time.

Please click on those popup ads!

Bronson was from The Bay Area and he chucked it all to cruise around the California backcountry meeting interesting characters and saving damsels in distress. Watch the classic opening scene on YouTube: nobody wanted to be that guy in the station wagon. I guess distress is too strong a word. The damsels were more dissatisfied than distressed. They were small town girls trapped in boring lives and Bronson represented a different ending to the story. Bronson was their ticket to Any-where-else, USA.

Lord knows Bronson never went out of his way to encourage the girls but when you look like James Dean you don’t have to try very hard. Bronson’s sure-fire method for attracting women was to do exactly nothing. He wouldn’t talk unless really pushed into it. He never tried to get fresh or make the first move. Often he would fall asleep on a date with a beautiful woman who was holding up a cardboard sign that said, “Take me now, you idiot!” written in red lipstick. His method may have been sure-fire but his actual success rate was low. It wasn’t long before the girls would get frustrated, give up, and go back to their small town boys

Of course I didn’t notice this strangeness when I was 12 years old. It was enough to see a motorcycle on the television. Looking at the show today it is clear than Bronson suffered from narcolepsy and possibly landed on the high end of the autism spectrum. At times it seemed painful for him to speak, he would grimace before he could manage to drag the gut-hooked words out of his mouth. Sometimes when another character would ask Bronson a question his answer would be to turn away and look off into the distance. It was all too much for him.

It seemed like in almost every episode Bronson’s motorcycle would be wrecked. A car might back into him, he might run into a ditch and bend the forks or a friendly local might ride it into the lake. These crashes were a way to hold Bronson in a town long enough for the local women to throw themselves at him; normally it took two or three days for all of them to have a go at Bronson. If you’re a nitpicker for accuracy the scenes of Bronson repairing his bike will have you yelling, “That’s the fifth time you’ve put the gas tank bolt in!” or, “There’s no way you got that fender straight with two rocks!”

I’m poking fun at then came Bronson but it really was a great show that had a huge influence on my generation of motorcycle riders. Hell, it’s still a great show. Bronson came along at the exact right time to catch the first big wave of what we think of as modern motorcycling, when you could meet the nicest people on a Honda or a meanie on a Yamaha. The show still holds up well to re-watching if you can suspend logic for an hour. And who doesn’t love a show with a bronze-head Rudge in it?

As you can see in the photos above, watching then came Bronson had absolutely zero effect on me. I was lucky to travel around the country in 1975, only a few years after Bronson aired. The small towns in America still looked like scenes from then came Bronson. Today many of the towns I saw in my travels are boarded up and abandoned. Thriving businesses where I bought gas and a RC cola have crumbled into the ground. Turns out none of those people Bronson met and befriended really wanted to stay in their little towns. They didn’t know where they were going but they ended up somewhere.

After my Bronson binge I’ve been thinking about getting a jet-style, open face helmet like the one Bronson wore in the show. I know a full helmet is safer but I want more interaction with the environment, but not like my face on asphalt interaction. Maybe getting a few bugs in my teeth would be a good thing, and maybe I do talk a little too much. I’ll practice my pained looks and concentrate on the horizon. I wonder if I ignore CT long enough she’ll hold up one of those lipstick-lettered cardboard signs. That would be cool. Go check out then came Bronson on Dailymotion, and hang in there.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Dreambikes: ’97 Suzuki TL1000S

The year was 1997 and the Ducati V-twins had been dominating magazine covers for years. Not to be outdone, two Japanese manufacturers produced similarly-configured V-twins (actually, L-twins). Honda had the SuperHawk, and Suzuki the TL1000S. I’ve always liked Suzuki better, so I went with the TL1000s. Suzuki offered the TL in two colors….a forest green with red accents; and bright red with yellow accents. For me, it had to be red.

My ’97 TL1000S, somewhere in northern Baja.

I bought my TL at Bert’s in Azusa. If I recall correctly, I negotiated the guys down to $8700 out the door, and part of that was a Yamaha 650 twin I traded in. I had bought the Yamaha used from a guy in a course I taught at McDonnell Douglas, thinking the Yamaha would be like my old Triumph Bonnevilles but reliable. The Yamaha was a bust. It was too heavy, it had cheap fasteners, the Hopper/Fonda riding stance was awful, it didn’t handle, and it lacked the low-end grunt of my earlier Triumphs.

I remember riding the TL home from Bert’s. The riding was awkward with the bike’s low bars and high footpegs, but I got used to it and I made it less punishing with a set of Heli-Bars. The Heli-Bars were slighly taller and wider (you got about an inch more in each dimension, which made a difference).

A stop for fuel in Catavina. The guys sell gasolina from bottles along Mexico Highway 1.

The TL was the fastest and hardest accelerating motorcycle I ever owned. It would wheelie in third gear if you weren’t paying attention, and it went from zero to 100 in a heartbeat. The bottom end torque was ferocious. Fuel economy was atrocious, and it had a tendency to stall at low rpm. But wow, did it ever look good. Did I mention it was fast?

My friend Marty had an Aprilia V-twin (a Mille, I think, or something like that), another bit of Italian exotica, that cost even more than the Ducati. Marty’s spaghetti-bender was more than twice what I paid for my TL. We swapped bikes once on a day ride and I came away unimpressed. My TL was faster.

Baja a few years ago. Younger, thinner, and hair that hadn’t turned gray yet. That motorcycle made me look good.

I wanted the look of a sport bike, but I’m not a canyon racer and the exotic look didn’t do anything for me once I had ridden the TL a few times. Then something funny happened. My Harley died on a Baja ride. I nursed my Harley home, parked it, and took the TL. Surprisingly, it did a good job as a touring platform. And I could ride at speeds the Harley couldn’t dream about. In those days, if there were speed limits in Baja, I didn’t know about them.

That first big trip on the TL instead of the Harley cinched it for me. I bought sportsbike soft luggage and used the TL on many rides after that. 700-mile days in Baja became the norm (I could make Mulegé in a day; the TL wouldn’t break a sweat). The only downside was the abominable fuel economy (the fuel light would come on after 105 miles), but a one-gallon red plastic fuel container and a bungie cord fixed that. It was Beverly hillbillies, but it worked. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a hillbilly (somebody’s got to shoot those road signs).

TL1000S touring. The bike was a surprisingly good touring machine.

Even with the TL’s mid-30-mpg fuel economy, I only ran out of fuel twice. Once was on the Bodfish-Caliente Road (one of California’s best kept secrets). I didn’t have my gas can with me; Marty rode ahead and returned with a gasoline-filled water bottle he hoped wouldn’t dissolve (it didn’t). The other time was on Baja’s long stretch headed south to Guerrero Negro. That road runs straight as an arrow, and I ran the TL at a surprisingly comfortable 145 mph (still well below the TL’s top speed). The TL was fuel injected and when it ran dry it was like someone shut the ignition. I poured my extra gallon in and made it to the next Pemex station. The guys I rode with were still far behind.

I had fun with the TL, but I dropped it a lot more than any other bike I had ever owned. All the drops were my fault. The low-mounted sport bars restricted steering, and once when pulling into my driveway, there wasn’t enough to keep the bike upright. Before I realized it, the bike and I were both on the ground (my first thought was to wonder if anyone had seen me). The next time the bike was in my driveway, facing slightly downhill. I started it to let it warm up, and the bike rolled off the sidestand. Again, my first thought was if anyone had seen me. The third time was more dramatic. The TL had a slipper clutch; you could downshift with reckless abandon. The clutch would slip and not skid the rear tire. It was cool, until I used it diving hard into a corner. The curb was coming up quickly and I wasn’t slowing fast enough. The slipper clutch was doing its thing, but when I touched the front brake, that was enough to unload the rear wheel. It broke loose and I fishtailed into the curb. I went over the bars, executed a very clean somersault, and came to rest in the sitting position looking straight ahead. I had been watching the Oympics on TV the day before and I remember thinking (as I completed my dismount) I could be a competitor. A woman in a station wagon saw the whole thing. She rolled down her window and I half expected to see a sign with a 10 on it (like they do at the Olympics). “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answered. “I’m a gymnast and I’m practicing.” The window went up and she disappeared.

I loved the looks of the TL. Yeah, the carbon fiber was faux, but I didn’t care. In those days I was running a factory that made carbon fiber aircraft stuff and I never understood the attraction. Even with fake carbon fiber, the TL was a motorcycle that looked fast. And it was.

Suzuki only made the TL for a few years. Some guy in the UK killed himself in a speed wobble, the bike got an Internet rep as a tank slapper, and that killed sales worldwide. Suzuki had a recall to add a steering damper, but the damage had been done. Bert’s installed the damper on my TL, I couldn’t feel any difference , and my bike never went into a wobble (either before or after the recall). My hypothesis is that the UK guy rolled on too much throttle exiting a corner, lifting the front wheel with the bike leaned over. That will induce a wobble, you know. There was another recall to fix the low speed stalling issue. I guess it worked; my bike never had a low speed stall after that.

Suzuki offered a more radical fully-faired version called the TL1000R (I didn’t like its looks), but the TL-R didn’t survive, either. The engine, however, proved to be a winner. Today, 25 years later, a detuned version is still soldiering on in the ADV-styled V-Strom. I never owned a V-Strom, but I should have. Everybody I ever talked to who owned one loved the V-Strom. Me, I loved my TL.

Hit the pop up ads and keep us publishing!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Catching Up

Here’s a quick update on things we’ve posted about recently.

Someone else won the auction for Hank Williams .357 Ruger Blackhawk, and like I said I would, I ordered a New Model Ruger Blackhawk instead. To my astonishment, the Hank Williams gun sold for a whopping $4,993.37 (when new in 1972, it was a scosh over $100). My New Model .357 Blackhawk is at the local dealer, and I’m in the Peoples Republik 10-day cooling off period. I snagged it for $659 on Gunbroker, a reasonable price in today’s economy. I’ve got a bunch of ammo in a variety of flavors reloaded and ready to test, but I think I know what works in a Blackhawk. We’ll see.

I took Poppy’s watch to the repair shop and it was enlightening. My guy opened the watch up, which confirmed it is 14-carat white gold and revealed the serial number. The watch tech looked it up, and I learned that Poppy’s watch dates to 1884. It’s 138 years old and it’s still ticking. It’s the oldest and coolest thing I own.

Gresh’s blog on a proposed vintage bike gathering in New Mexico garnered a lot of comments and it was picked up by Motorcycle.com. I think this event it is going to happen. A few guys have posted it on other forums (we appreciate that). We’ll keep you updated right here on the ExNotes blog.

The Harley that flew off the Oakland Bay Bridge? It’s still under water (dive crews can’t find it). I wouldn’t have thought it worth the effort (you know, you can buy a brand new Chinese motorcycle from CSC for less than what a used Harley costs). I would think the divers could just look for the oil spots and work back, but hey, what do I know?

I found the piece Gresh did on the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club particularly appealing and I joined the VJMC, too. Like Joe, I recently received my first print magazine, and Gresh was right….there is a special excitement in getting an actual printed magazine in the mail.

The Gresh Husky saga soldiers on. Joe is already deep into the guts of his Husky’s transmission, and his engineering talents and Ebay prowess are moving things in the right direction (you’ll get an update on that in the very next ExNotes blog). Good buddy Terry pointed out that Gresh could have bought a used Sportster for what he’ll have into his Swedish meatball (it seems that Harleys are the benchmark for all things motorcycle). With Gresh’s considerable skills and Harley’s rumored reliability, maybe the best approach would be to wedge a Milwaukee transmission into the Husky (a Husky-Davidson?). Like you, I’m looking forward reading about how this adventure progresses.

And finally, one last comment, this one on Mosin-Nagant rifles. We’ve done Mosin stories (see the Tales of the Gun page). It’s no secret I’m a big fan, and it looks like that interest could pay dividends if I was interested in selling my Mosins (I’m not). Rock Island Auctions recently published an article on Mosin-Nagant price trends, and it shows they are sharply up. That’s good.

So there you have it. We appreciate you following the ExNotes blog and we appreciate your comments. Please keep the comments coming, and as always, please keep hitting those popup ads!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

A Harley Submarine?

Everybody who’s ever thrown a leg over a motorcycle has a story about when they crashed. This guy (who’s name I do not know) has us all beat. Last Thursday night, our unnamed hero was riding his Harley-Davidson across the Oakland Bay Bridge (the other big bridge connecting San Francisco to the mainland) when some dweeb in a Mini Cooper merged into his lane. A crash ensued, the rider came off the bike and suffered minor injuries, but the Harley kept going. And going. And going. Until it hit the rail and (you guessed it) went over the side.

The Oakland Bay Bridge is 190 feet above the Bay.

This fellow sounds like one tough (and lucky) dude. According to the news reports, he transported himself to the hospital, where he was treated and released. Also according to the news reports, no citations were issued to either our would-be U-boat commander or the Mini pilot.

The CHP and the Fire Department say they know exactly where the bike is. (So do I. It’s in San Francisco Bay.) The emergency responders will attempt to recover the motorcycle at a later date (the water under the bridge is about 100 feet deep). They are worried about it leaking gas and oil into the Bay. There’s a joke in there somewhere. Harleys are known to leak both, you know. I know Harley is moving to liquid cooling, but this is ridiculous. There’s got to be more. Let’s hear ’em.

As motorcycle crash stories go, this has to be one for the ages. I’m glad our hero (whoever he is) came through it with only minor injuries. Ah, the stories he’ll be able to tell.

So, here’s an invitation. Recognizing it’s not likely any of us will ever be able to top this story, what’s yours? Got a good crash story? We’d love to hear it.

Hit those popup ads!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Sea Turtles and Kaloko-Honokōhau National Historical Park

Wow: Hawaii is just full of suprises. The adventure on this fine Hawaiian morning was another National Historical Park, lava fields, a rugged downhill (and then uphill) hike over a jagged lava path, sea turtles, and a rotting meat flower (no kidding!). A rotting meat flower? You bet. Read on and you’ll see.

We asked the Park Ranger at the entrance if we would be able to see the sea turtles, and he told us it all depended on what they were doing. “They might be sleeping, they might be out to sea, or they might be eating…you never know until you’re down there.”

Down there meant taking the 1.3-mile hike to the Pacific’s edge, which we proceeded to do. We were lucky; the turtles were out in force munching on the algae that grows on the rocks. They were huge…their shells were maybe three feet long. It was really something to see. There were seven or eight turtles in the shallows when we arrived.

On the return hike Sue noticed an unusually attractive and large flower in a ravine next to the lava path. I had the 24-120 lens on my Nikon and I didn’t want to attempt climbing down the jagged lava to get closer, so I zoomed in and grabbed this shot.

What struck me as unusual about the flower was its size, the fact that it seemed to be growing out of a cactus plant, and the flower’s markings and vibrance. I wasn’t sure how to start researching a flower from a photo, but while I was looking at the photo Google popped up a Wikipedia link. The Wikipedia page had a photo, too, and no doubt about it, it was my flower. Here’s what it said:

Stapelia is a genus of low-growing, spineless, stem succulent plants, predominantly from South Africa with a few from other parts of Africa. Several Asian and Latin American species were formerly included but they have all now been transferred to other genera. The flowers of certain species, most notably Stapelia gigantea, can reach 41 cm (16 inches) in diameter when fully open. Most Stapelia flowers are visibly hairy and generate the odor of rotten flesh when they bloom. The hairy, oddly textured and coloured appearance of many Stapelia flowers has been claimed to resemble that of rotting meat, and this, coupled with their odour, has earned the most commonly grown members of the genus Stapelia the common name of carrion flowers. A notable exception is the sweetly scented Stapelia flavopurpurea. Such odours serve to attract various specialist pollinators including, in the case of carrion-scented blooms, blow flies of the dipteran family Calliphoridae. They frequently lay eggs around the coronae of Stapelia flowers, convinced by the plants’ deception.

I had heard of such flowers and I always wanted to see one. For me this was a first. I know what you are thinking, and no, I didn’t get close enough to take a whiff. Maybe next time.

Here’s the same flyer I showed in a previous post from Hawii. We weren’t on motorcycles on this trip, but rentals are available and I thought the pricing was reasonable.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Want to help? Hit those popup ads, please!

Hawaii Volcanoes National Park

The Big Island, Hawaii, was formed by volcanoes, like the other Hawaiian islands and nearly all others in the Pacific. Five volcanoes formed the Big Island, and one is still active. That’s the Kīlauea volcano. It’s the one you see above. It’s the one we visited recently.

The walk from the park entrance to the Kileaua crater.

It’s a bit of a hike to get to the Kīlauea volcano crater once you enter the Hawaii Volcanoes National Park (the photo above shows the way in), but the hike is worth it. Hawaii Volcanoes National Park is one of the few National Parks in Hawaii that charges admission. I have the brass pass (the senior citizen National Parks lifetime pass), which has to be one of the best deals ever.

The big photo at the top of this blog is the crater, and it was impressive. Hissing steam, a bit of lava flow, and a hint of what this planet is all about. It was only in the last 50 years that the US Navy completely mapped the Pacific floor. The Navy survey found many underwater mountains formed by volcanoes, all in a straight line. A theory emerged that these were formed by the same magma eruption (i.e., a volcano) that created the Hawaiian Islands (which are the end of that straight line). The eruption is a fixed point; the islands and underwater mountains that extend in a thousand-mile-long straight line occurred as a result of tectonic plate shift over this point. Fascinating stuff.

The red glow you see in the photo above is lava in the Kīlauea crater. I was a good half mile or more away from it, but thanks to the 24-120 Nikon lens and a bit of PhotoShop cropping, it looks like I’m right there. Trust me; I wasn’t.

We stayed just outside the Park on Volcano Road in a bed and breakfast tucked away deep in a tropical bamboo forest. It was pretty cool and very remote. Think banana trees, palms, humidity, colorful birds, and everything you might expect to see in an equatorial jungle. We had a herd of wild pigs briefly wander into our yard one afternoon (and I, without a rifle or a camera, could only stare). Surprisingly, the nights were deafening thanks to the Coqui frogs. The Coqui frogs are an invasive species from Puerto Rico. A few evidently hitched rides on plants coming from Puerto Rico to Hawaii. The Coqui have no natural enemies in Hawaii, and they reproduced to levels previously unheard of (folks who know about this stuff estimate the Hawaiian Coqui population density at roughly 2,000 frogs per acre, and with no natural enemies, the levels are still climbing). Well, maybe “unheard of” is probably a poor choice of words. Believe me, at night, all you can hear are the Coqui. Their “croak” is a 100-decibel “Co Kee” and when you multiply that by 2,000 per acre…well, you get the idea. How a tiny frog the size of half your thumb generates that kind of noise is beyond me. It’s deafening and goes from dusk to dawn. The good news is that the Coqui are only in the jungle areas; we didn’t have that problem on the other side of the island.

To state the obvious, you can’t ride your motorcycle to Hawaii. But you can rent a motorcycle there. The going rate is about $200 for a day, and if you rent for several days, the rate drops a bit. The roads through Hawaii are scenic, and in a week on the Big Island you can pretty much take in most of what there is to see. I checked out the motorcycle rentals in Hawaii’s Waikaloa Village. Big Island Motorcycle Company had Harley big twins, Sportsters, and Suzuki V-Stroms, along with Polaris three-wheelers and other vehicles. Gas prices in Hawaii were high, but surprisingly, they were below what gas costs in California these days.

Never miss an ExNotes blog!

Hit those popup ads!

Back in print, and only $9.95!

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

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

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

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

Never miss an ExNotes ad! Sign up here for free: