Motorcycle Adventure Ride – Page 17

Jerry and the Jersey Devil

I’d heard of the Pine Barrens when I was a youngster in New Jersey but I’d never been there, which was weird because the northern edge of the Pines starts only about 40 miles from where I grew up and geographically the Pine Barrens cover about a quarter of the state. New Jersey is the most densely populated state in the US, but you wouldn’t know it in the Pine Barrens. Pine trees and sand, lots of dirt roads, and not much else except ghost stories and New Jersey’s own mythological Jersey Devil (more on that in a bit). The region is mostly pine trees, but there are just enough other trees that our last-weekend-in-October ride caught the leaves’ autumn color change. That, the incredible weather, and saddle time on Jerry Dowgin’s vintage Honda Scrambler made it a perfect day.

Kicking back in the Pine Barrens town of Chatsworth. Check out the leaves changing colors in the background.

A 305cc Honda Scrambler, the Jersey Devil, and Lucille’s Country Diner. Life is good in the Pines.

Jerry Dowgin at speed in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. He’s been riding the same motorcycle for five decades. Jerry paid $10 for his Honda Scrambler. I offered to give him what he paid for it, which drew only a smile.

There were other things that made the day great. For starters, that has to include riding with Jerry Dowgin, former South Brunswick High School football hero, vintage motorcycle aficionado, and son of the late Captain Ralph Dowgin. SBHS is my alma mater (Go Vikings!), and the Dowgin name is legendary in New Jersey. I didn’t personally know Jerry when I was in high school (he was four years ahead of me), but I knew of his football exploits and I knew of his State Trooper Dad. Captain Dowgin commanded Troop D of the NJ State Police, and thanks to a photograph provided by lifelong good buddy Mike (another SBHS alum), Trooper Dowgin graces the cover of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles. Take a look at this photo of Jerry, and the Police Motors cover:

In the New Jersey Pine Barrens with former football star Jerry Dowgin and his awesome Honda Scrambler. I only run with the cool kids.

Jerry’s father, Trooper Ralph Dowgin of the New Jersey State Police. This photo was taken in 1936. The one above it was taken 4 days ago.

Trooper Dowgin’s original leather motorcycle helmet. Jerry showed it to me.

My ride for our glorious putt through the New Jersey Pine Barrens was Jerry’s 1966 CL77 Honda Scrambler. Jerry has owned the Scrambler for five decades. Jerry’s name for the Scrambler is Hot Silver, but I’m going to call it the Jersey Devil. The bike is not a piece of Concours driveway jewelry; like good buddy Gobi Gresh’s motorcycles, Jerry’s Jersey Devil is a vintage rider. And ride we did.

Honda offered three 305cc motorcycles in the mid-1960s: The Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. All were 305cc, single overhead cam, air-cooled twins with four-speed transmissions. The CA77 Dream was a pressed steel, large fendered, single carb motorcycle with leading link front suspension. Like its sister Super Hawk, the Dream had kick and electric starting; the electric starter was unusual in those days. The Dream was marketed as a touring model, although touring was different then. Honda’s CB77 Super Hawk was a more sporting proposition, with lower bars, a tubular steel frame and telescopic forks, twin shoe drum brakes (exotic at the time), twin carbs, a tachometer, and rear shocks adjustable for preload. The engine was a stressed frame component and there was no frame downtube. Like the Dream, the Super Hawk had electric and kick starting. It’s been said that the Super Hawk could touch 100 mph, although I never saw that (my Dad owned a 1965 Honda Super Hawk I could sometimes ride in the fields behind our house).

The Scrambler fuel tank. Honda hit a home run with the Scrambler’s styling.

Everything on this motorcycle is well proportioned. The ergnomics fit me perfectly.

The cool kids removed the Scrambler’s bulbous two-into-one muffler and replaced it with Snuff-R-Nots. Jerry is one of the cool kids.

The third model in Honda’s mid-‘60s strategic triad was the CL77 Scrambler, and in my opinion, it was the coolest of the three. It had Honda’s bulletproof 305cc engine with twin carbs, and unlike the Super Hawk engine, it was tuned for more torque. The Scrambler didn’t have electric starting like the other two Hondas (it was kick start only, a nod to the Scrambler’s offroad nature). The Scrambler had a downtube frame, no tach (but a large and accurate headlight-mounted speedo), a steering damper, and a fuel tank that looks like God intended fuel tanks to look (with a classic teardrop profile and no ugly flange running down the center). The bars were wide with a cross brace. With its kick start only engine, the magnificent exhaust headers, and Honda’s “we got it right” fuel tank, the Scrambler looked more like a Triumph desert sled than any other Honda. In my book, that made it far more desirable. I always wanted a Scrambler.

The Scrambler’s speedo. The switch on the left is for the headlight; the amber light is a neutral indicator. The speedometer is accurate; we rode through a highway sign that showed your speed and it matched the speedometer indication.

The Scrambler’s tool storage compartment.

Jerry’s wife Karin made the toolkit pouch. Jerry’s toolkit includes the original Honda tools and a few extras.

A single overhead camshaft, two valves per cylinder, and threaded locknut valve adjustment. Honda’s casting quality was superb for the time.

Jerry and I had great conversations on our ride through the Pine Barrens. We talked motorcycles, the times, the old times, folks we knew back in the day, and more. Other riders chatted us up. The Scrambler was a natural conversation starter. Every few minutes someone would approach and ask about Jerry’s Scrambler. Was it original? Was it for sale? What year was it? I had a little fun piping up before Jerry could answer, telling people it was mine and I’d let it go for $800 if they had the cash. I can still start rumors in New Jersey, you know.

The Scrambler’s rear suspension has three preload adjustment positions.

Relatively sophisticated for the time on a mass-produced motorcycle: Twin shoe brakes.

The Scrambler’s rear brake was similarly equipped.

The 305cc Honda twins of the mid-1960s were light years ahead of their British competitors and Harley-Davidson. British twin and Harley riders made snide comments about “Jap crap” back in the day (ignorance is bliss, and they were happy guys), but at least one Britbike kingpin knew the score and saw what was coming. Edward Turner, designer of the Triumph twin and head of Triumph Motorcycles, visited Honda in Japan and was shocked at how advanced Japanese engineering and manufacturing were compared to what passed for modern management in England. No one listened to Turner. The Honda 750 Four often gets credit for killing the British motorcycle industry, but the handwriting was already on the wall with the advent of bikes like Honda’s Dream, the Super Hawk, and the Scrambler. I believe we’re living through the same thing right now with motorcycles from China. Or maybe I just put that in to elicit a few more comments on this blog. You tell me.

I’m always curious about how others starting riding, so I asked Jerry if he inherited his interest in motorcycles from his motor officer Dad. The answer was a firm no. “Pop wasn’t interested in motorcycles; he saw too many young Troopers get killed on motorcycles when he was a State Trooper.” Jerry’s introduction into the two-wheel world was more happenstance than hereditary. He was working with his brother and his brother-in-law installing a heating system in a farmhouse when they encountered the Scrambler. Jerry bought his 1966 Scrambler in 1972 for the princely sum of $10. Yes, you read that right: $10. The Scrambler wasn’t running, but the deal he made with his brother was that Jerry would do the work if his brother would pay for the parts (and in 1972, the parts bill came to $125 from Cooper’s Cycle Ranch, one of the early and best known East Coast Honda and Triumph dealers). Getting the Scrambler sorted took some doing, as the engine was frozen, it needed a top end overhaul, it had compression issues, and getting the timing right was a challenge. But Jerry prevailed, and the bike has been a Pine Barrens staple for five decades now.

Jerry shared with me that he plans to leave his Honda Scrambler to his son and grandson. I think that’s a magnificent gesture.

Jerry on his Scrambler at the end of a great day on the road.

Jerry and his Scrambler were featured on the cover of the Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club’s magazine about 4 years ago.

Our ride in the Pine Barrens was most enjoyable. It’s amazing how little traffic there is in the Pines, an unusual situation for me. As a son of New Jersey, riding with no traffic in the nation’s most densely populated state was a new experience. But there’s a lot of land down there in the Pine Barrens (the area was a featured spot for dumping bodies on The Sopranos, and that probably wasn’t just a figment of some screenwriter’s imagination). Riding into the Pines (where we saw few other motorcycles and almost no cars), we made our first stop in Chatsworth. Chatsworth is an old Pine Barrens wide spot in the road with only a few buildings and a roadside eatery with no seating. You buy a soda and a dog (of either the hot or brat variety), find a seat on one of the roadside benches, and chat with other riders. It was different and much more fun than what I remembered New Jersey riding to be, but I had never ridden the Pines before. The locals told me it’s always been like this.

From Chatsworth, it was on to Lucille’s Country Diner, a popular Pine Barrens roadhouse more like a California motorcycle stop than a New Jersey diner. Lucille’s is known for its pies, and (trust me on this) they’re awesome. We parked under a carved, presumably life-sized Jersey Devil statue. I’d heard of the Jersey Devil when I was a kid (it’s a New Jersey thing; think of it as a cross between Bigfoot and Lucifer and you’ll understand). We didn’t see the Jersey Devil lurking out there in the pine trees on this ride, but who knows? Maybe he saw us. As a New Jersey native, I know this: Anything’s possible in the Garden State.

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Moundsville, West Virginia

John Denver got it right: Almost Heaven, West Virginia. Hold that thought. Let the music play in your mind as you read this blog.

I think I found the best place in America for motorcycling. I could be wrong, but if you like twisties, if you like impressive views, if you like points of interest, and if you like good food, West Virginia (and in particular, the roads around Moundsville) is where you want to be.

A view from the top of the mound. That bridge spans the Ohio River, and that’s Ohio on the other side.

Moundsville is named after the huge mound that dominates the town (it’s what you see in the photo at the top of this blog). It was only in the 1800s when the person who owned the land surmised that it was an ancient burial mound (there were several in the area). The Native Americans who lived and then disappeared in this region were named (by us, not by themselves) as the Adena people, and it is now known that the mounds predate Christ. There’s an interesting museum next to the mound, and it is an easy place to spend an hour or two. The mound and the museum are free, and if you’re feeling up to it, there’s a circular stone stairway that takes you to the top of the mound (I made the climb, so if I can do it you probably can, too).

Susie on the way to the top of the mound.

The Grave Creek Mound Archeological Complex Museum. It’s a very nice museum.

Across the street from the mound is another treasure, and that’s the West Virginia State Penintentiary. It was used for well over a hundred years, but it closed in 1996. The West Virginia Supreme Court closed the place because it was inhumane. The good news is that there’s a modestly priced, 90-minute, guided walking tour. It’s a must-do sort of thing (in my opinion) and we thorougly enjoyed it. This is a place with a horrifying history (it was consistently one of the most violent prisons in America), and our guide (Tina) made it come alive for us.

The West Virginia State Penitentiary. Take the tour; it’s well worth the price of admission.

Yep. Nine people. Another 85 went via the gallows. The West Virginia Penintentiary used to hold public executions and charge admission. One condemned guy in one of these public executions had the trap spring open before the executioner slipped the noose around his neck. He dropped 25 feet straight down, breaking numerous bones. Undeterred, the staff strapped him to a stretcher, hauled him back up the gallows steps, and hung him while he was still on the stretcher. “Don’t worry ab0ut the pain,” they are reported to have told him. “In five minutes, you won’t feel a thing.”

A typical cell. It’s 5 feet by 7 feet. It housed three inmates.

A cell in the isolation wing that housed a gang leader. He didn’t have to share his cell, but he spent 23 hours a day here.

One of the most intriguing aspects of our prison visit was the woman who works in the gift shop. She lived in the prison for many years. No, she wasn’t an inmate. She was the warden’s wife. We had a very nice (and interesting) conversation with her.

One last stop on this most interesting West Virginia day was the Palace of Gold. If you’re old enough to remember the Hare Krishna crowd (the folks who used to hawk their books in airports), this West Virginia enclave is Command Central for them. The 30-minute tour was inexpensive and there were lots of photo ops. It’s not for everyone, but I enjoyed it.

The entrance. It’s hard to imagine this being founded in the 1960s in West Virginia, but there it is.

One of the hallways in the Palace of Gold.

What I enjoyed even more were the roads to and from the Palace of Gold. Think magnificent twisties and stunning views, and you’ll have a feel for this part of West Virginia. It truly is a stunning area.

US Highway 250 in West Virginia is incredible.

Twisties, twisties, and more twisties. If you designed a road specifically for motorcycles, it would look like this.

The best kept secret in Moundsville has to be Bob’s on 3rd Street. It’s in downtown Moundsville and it’s not fancy, but wow, the food is both spectacular and reasonably priced. We tried several different dishes, but the signature dish (named, of course, “the Mound”) is my favorite. It’s a gigantic thick pancake topped with scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, cheese and then another thick pancake. Put a little butter on top, pour on a little maple syrup, don’t tell the American Heart Association about it, and you can thank me later. And you will thank me. The open faced turkey sandwich and the open faced roast beef sandwich are great, too. And the pies…all I can say is wow. We tried a slice of the coconut creme and the blackberry pies, and they were awesome.

“The Mound” at Bob’s on Third Street in Moundsville. It was awesome.

Coconut creme and blackberry pie. There are many more on the menu. Bob’s is Moundsville’s best-kept secret.

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Roaming in Romania: Part II – The Transalpina Highway

We awoke in Moto Camp, located in Sibiu, just before sunrise. Moto Camp is probably the best base camp we’ve ever had and the best one anybody could ask for when staying near the Transylvanian mountain passes. These mountains are home to several of the world’s most sought-after motorcycle roads.

We researched the weather while drinking a strong cup of Romanian coffee. The day looked promising and the weather gave us a green light for riding. The buzz from riding the Transfagarasan Highway the day before was still with us and we both were anxious to see how the Transalpina Highway would compare.

The Transalpina Highway was two hours away from our base camp. We searched the least traveled roads to ride, which provided entertainment as we passed through tiny villages untouched by time. Horse-pulled carts rolled next to us and the occasional sheep crossings reminded us we were in Romania. These sites are common to Romanians, but for us it was like stepping into the early 1900s. Between the scenery and our motorcycle engines humming it was a perfect mesh of culture and time that fit nicely.

As we continued to ride, the small towns gave way to a remote pine forest speckled with beech trees shedding their leaves. As we sped by, we rustled the leaves to create mini sparkling whirlwinds in the morning sunlight while accelerating into the sweeping corners of this magical road. After 30 minutes we stopped along a dam with food and souvenir kiosks to grab a snack and drink. While sitting there we noticed about 40 Porsches stop and take the entire length of the dam. “Porsche Club of Romania” was stickered on their cars. Not wanting to be stuck behind any of the traffic we ate with a purpose and tackled the second portion of this road.

Once we left the dam, the sweeping corners continued with steeper gradients, angled such that we had to lean into them and keep our speed up while doing trig calcs on the fly to avoid falling. We continued gaining elevation when suddenly a bolt blew by me on the left, then another, and another. It was the Romanian Porsche Club; it seems they wrapped up their snacks at the same pace we had. As they roared past like orcas going for the kill (even on blind corners) I thought: “Hey, I still have Boston blood; I can be an apex predator, too!” We rode with them in formation as we roared past numerous cars on their Sunday drive.

Having been engrossed with the Porsches and the road (and our minds working geometry problems in the corners), we hadn’t noticed how the terrain had changed yet again. It went from pine forests to open alpine meadows with volcanic lakes. We continued to ride along these alpine meadows as heavy fog moved in. We were at just over 5,200 feet, but we felt we were on top of the world. As we adjusted to the new terrain the fog banks closed upon us and our visibility dropped to almost zero. Then, just as quickly as the fog appeared, it retreated. When this happened, the veil lifted to give us a snapshot of the road ahead before it dropped again.

Once hitting Ranca, our turnaround point, the fog rolled in so heavily that even the Porsches turned around. As we sat along a wall to fully absorb the view, we could hear the Porsche engines roaring in the distance as they continued down the pass, popping in and out of the fog. With the fog in no hurry to leave, we thought it was time to return to Sibui and mark another wonderous day of riding one of the best motorcycle roads in the Romanian mountains: The Transalpina Highway.

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Roaming in Romania: Part 1 – The Transfagarasan Highway

Good buddy and fellow U.S. Army former paratrooper Mike Huber, whom I met a few years ago on one of the Baja rides, is joining the ExNotes team as a regular contributor.

You’ll be seeing more of Mike’s work here on the ExNotes blog. Mike, over to you and welcome aboard!

Joe

Throughout my adult life (although, many will argue I have yet to reach mature adulthood) one of my greatest passions is motorcycling. Like many of you, I seek out the most beautiful and exciting roads to experience on two wheels. Whenever possible I try to achieve this on a global level and not limit this quest to just my state, or even my country. This isn’t always the easiest objective to reach. Many roads that are the pinnacle of any rider’s dreams are usually quite far off the beaten path. This can seem like a deterrent to many, but my mindset is to use the distance to reach these places only adds more depth to the adventure and in doing so adds not only miles, but new friends and stories to each road.

Transfagarasan Highway

If you perform a Google search on “best motorcycle roads on Earth” or any similar phrase, what will appear before you in the top images will be a photo of the Transfagarasan Highway. This mind-blowing highway is nestled deep in the Transylvania Mountains of Romania, and for us it was a four-day ride from Krakow, Poland. This is where my girlfriend Bobbie and I rented our Honda motorcycles (she had a CBX500 and I had the CB600F).

We began the day waking up in a yurt at an amazing moto camp in Sibiu, Romania that is hosted by Doru Dobrota. Doru has been running this camp out of his family’s old mountain cabin for years and over that time has meticulously grown the camp to a perfect launching point to the many beautifully challenging roads of Romania. Once we finished breakfast, confirmed the weather would cooperate with us, performed routine maintenance checks on the bikes, and a had chat with some other riders staying at the camp, we were ready to set out for one of the greatest days possible on a motorcycle.

It was a two-hour ride through some remote Romanian villages that we had to remain alert for deer, cattle, horses, and the usual obstacles to dodge around as we traveled from Sibiu to the base of the mountain pass where the roads started really becoming fun. Once the switchbacks began in the lower parts of the pine forests, we quickly twisted the throttle and leaned into the perfectly paved corners as we begin to ascend the highway to where you eventually are at the bottom of what would be like in skiing terms a giant bowl. Looking up I am instantly in awe of what looks like a gigantic matchbox car racetrack thrown recklessly together by a 6-year-old.

After regaining our emotions of what lies before us, we jump on the Hondas and hit the throttles hard. The road has nonstop switchbacks but since its so open it allows you the ability to constantly overtake any vehicle in front of you easily. This enables us to really lean in deep to each corner pushing the red line of these little Hondas, as well as challenging our own riding abilities. We continue to traverse the switchbacks for what seemed like forever and just as we summit the pass, we stop for a quick breather at a waterfall to absorb what we have just completed and imagine what was ahead of us.

We now begin our decent down the south side of the pass. The southern side is less dramatic but nonetheless has spectacular views for miles until we are well below the tree line and back into another tight pine forest with switchbacks. This seemed less dramatic until out of the corner of my left eye I spotted something crawling onto the road. At this point the road has some sand on it, so we were only traveling at about 25 miles per hour. My first thought was a deer, but when I was able to decipher what it was, I had to stop and shake my head. It was a grizzly bear eating a bagel. Now THAT is worth stopping for a photo of. As I am taking the picture, I hear a loud shout through my headset “Go! Go! Go!”

I looked in front of me and there were three more grizzlies. What was so concerning at this point was they consisted of a mother bear and two cubs, fully blocking the road. So, I have one next to me eating a bagel and three in front of me. I hang my head down and reply over the headset with my usual response to when I am in a bad situation “So this is how it ends…” We sat extremely still on the bikes for a few minutes until the bears dispersed in front of us, retreating into the thick pine forest.

As the sunlight retreated into the dense forests, we still were admiring the beauty of the road and what Romania had shined upon us this day. After a fresh fish dinner and the semi comfort of a hostel bed we were able to fully absorb and appreciate the experience for having ridden one of the greatest roads on Earth: The Tranfagarasan Highway.

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We stayed at Motocamp in Romania.

We rented our motorcycles from Motonasezon in Poland.

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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The Benjamin Harrison Presidential Site

As ExNotes blogs followers know, we visited Indiana this year. The trip combined three missions: We visited with good buddy Jeff and his wife Sally (who moved to Indianapolis shortly after we finished college in New Jersey), we visited and interviewed the key people at Janus Motorcycles in Goshen, Indiana, for a Motorcycle Classics article, and we hit as many points of interest as we could while we were in Indiana. We hit home runs in all three areas, I think. We enjoyed our time with Jeff and Sally, we had a great visit with Janus, and wow, did we ever see a lot in Indiana. One of the coolest places we visited was the Benjamin Harrison Presidential Site in Indianapolis.

I didn’t really know anything about Benjamin Harrison when we visited the site, but I’ve learned quite a bit during and after our visit. Here a few of his accomplishments:

- - Graduated Miami University at Oxford, Ohio in 1851.
  - Elected Indianapolis City Attorney in 1857.
  - Elected Supreme Court Reporter in 1860.
  - Breveted Brigadier Civil War General in 1865.
  - Appointed by President Grant to defend U.S. Government in Milligan case in 1871.
  - Argued five cases before the U.S. Supreme Court (the most of any lawyer-President).
  - Elected U.S. Senator from 1881-1887.
  - Elected U.S. President from 1889-1893.
  - Set aside 13 million acres of public domain land for national forest reserves.
  - Initiated the Pan American Conference in 1889, later resulting in the Pan American Union.
  - Established the United States Coast Guard Academy.
  - Expanded the Navy from three steel war ships to 22 ships by 1893.
  - Added six states to the Union during his Presidency (this was the most of any President).
  - Firmly enforced the 15th Amendment to secure voting rights.
  - Instituted the practice of displaying the American Flag over public buildings and schools.

The Benjamin Harrison Presidential Site is in Benjamin Harrison’s actual home. Harrison built it on the outskirts of Indianapolis, but the city has expanded and it’s now in what I would consider the downtown area. The guided tour made for an interesting visit.

This room is a parlor just to the left of the front door. The tour guide explained to us that it was restored to its original condition, including the creation of custom wallpaper to match that which was originally in the house.

The Reginaphone was an early record player. It uses a disk with protrusions to create the music. This one works and we listened to it.

This is Benjamin Harrison’s home office. The horn chair is cool.

These are items on top of Benjamin Harrison’s desk.

A very cool bookshelf dominated one of the walls in Harrison’s office.

I can’t resist this shot whenever I see a mirror.

The tour continued with a trek through the dining room, the kitchen, some of the upstairs bedrooms, and a workout room.

I was surprised to see this when we left the Harrison Presidential Site. Steve is everywhere, I guess.

The tour takes about an hour and a half, and it costs $14 (there are modest discounts for military personnel and a big discount for children). You need to book your tickets in advance.

If you are in Indianapolis, I’ve got a good lunch suggestion. One of the best kept secrets in that fine city is Shapiro’s Delicatessen. It’s only 4 1/2 miles from the Harrison home and the food is stellar. Both spots are worth a visit.

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The RV and Motor Home Hall of Fame

I used to work in the recreational vehicle industry. I ran a plant for Johnnie Crean at Alfa Leisure a couple of decades ago making See Ya motor homes (I’ve written about that before), and I consulted with Thor Industries on their travel trailers and Zieman on their trailers. It’s a fun business, although it was quite a bit different than the mostly aerospace work I had done up to that time. In the aerospace business, tolerances are thousandths of an inch, and if something is nonconforming (even if off by only a thousandth), it is rejected. In the RV business, tolerances are huge (usually denoted in fractions like ±1/8 or ±1/4 inch), and if the tolerances aren’t met, corrective action involves finding a bigger hammer.

You see a lot of elk statues in Elkhart. The RV and Motor Home Museum and Hall of Fame has one.

I loved making RVs and I loved working for Johnnie Crean. The guy is the most creative person I’ve ever known, and his ability to find simple solutions to complicated problems always impressed me. Johnnie came from RV royalty: His father was John Crean, the self-made billionaire who founded Fleetwood. I met Johnnie’s father a couple of times. He was a cool and unassuming guy. When Johnnie finished college, he went to work for his dad at Fleetwood and realized after a couple of weeks he could start his own RV company, and that’s what he did. I worked for Johnnie at Alfa Leisure and I ran the motor home plant.

Anyway, I’m getting off topic, which is the RV and Motor Home Museum and Hall of Fame in Elkhart, Indiana. It was a fun visit and not surprisingly, John Crean’s name appeared more than a few times. Check out the little travel trailer in the photo below.

A 1950 Fleetwood travel trailer. This one has quite a pedigree.

The RV/MH Hall of Fame also included the very first Bounder, another John Crean design that set a new standard in the RV business.

John Crean drew the Bounder logo on a napkin in a Denny’s restaurant. It’s a cool story. It’s one of the concepts that made him a billionaire.

The main exhibit hall in the RV/MH Hall of Fame displays iconic recreational vehicles and early campers along a walkway painted to look like a two-lane road.

Mae West, the famous actress, was an RVer. Her RV was interesting.

This concept of movie stars having an RV is interesting. When I ran the Alfa Leisure plant, we also manufactured 5th-wheel trailers (they connect to a pintle inside a pickup bed instead of a trailer hitch). Alfa Leisure was the preferred 5th wheel in Hollywood, and big name movie stars’ contracts stipulated Alfa Leisure RVs.

The Museum also displayed several examples of early travel trailers and motorhomes.

General Motors dabbled in the motor home business briefly. It looks interesting, but GM’s interest in RV’s was fleeting.

In the early days, motor homes did not include bathrooms, showers, or other amenities. Today, high end motor homes include all of those things and more. Some sell for more than a million dollars.

Walmart used to allow RVs to park in their lots for free (maybe they still do). We joked about folks who would spend a million bucks on an RV and then spend a half day looking for a Walmart where they could park overnight for free.

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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.

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Indiana’s Auburn, Cord, and Duesenberg Museum

The Auburn, Cord, and Duesenberg Museum is somewhat misleadingly named. Yes, they have a stunning and visually arresting collection of Auburns, Cords, and Duesenbergs (one of the best I’ve ever seen), but the collection of more than 120 vintage automobiles includes more than just these three marques. There’s even a vintage BSA motorcycle (I’ll get to that in a bit).

The Museum is housed in what used to be the Auburn factory. It’s in Auburn, Indiana, where they used to make Auburn automobiles. Auburn is north of Indianapolis (the quick way in is on Interstate 69); we stopped there on our way to Goshen to visit the Janus factory. Janus was fun and I grabbed a ton of awesome photos there, too. Grab the September/October issue of Motorcycle Classics magazine and you’ll see it. But that’s not what this blog is about. Let’s get back to Auburn and the Museum.

The Museum is magnificent and the automobiles are stunning. The Duesenbergs are beyond stunning but don’t take my word for it. You might consider seeing this magnificent collection yourself. I took enough photos to fill a book and I had a hard time picking just a few to show here. I probably went a little overboard, but the cars are so nice it was hard not to.

Here’s a 1931 Duesenberg Model J. The body was built by the Murphy company of Pasadena, who made more Duesenberg bodies than any other company. The car has a straight 8 engine.

This is a V-16 Cadillac, another truly magnificent automobile.

Next up is a supercharged 1935 Auburn. It is an 851 Speedster, with a Lycoming straight 8 engine. It cost $2,245 when it was new (less than a used Sportster, if you’re using that as a benchmark). The lines on this car are beautiful, and the colors work, too.

This next car is a 1929 Ruxton, a car I had never heard of before visting the Auburn Cord Duesenberg Museum. It’s a front-wheel-drive car, a competitor to the Cord in its day. According to what I found online, the Ruxton was lower, lighter, and handled better than the Cord. The looks and the colors work for me.

Check out the Ruxton’s headlights. These are Woodlite headlights, which are very art deco. They look like helmets.

Here are two 1937 Cord 812 automobiles: A convertible and a coupe. The colors and the style are impressive. When I was a kid, I built a Monogram plastic model of a Cord that I think was based on the convertible I saw in Indiana.

Here’s a 1948 Lincoln Continental Coupe with a V-12 engine. 1948 was the last year any US automobile manufacturer made a V-12. This one had 305 cubic inches and it produced 130 horsepower. The car you see here cost $4,145 in 1948.

This 1933 250cc single-cylinder BSA is the lone motorcycle in the Cord Auburn Duesenberg Museum. This one was E.L. Cord’s personal motorcycle, which he kept on his yacht and at his Nevada ranch.

Another magnificent Duesenberg. This one is a 1931 Beverly sedan, with a 420 cubic inch, straight 8, 265-horsepower engine It went for $16,500 when it was new.

This is an XK 120 Jaguar. I think this is one of the most beautiful cars ever made. It’s my dream car, in exactly these colors.

Here’s a first-year-of-production, 1953 Corvette. Chevy introduced the Corvette in the middle of the 1953 model year, so there were only a few made. The 1954 Corvette was essentially the same car.

Chevy was going to discontinue the Corvette due to its low sales, but the dealers convinced them otherwise. The dealers didn’t sell a lot of Corvettes, but they sold a lot of other Chevys to people who visited the showrooms to see the Corvette.

Another view of the first year Corvette. Note the mesh headlight protectors.

Ford’s answer to the Corvette…the two-seat Thunderbird. The little T-Bird never matched the Corvette’s performance. After three years of production (1955 to 1957), Ford redesigned the Thunderbird as a larger four-seater.

The Thunderbird soldiered on as a four-seater for years, then it was discontinued, then it briefly emerged again as a two-seater in 2002 (that’s the car you see below). The new Thunderbird only lasted through 2005, and like the classic ’55/’56/’57 two-seat T-Birds, Ford dropped this one, too. My buddy Paul drives one that looks exactly like this.

Auburn is a cool little town. Its population is about 14,000 and the town is about 145 miles north of Indianapolis (it’s a straight shot up on Interstate 69). The town is rooted in automotive history, and other history as well. In 1933, John Dillinger and his gang raided the local police station and they stole several firearms and ammunition. But it’s the automobiles and their history that make this town a worthy destination. Auburn, Indiana, loves its automobiles and automotive history. We saw several vintage cars being used as daily drivers. The murals were cool, too.

You can easily spend three or four hours in the Auburn Cord Duesenberg Museum, and spending the entire day there wouldn’t be out of the question. One of Auburn’s best kept dining secrets is Sandra D’s, a reasonably-priced Italian restaurant with an exquisite menu. Try the eggplant parmesan; you won’t be disappointed.

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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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