Category: Joe Gresh

Joe Gresh’s Tinfiny Toys

A recent road trip took us to New Mexico, and that meant a stop at Joe Gresh’s Tinfiny Ranch.   The word “ranch” has a nice ring to it, but Joe’s ranch is more of a cool toys repository than a place where cattle range freely (the toys more than make up for the missing cattle…the stories they hold are better than any Bonanza episode).

When walking up the hill from Joe’s home to his shop, you can’t miss his powder blue MGB GT.  The MG came with the property.  At one point Joe was going to get it running again and he started a resurrection blog series on it.  He’s now thinking he may sell it.  I’d like to see him finish this one for a lot of reasons, mostly centered around my belief that any British motor vehicle is inherently cool and there would be interesting blog content accompanying the effort.  Time will tell.   And so will we.

As you can see from the above photo, it was raining a bit when we visited.  The rain gave the MGB a nice look, a hint of what it would be if it was running again with the original paint buffed out.  The MG would be a cool resurrection project.  If you agree, leave a comment here on the blog.  I’m trying to start a “Keep the MG” movement.

Joe has a  bunch of equipment in his Tinfiny Ranch shop, including a sandblast cabinet, a drill press, all manner of hand and power tools, and a lathe.  “You can make anything with a lathe…you can even make another lathe,” Joe once said.   You can read more about that here.

The photo at the top of this blog is Zed, Joe’s original 900cc Kawasaki, and it is the first resurrection story Joe wrote for ExNotes.  In my opinion, this is the coolest bike on the planet.  I especially like the original paint.  The patina is priceless.

Joe had Zed’s carbs off the bike when we visited.  Zed needs Joe, and I think Joe needs Zed.  He’s talked about selling it; I hope he doesn’t.  If you agree, leave a comment here on the blog.  You know the drill.

Joe’s well worn Zed shop manual.

One of Joe’s more famous vintage bikes is Godzilla, a Yamaha 360 he rode on the Trans America Trail.   It’s a delightfully original machine with a lot of stories, a few of which have appeared here on ExNotes.

I wish Yamaha still made these bikes. I always wanted one, but I’ve never ridden one. Someday.

Joe is one of two guys I know with a Kawasaki KLR 250 (the other guy is also named Joe, but it’s not me).   Joe has a few stories about the KLR 250 here on ExNotes.

When I first met Joe on our CSC Motorcycles 5000-mile ride through the American Southwest (with our friends from China and Colombia), Joe told me he would really love to install the 250cc RX3 engine in his KLR 250.   Joe is thinking about selling his KLR.  I get it; I sold my KLR a few years ago.  But I regretted it.   KLRs are great bikes.

I have one of these decals on my motorcycle, too.

Incidentally, if you want to know more about the RX3 and our ride with the Chinese on it through the American Southwest, you might consider picking up a copy of 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM.

Here’s Joe’s mini-bike.   He’s owned this one a long time.

Joe’s famous Husky…with the engine out.  Joe is rebuilding the transmission on this motorcycle.  He’s blogged about it; watch ExNotes for future updates.  I know Joe will have it on the road again.

Joe’s Kawi 1100 hasn’t been started in a decade or two.  He’s thinking about getting it on the road again.  That will make for a bunch of great blogs.

Joe’s most recent acquisition is this stellar Yamaha RD 350.  Joe’s written about it here on ExNotes.

Joe explaining the RD’s merits to Susie.

Joe started the RD 350 for us.  It sounded great.

It was a good visit.  There’s a lot going on at Tinfiny Ranch (living off the grid stuff, concrete stories, tractors, implements, the water wars, vintage motorcycles, and more), and you can read about it here on ExNotes.  Stay tuned, my friends.

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Nobody Puts Baby In A Box: Tractor Supply Box Blade Review

Most people think of New Mexico as a barren, desert state. Much of it consists of broad expanses of high, scrabbly bush land. But that’s not nearly all there is here. New Mexico has two mountain ranges running north to south dividing the land into separate areas each with their own style of terrain, east of the Pecos River you’ll find the flat, oil-rich Permian Basin. This area is New Mexico’s Golden Goose that never seems to run out of eggs. The Permian Basin pays a huge amount of taxes to the state coffers. The odor of salt water mixed with oil is everywhere. It makes me a little homesick for the bilges of boats I used to build and repair in Florida.

Moving west from the Pecos River you come to my mountains, the Sacramento Mountains. Tinfiny Ranch lies on the western foothills of the Sacramento Mountains looking out over the Tularosa Valley. At 6000 feet Tinfiny Ranch is both wetter and cooler than the small towns down in the flat lands of the valley 1500 feet below.

Tinfiny Ranch has small trees, maybe 20 feet high and all of the plant life is larger and happier than the small shrubs you find at lower elevations. Within Tinfiny Ranch there are two different ecosystems: the relatively damper lower arroyo area where some idiot decided to put the shack we live in and the higher, just slightly more arid upper area where the off-grid trophy shed sits. The elevation change is only 50 feet but the trees are noticeably larger and the undergrowth denser down by the Arroyo. There’s even a little grassy lawn struggling to survive in the lower reaches.

The upper and lower areas are connected by a steep dirt road that is always in need of repair. Whenever it rains the water cuts deep ruts across and parallel to the road. Monsoon season makes the road 4-wheel drive only. UPS and FedX stop delivering when the road gets too bad. They leave packages by the entrance gate instead of at our door.

Tractor Supply’s County Line Box Blade is just the ticket for grading and smoothing out the ruts in our driveway. Five feet wide, the box blade connects to the 3-point hitch on the back of standard tractors and comes mostly assembled except for a few thick bars of steel that make up the top mount. It’s a heavy chunk of steel and I can only lift one side at a time to move it.

Five depth-adjustable scarifying teeth mounted ahead of the leveling blade allow the box blade to break up hard ground. These teeth will catch roots and rocks and rip them out of the ground making it easier for the following blade to level the area. If you didn’t have the scarifying teeth the blade would just bounce over some obstacles leaving behind an uneven grade.

Tinfiny Ranch has a lot of big rocks from softball size to larger than a shopping cart. Running over one of these big boys will kick the box blade into the air with a loud crash. Some rocks you’ll want to dig out of the ground with a pick and pry bar instead of beating up the box blade.

With the box blade it took just a few hours to straighten out the road leading to the upper level. I’ll need to do some more work on it to fill in some low spots and cut down some high spots but it’s still raining so I don’t get too excited about making it perfect. At some point we will either asphalt the road or pave it with concrete. I’m leaning towards asphalt since I won’t have to do it.

I give the Tractor Supply box blade high marks for its low-ish $1000 price tag and high quality. That seems like a lot of money but try to find a used one. If you manage to it will be a wreck and cost $500. This County Line unit is a well built, heavy tool that will last your lifetime and maybe more. Once you get a box blade you’ll start finding all sort of areas that need leveling. Soon there won’t be a plant standing and your yard will be a broad, featureless plain, like some areas of New Mexico.

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Be a Professional Writer For ExhaustNotes!

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

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

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

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

How much will you make?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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A Sneak Preview…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ExNotes Mentors: Slow Is Not The Same As Stupid

When I was in high school back in the early 1970s a new idea in educational teaching methods came about. This new method was called LAPS, for Learning Activity Package or maybe Learn At your own Pace. Whatever it stood for, LAPS was an attempt to uncouple individual students from a strict, class-wide learning schedule.

In the old style of everyone learns at once system if you were a smart kid you were held back by the slowest learners in your class. By the same token if you were a stupid kid you always felt pressured to learn as fast as the rest of the class. LAPS was a system designed to make learning either less boring or less stressful for the student, depending on which end of the intelligence spectrum you found yourself.

LAPS consisted of 20-page LAP printouts. A light blue cover sheet would be titled Algebra LAP-1 and inside were smelly, mimeographed pages of the 1st algebra lesson. This naming convention continued until Algebra LAP-20. After a student felt that they had mastered a particular LAP there was a final test. If you passed the final you went on to the next LAP. This process continued until you had successfully completed the Algebra course.

There was no set time to complete a LAPS course. A student didn’t have to complete all 20 LAPS to pass the course. They just had to do the best they could. Everyone received LAP-1 on the first day of school but from then on students progressed at their own pace. The teacher didn’t address or teach the class as a group. How it worked was you read LAP-1 and as you came to things you didn’t understand you went to the teacher’s desk and she would give you the personal, one-on-one help you needed to grasp the mathematical concept at hand. The program rapidly became known as “Laps for saps.” Failing a LAPS course was pretty hard to do because you were always right on the pace you needed to be.

For me school was misery. I hated sitting in class and watching the minute hand slowly rotate until the bell rang and you changed classes only to start the clock watching all over again. When school was over I could not sprint out of the damn place fast enough.

Another thing I hated was to ask for help. I still don’t like to ask for help. (See concrete.)  A scrum of students was always at the teacher’s desk bugging her for information on how to do this or calculate that. No way was I going to wait around at her desk like a paparazzi hoping for a compromising shot.

I stared at the LAP-1 lessons and none of it made sense to me. It was like looking at Egyptian hieroglyphics: Look, there’s a scarab beetle. Over here is a bird with a human body with the number 7 hovering over its beak. I never approached the teacher for assistance because I was sure algebra was total BS and anyway I couldn’t fail the class. I will say this about the LAPS learning program: At least no one bothered me. I’m sure by now loyal ExhaustNotes readers can take a guess at how well the LAPS program worked.

The autumn months dragged by, the daydreaming days grew shorter and when Christmas season rolled around I was still on LAP-1, the only kid in class still on LAP-1. Apparently my most comfortable learning pace was a dead stop. Most kids were up around LAP-8 or LAP-10. Those kids were the jerks sucking up to the teacher.

Somehow the school notified my mom that I was an exceptional student in that I might be the only student to ever fail a LAPS class. I guess you had to do one LAP minimum to pass. Mom went ballistic. She was astounded that I had accomplished absolutely nothing in 4 months of schooling. Mom told my older sister Marlin to help me out (that’s not a typo, I’ve spelled my sister Marilyn’s name that same way since I could spell and I see no need to change it now).

So began my crash course in algebra. Marlin would sit with me at the dinner table for a couple hours a night and explain what the scarab beetles and the birdmen meant. It was pretty easy, even fun, when she showed me the ropes. We spent more time laughing than learning. I passed Lap 1 the very first week.

The pace quickened. Marlin had places to go and people to see so she rammed that algebra into my brain as fast as it would accept it. We were doing one, sometimes two LAPS a week. The teacher grew suspicious and thought I might be cheating so she actually sat with me to watch me take a couple of the LAP final tests.

By March I had caught and passed some of the smart kids and by mid-April my sister and I had completed all 20 LAPS of algebra. My brain was so jacked up it glowed in the dark. I had to wear a towel over my head to get any sleep at night. Unfortunately, I have since forgotten much of what I learned but I still use the concept of information that is missing to help figure things out.

Then came something the LAPS system didn’t plan for: What to do with kids that finished early? They couldn’t let us roam the halls so they put me with two brainiacs in a classroom and called it current events. In other words, we sat and watched TV. The TV club slowly grew as other students finished their LAPS. I watched TV or slept in that class for 2 months and learned nothing except that I didn’t like any of the kids I was with. It was a bizarre end to a bizarre way of teaching.

The following school year the LAPS program was discontinued, for me anyway. I went back to learning the old fashioned way without very impressive results. I muddled along, skipping school to ride motorcycles and flunking out my senior year from too many days playing hooky. Who knew there were a minimum number of days you had to attend to graduate? I finally managed to get a high school diploma but there was no pomp and ceremony to the thing. I simply went to the administration building after completing summer school and picked up the diploma from some clerk in an office I had never seen or been in before. It was like a janitor’s closet or a mechanical equipment room.

Those few months of intense learning with my sister were so much fun. I loved blowing past the smart kids with my secret weapon, Marlin. It was like having the fastest motorcycle on the block. What an advantage I had! Marlin taught me that learning stuff wasn’t such a bad thing and she taught me more than algebra: She taught me that while I may be slow, I’m not stupid.

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Grind Me A Pound Of Reverse: Part 3

The Husqvarna is still in a million pieces but those pieces are improving. I received the new-used transmission from eBay and it looks to be in good condition. The seller included a few extra bits like a brace for the starter gears and a well-worn countershaft sprocket. The odd thing is, I bought the gears from a British eBay seller but the transmission was shipped from Latvia. Have I stumbled upon an international motorcycle theft ring that keeps a United Kingdom address for customer assurance but chops the stolen bikes in Latvia? Is it a way to get around the dreaded Value Added Tax?

The transmission fits into the crankcase well and looks exactly the same as the old gear cluster. I used the countershaft shim that came from Latvia but I don’t like the gear spacing so I might try the shim from the old countershaft shim. I’m using the Latvian shift forks and shift drum (the old ones don’t look bad but I suspect may be bent as the bike kept jumping from neutral into gear just pushing it around).

The flywheel puller I ordered that was supposed to fit my year Husqvarna missed it by a few millimeters. I was sent a 26mm but I measure the threaded puller boss at 28mm. Of course the puller would not thread on. I need to get the flywheel off to wash out the crank bearings and case. I have ordered a 28mm puller; hopefully it will fit.

My Harbor Freight parts washer hasn’t been cleaned since 1999 and had a ½-inch layer of greasy muck in the bottom. The goal is to not make the parts less polluted, not more. I scraped the gunk out and cleaned the parts washer. It was time, really. The solvent pump was not working and the plastic pump’s hose bard had broken just from sitting. I have looked online for a replacement pump but can’t find an exact fit. I don’t feel like modifying a different pump right now so I decided to wash the bits the old fashioned way: a stiff brush and bucket of mineral spirits.

As I clean the parts I stack them in order inside a nice, lidded, plastic box to keep dust and cat hair off of them until ready to reinstall. I use blue masking tape to keep the bolts for each component together. This saves you from having to figure out which bolt went where later on. Lots of junk came off the parts and I had to refresh the mineral spirit bucket frequently.

My buddy Deet thinks the world of Yamabond sealant so I ordered a small tube of Number 4 to seal the crankcase halves. I would have used Huskybond 3 but couldn’t find any for sale. My plan is to dry fit the crankcase halves together and test the shifting of the transmission, You need both sides to test the transmission properly otherwise the gears bind and push the shift fork shafts around. After I’m sure the thing shifts ok I’ll pull it apart and apply the sealer for final assembly.

I received the top end gasket set from eBay. It only took two days! I haven’t checked to see if they are the right ones but they look ok in the package, what could go wrong? The gasket set was pricy at $45 but is very complete with all the o-rings and rubber parts along with valve stem seals and the gaskets.

I’m not making rapid progress on the Husqvarna. I spend a lot of my time wondering at a blade of grass or being amazed by the sky revolving around above my head. Still, I’m more confident than ever that the Husky will tear up the trails once again. Now I just need that 28mm puller.

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Grind Me A Pound Of Reverse: Part 2

In the first episode of Grind Me A Pound Of Reverse I contemplated buying a Suzuki DR650 and leaning the broken down Husqvarna SMR510 on the side of the shed to bleach in the harsh New Mexico sunlight. Suzuki DR650s are as stone axe simple as you can make a motorcycle today. They are air-cooled, carbureted, have zero electronic widgets (except for ignition) and cost around $6000 for a 2022 model. I’d have to sell a few of my clunkers to fund the DR but it’s the sensible thing to do.

The thing is, the Husky is such a fun bike to ride I thought I’d take a poke at fixing its transmission woes. The Husqvarna crankcase is a vertically split unit which is easier to manufacture but means the entire engine must be dismantled to access the gearbox. In my case this is not a big deal because when a gearbox explodes you have to clean out all the microscopic and not so microscopic bits of metal.

The SMR510 frame is wrapped tightly around its engine and a lot of stuff has to be dismantled to get the lump out into the open. With long-travel suspension causing wide variations in chain tension its best to keep the swing arm pivot as close to the countershaft sprocket as possible. On the SMR the pivot bolt goes through the back of the engine and that means the swing arm has to come off. In addition, the radiators, fuel injection body, EMS and other body parts must be removed also. It took me about 4 hours to finally free the Husky’s engine but I don’t work fast.

I have no shop manual for this bike so with the engine on the bench the first thing I did was rotate the engine to top dead center-compression stroke in order to find the cam timing marks. The Husky has a cam chain that spins an idler gear; the idler gear then spins the two overhead cams. Each cam has a small dot that lines up with the outside gasket surface of the head. The idler gear has three markings, the center mark is two dots and these dots line up with a mark on the cylinder head.

I also put an additional punch mark on the crankcase and alternator rotor to make finding top dead center less subjective. The Husky’s timing looks pretty easy to do so I’m sure I’ve got it all wrong and the valves will bend the first time I try to start the engine.

Next I removed the cam caps. The cam caps were secured by these allen-head bolts and they were so tight the heads rounded out on three of them. I had to use a flat chisel to knock the bolts loose so I’ll need to get replacements from the hardware store. The head bolts are 10mm allen-type and deeply recessed so once the cams were out of the way I had to cut a 10mm allen wrench to make a long reach socket. The head bolts didn’t round out.

One of the reasons the Husqvarna 510 engine doesn’t last long is the slipper piston. This type of piston is pretty much a racing piston and has so much cut away there is only a narrow skirt to take side loading and a limited surface area for an oil film. The valve train is state of the coil-spring art: long, skinny valves at a narrow angle to give an almost flat-top combustion chamber.

The Husky incorporates small finger-rocker followers to remove valve-stem side loading. The cam lobes swipe across the followers, not directly on the valves. This set up adds a bit of weight to the valve train but the Husky revs to 10,000 rpm without valve float so I’m not going to worry about weight. A nifty feature is the spring-metal separator clip that can be removed from the rocker arm shafts, which will allow the finger rocker to slide over giving access to the valve shims. This means you don’t have to remove the cams to adjust valve clearance.

Splitting the cases was a fairly straightforward operation except for the shift drum. I managed to get the thing apart but still haven’t figured out how the shift drum is held into the right crankcase half. I got pretty frustrated and gave it a few whacks but it didn’t budge. I’ll study the situation after I calm down.

This is what was causing the racket. A couple gears are missing teeth and who knows what other unseen damage to the cluster was done as the bits of hard metal flew around inside? The shift forks may be bent because the bike wouldn’t stay in neutral and kept going into gear when i pushed it around the shop. I decided to get a used gearbox and replace the entire transmission.

The 2008 Husky SMR510 is one of the last Husqvarna’s with a tangible connection to the original Swedish manufacturer. Employees from old Husqvarna operated the company that built my bike. They purchased the name and relocated manufacturing to Italy. Cold, icy Sweden or warm, sunny Italy, who wouldn’t move? Shortly after my bike was built Husqvarna was sold to BMW and the bikes became re-badged BMWs. This only lasted a few years until KTM bought Husqvarna from BMW and the bikes became re-badged KTMs.

So parts are sort of hard to find. I located this complete TE510 (the enduro version of my bike) transmission in England for $285. Shipping was expensive but it’s a long way to Old Blighty and probably one gear would cost $100 if I bought it new. Hopefully it will fit.

EBay also had a top end gasket set for fairly cheap so I have that kit on the way. The case halves are sealed with goop, no gasket needed. The side cover gasket and alternator gasket came away without tearing so being ever thrifty I can reuse those gaskets.

I’ll have to do a thorough job of cleaning out the transmission debris inside the engine and whenever this stuff arrives I’ll try to reassemble the mess. ExhaustNotes will have up to date information as this project moves forward. Even if the Husky manages to run again I still might buy that DR650.

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Grind Me A Pound Of Reverse

September is one of the finer months for motorcycle riding in New Mexico. The daily monsoon rains begin to ease off in September. The trails remain slightly damp so dust isn’t bad and the Carrizozo Mud Chuckers and I can run a tight formation on New Mexico’s many dirt roads. The hot summer temperatures have faded away with the peek-a-boo, pre-fall weather allowing for cool morning rides and warm daytime riding.

These perfect days and these perfect times call for a long dirt loop from White Oaks to Claunch then south to Highway380. My morning Husqvarna ride to Carrizozo was glorious, just cool enough to create a little chill in my mesh jacket but not cool enough to cause discomfort. You know that feeling when everything is all right?

After a short gab session with the Mud Chuckers we gassed up at the Allsups station and headed north towards White Oaks. We traveled a half-mile when something started making a racket in the rear wheel of the Husqvarna. It sounded like I had run over a length of barbed wire and the wire was wrapped around the wheel. This happens more often than you would think in New Mexico. I pulled over but couldn’t see anything in the wheel so I started out again.

The noise was worse, like maybe the chain was jumping teeth on the sprocket. I turned into a convenient historical marker parking area and gave the chain a good look. Nothing seemed out of order. The Mud Chuckers had turned around and pulled into the historical marker lay-by. Mike asked me, “What’s the problem?” I told them I didn’t know but it sounds bad.

We tipped the bike onto its side stand and started the engine. Running through the gears made a hell of a racket, at times the engine would bind up and almost stall. Eddie said that at least it made it further than last time (referring to a past event when the Husky blew out a rubber plug and pumped most all the hot engine oil onto my right pant leg).

When I bought the Husqvarna 14 years ago I remember reading in the Husky Café forums about how the 510 engine was only good for 20,000 miles. I figured those were racing miles and I would not be pounding on the bike like most motocross or Supermoto racers. Turns out those Husky Café estimates were not far off.

It was still a perfect day. I called CT and asked her to come get me in the pickup. She asked if this was the same bike that broke down last time. “Yes,” I said, “except a little past where you picked me up before.” The Mud Chuckers chatted with me for a while and I sent them on their way. No sense in everyone missing out on a perfect riding day.

When we got the bike home I removed the oil drain plug and large chunks of gear teeth were attached to the drain plug magnet. This was not good news. I asked CT to cancel the Husky’s insurance because it will be a while before I get around to fixing the thing.

The Husky, having a vertically split crankcase, will require a complete teardown to clean out the debris and replace the broken transmission gear/gears. That’s if I can even find the parts. My Husky is from Italy, two generations removed from KTM, the new owner of Husqvarna. The closest thing to my bike is a SWM 500. SWM bought all the tooling and production rights from the remains of the Italian crew and that bike uses the same engine as my Husky; hopefully, the gearbox is the same.

My other bikes are a mess. Sometimes I want to sell all this junk and buy a brand new Suzuki DR650. I’ve got to get the Z1 carbs put back on the bike. They are mostly together; I just need two new fuel tees. The ZRX1100 needs just about everything as it has been sitting for 8 years now. The KLR250 runs crappy and its carb needs cleaning, but I’m not going to take it apart until I get the Z1 carbs back together.

The funny part about all this is that the only bikes I have left running are two 50-year-old Yamaha two-strokes. “It’s a Better Machine” indeed. And you know what? That’s just fine by me because nothing can spoil these perfect days.

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ExhaustNotes’ Inaugural Santa Fe Vintage Motorcycle Hang Out

Long ago I wrote a story about traveling across the USA on an old, 1971 360cc Yamaha Enduro motorcycle. It was called Toxic Tour with the subtitle, The First Annual Blue Haze Across America Tour. I had grand plans of organizing a two-stroke only cross country motorcycle ride like the Three Flags Tour put on by the Southern California Motorcycle Association. Editor Brian Catterson’s warning to never call anything “the first annual” until a second one happened proved prescient. The Second Annual Blue Haze Across America Tour never happened.

The main reason it never happened is because I have no idea how to organize and plan such a massive undertaking. I guess I thought the event would just magically take place because I uttered the words out loud. Motorcycle events require many selfless people working behind the scenes to make the idle talk happen. I still like the idea of an all two-stroke pan-USA motorcycle tour but someone else will have to make it a reality. Robert Pandya comes to mind as someone who could pull it off.

Which brings us to the (hopefully temporary) defunct Motorado Motorcycle show. The Motorado was a great, classic motorcycle show held each year in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The Motorado died out around Covid time and try as I might, I can’t find any information online about a 2022 show. Motorado’s Facebook page responded to my query with “ Unfortunately no show this year, lack of interest.” Adding these bits of information together I suspect there won’t be a Motorado show in 2022.

The thing is, I really enjoyed riding whatever moto-clunker I had that would run the 200 miles to Santa Fe. It was always sunny and warm in September; a great group of riders and motorcycle fixers gathered to chat bikes. You could buy an ice-cold beer from the restaurant located at the venue and sit on a bench looking at a Husky 400 or a Triumph T160. All those pleasurable feelings are gone now.

I admit I’m part of the problem, as I never volunteered to work the show or even joined the Motorado club. I cherry picked all the fun and left others to clean up the mess. I miss the Motorado and want something like that to happen again in Santa Fe. So I’m going to make it happen again, even if it’s only on the tiniest scale.

Working within my expansive limitations, the inaugural ExhaustNotes Santa Fe Vintage Motorcycle Hang Out will take place on Saturday September 24, 2022. The event will be held at the same mini-mall location as the previous Motorado shows were held. The address is 7 Caliente Road near the intersection of Highway 285 and Avenida Vista Grande.

The mall is about a block west of 285 and a block south of Avenida Vista Grande. You can see the mini-mall from the intersection. Since it will take me a few hours to ride up there the start time will be noon. Feel free to get there earlier if you like; don’t wait on me as my old RD350 may break down on the way north. The show will end whenever we want to leave. I plan to hang out until 3pm-ish then head south towards home. I don’t like to ride in the dark.

The Inaugural Hang Out is free to attend and there are no rules or classes as the show is not organized or judged in any way. It is literally a hang out. No trophies will be awarded. Try to ride an old motorcycle if you can so we have something interesting to look at. If you have vintage dirt bikes or a non-running street bike trailer them in.

There is a nice restaurant in the mini-mall called Santa Fe Brewing Company. The Brewing Company has good beer and air conditioning so I might hang out there for lunch. For the vegans there is an excellent bagel/coffee shop next to the hardware store. At least it was there last time I visited.

Since this is a non-organized, non-sponsored event I have made no arrangements with the mini-mall management. There is no special parking but the east side of the mall has a large dirt lot that no one parks in. We could line up the bikes there and be out of the way of normal commerce. Swag, like T-shirts or ball caps will not be available so dress accordingly. I will bring some ExhaustNotes stickers along but I find it hard to believe anyone would want them when they have no idea what or who ExhaustNotes is. Ask me and I’ll give you one.

Look, I harbor no illusions about the success of this event; I fully expect that I will be the only one that shows up. I’m prepared to sit alone for a few hours and talk to myself about the purple RD350 that I’ll ride to 7 Caliente Road. Wes Baca from Albuquerque might make the show on his H2 Kawasaki or his CT70 Honda so that will make two of us.

What I really want is the old Motorado show back, but until that happens we can go through the motions and enjoy a fine day in Santa Fe, New Mexico chatting about and looking at old motorcycles. And that’s a pretty good way to spend a Saturday.

Even if you can’t attend please share this blog on your social media. You never know who might be interested and live close enough to burble their vintage bike over to Santa Fe. When you get there, look for the little old man drinking a beer and sitting lonely next to a purple RD350 Yamaha. That will be me.

The comments section of this blog will be the central clearing house for Santa Fe Hang Out information. If you have any questions feel free to ask in the comments section; if you are planning to attend let us know in the same comments section.

I hope to see you there on the 24th!

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Let Them Eat Cake

Here in La Luz, New Mexico we have a really nice dump. It’s open 6 days a week and free to use for residents of La Luz. The perimeter wall of the dump is made from compressed tires held together with steel bands to form a square block about 4-feet across. Once stacked into place the tires were covered with steel mesh wire and shot with a gunite-type, sprayed concrete. Brown concrete color was mixed in with the gunite and it gives the impression that the dump is surrounded by one, unbroken dog turd.

Inside the dump there are bins for plastics, aluminum and paper recycling. Large, black, roto-cast drums for used motor oil sit under a corrugated steel awning. In the back part of the dump, near the great open pit for inorganic material like broken concrete or unwanted fill, there are a couple of piles for old steel and garden waste. I pick through the steel pile often, you can find some good material in there if you don’t mind losing a finger retrieving the metal.

Recently the dump has added a weigh station for commercial users and a large, two-story building that allows users to back into the building and toss their trash directly into 40-yard dumpsters located on the floor below. The whole place is clean and tidy. The dump crew runs a tight ship and since we don’t have garbage collection out in the sticks I make frequent visits. I’m such a regular that they know me by name and have my tag number memorized.

Last Saturday I told my wife, CT that I was making a dump run and since I was halfway to town I might as well go to the grocery store to pick up a few items and did she want any thing from the store? “Pick up an interesting loaf of fresh baked bread from the bakery.” I had an uneasy feeling. “And get them to slice it into thick pieces,” she finished. I told her that there was no way they were going to slice the bread for me but she said to try anyway.

You know how some people have a command presence, like CT has command presence? People fall all over themselves helping CT. She can get her bread sliced anyway she wants. I have what is called Servile Presence. When I walk up to a counter the clerk gives me a look that says, “Who do you think you are, buddy?”

I never can get my bread sliced or my prescription filled. I can’t return items for store credit without a Spanish Inquisition. CT can return an item bought at a hardware store to a flower shop and the clerk is glad to be of assistance. Anything to do with banking or the department of motor vehicles CT has to do because I’ve never succeeded in getting satisfaction from either place. The lowest of the beaten down, minimum wage workers need someone to kick and I am that guy.

I’ve found that asserting myself or getting mad and yelling only results in the manager escorting me out of the store. I probably bring a lot of it on myself. I’m usually dressed in dirty clothes and need a shave but that’s only because whatever I am doing I get dirty doing it and who likes to shave? Let’s face it: I look pretty suspicious and a bit homeless and meth-heady when out shopping.  At least the crew at the dump treats me well.

There were five loaves of sturdy looking bread inside the bakery’s counter case. These were not foo-foo bread; they had a sprinkling of finely chopped grain baked into the crown. My mouth watered thinking of those thick slices of toast sopping up the dregs of a big bowl of onion soup.

The lady working behind the bakery counter was either a young-looking 110 years old or 85 years old. She had blond hair done in an up-do and a too big apron around her dress. We were 3-feet apart. “Excuse me, I’d like a loaf of this bread cut into 3/4-inch slices.” I waved my finger in the direction of the grain-topped bread.

“It’ll be a few minutes,” she said, “I’m busy.”

Then she picked up one of the loaves, put it inside a plastic bag and tied a yellow bag-tie around the open end. She put the wrapped loaf on a grey metal rolling cart behind her. There was no one else working at the bakery section and no other customers. I made like I was looking at the other offering with interest. She picked up another loaf of the grain bread and put it inside a plastic bag and tied it closed with a yellow bag-tie. I looked at some bagels with cheddar cheese melted over the top. They looked good but I’d have better chances winning the lottery.

I walked back to where she was tying the third loaf into a bag and took up a position directly in front of her.  We were not more than two feet apart now. I leaned onto the counter, crowding in on her as I’ve seem CT use that tactic before. The bakery biddy glared at me and said nothing, picking up another loaf of bread to package. As much as it was possible to do so, she slid the loaf into the plastic bag defiantly, never taking her eyes off mine.

The long minutes dragged by with the two of us in a mortal battle. I wanted that bread and she was not going to give it to me. The rest of the store noises faded away and a kind of tunnel vision came over me as she put the final loaf of bread into a plastic bag. It happened in slow motion. Our eyes were locked and in my peripheral vision below I saw her gnarled hands tying the yellow bag tie around the end of the plastic bag. She put the last bagged loaf onto a cart with the other five loaves then turned and smiled the phoniest ever smile at me.

The bakery display case had a gaping hole where the grain bread had been. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of telling me there was no more. I gave one last look into those eyes that had seen so much in such a long life. She seemed genuinely happy in a “Now then, how can I help you?” sort of way. I turned to my shopping cart and pushed it away towards the pre-packaged factory-baked bread isle. I’m hoping neither of us truly got what they wanted out of the 15-minute mini drama but I strongly suspect that since I never got the loaf of bread that I was the biggest loser.

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