ExNotes Hasty Conclusions: Aftermarket Yamaha RD 350 Brake Caliper

This brake caliper represents a tectonic shift in my thinking. I’ve always rebuilt rather than buy new because rebuilding is less expensive. And that’s still true, sort of. The shift comes from my adding personal time into the value equation. Until recently I’ve never given my time a fair shake when it comes to fixing things. I mean, I’ve always had plenty of time, you know? But as I slip into the golden years, those final few moments of a fleeting existence that only the lucky few get to enjoy, I’ve begun to budget how I spend the remains of the day. “He Rebuilt Brake Calipers” is not what I want on the tiny, polka-dot ceramic frog that holds my ashes.

The new-to-me RD 350’s front brake is not working. Reports from Deet in Raleigh indicate the fluid is gone or the master cylinder piston is stuck in the bore. There is no resistance at the lever, futile or otherwise. I’m pretty well snowed under with self-induced projects at Tinfiny Ranch so after adding up a seal kit ($20), brake pads ($20), and the little Yamaha emblem, along with shiny new chrome hardware, this complete and new caliper at $117 seems like a fair deal if you deduct the hours it will take me to make the old caliper as sweet as the new caliper.

Vintage purists will freak out, “It’s not OEM!” they’ll cry. “Chinese junk,” they’ll type on their Chinese electronics. Look, I don’t like those purist bastards anyway. The non-stock master cylinder will really get them going. It’s a generic unit that is nothing like the original unit but I want to take the RD for a spin and this $20 master cylinder is the fastest way to get on the road. Since an OEM aftermarket copy is not available I plan to rebuild the original master cylinder when I get time. There’s that word again: Time.

For $137 I have a mostly new brake system. Going the rebuild route would end up costing around $70 and that wouldn’t include the new chrome hardware or the aluminum Yamaha caliper insignia. Keep clicking on ExhaustNotes.us and we shall see if the time saved was worth the extra money spent.


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Books

That photo above?  My good buddy JBFLA posted it on the Chinariders.net forum a few years ago along with the following comments:

I finally received Moto Baja. Another good read by Joe Berk. At 116 pages of light reading with lots of photos, it can probably be read in one sitting. It took me 3 sittings, with time spent perusing the excellent photos, and my mind wandering…imagining a ride to Baja…..and being chased by wild dogs.

Seeing that comment again got me to thinking about what the next book might be.  I have the urge to write.  I just have to decide about what.

My two favorite topics?  Motorcycles and guns.  I’m thinking about a gun book, as I’m about tapped out on riding books.  Maybe a photo book featuring fancy walnut gunstocks. The problem with a photo book, though, is that it cries out for color and books printed in color get expensive fast.  And expensive books don’t sell.

Fancy walnut on a .257 Weatherby Ruger No. 1.

We’ve done a lot of stories on gun stuff here on the blog; maybe a collection of favorite stories with just a few photos might work as a gun book.  It would be easy to put together.  Another thought is a Mini 14 book.  There are a few Mini 14 books out there, but none of them look interesting to me.  When we blog about the Mini 14 blog we get a ton of hits.  There might be a market for a Mini 14 book.

My Ruger Mini 14.

I’ve been trying to talk Gresh into writing a book.  He’s got a ton of good stuff that would work well as a set of collected works.  I mean, the man can make a 50-year-old air compressor story interesting.  Joe is that rarest of human beings:  A writer who sees things most of us miss.  And Gresh can describe these things so they become visible to us (and then make us wonder how we missed what Joe makes seem obvious).

Gobi Gresh, in (of course) the Gobi Desert. The Gobi Desert, man!

I’ve been after Gresh to write a book for years.  Help me out here, folks.


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Two For The Road Part 1: 350 Yamaha RDreaming

One of my long-time dream bikes has been Yamaha’s RD350 twin built back in the mid-1970’s. My old buddy from childhood, Billy Mac, had a new 1973 RD350 and every time I rode it back then I was amazed at the power and agility of the 350cc two-stroke twin. The bike could do it all from off road to flat tracking sideways in asphalt parking lots. With power, braking, handling and style, a RD350 had it all over the other bikes built in that era. I never forgot the thrill of riding such an utterly competent motorcycle.

The 1974 RD350 was my favorite year. The deep purple paint and tasteful graphics were made for royalty such as I. Prices for RD350’s keep slowly climbing and seem to always stay just out of reach on my personal value/desirability scale for vintage motorcycles. Stock bikes are getting harder to find as every Teen-Spirit RD350 owner butchers the bike trying to improve on perfection.

Last week, on a routine Craigslist scouting mission I came upon this RD350, my RD350. The thing is bone stock and I paid too much for it but I really don’t have that many years left to spend looking for the ultimate barn find deal. I sent a link to my wife, CT, and she said “If you don’t buy the thing I’m going to buy it for you.” She knew the bike was The One as I have been telling her about how great RD350’s are for many years.

My next step was to get a set of trustworthy eyes on the machine as it was 1700 miles away. A call to Deet, AKA Dr. Enduro, was made and he agreed to enable my addiction by driving 3 hours each way to look at the bike. And, oh yeah, buy the bike for me. The bike price was at the top-end for RD350’s but was in much better condition compared to other top-price bikes I have checked out online.

“The bike started first kick and sounds fine.” Deet told me. I left the purchasing decision up to Deet, as I could add nothing to the mix from my lair in New Mexico. The seller was a flipper and knew his values well. Thankfully he had only replaced the battery and left the bike as he found it, which was fine by me. Deet managed to beat the seller down $350, understandable as it was Deet’s money funding my dream. So we ended up at $4250. I know, I know, it’s a lot of money for an old bike.

The bike is now safely ensconced inside Deet’s top-secret Enduro hospital and after I get a few things done around here I’ll be heading to North Carolina to retrieve my prize. I guess the only question left is do I ride it back to New Mexico or bring it home in the truck?


(All photos by Deet.)


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ExNotes Long Term Product Review: Sears Craftsman Air Compressor

Here at ExhaustNotes.us we take the time to give you real world, long term results in our product tests. Anyone can test a thing for a few months or a year but does that really give you an idea how the product will be working in 5 years? How about 10 years? How about 50 years?

I bought this Sears Craftsman air compressor back in the 1970s. I forget the exact year but I remember it cost a fortune. I think I got it on sale for around 200 dollars and it was the most expensive tool I had ever bought up to that time. It must have cost several week’s wages. It used to have a beige plastic cover over the motor and pump but that oxidized and turned to dust after 20 years or so.

The Sears compressor came complete with a spray gun. It was kind of a rinky-dink gun so I bought a Binks 18. I wanted to be a car painter and to paint cars you had to have a Binks Model 18. The Model 18 was pro-level equipment and I figured that if I had one I could paint like a pro. The 18 also cost a fortune in 1970 money and it weighs a ton. The Sears gun is quite a bit lighter. Weight matters when you’re leaning over a hood or roof trying to hold the hose out of the way and not drip sweat onto the car.

I found out too late that much like camera gear being the least important part of photography, the spray gun is the least important part of painting. I learned surface prep, dust control and a steady hand count for much more. One day I tried the Sears gun just for fun and it laid down a wide, even pattern; it was better than the Binks 18. The damn thing worked great and was easier to clean.

The years had not been kind to the pressure gauges on the Sears compressor.  The old dials lost their clear lenses at some point and the faces rusted and turned black. It was sacrilege but I replaced them with a set from Harbor Freight. The old gauges had a cool Sears logo on them but time waits for no manifold.

I rewired the original 40-year-old compressor motor to run off 240 volts rather than 120 volts. It starts better with less droop on my off-grid shed. In the past I tried to run the compressor with a square-wave inverter and it started smoking. It seems to have recovered from that trauma and the motor only gets warm running on my new inverter.

One problem that cropped up several years ago was the easy-start pressure relief valve leaking all the time making the compressor cycle on and off more frequently. I dismantled the valve and cleaned it out. It seems to be okay now with just one quick puff of air escaping when the tank reaches pressure. I’ve set the max pressure to 80 psi just to give the old girl a little rest in her dotage. I don’t need 100 psi for anything and I’m not in a rush to get things done.

When I bought the compressor new I hated the cheap, plastic wheels. I was sure they would not last long and planned to go with some steel, ball-bearing replacements. That never happened because the wheels never broke. This rig has been hauled around boat yards, over gravel and rocks, and loaded into and out of trucks. The thing must have 20 miles on it by now.

I added a water trap and filter to the compressor, the kind with the auto drain valve. That valve saw a lot of use in humid Florida but out west in New Mexico it has yet to dump water. The hose was looking bad after 50 years so I replaced it with a snazzy red one because red is the fastest color.

The quick release air chucks were showing their age so I screwed new ones into place in a strictly prophylactic move. I like to keep my gear in top shape, you know?

The recent service I’ve given the compressor (tighten belt, clean air filter, change oil) should be good for another 10 years at the pace I work now. I give the old Sears compressor high marks, 5 stars even. The Craftsman spray gun is a good piece of gear also; I’ve painted a few cars with it. Too bad Sears no longer sells this model and hasn’t for a long, long time. Is Sears even in business? That’s one of the big problems with an ExhaustNotes.us long term review: by the time we’re done testing the product the product no longer exists nor does the company that sold it. No matter, watch for our big 20-rotary-phone comparo test in a future ExhaustNotes.us.


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ExhaustNotes Review: Harley-Davidson Sportster LC

I’ve typed a lot of words and rearranged them in a zillion different ways but I’ve never coined a phrase. Those days are over now and you heard it here first: The Sportster LC. It’s all mine and don’t forget who came up with it because I may never do another.

Harley’s quantum leap forward takes the Sportster from 1950s technology all the way into the 1990s and beyond. The new Sportster features fuel injection, liquid cooling, a claimed 120 horsepower and a passing resemblance to Sportsters of old. That’s all good stuff, man.

I’ve always liked Sportsters. Until the V-Rod came along they were the most advanced American-built Harleys you could buy and with the addition of electronic ignition they were the most reliable Harleys to boot. I owned a Sportster and loved how it looked parked, which it did a lot because the old 1968 XLH shook itself to pieces every 200 miles. Nevertheless it was an easy motorcycle to fix and my old Sporty never left me stranded.

The Sportster LC is a completely new model that has been the worst kept secret since the Pan American, which uses the same engine. With a bore of 4.13 inches and a shortish stroke of only 2.85 inches the new two-cylinder Sportster displaces 76.4 cubic inches in total, or ½ a bushel. We never converted to metric in the USA. Each head contains two cams pushing on four valves. With a 12:1 compression ratio you’ll be running high-test unless you’re under 50 years old in which case you’ll be stuck using premium. Harley’s combustion chambers have forced owners to buy high-test for years so nothing has changed except the power output. None of these design features is new thinking: it’s a well-trod path to modern performance numbers.

Harley claims 120 horsepower; that’s probably measured at the wrist pin so I expect 105-108-ish at the wheel, plenty for street riding. The Sportster LC puts out a claimed 94 ft-lbs of torque so taking off from a stoplight should be drama free. A claimed wet weight of 502 pounds is positively sprightly and undercuts the base model Pan American by 32 pounds. 32 pounds is a lot of weight. I’ve ridden 500-pound motorcycles in the dirt and it’s the absolute limit I would consider safe. The LC should be fun on graded county roads.

Styling on the LC is squashed and compact, almost like the bike fell into a car crusher but was retrieved before becoming a cube. There are no air gaps and the big, fat tires on both ends give the LC an overstuffed living room couch look. I’m not sold on the looks but it’s passable even if it seems to copy the Indian Scout. There are only so many ways to configure a crushed V-twin so the plagiarism is probably unintended. I like the upswept pipes, they give the LC a flat-track racer vibe and that’s a good vibe to have.

Things get a little nasty on the left side of the LC. Without the big upswept exhaust covering the mess all the complexity of a modern motorcycle is exposed. Let’s face it: The thing looks like a commercial air conditioning system from the left side. Still, I wouldn’t let the LC’s looks stop me from buying one assuming I would ever spend $15,000 on a damn motorcycle.

The looks won’t stop me from buying one but the seat-to-foot peg layout might. I can’t stand forward controls. I get that with the ultra low seat there would be no way to fold your legs tight enough for a more normal foot peg placement. Maybe Harley will come out with a Sportster LC Sport with more suspension, a higher seat and controls situated in such a way that you can ride the bike.

The LC comes with Bluetooth connectivity, cornering rider safety enhancements, ABS, traction control, selectable riding modes and cruise control. All stuff I hate except for cruise control. You may like dick-dogging with that electronic chaff but I’d rather ride a motorcycle than play digital commander. Hopefully pulling a few fuses and a warning light or two will disarm all that junk.

With only one disc stopping 120 horsepower and 650 pounds of bike and lightweight rider I sense the front brake may not be up to the modern standards of the engine and electronics package. I hope I’m wrong. Big fat tires usually make for a ponderous ride, but again, I hope I’m wrong. I seem to be doing a lot of hoping I’m wrong with this Harley Davidson.

What’s it like to ride? How would I know? I never get invited to Harley press junkets so you’ll have to get to one of H-D’s test ride events to find that out. My impression of the bike is that it’s a big improvement over the old Sportster but without the old Sporty’s provenance the LC has a long way to go before it reaches the beloved status the 1957 and up models achieved.

I guess what I liked about the old model was the tactile feel of sitting atop explosions propelling you down the highway. You never forgot you were riding a motorcycle. The Sportster didn’t become a legend by accident. Years of competition, countless race victories, heroic rides, and a fairly solid bottom end crank assembly and gearbox has made the Sportster a motorcycle everyone wants to buy used. I still want a XR1200R Sportster bad and have since I first saw one. Only time will tell if the new Sportster LC will be able to burrow into my heart the same bad-like way.


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ExhaustNotes Space Plane Review: Richard Branson’s Unity

About a mile west of New Mexico’s Spaceport is a newly paved road, A013. The road runs south from Armendaris Ranch in Engle to Interstate 25. A013 is about 40 miles long and while the paving is sort of new the road roughly follows The Camino Real, a route from Old Mexico to Santa Fe that has been in use since 1598. There are marked areas where you can hike along the very same ancient road the Spaniards retreated back to Mexico on during the Pueblo Revolt. A013 does not sound nearly as cool as The Camino Real. At 420 years old, The Royal Road deserves something better than A013.

Railroad tracks closely parallel the west side of A013 and in the narrow area between the railroad tracks and the highway hundreds of cars and people have gathered near the blocked entrance that leads to Spaceport. We’re all here to watch the very first space tourism rocket blast into the sky and it’s as close as we can get to the action. Who is the first space tourist on Virgin Galactic? Astronaut 001, Richard Branson.

Spaceport from our vantage point between the railroad tracks and barbed wire. Normally you can get much closer.

In a huge public relations mix up, none of the staff at ExhaustNotes were invited along for the ride into space. It’s like Virgin Galactic has been talking with Harley-Davidson or something. No matter, you know how we operate here at ExhaustNotes: We review anything, even things we know nothing about. There were plenty of other celebrity types in attendance like Elon Musk. Also some music industry, TV and TicToc stars I have never heard of. Lots of vindicated-feeling bigwigs from New Mexico’s government were in attendance as Spaceport has been a political football since Day One.

CT and I situated our Space Watch Compound along the fence line with our cooler full of iced tea and La Croix fizzy drinks, folding chairs, hats and a large, porous ground cloth. We were the most organized people in the scrum. The sky was early-morning New Mexican: A pale blue color that washes away into the bright sun leaving you hopelessly in love with the place. Last night a storm came through the area making everything seem to sparkle. Temperature in the Chihuahuan Desert was in the low 80s and it was still only 7:00 am.

We had fairly good cell phone coverage so CT pulled up the live feed. There were several sources all seeming to use the same video. Oddly, Steven Colbert hosted the launch coverage. I like Colbert okay but I wouldn’t have used him in this situation. It kind of made the event more like a joke instead of the historic, high technology, dangerous business that it actually is. The TicToc chick surprised me in that she did a pretty good job with the fluff pieces. Hell, what am I saying, all of it was fluff pieces.

The nearly two-generation gap between Musk and Branson was obvious when it came to social media. Even with all the advancements in video and audio technology Branson’s feed was poorly done. The video and audio looked pretty bad when you’re used to counting the screw heads holding the display panels to the command module in a SpaceX launch. Most of the stuff was 2 to 3 minutes delayed and unwatchable. The moon landing in 1969 had clearer shots and audio. I swear, my iPhone would have done better. If I had known it was going to be so bad I would have handed my phone to Branson before he went up. Maybe the recorded stuff came out better.

Heavy lifting appears to flex Eve’s wings on the way up.

None of that mattered once Eve lifted off the runway with Unity strapped firmly between its dual fuselages. A loud roar of cheers went up from all of us along the fence line. The big dually flew northwest towards Albuquerque and climbed to 45,000 feet. We could see the exact moment the Unity dropped and lit off its rocket engine. A white contrail of rocket exhaust went straight up and out of sight. On Virgin’s feed TicToc chick was saying they were going to release Unity in 2 minutes, 30 seconds.

More cheering followed Unity’s escape into space. People were shaking hands and whistling. We were glad the launch went well and nobody was bitching about rich people not using their money to feed the poor. Branson was the first billionaire in space and it had been a 17-year quest for him.

Pretty much nothing happened for a while. We expected the mother ship to come down and land but it stayed aloft. I’m guessing with only one runway at Spaceport you wouldn’t want anything landing until the powerless Unity glided back down to earth. The mother ship can go land somewhere else if need be.

Finally we caught sight of Unity coming home. It flew right over our cheap seats, circled east, then north and came in for a perfect landing, heading 340, Runway 1. The sounds of cars starting and cheering mixed with the dust from exiting spectators. I was thinking where are they going? The mother ship is still up there!

Where is it? I kept asking CT. It’s right there, she told me. I can’t see it. I guess my other eye needs a rebuild now. The mother ship spiraled down using the same counterclockwise pattern Unity used. She flew directly overhead, her barren space-socket exposed.

And then it was over. We looked around. There was only one other car still parked between the fence and the railroad. Billions of dollars and nearly two decades of work by thousands of people were on display today. It all worked perfectly. That stuff is amazing to me. Soon you’ll be able to buy your own ride into space for the price of a couple well-appointed diesel pickup trucks. $250,000 is not that much money nowadays.

Branson’s space plane may not go as high as the Space Station but I bet it uses 10% of the fuel a normal rocket launch does. Human beings are pretty impressive when they stop being jerks. Many people get angry at rich people for not saving the world with their money and then when a rich guy tries, like Gates, we suspect them of implanting tracking chips for a reason no one sane can articulate. The thing is, we are so clueless, so in the dark, we can’t guess the real world innovations that will come with space travel.

A man and his dog started packing up. He had one of those 10-foot sunshades. I asked him if he needed a hand folding it up. He said no that it was easy to do. The space show was over. The dust from all the spectator cars settled back to the Chihuahuan Desert. A guy named Kamaz, I think after the Russian Truck company, was giving a concert over at Spaceport for the VIPs.  Maybe you’ll be able to find it on video.


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ExhaustNotes Product Review: Cooper 2 Lightweight Tent

Camping on a motorcycle has never been near the top of my Fun Things To Do list. Like it or not, it seems I end up camping on a motorcycle more than is needed for strong bones and healthy fingernails. Street bike camping is tolerable because you can pile junk sky high but trail riding with a load of camping gear is a chore. Off-road, small lightweight equipment is the way to go. I’ll never admit it but it’s possible to go too small and too lightweight. My tent is an example of going overboard.

I’ve been using an old-style pup tent, like the Boy Scouts use, and when folded correctly the thing is admirably small. The pup tent reduces to the size of a bag of Batdorf & Bronson coffee and weighs next to nothing.

The problem with the pup is the ceiling height and the square footage. There’s no way to sit up in the thing, you have to crawl in and out. Once you’ve stored all your gear inside finding space for you body is a challenge. If you toss and turn throughout the night like I do your arms will be hitting the walls and roof. It’s a tight squeeze.

Unless you buy brand name equipment camping gear is really cheap, like me. I found a larger tent; the Cooper 2 (no relation to the road racing legend) for $28 on Amazon and shipping was included.

The Cooper 2 is easy to set up as it has only two fiberglass poles crossing in the middle. You fit the ends into the corners of the floor and bowing the poles raises the tent. Nearly 50-inches high at the center and with 49 square feet of floor space the Cooper 2 was huge. I could stuff all my gear inside and still have room for my sleeping bag. I could easily change into my Space Patrol pajamas with the privacy those pajamas demand. You know how it is.

The Cooper 2 is vented at the top, which kept condensation to a minimum. I didn’t get to test it in the rain but I suppose it will do as well as any other 28-dollar tent. I set up my sleeping bag towards the back of the tent and had plenty of room to throw elbows and kick out from under the covers. It was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a tent. Which is to say I woke up cotton-mouthed, fingers bleeding and a dead raccoon next to me.

All that luxury comes at a price, however. Folded up, the Cooper 2 is nearly twice as large as the pup tent and weighs 4 pounds 9 ounces compared to the pup’s 3 pounds 4 ounces. Still, the extra tonnage is worth it to me. I’ll just have to get rid of some other gear to compensate for the Cooper 2 tent, like maybe the handlebars or the front wheel of the Husqvarna.


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Chongqing to Tibet!

The RG3 is Zongshen’s newest motorcycle, and yesterday this video and its description showed up in my feed:

We are excited to share the epic journey of RG3 crew! Along the 318 national highway, our RG3 adventurers spent 12 days riding to reach Lhasa, Tibet from our factory in Chongqing. May the journey inspire you to start you own!

This is cool stuff and Zongshen (sold by CSC Motorcycles here in North America) is a cool company.   I’ve been in the Zongshen plant a bunch of times along with good buddy Gobi Gresh, and we rode with Zongshen across China.

Gresh and I had a lot of fun with the Cult of the Zong, and we joked about the lines we’d be able to use after our 6,000-mile ride in the Ancient Kingdom.  You know, little things we’d slip into a conversation like “as I was riding across the Gobi Desert” and “when we rode down off the Tibetan plateau” and others. We knew it would gave us the street cred we needed to converse with hardcore riders making the trek to Starbuck’s.

Zongshen puts together first class videos, and I always watch their new ones as they are released.  One of my Zongshen favorites is the one they did on our China ride:

And another I enjoy is Joe Gresh’s video on that same ride:

I enjoy videos, but I enjoy a good book even more.  You might, too!


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ExNotes Medical Review: Southwestern Eye Center Cataract Surgery Part 2

I’m typing this while looking through a brand new lens on my left eye. The result of my cataract surgery was a dramatic improvement but not the eagle-eyed sharpness I was hoping for. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After my first office visit where all manner of tests were performed and measurements taken I was sent home with several days worth of drops in a small vial. The drops were a cocktail of three drugs designed to get my eye ready for the trauma it would soon be subjected to during surgery. I put the drops in four times a day for three days and stopped putting them in on the day of surgery.

I get panicked over any kind of medical procedure; even drawing blood from my arm may see me faint to the floor in a cold sweat. The thought of someone cutting into my eye while I was awake was freaking me right out. Everyone kept telling me it would be no problem. Sure, no problem for them, I muttered to myself.

After the routine check in stuff the admitting nurse asked me which eye they were doing. I told her the left one and she put an X over the left eye with a marker and strapped a fluorescent green plastic bracelet on my left wrist. Then I walked into the pre-operation room.

The pre-op room was about 50 feet wide by 30 feet deep and beds were arraigned along the walls. Between the beds were metal racks with curtains that when closed allowed each bed to be sort of private. A jovial 80-something geezer that used a walker and an oxygen tank occupied the bed next to me. I could hear him cracking jokes with the nurses and generally being the life of the pre-op party. I sat in my bed thinking, “Don’t freak out…don’t freak out…don’t freak out.” Of course that kind of thinking just makes you freak out.

The anesthesiologist stopped by and I told him that I was going to have a hard time being awake for the surgery. Don’t worry, he said, I’ll be there the whole time, just put this pill under your tongue, don’t swallow it. The pill tasted horrible, like health food or something. A nurse kept stopping by and putting in eye drops. She asked me which eye they were doing and I told her the left one. This went on for several sessions of drops.

I wasn’t feeling any effect from the pill. I asked the nurse if it was supposed to get me high and that I didn’t feel anything. She said that it was just to relax me and that I wouldn’t get high from it. In my mind this did not bode well. I was expecting to get wiped out and not remember a thing. The damn pill was taking forever to melt. My mouth had a bitter taste. I wanted water but could not have any since two hours before the surgery.

My surgeon stopped by and told me everything was going to be fine and did I prefer dirty jokes or clean jokes while he was working on the eye. I asked for dirty jokes but not too funny as I didn’t want to move my head and cause problems. The nurse piped in and said I needn’t worry about the jokes being too funny. I found that funny.

The nurse, surgeon and anesthesiologist wheeled me into the operating room and it seemed like everything got bright and loud in that instant. My head was angled left and clamped between two bolsters. The surgeon asked me which eye he was doing and I told him the left eye. “This will only take about 8 minutes,” he said.

A rubbery-plastic shield with a sticky back was placed over my left eye and once secured the nurse peeled the center out exposing my eye. Some kind of clamping apparatus was attached to my upper and lower eyelid making blinking impossible.

It was hard to see what was going on because the room was so bright. There were two bright, square-shaped red lights side by side. Underneath the red lights was a single bright white light. These three lights were in the upper left hand side of my vision but the background was all dazzling light.

The surgeon was asking for this tool or that tool and I asked him when did I get the dirty jokes. He said that they were too dirty for public consumption and that I’d have to call him later for the joke. I could feel him tugging at the eye and at one point a crazed clear sheet slid away to my left, like a thin layer of dirty ice moving across a puddle of water. I assumed that was the cataract being removed. I thought it was strange that all this was going on and I wasn’t freaking out. I didn’t seem to care at all.  If they removed my leg and I would have calmly watched them do it.

Besides the cataract I had cornea Map-Dystrophy and floaters. My left eye was in pretty bad shape, almost useless really. There were strands from the pupil attached to the lens (or something) and the surgeon wanted a pupil expander tool. The nurse went looking for one and I chatted with the surgeon while we waited. They were taking too long so the surgeon used some other tool and managed to get the new lens in and everything buttoned up. It seemed like forever but the total time I spent in the operating room was 10 minutes.

The recovery area was in the same room as the pre-op beds except no curtains. The surgeon came by and asked how I felt and explained that my pupil wasn’t working quite right. I knew my pupil was messed up from a severe bout of conjunctivitis 40 years ago. It never expanded or contracted very well afterwards. Recovery only lasted 10 minutes and the nurse had me on my feet walking out the door. I was a little tipsy but managed to get in CT’s Jeep for the ride home.

The next day we had a follow up visit at the location where the first tests were done. The doctor examining my eye sad there were some loose strands floating around and that my eye was slightly swollen under the lens. My eye test went from 20-200 to 20-60, not what I had hoped for but a huge improvement over the old, yellowed smudge-vision I had before. When I went in the first day I couldn’t see the first big E on the chart and now I could see down to line 6. Before, reading my phone required the screen to be inches away, I can read the phone a foot away now.

The pressure in my eye had gone up so he gave me some drops for that and the pressure went back down in a few minutes. The doctor said my vision might improve as the eye healed but it’s been a few days and it looks about the same so I’ll probably still need glasses. I’ll withhold judgment on the final outcome as I’m still squirting medications in my eye four times a day.

Southwestern Eye Center’s customer service was stellar throughout this procedure. As far as my vision, every eye is different. My result may be as good as it can be considering the beat up eye they started with. Things seem a lot cleaner with the new lens. I drove my car with out glasses the other day and I could see pretty well. In a month or so when my eye has settled down I’ll get a new prescription and new glasses.

I think I’ll leave the right cataract alone for a year or maybe forever. It’s not nearly as bad as the left one. I sure could use some more of those relaxing pills though. I could be brave, like a hero or something.


Part I of the cataract story is here.


More product and service reviews are here.


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ExNotes Medical Review: Southwestern Eye Center’s Cataract Surgery

I’ll be blunt about it: the staff here at ExhaustNotes is getting a bit long in the tooth. Oh, we still ride motorcycles and punch holes in paper. We still pour concrete like we pour gin & tonics but we are falling apart gracefully. Luckily, decrepit old men are perfectly matched to the motorcycle consumer demographic.

My eyes have never been all that good and the last ten or so years have seen (or more accurately, not seen) degradation in my left eye. What the hell, we have two eyes, right? I adapted by curtailing my night driving and learned to accept a less precise representation of the world around me. I kind of knew what everything looked like anyway so my mind could fill in the details.

Time marched on and I could no longer use corrective lenses on the left eye due to the blurring: The eye wasn’t out of focus it was clouded. Things look yellower in the left eye compared to the right. It’s not a big deal. I can see fairly well in the daytime. The left eye still contributed to stereovision. Driving in the daytime is pretty easy. I can read signs and move about well.

Due to light refraction through the cataract driving at night is a harrowing experience with each point of light replicated five times. One oncoming motorcycle looks like a ring of five oncoming motorcycles and as the gang gets closer the lights combine into one. You can imagine the scene at a busy intersection with multiple lanes and traffic signals. A double yellow line looks like four yellow lines that merge in front of the bike. It’s more than I care to deal with.

But I like riding at night. I finally decided to do something about the problem last year but then Covid hit and everything was put on hold. Things are getting better covid-wise so CT decided we need to move on the cataract before I start running into walls while carrying scissors.

Southwestern Eye Clinic is located in Las Cruces, New Mexico and is a hotbed of retirees. The oldsters come for the sunshine and mild winters. The whole damn town is set up for end care, if you get my drift, so cataract surgery is routine here. At least as routine as any surgery can be.

The whole thing is so fast! I went in for an exam and found out the right eye has a smaller cataract also. The team at Southwestern ran a battery of tests (12-volt, deep cycle) and electronically measured my eyeball for the lens needed. I had the option of seeing far or up close and one other choice: A multi focus Panoptix lens that supposedly works like bifocals.

You know how I feel about new technology so the bifocal was out. You only get one chance at this and I didn’t want an eye that was constantly messing with my head. I’ve always been nearsighted so I opted for distance vision. My right eye has actually gotten better at distance over the years so I figured two distance eyes would match up better. I’ll probably still need glasses anyway. It’s ok, I’ve worn them since first grade.

The next step is surgery. I have some eye drops I’m supposed to start putting in four days before the operation. The surgery itself is out patient. You come and go the same day. After that I go back the next day to have the job checked over and then again a week later. It’s all so amazing and not that much more than an expensive pair of glasses.

I’ll file an ExhaustNotes follow up report after the surgery is completed and my eye has had time to heal. One downside is I have to rest for a while afterwards. I have a hard time resting. That means no lifting bags of concrete until the doctor gives the eye an all clear.


More Joe Gresh?  Or more Joe Berk?