September 11, 2001, is a day everyone remembers. I was just getting up when my daughter ran in to tell us about what was on the news: A plane had just hit the World Trade Center. Then, while watching the news, we saw another plane hit the second tower. Then we heard about the Pentagon. And finally, we heard about Flight 93: The plane that went down in Shanksville, Pennsylvania.
It was story that would develop over the next several days. Unquestionably, beyond the horror, anger, and emotions of that day, the story about the bravery of the Flight 93 passengers emerged. Words that would become known around the world emerged from Todd Beamer, who simply said “Let’s roll.”
We made the trek to the Flight 93 National Memorial recently. It’s something we all should do. The riding in that part of the world is epic, the scenery is stunning, and the Flight 93 National Memorial is an emotional experience. I don’t mind telling you I choked up while up visiting the Flight 93 National Memorial, and I’m choking up writing this blog.
The Tower of Voices, near the park entrance. It’s a gigantic set of wind chimes still under construction. The sign includes another famous quote from George Bush as he was standing on the World Trade Center debris.A closer view of the Tower of Voices. It’s not operational yet. I’m going to make the ride here again when it is.
The Flight 93 National Memorial is somber, dignified, and elegant. It consists of the Tower of Voices near the entrance to the area (see above), the impact area, a building with exhibits (in which no photography is allowed), a dark stone walkway denoting Flight 93’s flight path and point of impact, and a wall of 40 tablets (each carrying the name of Flight 93’s victims).
The large structure on the right is the museum. It is thought provoking, emotional, and somber. The dark walkway traces Flight 93’s direction of flight to the impact point. The grassy area to the right is the edge of the debris field.
The dark stone walkway shown in the photo below points to the impact area. At its end (where you see people) you can gaze out over a large grassy field bordered by a hemlock forest.
The walkway pointing to the impact area.Taking the walkway in the opposite direction takes you on a counterclockwise walk to the tablet area and into the debris field. We visited on a glorious Pennsylvania day, much like the weather on 9/11.The large boulder you see here weighs 14 tons. It was moved from the Tower of Voices site to this location, which is where Flight 93 impacted. Its speed was 563 mph.The 40 tablets, each carrying the name of a Flight 93 victim.Todd Beamer led the passenger assault on the bastards who hijacked Flight 93.This small tile was at the base of the Todd Beamer tablet shown in the photo above.
We believe that Flight 93’s intended target was the United States Capitol. Had the Flight 93 passengers not acted, our national catastrophe would have been much greater. Both houses of Congress were in session that morning.
Another view of the 40 tablets.It was hard to see some of this.
A grate of formed stone pointed from the tablets to the impact zone. Looking between the slats, the boulder denoting the point of impact is visible.
The impact field.The boulder marking the impact point.
As I mentioned above, I had a difficult time maintaining my composure when visiting the Flight 93 National Memorial. There is evil in the world, and it was out on September 11, 2001. Todd Beamer and the other Flight 93 passengers prevented the criminals who hijacked Flight 93 from achieving their objective. The Flight 93 National Memorial is a fitting tribute to their sacrifice.
There is much symbolism in the Flight 93 National Memorial. The dark sidewalks and borders represent the coal mined in the Shanksville area. The lighter stone structures (the walls of the museum and more) are impressed with the grain structure of the hemlock trees bordering the impact area. The angles in the sidewalks and walls are representative of the hemlock branches. There are three rows of benches in the viewing area, representing Flight 93’s three passenger seats in each row.
The areas around Shanksville are all rural and the riding is amazing. Shanksville is in the Allegheny Mountains, and this part of Pennsylvania is stunning. We visited in April and the Spring weather was a brisk 60 degrees in the day. It gets hot and humid in the summer. The Fall weather offers stunning views of the trees changing colors. I’d think twice before attempting this ride in the winter months due to the freezing temperatures and snow.
Nearby Somerset’s Rey Azteca’s chile relleno with chicken. It was exquisite.
We stayed in Somerset, Pennsylvania, when we visited the Flight 93 National Memorial. Somerset is the nearest town of any size. It’s about 10 miles away from the National Memorial. Shanksville is a very small community without hotels, although that will probably change (the Flight 93 National Memorial is the least visited of the 9/11 memorials, no doubt due to its remote location). If you stay in Somerset, the best kept secret is Rey Azteca, a Mexican restaurant with awesome cuisine. Rey Azteca’s chicken chile relleno is prepared in the Guatemalan style and it is awesome.
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Wow, this is cool: The Indianapolis Motor Speedway! That photo above? I snapped it as the Indy car was entering Turn 3 at about 200 mph, panning the camera with the car to blur the background and get the car as sharp as possible (which is a bit of a challenge when your subject is doing 200). There were a lot of photo ops at Indy, and I sized most of the photos at 900 pixels to show off a bit. We were having a good time.
We didn’t see the race (it’s today, and it starts about three hours from when this blog was posted). We were in Indianapolis a couple of weeks ago to visit with good buddy Jeff, whom you’ve seen in other recent blogs. Jeff took us all over Indianapolis and the surrounding areas, and our itinerary included the legendary Indianapolis Motor Speedway.
We walked the huge infield area. The track is a 2.5-mile oval and that gives it plenty of room on the infield (there’s even a golf course in the infield). One of the best parts is the museum, which houses historic cars and winners of past Indy 500 races.
After spending some time in the museum, we went up into the stands to watch the cars practicing. The Indy 500 is, as the name states, a 500-mile race, and with the cars running over 200 mph, it takes about 2 hours. I can see it producing more than a few headaches, sitting out in the sun and listening to the high-pitched and loud whine of the cars whizzing by. Our day was perfect…we took in what we wanted to see and I shot a lot of photos.
There is a very cool photo of Mario Andretti in the Indy 500 Museum. The story behind it is that the photographer asked Mario Andretti if he could grab of photo of his rings, and Mr. Andretti posed as you him in the photo above.
There was also an Indy 500 simulator in the museum. It let you “race” for about a minute, but I didn’t last that long. The simulator included motion in the steering wheel and in the seat, I felt woozy as soon as I started, and I had to stop shortly after I started. I guess that makes me an official Indy 500 DNF (did not finish).
My favorite photo of the day is this selfie I grabbed of yours truly and good buddy Jeff reflected in the radiator cover of a vintage Miller race car.
So there you have it…our day at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. I’ll be watching the race today.
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I have several favorite restaurants in Baja, and Los Naranjos in northern Baja’s Guadalupe Valley is certainly one of them. It’s address is México 3 22850 Ensenada, Baja, and what that means is the restaurant is about 80 kilometers south of Tecate along Mexico Highway 3 (the Ruta del Vino). It’s on your right as you head south, and if you blink you’ll probably miss it.
The Los Naranjos location on Mexico Highway 3.
If you’re coming north from Ensenada, Los Naranjos will be on your left. It always seems to me I’m on top of the place before I realize it when I’m riding north. You have to watch for it.
After you park, head in through the arch and you’ll enter another world. The grounds are immaculate (like the restaurant). You can poke around and explore a bit before you go into the restaurant, or you can do so after you’ve had a fine meal (which is the only kind of meal I’ve ever had there).
Entering the Los Naranjos grounds.
The food is exquisite and Los Naranjos is popular. You might see a Mexican riding club parked when you enter; the place is a well-known spot for an excellent dining experience. You can have breakfast or any other meal, and I’ve never had a bad meal there. Los Naranjos pies are exceptional, and their orange juice is off the charts. It’s fresh squeezed, and if there’s better OJ elsewhere, I haven’t found it.
A superb breakfast at Los Naranjos. I’m getting hungry writing this blog and seeing this photo. I need to ride south soon.
The Los Naranjos grounds are interesting. There are sculptures in the exterior walls and various poultry species wandering the grounds. I don’t know if the chickens are committed or simply involved in the breakfasts and other selections (“involved” means they only provide eggs; “committed” means, well, you know), but a walk around is always interesting and full of photo ops.
Wall sculptures abound at Los Naranjos.A turkey fanning its tail when I approached with my camera.Indeed, the photo ops are plentiful.More wall sculpture, in this case the Virgin de Guadalupe. This is a common sculpture in Mexico; the figure beneath the Virgin is an angel with the wings of an eagle holding her aloft.
There is a high end, small hotel directly behind Los Naranjos. I’ve never stayed there, which is a character defect I intend to correct on my next trip south. You’ll read about it here on the ExhaustNotes blog.
It was an epic battle, fought over just three days, with monstrous casualties incurred by both sides due to a deadly combination of improved weaponry and Napoleonic tactics. Muskets transitioned from smoothbores to rifled barrels (greatly enhancing accuracy); military formations (not yet adopted to the quantum leap forward in accuracy) fought in shoulder-to-shoulder advancing columns. Both sides held their fire until the Union and Confederate armies were at can’t-miss distances. It was brutal. Gettysburg suffered 51,000 casualties. Eleven general officers were killed. It was the bloodiest battle of the Civil War, but it was turning point. General Robert E. Lee, the previously invincible and charismatic hero of the South, had been soundly defeated. General George Meade, appointed to command the Union troops just days before the battle, achieved a tactical victory regarded by his superiors as a strategic failure (Lincoln later said Meade held the Confederate Army in the palm of his hand but refused to close his fist).
Perhaps best known for Lincoln’s Gettysburg address given months after the fighting (delivered at the dedication of a cemetery), Gettysburg is a town, a free National Military Park, and hallowed ground. But first, read these 275 words…275 of the most elegant words ever assembled by anyone:
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.
Elegant, eloquent, and to the point: Lincoln spoke for a short two minutes after a two-hour speech by a former Harvard College president. Lincoln wrote the words himself (not, as rumor would have us believe, on the back of an envelope during the train ride to Gettysburg, but carefully crafted by Lincoln in the White House and then polished upon his arrival in Gettysburg). No speechwriters, no opinion surveys, no communications experts as would be the case today. I wish that in a nation of 330 million people we could find another Lincoln (rather than the continuing cascade of clowns we’ve had to choose from in the last several elections).
I first visited Gettysburg 60 years ago as a little kid and I was a little kid again on this visit. Gettysburg was way more wonderful than I remembered but still the same. The Visitor Center is new and better equipped. There are more monuments (approximately 1,350 such monuments; you will see just a few in this blog). The battlefield remains the same. It is impressive. You need to see it.
There are many exhibits in the Gettysburg Visitor Center, including two large displays of Union and Confederate sidearms.
You can take your car or motorcycle through Gettysburg National Military Park on a self-guided tour, you can take a bus tour, or you can hire a guide. Any of these approaches are good.
Cannon line a typical road through the Gettysburg battlefield.
The Battle of Gettysburg occurred over three days (July 1 to July 3, 1863) that changed the calculus of the Civil War. Lee took his Army of Northern Virginia north, hoping to continue an unbroken string of Confederate victories, so sure of his likely success that he ignored the tactical advice of his generals. He prevailed on the first day, but flawed tactics and a combination of Union brilliance and resolve turned the tide and the War. It culminated in what has become known as Pickett’s Charge, a Confederate uphill advance across a mile of open land into unrelenting Union cannon fire. The Union artillery had the reach (two miles of direct fire; there were no forward observers adjusting fire as we have now). The cannons were deadly, and then troops closed to small arms distance, and then finally to hand-to-hand combat. More than 12,000 of Pickett’s men marched into the Union killing fields; nearly half were foolishly lost. It was the turning point for everything: The South’s success, the Battle of Gettysburg, and the Civil War.
The views are magnificent. We were aided by an overcast day, with diffuse lighting that made for improved photography.
Numerous state militia fought at Gettysburg. Each of the states and their militia erected monuments in the years following the Civil War. The New York monuments were always the largest, at least until New York completed the last of its statues and structures. Pennsylvania, waiting and watching patiently, then built a monument that dwarfed New York’s best efforts. But all are impressive.
The 91st Pennsylvania Infantry monument on Little Round Top near Cemetery Ridge. This area was the high ground held by the Union.
The two armies had been maneuvering near each other, and as is usually the case in such things, first contact was accidental. The Confederate forces initially prevailed and their leader, General Robert E. Lee, assumed this success would continue. Lee’s subordinate’s told him it would not, as they did not hold the high ground. Lee pressed ahead anyway, suffering a defeat that marked a turning point (one of many) in the Civil War.
A view from Little Round Top, looking down into the killing fields of Pickett’s Charge. 12,000 men marched forward; more than half were lost in a single afternoon.
Gettysburg National Military Park is a photographer’s dream, and many battlefield areas present dramatic photo ops. The monuments are impressive and more than a few offer several ways to frame a photo.
The 44th and 12th New York Infantry monument on Little Round Top at the south end of Cemetery Ridge, framing the field of battle. This is a massive and impressive monument.Artillery lines in Gettysburg National Military Park. Many of the cannon are original items and saw actual use in the Battle of Gettysburg.When the ammunition ran out, it was hand to hand fighting at Gettysburg. This is the 72nd Pennsylvania Infantry monument on Cemetery Ridge. The 72nd Pennsylvania Infantry played a key role in defeating the Confederate advance known as Pickett’s Charge.
I was up early the next morning before we left Gettysburg, and I returned to the battlefield to capture a better photo or two of the State of Pennsylvania monument. It’s the largest in Gettysburg National Military Park. I was so impressed by it the day before I forgot to get a photo.
The State of Pennsylvania’s monument, at 110 feet tall, is the tallest of 1350 monuments on the Gettysburg battlefield. You can climb an interior spiral staircase to see the entire battlefield from this monument.The beautiful 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry monument framing the State of Pennsylvania monument. The tree trunk beneath the horse was necessary to support the statue’s weight. Interestingly, the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry did not take part in the fighting at Gettysburg, but instead guarded supply lines in Maryland.
The country roads leading to Gettysburg, and the riding in Pennsylvania, are way beyond just being good. Several rides to Gettysburg are memorable, and everything on the battlefield is accessible via an extensive network of narrow lanes. Take your time when navigating the Park’s interior battlefield lanes; this is an area best taken in at lower speeds.
A 180-degree panoramic view from Little Round Top. Click on this image to see a larger version.
Getting to Gettysburg is straightforward. From the south take Interstate 83 north and State Route 116 east. From the east or west you can ride Interstate 76 and then pick up any of the numbered state routes heading south. If you are coming from points southwest, Maryland is not too far away and the riding through Catoctin Mountain Park on Maryland’s State Route 77 is some of the best you’ll ever find.
The best kept secrets at Gettysburg? On the battlefield, it’s Neill Avenue, also known as the Lost Avenue. It’s the least visited area of Gettysburg National Military Park, and probably the most original with regard to how the battlefield looked on those three fateful days in July 1863. As for good places to eat, my vote is for The Blue and Gray Bar and Grill in downtown Gettysburg (just off the square in the center of town; try their chili) and Mr. G’s Ice Cream just a block away. Both are excellent.
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Another day, another Bill’s Old Bike Barn story. Wandering through the collection (I should say collections, but that’s a topic we’ll cover in the next Bill blog), I had to wonder: With all the absolutely stunning vintage motorcycles in his collection, which is Bill’s favorite? Which is the one he prefers above all others?
So I asked the question. I expected to hear something along the bar-and-shield line, as many of the machines in the barn are drop-dead-gorgeous vintage Harleys. Or maybe an Indian. You know, the V-twin thing. ‘Merica, and all that. Bill served in the US Army and he’s a patriot. Bill’s favorite motorcycle would most likely be a big V-twin from either Springfield or Milwaukee, I thought.
Nope. I was wrong. Think Nuremberg. As in Germany.
Right about now, you’re probably thinking BMW. But you’d be wrong, too. Bill’s personal favorite ride is a 1952 KS601 Zündapp. Take a look:
Bill and his 600cc KS601 1952 Zündapp.
Bill’s answer to my favorite moto question surprised me, both by his selection and his immediate ease in offering it up. “It’s my Zündapp,” he said, leading me over to the bike you see in these photos. “When I bought it, it only had 2,600 kilometers. It’s in original condition and it is the smoothest motorcycle I’ve ever owned.”
Check out the odometer on Bill’s Zündapp!A fuel tank that looks like a fuel tank. Bill’s Zündapp is a classy motorcycle.
A Zündapp!
So, who exactly is Zündapp and what’s their story? Glad you asked.
Zündapp started in 1917 as a bomb company. That’s right. Bombs. Munitions. Things that solve big problems quickly. The Zündapp name comes from combining the German words zünder and apparatebau (igniter and apparatus), which are the two things you need for a munition (the detonator and the secondary, or main, explosive). The detonator gets the explosion started and the secondary explosive does the heavy lifting. In 1919, after World War I ended, Germany was prohibited from things like making bombs (the Treaty of Versailles and all that). Zündapp had a choice: Go out of business or start making something other than bombs. They went with Door No. 2, and Door No. 2 led to motorcycles.
Zündapp first made two-strokes with engines from another manufacturer; they started making their own two-stroke engines in 1924. By the 1933 Berlin Motor Show, Zündapp was making four-stroke boxer twins along with their line of two-stroke machines. The four-strokes were called K models in a nod to their shaft drive (kardan means shaft in German). Just before World War II, Zündapp introduced the KS600 flathead boxer twin, with shaft drive, a pressed steel frame, and four-speed transmission. 1951 saw the introduction of the KS601 (the model you see in today’s blog). It featured a tubular steel frame, telescopic front suspension, and Zündapp’s 592cc overhead valve boxer twin engine. It looks a lot like a BMW motor (I supposed to the Germans, a Harley probably looks a lot like an Indian).
The Zündapp is a very interesting motorcycle. One of the Zündapp’s more interesting features is its interchangeable front and rear wheels (they were designed to allow easy tire rotation). When introduced, the KS601 was Germany’s fastest road bike. The Zündapp KS601 also enjoyed a reputation for excellent reliability. Zündapp built fewer than a thousand KS601 motorcycles through 1958, and what you see in this blog is one of them. Production ended in 1958 when Bosch acquired Zündapp.
I could have spent more time examining Bill’s Zündapp. It has not been restored. It is 100% original. It is one year younger than I am. It’s the first Zündapp KS601 I’ve ever seen. It exudes a magnificent patina, and it does so elegantly. I’m going to guess that wherever Bill rides it, he has the only one. It’s easy to see why it is Bill’s favorite.
Catch up with our earlier Bill’s stories! Bill Morris is the real deal, and Bill’s Old Bike Barn is one of the most interesting motorcycle museums I’ve ever visited. We’re doing on a series on the man and the museum; this is our fourth installment.
Miss our first blog on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
Today the ExNotes blog extends the tale of Bill’s Old Bike Barn and our continuing features on this magical mystery museum. I knew as soon as I entered Bill’s that a single blog would be entirely inadequate. Nope, this place is like peeling an onion; each layer reveals another story or three. Today’s feature is on two of Bill’s more interesting vehicles, and it was a tough call…everything in this Pennsylvania pleasure palace is interesting. But for today’s feature, the motorcycle half-tracks get the nod.
Bill with his Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico. Bill said riding the Mulo is a bear…there are levers and pedals and other things that require constant attention.
Motorcycle half-tracks? I mean, who’d a thought? They come across as the illegitimate offspring of a motorcycle and a Viagra-fueled armored vehicle. It’s a concept that just seems weird, like the designers were stoned when putting pencil to paper. Maybe it is and maybe they were.
The first of these moto half-tracks is the Kettenkrad. The Nazis created the Kettenkrad koncept at the beginning of World War II and it’s no secret the Übermenschen used a lot of what they called Pervitin (which was actually crystal meth) to stay, you know, amped up. That might explain some of the Kettenkrad’s design.
A Kettenkrad parked under the awning behind Bill’s Old Bike Barn. What were the engineers smoking?
I’d seen Kettenkrads in photos and World War II movies, but I’d never seen one in person until a very recent visit to the Lyon Air Museum (the topic of an ExNotes blog and a recent Motorcycle Classics Destinations piece). And wow, just a few months later, here’s another one.
The other moto half-track, the Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico, was new to me (I had never heard of it before my visit to Bill’s). It’s the machine you see in the cover photo above.
Bill has one of each: A Kettenkrad and a Mulo Meccanico. The Guzzi half-track holds a place of honor in Bill’s Guzziland display; the Kettenkrad rotates between museum display duties and residing among several military vehicles parked outside the Museum.
Although both are rare, of the two there are a lot more Kettenkrads. Both vehicles were designed specifically for military applications, but in different eras. The Kettenkrad was a 1939 Nazi project designed and built by NSU Werke AG at Neckarsulm, Germany. Originally designed as a paratrooper support vehicle, NSU built 8345 Kettenkrads (10% were built under license by Stower, another German manufacturer). Production stopped at the end of World War II, and then NSU resumed Kettenkrad manufacturing for agricultural applications through 1948.
The Nazi war machine used Kettenkrads extensively on the Russian front for ferrying supplies and troops. Some also saw duty in western Europe and North Africa. Toward the end of the war (and because of fuel shortages) Kettenkrads became airfield tugs (the Nazis used them to pull their airplanes to the runway; the Luftwaffe pilots only started their aircraft engines when they were ready to take off).
As a mechanical engineer, I always wondered if the Kettenkrad’s motorcycle front end actually steered the thing, or if the vehicle steered by driving the tracks at different speeds (as other tracked vehicles do). Talk about mechanical complexity…the Kettenkrad does both. Up to a point, the steering is via the handlebars and front wheel. Once the handlebars go beyond a certain angle, differential track speed steering kicks in. In really rough terrain, the Nazis removed the front wheel entirely and traveled only on the tracks. The Kettenkrad tops out at 44 mph, it has a 36-horsepower, inline, four-cylinder, water-cooled Opel engine, and it weighs 3,440 pounds (a little more than my Corvette).
Next up: The Moto Guzzi.
Wow, talk about mechanical complexity. Check out the front end: A brake, front-wheel drive gears, shafts, u-joints, single-sided fork, and more. The fender offers enough clearance to allow use of snow chains. I wonder what shop rates were back in the 1960s.
The Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico is a real oddity. Not only had I never seen one; I never knew such a thing even existed. There were only 200 ever made, and it all happened in the early 1960s. Built for the Italian Army (its official designation was the Autoveicolo Da Montagna, or mountain vehicle), Bill explained to me it was designed for hauling supplies over Alpine peaks. The Italians wanted something more modern to replace the donkeys they had been using (hence the unofficial name, the Mulo Meccanico).
The Italians have a thing for gated shifters. Before going to paddleshifters, Ferrari used the same approach.
The tracked Goose had a gated hand shifter on the right side of the thing that allowed the rider to select any of six forward speeds or reverse. A speedo is the only instrument; it was the Mulo’s single nod toward simplicity. Everything else was hopelessly complex.
You could run the Mulo Meccanico with or without treads. You could adjust the track (distance between the rear wheels) on the fly. You know, sometimes those Alpine goat trails get narrow.
The mechanical details and specs on the Guzzi half-track are both unusual and impressive, but ultimately, the all-too-common engineering mistake of injecting complexity where none was required doomed the Mulos. And wow, the Italian military had a complex set of requirements. The Mulo had to do everything a real donkey could do and then some. The Italian Army wanted to be able to adjust the rear track on the fly to suit narrow trail conditions, so Moto Guzzi designed that into these bikes. The Army wanted all wheels to be driven. Atsa no problem, the Guzzi guys said. The customer wants tracks, like Il Duce’s buddy had on the Kettenkrad? Si, Guzzi said; tracks could be added to the two rear drive wheels (as you see on Bill’s). A steering wheel will do nicely, they thought. And check out the front fork. It was way ahead of its time: Single-sided, a driven front wheel (the thing can actually climb a vertical surface, as you’ll see in the YouTube video below). It’s not hydraulic drive, either; there are shafts and gears and u-joints buried in all that mechanical complexity.
Moto Guzzi originally planned to use their 500cc single for these vehicles, but it wasn’t powerful enough. So Guzzi engineered a V-twin-powered half-ton half-track that could tow and haul a combined 1,100 pounds. The Mulo weighed about 2,200 pounds and had a top speed of 50 mph. Yee haw!
Patina raised to an exponent. Hey, it’s only original once! The future of Moto Guzzi motorcycles, the transverse V-twin engine, lies buried in amongst all that complexity.
What you see here is a camel designed by a committee (the Italian military-industrial complex tried to mechanically create a donkey). The only lasting things to come out of the effort were the famed Moto Guzzi transverse V-twin engine and a good story (that would be this one). The resulting mechanical camel intended to replace the mule died a quick and merciful death, but the engine went on in several iterations to power all subsequent Moto Guzzi motorcycles. Modern versions of the Mandello Del Lario motor power Moto Guzzis today, and the guys who ride Moto Guzzis (like my good buddy Dan) absolutely love them. I always wanted a Guzzi, but it’s an itch I haven’t scratched. Yet.
The Italian Army originally ordered 500 Mulos with deliveries starting in 1961. But the Guzzi’s complexity ran smack into that age-old engineering axiom (KISS, or Keep It Simple, Signore). The Moto Guzzi Mulo Meccanico was just too complicated, too difficult to operate, and too dangerous. The real donkeys could get through those mountain passes just fine and the Mulos could not. In 1963 production stopped after only 200 units. The Army literally went back to donkeys. The real ones.
Hee haw.
One more thing I thought you might enjoy: I found a couple of YouTube videos showing both moto half-tracks, the Kettenkrad and the Mulo Meccanico, in action. The folks in the videos seem to be having fun.
Bill Morris is the real deal, and Bill’s Old Bike Barn is one of the most interesting motorcycle museums I’ve ever visited. We’re doing on a series on the man and the museum, and this is our third installment in that series. You can see the first two below.
Miss our first installment on Bill’s Old Bike Barn? Hey, here it is:
There’s an old saying: The difference between success and failure is this: A failure is a person who stays down. A success is a person who refuses to stay down. By that measure, Milton Hershey certainly was a success. His first two attempts at candy companies did not end well. Hershey made it big on the third attempt, though, and his company became an American icon. This blog is a story about the town that bears his name and a great Pennsylvania destination: Hershey, Pennsylvania.
The man and the legend: Milton Hershey. This is a mural as you take the ride into the chocolate “factory.”
I’m not a chocoholic, but I love Hershey, Pennsylvania and the story of the Hershey company. One man had an idea about a new candy, and he worked tirelessly to build the candy company that bears his name. As he was doing so, he built a town designed to be a better place for his employees. I’d say he succeeded on all counts.
Signs lining the highway into Hershey. Note the iconic street lights.
I first visited Hershey back in the 1960s. My Dad was a world-class trap shooter and our traveling was nearly always related to a shoot someplace in the northeastern United States. Pennsylvania, New York, Maryland, Ohio, New Hampshire, and more. Mom, my sister, and I would visit nearby attractions, and the town of Hershey was one of them. Two things stood out in my mind: The streetlights were styled like Hershey’s kisses, and the entire town smelled like chocolate.
A sidewalk grate in Hershey.
The streetlights hadn’t changed (they were still the same Hershey’s kisses), but I was surprised when we arrived: I couldn’t smell the chocolate I remembered. My aunt lives near Hershey and she told me that changes daily. It’s a function of what the Hershey plant is doing that day, the wind, and maybe a few other factors. We missed the chocoholic aroma (which was the bad news), but it still occurs sometimes (that’s the good news). I’m guessing tighter emissions requirements might be playing a role here, too.
There are several things to see and do in Hershey, but the factory tour I remembered as a kid is no more (more on that in a second). There are things to do in Hershey, starting with just walking around the town and taking in its beauty. There are also Hershey attractions, including the Hershey Museum and the current Hershey factory tour. We hit the Hershey Museum first.
Inside the Hershey Museum. It’s a real museum (unlike the factory tour, which I’ll get to in a minute), with equipment from the early days of Milton Hershey’s work and excellent exhibits.One of the exhibit areas inside the Hershey Museum.
I had seen the large Hershey smokestacks on the way into town and I wanted to get a photo. While my wife and sister were taking in the Hershey Museum, I left a bit early and walked up the street to get a better photo of the smokestacks.
One of the better photos, I think, from our Hershey visit. The weather was perfect.
Next up was the factory tour. I thought I remembered the factory tour from my visit in the 1960s, but I either remembered it wrong or I was projecting what I wanted into a memory that had dropped a few digits over the decades. I thought we would see the actual Hershey factory. That’s what I wanted. I’m a manufacturing guy, and I’ll never pass on any opportunity to get into a manufacturing facility. But the factory tour I remembered as a kid had been replaced by a theme park ride. The Hershey factory tour involved getting into little cars that were pulled along a track and going through a dumbed-down Disney-like version of what the real factory looks like. I suppose Hershey has to protect its proprietary process technology, but still, I was hoping for an engineering text and what I got was a Saturday morning cartoon.
Upon entering the factory tour building, you have to first go through what has to be the world’s largest candy store. And yeah, we bought some candy. It’s not like we needed it. But we were there. When in Rome…you know the rest.
If you have a sweet tooth, Hershey’s candy store is the place you want to be.At the entrance to the Hershey factory tour.You go through the Hershey factory tour on an amusement park like ride in these little cars. It was fun.Modern manufacturing methods, dumbed down to the lowest common denominator. Still, it was fun.
Not surprisingly, after you exit the factory tour little cars, you go through the candy store again. Wow, there sure was a lot of candy. I saw varieties of currently-available Hershey’s candies I’d never seen before. It was not a total bust: I had my Nikon and the displays were more than colorful.
It all looks good. I was mentally converting each treat to time on the treadmill.
Hershey’s owns Reese’s. Reese was a guy who worked for Hershey, and then started his own company. Then Hershey’s bought Reese’s. There are Reeses peanut butter cups with peanut butter. There are Reese’s peanut butter cups with peanut butter and potato chips. There are Reese’s peanut butter cups with peanut butter and pretzels. There are Reese’s peanut butter cups with peanut butter and marshmallows. There are Reese’s peanut butter cups with peanut butter and, well, you get the idea.
Candy, as far as the eye can see.More candy. More calories.And more. More calories. More mandatory time on the treadmill.
You might be surprised to hear this, but I gained a few pounds on this trip. As soon as I finish this blog, I’m headed to the gym where I’ll spend quality time on the treadmill. I need it.
The best kept secret in Hershey? For starters, there are Pennsylvania’s back roads. If you get off the freeways, just about any country road makes for a magnificent ride. I rode many of these roads more than 50 years ago when I was stationed at Indiantown Gap Military Reservation, which is not too far away from Hershey. I rode a 750 Honda Four in those days, and the roads are as magnificent today as they were then. Folks, let me tell you: Pennsylvania is a motorcycling paradise.
Here’s another hidden gem: If you want a world-class dinner (I’m talking fine dining raised to an exponent), there’s a restaurant called “What If” tucked away in Hershey. It’s in the basement of a Howard Johnson motel, and if you don’t look for it, you won’t see it. Trust me, it’s awesome. I didn’t grab any food photos and that’s okay: It’s my excuse for making plans to return some day. But that’s in the future. For now, it’s more time on the treadmill, and lots of it.
Stop what you’re doing. Get off the Internet (and for sure, get off Facebook and the other moronic “social media” time wasters). Start planning a trip to Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania. You need to see Bill’s Old Bike Barn. The riding is fabulous in rural Pennsylvania and with Bill’s as a destination, the ride is even better. You can thank me now or you can thank me later, but you will thank me.
Any motorcycle museum that includes in its directions “turn where you see the dinosaurs” should grab your attention. In the case of Bill’s Old Bike Barn, your undivided attention is warranted. To say I was blown away would be an understatement of immense proportions. To cut to the chase, I’ve never seen anything like Bill’s, and I know for damn sure I’ve never met a man like Bill. That’s Bill artistically framed by Milwaukee iron in the photo above, and yeah, I shot that picture. I’m proud of it. It hints at the dimensions of the man and what he’s created out there in Pennsylvania.
During our interview I asked Bill his last name and he told me: Morris, just like the cigarettes. I didn’t get it until later, and then I couldn’t stop laughing. If you don’t get it immediately, you will. Bill has that kind of slingshot wit. I love the guy and his collection. You will, too.
Above all else, Bill is two things: A collector, and a people person. The extent if his collection…well, I can’t describe it. You need to see it. You’ll get just a hint here in the ExNotes series of blogs we’re doing. When you visit the place, you’ll feel like you owe me. When you meet Bill, you’ll know you’ve made a friend. A most interesting friend.
Up above, that’s the building that houses Bill’s collection. You can’t really see it from the highway. You have to look for the dinosaurs (just like the directions say), turn, and then head uphill. You’ll go by the bison, some other cool items, and more. The building looks deceptively small from the outside. Inside…you could spend weeks and not see all of what’s in there.
You can learn about Bill’s Old Bike Barn on his website, but we’re going to give you more here on ExNotes. We’re going to do it over the span of several blogs over the next few weeks, and in an upcoming article in a major moto mag. Ever watched and enjoyed American Pickers? Trust me on this (and trust me on everything else, for that matter): Bill Morris puts American Pickers to shame. You and I have never seen anything like what’s in Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
I’m excited about what I’ve seen and what I’m going to be sharing with you. I’ll do my best to bring it to life in print and in the photos, but it won’t be enough. You really need to visit Bill’s Old Bike Barn.
Other than good buddy Arjiu (that would be Joe Gresh), I’m guessing most of you have never been to Chongqing. Chongqing is home to China’s motorcycle industry and it was the starting point for your two blogmeisters’ putt across the Ancient Kingdom. I enjoyed that ride enormously. Gresh and I had some fantastic times.
I first visited Chongqing and Zongshen as a consultant to CSC when we used Zongshen’s 250cc engine in our Mustang replicas. One thing led to another, and before too long CSC was Zongshen’s exclusive North American importer, and CSC introduced the RX3 to the US. I was blown away by Chongqing, the people, the size of the city, the photo ops, the cuisine, and more. I’ve been there many times and I’d go back again in a heartbeat.
Good buddy Fan shared this video a few days ago, and I knew I had to share it on the blog. Pro tip: Hit the little button on the bottom right of the video (after you start it) to view it full screen. It’s impressive.
You can be a China hater all you want. I know more than a few people over there I call my friends. Yeah, the world is going through some shaky times right now, but that’s not the Chinese people and it’s for sure not the guys I know. I like the place.
If you want to know more about our trip across China, pick up a copy of Riding China. There’s a link here on the blog. And take a look at our Epic Rides page, where we have links to posts about that ride.
I’ve ridden motorcycles through Baja probably 30 times or more over the last 30 years, and it’s unquestionably the best place to ride a motorcycle I’ve ever experienced. Many people are afraid to venture into the peninsula for fear of a breakdown. Hey, it happens, but it’s not the end of the world and it doesn’t happen often. They don’t call it adventure riding because it’s like calling for an Uber.
Not all “breakdowns” result in your motorcycle being nonoperational. Some are just mere annoyances and you truck on. A few breakdowns result in the bike not running, but there are usually ways to get around that. When it happens, you improvise, adapt, and overcome. Here are a few of mine.
Heritage Indeed
The first time I had a motorcycle act up was on my beloved ’92 Harley Softail. It started clanging and banging and bucking and snorting somewhere around Ensenada. I was headed south with my good buddy Paul from New Jersey. It was obvious something wasn’t right and we turned around to head back to the US. The Harley got me home, but I could tell: Something major had happened. The bike was making quite a bit of noise. I had put about 300 miles on it by the time I rode it back from Mexico.
A roller lifter that converted to a solid lifter.
One of the Harley’s roller lifters stopped rolling, and that turned it into a solid lifter. And when that happened, the little wheel that was supposed to rotate along the cam profile started wearing a path through the cam. And when that happened, the metal filings migrated their way to the oil pump. And when that happened….well, you get the idea. My 80-cubic-inch V-Twin Evo motor decided to call it quits after roughly 53,000 miles. It happens I guess. Nothing lasts forever.
Potato, potato, potato.
Here’s where it started to get really interesting. My local Harley dealer wouldn’t touch the bike. See, this was around 2005 or so, and it seems my Harley was over 10 years old. Bet you didn’t know this: Many Harley dealers (maybe most of them) won’t work on a bike over 10 years old. The service manager at my dealer explained this to me and I was dumbfounded. “What about all the history and heritage and nostalgia baloney you guys peddle?” I asked. The answer was a weak smile. “I remember an ad with a baby in Harley T-shirt and the caption When did it start for you?” I said. Another weak smile.
An S&S engine in my ’92 Softail. It let me ride a slow bike fast.
I was getting nowhere fast. I tried calling a couple of other Harley dealers and it was the same story. Over 10 years old, dealers won’t touch it. I was flabbergasted. I tried as hard as I could, but there was no getting around it…the Harley dealer would not work on my engine. It was over 10 years old. That’s that; rules is rules. For a company that based their entire advertising program on longevity and heritage, I thought it was outrageous. A friend suggested I go to an independent shop. “It’s why they exist,” he said. So I did.
So, I went with Plan B. I took the Harley to a local independent shop, and they were more than happy to work on my bike. I could have the Harley engine completely rebuilt (which it needed, because those metal bits had migrated everywhere), or I could have it rebuilt with an S&S motor. I went with the S&S motor (the cost was the same as rebuilding the Harley engine), doubling the horsepower, halving the rear tire life, and cutting my fuel economy from 42 to 33 mpg.
Justin’s Countershaft Sprocket
On the very first CSC Baja trip, I was nervous as hell. The CSC bikes had received a lot of press and the word was out: CSC was importing the real deal, a genuine adventure touring motorcycle for about one sixth of what a GS 1200 BMW sold for in those days. The naysayers and keyboard commandos were out in force, badmouthing the Chinese RX3 in ways that demonstrated unbridled ignorance and no small amount of bias. And here we were, taking 14 or 15 guys (and one gal) who had bought new RX3 motorcycles that had literally arrived in the US just a few days before our departure. There was one thought in my mind as we headed south from Azusa that morning: What was I thinking? If the bikes started falling out on this first trip, it would probably kill the RX3 in America.
Hey, it worked. Adapt, overcome, improvise. The adventure doesn’t start until something goes wrong.
I need not have worried. None of the engines failed. We had a few headlights go out, but that’s not really a breakdown. And then, when we were about halfway down the Baja peninsula, I took a smaller group of riders to see the cave paintings at Sierra San Francisco. That trip involved a 140-mile round trip from Guerrero Negro into the boonies, with maybe 20 miles of that on a very gnarly dirt road. As we were returning, good buddy Justin’s RX3 lost its countershaft sprocket. We found it and Justin did a good enough MacGuyver job securing it to the transmission output shaft to get us back to Guerrero Negro, but finding a replacement was a challenge. We finally paid a machinist at the Mitsubishi salt mining company to make a custom nut, and that got us home.
On every Baja trip after that, I took a spare countershaft sprocket nut, but I never needed any of them after that one incident on Justin’s bike. Good buddy Duane had a similar failure, but that was on a local ride and it was easily rectified.
Jim’s Gearbox
Four or five Baja trips later, after we had ridden all the way down to Mulege and back up to the border, good buddy Jim’s transmission wouldn’t shift.
Good buddy Jim in the Mulege mission.
That’s the only breakdown I ever experienced anywhere on an RX3 that wouldn’t get us home, and that includes multiple multi-bike Baja trips, the multi-bike 5000-mile Western America adventure ride, the multi-bike 6000-mile ride across China, the 3000-mile circumnavigation around the Andes Mountains in Colombia, and quite a few CSC local company rides. One of the guys on that Baja ride lived in the San Diego area and he owned a pickup truck, so he took the bike back up to Azusa for us.
Biting the Bullet
A couple of years ago Joe Gresh and I did a Baja road test with Royal Enfield press bikes. One was the new 650 Interceptor twin (a bike I liked so much I bought one when I got home); the other was a 500 Bullet. The Bullet was a disaster, but it really wasn’t the bike’s fault. The dealer who maintained the press fleet for Royal Enfield (I won’t mention them by name, but they’re in Glendale and they’re known for their Italian bikes) did a half-assed job maintaining the bike. Actually, that’s not fair to people who do half-assed work (and Lord knows there a lot of them). No, the maintenance on this bike was about one-tenth-assed. It was very low on oil, it had almost no gas in it, the chain was loose and rusty, and on and on the writeup could go. The bike kept stalling and missing, and it finally gave up the ghost for good at the Pemex station just north of Guerrero Negro.
Joe Gresh, inflight missile mechanic extraordinaire, getting intimate with the Bullet in Baja. “The Bullet needs me,” he said.
Fortunately for me, Gresh had one of those portable battery thingamabobbers (you know, the deals that are good for about 10 battery jumps) and it allowed us to start the bike. We bought a new battery that didn’t quite fit the bike in Guerrero Negro (big hammers solve a lot of problems), but the entire episode left a bad taste in my mouth for the Bullet and for the Glendale Ducatimeister.
Big hammers fix all kinds of problems.
That bike had other problems as well. The kickstand run switch failed on the ride home, and Gresh did an inflight missile mechanic bypass on it. Then, just before we made it back to my house in So Cal, the rear sprocket stripped. Literally. All the teeth were gone. That was another one I had never experienced before. The Bullet was sort of a fun bike, but this particular one was a disaster. We joked about it. The Bullet needs me, Gresh said.
John’s Silver Wing Leak
Ah this is another motofailure that tried but didn’t stop the show. On one of my earlier Baja forays, Baja John had a Honda Silver Wing. That’s a bike that was also known as the baby Gold Wing (it had all the touring goodies the Gold Wing had). It was only a 500 or a 650 (I can’t remember which) and it had no problem keeping up with the Harleys (but then, it doesn’t take much to keep up with a Harley).
Baja John and the mighty Silver Wing, somewhere well south of the border.
The Silver Wing was a pretty slick motorcycle…it had a transversely-aligned v-twin like a Moto Guzzi and it had plenty of power. Unlike the Guzzi, the Silver Wing was water cooled and that’s where our problem occurred. John’s bike developed a coolant leak. I was a little nervous about that. We were more than halfway down the peninsula and headed further south when the bike started drooling, but John had the right attitude (which was not to worry and simply ignore the problem). The little Silver Wing was like a Timex…it took the licking and kept on ticking, and to my great surprise, it simply stopped leaking after another hundred miles or so. I guess it doesn’t really count as a breakdown.
John’s KLR 650 OPEC Bike
Baja John had another bike, a KLR 650, that developed a fuel petcock leak on another one of our Baja trips. As I recall, it started leaking on the return run somewhere around El Rosario. I get nervous around fuel leaks for the obvious reasons, but John stuck to his policy: Don’t worry, be happy.
Baja John: The man, the legend.
We stayed in a hotel in Ensenada that night. The hotel had an attached enclosed parking structure, which immediately started to smell like the inside of a gas tank. Not that I’ve ever been inside a gas tank, but that parking garage pretty much had the aroma I imagine exists in such places.
John’s luck continued to hold, and we made it home without John becoming a human torch.
The Bottom Line
The bottom line is you basically need four things when headed into Baja:
A tool kit.
A good attitude that includes a sense of adventure.
A well maintained motorcycle.
Maybe some spare parts.
So there you have it. If you’d like to know more about riding in Baja, please visit our Baja page and maybe pickup a copy of Moto Baja.
If you’re headed into Baja, don’t leave home without BajaBound Insurance. They are the best there is. If you are nice, they might even fix you up with a cool BajaBound coffee mug!
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