Category: Motorcycle Adventure Ride

The Wayback Machine: Chiriaco Summit and the General Patton Memorial Museum

By Joe Berk

The thought came to me easily: The Patton Museum. We’d been housebound for weeks, sheltered in place against the virus, and like many others we were suffering from an advanced case of cabin fever.   Where can we go that won’t require flying, is reasonably close, and won’t put us in contact with too many people?  Hey, I write travel articles for the best motorcycle magazine on the planet (that’s Motorcycle Classics) and I know all the good destinations around here.  The Patton Museum.  That’s the ticket.

General George S. Patton, Jr., and his faithful companion, Willie, at the General Patton Memorial Museum in Chiriaco Summit, California.

I called the Patton Museum and they were closed.  An answering machine.  The Pandemic. Please leave a message.  So I did.  And a day later I had a response from a pleasant-sounding woman.   She would let me know when they opened again and she hoped we would visit.  So I called and left another message.  Big time motojournalist here.  We’d like to do a piece on the Museum.  You know the drill.  The Press.  Throwing the weight of the not-so-mainstream media around.  Gresh and I do it all the time.

Margit and I finally connected after playing telephone tag.  Yes, the Patton Museum was closed, but I could drive out to Chiriaco Summit to get a few photos (it’s on I-10 a cool 120 miles from where I live, and 70 miles from the Arizona border).  Margit gave me her email address, and Chiriaco was part of it (you pronounce it “shuhRAYco”).

Wait a second, I thought, and I asked the question: “Is your name Chiriaco, as in Chiriaco Summit, where the Museum is located?”

“Yes, Joe Chiriaco was my father.”

This was going to be good, I instantly knew.  And it was.

The story goes like this:  Dial back the calendar nearly a century.  In the late 1920s, the path across the Colorado, Sonoran, and Mojave Deserts from Arizona through California was just a little dirt road.  It’s hard to imagine, but our mighty Interstate 10 was once a dirt road.  A young Joe Chiriaco used it when he and a friend hitchhiked from Alabama to see a football game in California’s Rose Bowl in 1927.

Chiriaco stayed in California and joined a team in the late 1920s surveying a route for the aqueduct that would carry precious agua from the mighty Colorado River to Los Angeles.  Chiriaco surveyed, he found natural springs in addition to a path for the aqueduct, and he recognized opportunity.   That dirt road (Highways 60 and 70 in those early days) would soon be carrying more people from points east to the promised land (the Los Angeles basin).  Shaver Summit (the high point along the road in the area he was surveying, now known as Chiriaco Summit) would be a good place to sell gasoline and food.  He and his soon-to-be wife Ruth bought land, started a business and a family, and did well.  It was a classic case of the right people, the right time, the right place, and the right work ethic. Read on, my friends.  This gets even better.

Fast forward a decade into the late 1930s, and we were a nation preparing for war.  A visionary US Army leader, General George S. Patton, Jr., knew from his World War I combat experience that armored vehicle warfare would define the future.  It would start in North Africa, General Patton needed a place to train his newly-formed tank units, and the desert regions Chiriaco had surveyed were just what the doctor ordered.

Picture this:  Two men who could see the future clearly.  Joe Chiriaco and George S. Patton.  Chiriaco was at the counter eating his lunch when someone tapped his shoulder to ask where he could find a guy named Joe Chiriaco.  Imagine a response along the lines of “Who wants to know?” and when Chiriaco turned around to find out, there stood General Patton.  Two legends, one local and one national, eyeball to eyeball, meeting for the first time.

A Sherman tank, the one Patton’s men would go to war with in North Africa and Europe, on display at the General Patton Memorial Museum.

Patton knew that Chiriaco knew the desert and he needed his help.  The result?  Camp Young (where Chiriaco Summit stands today), and the 18,000-square-mile Desert Training Center – California Arizona Maneuver Area (DTC-CAMA, where over one million men would learn armored warfare).  It formed the foundation for Patton defeating Rommel in North Africa, our winning World War II, and more.  It would be where thousands of Italian prisoners of war spent most of their time during the war.  It would become the largest military area in America.

General Patton and Joe Chiriaco became friends and they enjoyed a mutually-beneficial relationship: Patton needed Chiriaco’s help and Chiriaco’s business provided a welcome respite for Patton’s troops.  Patton kept Chiriaco’s gas station and lunch counter accessible to the troops, Chiriaco sold beer with Patton’s blessing, and as you can guess….well, you don’t have to guess:  We won World War II.

World War II ended, the Desert Training Center closed, and then, during the Eisenhower administration, Interstate 10 followed the path of Highways 60 and 70.  Patton’s  troops and the POWs were gone and I-10 became the major east/west freeway across the US.   We had become a nation on wheels and Chiriaco’s business continued to thrive as Americans took to the road with our newfound postwar prosperity.

Fast forward yet again: In the 1980s Margit (Joe and Ruth Chiriaco’s daughter) and Leslie Cone (the Bureau of Land Management director who oversaw the lands that had been Patton’s desert training area) had an idea:  Create a museum honoring General Patton and the region’s contributions to World War II.  Ronald Reagan heard about it and donated an M-47 Patton tank (the one you see in the large photo at the top of this blog), and things took off from there.

I first rode my motorcycle to the General Patton Memorial Museum in 2003 with my good buddy Marty.  It was a small museum then, but it has grown substantially.   When Sue and I visited a couple of weeks ago, I was shocked and surprised by what I saw.  I can only partly convey some of it through the photos and narrative you see in this blog.  We had a wonderful visit with Margit, who told us a bit about her family, the Museum, and Chiriaco Summit.  On that topic of family, it was Joe and Ruth Chiriaco, Margit and her three siblings, their children, and their grandchildren. If you are keeping track, that’s four generations of Chiriacos.

The Chiriaco Summit story is an amazing one and learning about it can be reasonably compared to peeling an onion.  There are many layers, and discovering each might bring a tear or two.  Life hasn’t always been easy for the Chiriaco family out there in the desert, but they always saw the hard times as opportunities and they instinctively knew how to use each opportunity to add to their success.  We can’t tell the entire story here, but we’ll give you a link to a book you might consider purchasing at the end of this blog.  Our focus is on the General Patton Memorial Museum, and having said that, let’s get to the photos.

The Patton Museum’s new Matzner Tank Pavilion. When we were there, one of the two M60 tanks you see in front was running. If you think a motorcycle engine at idle makes music, you will love listening to an M60’s air-cooled, horizontally-opposed, 1790-cubic-inch, 12-cylinder diesel engine.  I drove an M60 once when I was in the Army.  Yeah, I still want one.
The business end of an M60’s 105mm main gun. This one has been out of service for a long time; hence the rust. Firing one of these settles disagreements quickly.
The M4 Sherman, our main battle tank in World War II, on the right, with an M5 Stuart tank on the left.
Don’t tread on me, or so the saying goes. Everything on a tank is big. You don’t realize how big until you stand next to one.
When Patton’s men trained at the DTC-CAMA, they used mockup aggressor vehicles (jeeps fitted with frames and canvas) to simulate the bad guys.
M60 main battle tanks parked behind the Museum. This was a shot I could not resist. If Joe Gresh was into tanks, this is what Tinfiny Ranch would undoubtedly look like.  The Patton name was attached to the M47, M48, and M60 tank series.  I asked Margit about these tanks, and she told me that when the Museum raises enough money, they’ll be made operational and put on display.   For now, Margit said, “they stand as silent ghosts with General Patton at the helm.”  I like that.
The General Patton Memorial Museum outdoor chapel.  The chapel was built using desert rocks.  If someone is looking for a unique wedding venue, this is it.

When I first visited the Patton Museum nearly 20 years ago, there were only three or four tanks on display.   As you can see from the above photos, the armored vehicle display has grown dramatically.

Like the armored vehicle exhibits, the Museum interior has also expanded, and it has done so on a grand scale.  In addition to the recently-built Matzner Tank Pavilion shown above, the exhibits inside are far more extensive than when I first visited.  Sue and I had the run of the Museum, and I was able to get some great photos.  The indoor exhibits are stunning, starting with the nearly 100-year-old topo map that dominates the entrance.

The Metropolitan Water District’s scale map of southern California, Arizona, and Nevada. MWD brought this model to the US Congress in 1927 to secure funding for the California Aqueduct, then they stored and forgot about it for decades.  An MWD executive overhead Margit talking about the planned Patton Museum in the Chiriaco Summit coffee shop one day, he remembered the map, and one thing led to another.  MWD donated the map to the Patton Museum in 1988. The Big Map (as it is known) covers the area used by Patton’s Desert Training Center and the California Arizona Maneuver Area.  It’s a visually-arresting display that is truly something special.
Generals Patton and Rommel, the two key players in North Africa. If you’ve never seen the movie, Patton, you need to fix that oversight. It is a great movie.
George S. Patton: The early years. Patton attended the Virginia Military Institute and the United States Military Academy at West Point. His family was from San Marino, California.  Patton was born into wealth and could have done whatever he wanted.  He chose a career in the US Army.
One of the display rooms inside the Patton Museum. I could have spent the entire day in just this room.  That’s an A-10 Warthog model in the foreground.  It’s the airplane we used to take out Iraq’s Republican Guard tanks in Operation Desert Storm.  I worked for the company that manufactured the A-10’s 30mm Gatling Gun ammo and Combined Effects Munitions cluster bombs that did most of the heavy lifting in that war.
Another view inside the Patton Museum. A tripod, a Nikon, a wide angle lens, and having the room to myself. It was a grand day.
A model of Patton’s command vehicle. Patton lived in a trailer and moved with his troops during most of World War II, unlike other US generals who mostly stayed in hotels. Patton was an RVer before there were RVs.
The Patton Museum has an extensive World War II small arms display. I could have spent half a day just viewing this part of the Museum. I’ll be back.
The Patton Museum’s small arms display included this beautiful Model 1917 Colt .45 ACP revolver.  Most of the surviving specimens you see today (when you see them at all; they are not very common) have a Parkerized finish. This one has the original blued finish. I own a Colt 1917; mine has the original finish, too. There’s quite a story behind these revolvers.
A beautiful British Infantry Lee Enfield No. 4 rifle. I grabbed a photo of this one because it had an unusually attractive stock, something you don’t often see on infantry rifles.
A replica of General Patton’s ivory-handled Colt Single Action Army revolver. Patton carried different sidearms during World War II, including this Colt SAA and a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum (also equipped with ivory grips). Patton’s Colt SAA had two notches carved in the left grip.  Then Lieutenant Patton was part of the Pershing expedition that chased Pancho Villa in Mexico from Fort Bliss (my old stomping grounds). Patton personally killed two men in a gunfight during that action. There’s no doubt about it: Patton was the real deal, a genuine warrior.

In addition to the General Patton Memorial Museum, there are several businesses the Chiriaco family operates at Chiriaco Summit, and the reach of this impressive family is four generations deep.  As we mentioned earlier, it’s a story that can’t be told in a single article, but Margit was kind enough to give us a copy of Chiriaco Summit, a book that tells it better than I ever could.  You should buy a copy.  It’s a great read about a great family and a great place.

I enjoyed Chiriaco Summit immensely. That’s Joe Chiriaco in the lower left photo, and Ruth Chiriaco in the upper right inset. Margit Chiriaco Rusche, their daughter, is seated in the 1928 Model A.  Fourth-generation Victor (whom we met) runs a vintage car header company at Chiriaco Summit.  Victor is the young man standing behind Margit.

So there you have it:   The General Patton Memorial Museum and Chiriaco Summit.  It’s three hours east of Los Angeles on Interstate 10 and it’s a marvelous destination.  Keep an eye on the Patton Museum website, and when the pandemic is finally in our rear view mirrors, you’ll want to visit this magnificent California desert jewel.

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The Wayback Machine: The Norton Commando

By Joe Berk

I grew up in a town small enough that our junior high school and high school were all in the same building. It was 7th through 12th grade, which meant that some of the Juniors and Seniors had cars, and one guy had a motorcycle. That one guy was Walt Skok, and the motorcycle was a ‘64 Triumph Tiger (in those days the Tiger was a 500cc single-carbed twin). It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, with big downswept chrome exhaust headers, a cool tank with a dynamite chrome rack, chrome wire wheels, and the most perfect look I had ever seen on anything. I spent every spare moment I had sneaking out into the parking lot to stare at it. Some things in the world are perfect, a precise blend of style and function (things like Weatherby rifles, 1911 handguns, C4 Corvettes, Nikon DSLRs, and 1960s Triumph motorcycles).

A ’64 Triumph Tiger, just like the one Walt Skok owned.

Back to the Triumph: One day Walt started it (I had been drooling over it for a month before I ever heard it run), and its perfection, to me, was complete. In those days, a 500cc motorcycle was enormous. When Walt fired it up, it was unlike anything I had ever heard. It wasn’t lumpy and dumpy like a Harley, it wasn’t a whiny whinny like a Honda, and it wasn’t a tinny “wing-ding-ding-ding-ding” like a Suzuki or a Yamaha (they were all two-strokes back then). Nope, the Triumph was perfect. It was deep. It was visceral. It was tough. The front wheel and forks literally throbbed back and forth with each engine piston stroke. To my 12-year-old eyes and ears it was the absolute essence of a gotta-get-me-one-of-these. It looked and sounded like a machine with a heart and a soul. I knew that someday I would own a machine like this.

Fast forward a few years, and I was old enough own and ride my own Triumphs. I’ve had a bunch of mid-‘60s and ‘70s Triumphs…Bonnevilles, Tigers, and a Daytona (which was a 500cc twin-carbed twin back then, a bike known as the Baby Bonneville). I was a young guy and those British motorcycles were perfect. They were fast, they handled well, and they sounded the way God intended a motorcycle to sound. I had a candy-red-and-gold ’78 750 Bonneville (Triumph always had the coolest colors) that would hit an indicated 109 mph on Loop 820 around Fort Worth, and I did that regularly on those hot and humid Texas nights. Life was good.

Fast forward another 50 years (and another 40 or 50 motorcycles for me). We saw the death of the British motorcycle empire, the rise and fall and rise and impending fall of Harley-Davidson, this new thing called globalization, digital engine management systems, and multi-cylinder ridiculously-porky motorcycles.

So here we are, today.  My good buddy Gerry, then the CSC service manager, owned this ultra-cool Norton Commando.  And good buddy Steve, the CSC CEO, bought the bike and put it on display in the CSC showroom. We had a lot of cool bikes on display there, including vintage Mustangs, Harleys, Beemers, RX3s, RC3s, TT250s, and more. But my eye kept returning to that Norton. I’d never ridden a Norton, but I’d heard the stories when I was younger.

A selfie, sort of. A stunning motorcycle.

Back in the day (I’m jumping back to the ‘60s and ‘70s again) guys who wanted to be cool rode Triumphs. I know because I was one of them. We knew about Nortons, but we didn’t see them very often. They had bigger engines, they were more expensive than Triumphs, and their handling was reported to be far superior to anything on two wheels. Harleys had bigger engines and cost more than Triumphs, but they were porkers.  Nortons were faster than Triumphs (and Triumphs were plenty fast).

A lot of guys who rode Triumphs really wanted to ride Nortons. Nortons were mythical bikes. Their handling and acceleration were legendary. In the ‘60s, the hardest accelerating bike on the planet was the Norton Scrambler. Norton stuffed a 750cc engine into a 500cc frame to create that model, like Carroll Shelby did with the AC Cobra. I remember guys talking about Norton Scramblers in hushed and reverential tones back in the LBJ and Nixon years. You spoke about reverential things softly back then.

Fast forward again, and here I was with Steve’s 1973 Norton Commando right in front of me (just a few feet away from where I used to write the CSC blog). Steve’s Norton was magnificent. It had not been restored and it wore its patina proudly.

“Steve,” I said, “you need to let me ride that Norton.”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll have Gerry get it ready for you.”

Wow, I thought. I’m going to ride a Norton. I felt like the little dog who finally caught the bus and found himself with a mouthful of bus. What do you do when that happens?

I sat on the Norton that afternoon. It felt big. The pegs were set far to the rear and my hips hurt immediately from the bike’s racing ergos (and maybe a little from the femur and spine fractures I suffered in a motorcycle accident a few years before that; I don’t bend as easily as I used to). Maybe I shouldn’t have asked to ride this beautiful beast. Maybe my mouth had written a check my body couldn’t cash.

But I was committed. The Norton went back to Gerry so he could get it ready for me to ride. There could be no backing out now.  I was nervous, I was excited, and I was a little giddy. The only bikes I had ridden for the last 7 or 8 years were 150cc Mustangs and the 250cc Zongs. Lightweight bikes. Singles. Under 25 horsepower. Electric starters and all the amenities. Modern stuff.  I thought about riding the 850 Norton. It dawned on me that I had not even heard it run yet. I realized I liked electric starters. I hadn’t kick started a bike in probably 35 years. The Norton was an 850, and it was kick start only. No electric starter. Hmmm.

When I arrived at the plant, Steve pushed the Norton outside for me. We both tried to figure out where the ignition key went (it’s on the left side of the bike). We tried to guess at the ignition key’s run spot (it has four or five positions). We picked the second one and I tried kicking the engine. It was a complicated affair. You had to fold the right footpeg in, and when you kick the starter, you had to try to not hit the gear shift lever on the right side of the bike. We kicked it a couple of times. Hmmm again. Lots of compression. Then Steve had to run back into the plant to take a phone call. I tried kick starting the Norton a couple of times again.   Not even a cough from the engine.

I played with the key and clicked it over one more notch. Another kick, and the mighty 850 fired right up. Ah, success!

The Norton settled into an easy idle.  It was wonderful. It sounded just like Walt Skok’s Triumph. I was in the 7th grade again. I looked around to see if Steve had seen me start it, but no one was there. It was just me and the Norton. Okay, I thought, I’ll just ride around in the parking lot to get the feel of the clutch, the throttle, and the brakes.

Whoa, I thought, as I let the clutch out gingerly. That puppy had power! The Norton was turning over lazily and it felt incredibly powerful as I eased the clutch out. I tried the rear brake and there was nothing (oh, that’s right, the rear brake is on the other side). I tried the front brake, and it was strong. Norton had already gone to disk brakes by 1973, and the disk on Steve’s Commando was just as good as a modern bike’s brakes are today.

I rode the Norton into the shop so Gerry could fill the fuel tank for me. The Norton has a sidestand and a centerstand, but you can’t get to either one while you are on the bike. You have to hold the bike up, dismount on the left, and then put it on the centerstand. The side stand was under there somewhere, but I didn’t want to mess around trying to catch it with my boot. It was plenty scary just getting off the Norton and holding it upright. It was more than a little scary, actually. I’m riding my boss’s vintage bike, it’s bigger than anything I’ve been on in years, and I don’t want to drop it.

Gerry gave me “the talk” about kick starting the Norton. “I don’t like to do it while I’m on the bike,” he said. “If it kicks back, it will drive your knee right into the handlebars and that hurts. I always do it standing on the right side of the bike.”

Hmmmm. As if I wasn’t nervous enough already.

I tried the kickstarter two or three times (with everybody in the service area watching me) and I couldn’t start the thing, even though I had started it outside (when no one was around to witness my success). Gerry kicked the Norton once for me (after my repeated feeble attempts) and it started immediately. Okay. I got it. You have to show it who’s boss.

I strapped my camera case to the Norton’s back seat (or pillion, as they used to say in Wolverhampton), and then I had a hard time getting back on the bike. I couldn’t swing my leg over the camera bag. Yeah, I was nervous. And everybody in the shop was still watching me.

With the Norton twerking to its British twin tango, I managed to turn it around and get out onto Route 66. A quick U-turn (all the while concentrating intensely so I would remember “shift on the right, brake on the left”) and I rode through the mean streets of north Azusa toward the San Gabriels. In just a few minutes, I was on Highway 39, about to experience riding Nirvana.

This is what a motorcycle instrument cluster should be. The Enfield Interceptor Gresh and I tested in Baja was very similar.

Wow, this is sweet, I thought as I climbed into the San Gabriels. I had no idea what gear I was in, but gear selection is a somewhat abstract concept on a Norton.  Which gear didn’t seem to make any difference.  The Commando had power and torque that just wouldn’t quit.  More throttle, go faster, shifting optional. It didn’t matter what gear I was in (which was good, because all I knew was that I was somewhere north of 1st).

A photo stop along the East Fork Road. That’s East Fork, as in the East Fork of the San Gabriel River.

I looked down at the tach. It had a 7000-rpm redline and I was bouncing around somewhere in the 2500 zip code. And when I say bouncing around, I mean that literally. The tach needle oscillated ±800 rpm at anything below 3000 rpm (it settled down above 3000 rpm, a neighborhood I would visit only once that day). The Norton’s low end torque was incredible. I realized I didn’t even know how many gears the bike had, so I slowed, rowed through the gears and counted (the number was four).

A shot from the rear. I was shooting with a Nikon D3300 DSLR (an entry-level digital camera) and the Nikon 16-35 lens.

The Norton was amazing in every regard. The sound was soothing, symphonic, and sensuous (how’s that for alliteration?). It’s what God intended motorcycles to be. Highway 39 is gloriously twisty and the big Norton (which suddenly didn’t feel so big) gobbled it up. The Norton never felt cumbersome or heavy (it’s only about 20 lbs heavier than my 250cc RX3). It was extremely powerful. I was carving through the corners moderately aggressively at very tiny throttle openings. Just a little touch of my right hand and it felt like I was a cannon-launched kinetic energy weapon. Full disclosure: I’ve never been launched from a cannon, but I’m pretty sure what I experienced that day on the Norton is what it would feel like. Everything about the Norton felt (and here’s that word again) perfect.
I was having so much fun that I missed the spot where I normally would stop for the CSC glamour shots. There’s a particular place on Highway 39 where I could position a bike and get some curves in the photo (and it looked great in the CSC ads).  But I sailed right past it. I was enjoying the ride.

When I realized I missed the spot where I wanted to stop for photos, it made me think about my camera.  I reached behind to make sure it was still on the seat behind me, but my camera wasn’t there! Oh, no, I thought, I lost my camera, and God only knows where it might have fallen off. I looked down, and the camera was hanging off the left side of the bike, captured in the bungee net. Wow, I dodged a bullet there.

The view from above. It was a glorious day.

I pulled off and then I realized: I don’t want to kill the engine because then I’ll have to start it, and if I can’t, I’m going to feel mighty stupid calling Gerry to come rescue me.

Okay, I thought, here’s the drill.   Pull off to the side of the road, find a flat spot, keep the engine running, put all my weight on my bad left leg, swing my right leg over the seat, hold the Norton upright, get the bike on the centerstand, unhook the bungee net, sling the camera case over my shoulder, get back on the bike, and all the while, keep the engine running.  Oh, yeah.  No problem.

This is what a motorcycle should look like. Why can’t other manufacturers do this? Oh, wait, Enfield did…

Actually, though, it wasn’t that bad. And I was having a lot of fun.

I arrived at the East Fork bridge sooner than I thought I would (time does indeed fly when you’re having fun). I made the right turn. I would have done the complete Glendora Ridge Road loop, but the CalTrans sign told me that Glendora Ridge Road was closed. I looked for a spot to stop and grab a few photos of this magnificent beast.

That’s when I noticed that the left footpeg rubber had fallen off the bike. It’s the rubber piece that fits over the foot peg. Oh, no, I thought once again. I didn’t want to lose pieces of Steve’s bike, although I knew no ride on any vintage British vertical twin would be complete without something falling off.   I made a U-turn and rode back and forth several times along a half-mile stretch where I thought I lost the rubber footpeg cover, but I couldn’t find it. When I pulled off to turn around yet again, I stalled the bike.

Hmmm. No doubt about it now. I knew I was going to have to start the Norton on my own.

We (me and my good buddy Norton, that is) had picked a good spot to stop. I dismounted using the procedure described earlier, I pulled the black beauty onto its centerstand, and I grabbed several photos. I could tell they were going to be good. Sometimes you just know when you’re behind the camera that things are going well. And on the plus side of the ledger, all of the U-turns I had just made (along with the magnificent canyon carving on Highway 39) had built up my confidence enormously. The Norton was going to start for me because I would will it to.

And you know what? That’s exactly what happened. One kick and all was well with the world. I felt like Marlon Brando, Steve McQueen, and Peter Fonda, all rolled up into one 66-year-old teenager.  At that moment I was a 12-year-old kid staring at Walt Skok’s Triumph again. Yeah, I’m bad. A Norton will do that to you. I stared at the bike as it idled. It was a living, breathing, snorting, shaking, powerful thing. Seeing it alive like that was perfect. I suddenly remembered my Nikon camera had video. Check this out…

So there you have it. A dream bike, but this time the dream was real.  Good times, that day was.

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Lobo

I recently posted a Wayback Machine blog on riding in the rain, and Carl Bennett (a new friend from the UK) added a comment about one of his rain rides.  Carl’s input was interesting on several levels, one of which was the included web address.  I poked around a bit on Carl’s site and found a blog post titled “Lobo.”  Well, one thing led to another, with the result being Carl’s permission to publish “Lobo” here on ExNotes.  I enjoyed reading it and I think you will, too.

– Joe Berk

By Carl Bennett

As a name for a motorcycle it’s okay. It means timber wolf, in Spanish, but maybe that means Mexican. Oooops, I meant Microsoft Spanish, for whom Spanish means Old Spanish. Obviously in global internet land, Microsoft’s 14-year-old-in-Ohio sensibilities reign supreme. Which is a whole other story. And this one is about me. Like all my others, as yours are all about you and Charles Dickens’ were about him. And especially Martin Amis’s were all about him. God, were they about him. I don’t know if he ever had a motorcycle. Hunter Thompson definitely had several, but as he wrote himself, Mister Kurz, he dead.

Lobo was the name of the band that sang A Dog Named Boo, so long ago that I can’t even admit I know the tune. I heard it during my formative years, the ones still a-forming.

Like Arlo Guthrie on his motorcycle I don’t want to die. Despite drinking kettle de-scaler yesterday morning, calling NHS 111 and having a not-great day thinking I might actually die of this, which wasn’t helped by eating a whole packet of spicy beetroot. I love that stuff, except they really ought to put a reminder on the packet of what happens when you look in the toilet bowl, to tell you that you almost certainly will live more than another three days and if you don’t, it won’t be anything to do with beetroots, unless a beetroot lorry runs you over. The gist being that I’d quite like to stay alive for the foreseeable future.

So obviously, I bought myself a motorcycle for Christmas. Unlike the song, although I’ve got my motor running, first time every time, but hey, it’s a BMW. On which I have no intention of hitting the highway like a battering ram, nor like anything else.  What did you expect? I’ve absolutely no wish to hit the highway because I know from past experience it bloody hurts. Thankfully, my off-bike excursions were few and decidedly minor, but I remember spending an afternoon in Gene Fleck’s Meadow Inn bar in Wisconsin with the road closed while an emergency crew searched against the clock to find someone’s foot. I’d seen him and his girl earlier in the day on a Harley, riding like an accident looking for somewhere to happen, which it duly did.

I wasn’t prepared for the change. And no, that wasn’t why I got a motorcycle again. I did it because life is short. I did it because I wanted to smell the grass and the trees and the fields I passed through. I did it because I wanted to do it again before I die.

Where I began the process I laughingly call growing-up, there wasn’t any public transport to speak of. There were infrequent busses, taxis weren’t a thing for a 16 or 17-year-old in a Wiltshire town and even if being chauffeured to places by my Mummy was an option the way it seems to be for kids today, I’d have died of self-loathing to ask. Probably. After I had the lift, obviously. All of which meant that at 16 I did what was the fairly normal thing and bought a Yamaha FS1-E. It wasn’t just me. Look at the sales figures. Back then, you had a moped only as long as it took to get a motorcycle, which was your 17th birthday. Thanks to some bureaucratic insanity, or more likely in England, nobody could be bothered to check the sense of the rules, or read them properly, a 17-year-old could perfectly legally if predictably briefly stick a sidecar on a Kawasaki Z1, stick L-plates on it and set off for the obituary column of their local paper, when there were such things.

Not me, baby. I bought a Honda CB 175. I had an Army surplus shiny PVC button-up coat. It felt like, it looked like, it probably was something a dustman on a motorcycle would look like, as a friend of mine thoughtfully pointed out in case it was something I’d overlooked. It had to go, even though it didn’t very fast. I put it in the Wiltshire Times. Nobody even rang the phone number. I put the price up 30% the next week and got about 20 calls. I sold it to the first one who came to see it, even though he asked for a discount. Which he didn’t get. I didn’t bother to tell him about the 30% discount he could have had the week before.

Then it was probably my favourite bike, the Triumph T25, the kind of thing that now sells for over £4,000 any day of the week and which then you felt lucky if you could raise £200 on it. It was fun, and I learned some good lessons on it. One of them being that if you ignore that little triangular sign warning you there’s a junction ahead then you’ll go about three-quarters of the way across it before the twin-shoe Triumph brake stops you. Nothing came. Nothing did on back lanes around Tellisford in those days.

The Triumph got swapped for a Norton 500 that ran for two weeks out of the two years I had it. It sent me spinning down the road like a dead fly in Cardiff one black ice night, after I’d left the electric fire warmth of some girl’s flat (nothing doing there; never was, with anybody), lost the bike out from under me at about 5 mph, came to a halt against a parked car and had some Welshman peer down at me to tell me “Duh, it’s icy mind.” I left Wales as soon as I could and bought another Triumph, a real 1970s post-Easy-Rider identity crisis machine. It was a 650cc Tiger engine, shoehorned into a chrome-plated Norton Slimline frame. Instead of the rocker clip-ons you’d expect, it had highish handlebars and cut-off exhausts. Just header pipes in fact, but with Volkswagen Beetle mufflers smacked into them in a Bath carpark, with Halford’s slash-cut trim bolted on the ends. I wasn’t a rocker, but I thought it rocked.

It took two weeks to get the petrol tank the way I wanted it, a deep, deep black you could lose your soul in, sprayed on then sanded, sprayed on then sanded, sprayed on then sanded about fifteen times in the kitchen of my definitively smelly Southampton student flat, the kind of place that gave Ian McEwan the idea for The Cement Garden, only a bit less appealing. On the first trip out on that gloriously glossy bike I rode up to Salisbury, escorted by a girlfriend whose parents purported to believe that she had her own spare room at my university halls of residence, the ones I’d left months before. We got to her parents’ newish house in the summer sunlight, said hello, put the bike in the driveway. Then decided we’d go to a local pub because a) Wiltshire, b) nothing much else to do until her parents went out, or c) that’s what people did.

I started the bike, but it didn’t fire first time, so I tickled the Amal carburetor and tried again. There was no air filter on the carb – there often wasn’t in those days – so when it backfired the spurt of flame came straight out into the open air and set light to the petrol that had trickled down the outside of the carb float bowl. I appreciate that these are words that younger readers won’t even recognise, but we had to.   I had my leather jacket on, a full-face Cromwell ACU gold-rated helmet, and long leather gloves, so I just reached down nonchalantly to switch the fuel tap to Off. No petrol, no fry, as Bob Marley didn’t sing. Except I didn’t turn the petrol off. I managed to pull the rubber petrol feed line off instead. The flames came up to chest level.

My first thought was to run for it, but my second was that I’d just put three gallons in the tank and I seriously doubted I could run faster than that. All I could think of to do was reach into the flames and turn the petrol tap off, so that’s what I did. I couldn’t see past my elbow in the flames, but it worked or I wouldn’t be telling this story. The insulation on the electrics had burned off so the horn was fused on until I got out my trusty Buck knife (something else we took entirely as normal in the West Country) and cut what was left of the wires. My girlfriend’s mother saw the whole thing from the kitchen. She waited until the flames had gone out before she came out to tell me I’d dropped oil on her driveway.

There was a break after that, for university and unhappily London then Aylesbury and Bath until luck and an unusual skillset saw me in Chicago, on a 650 Yamaha that might or might not have been technically stolen, blasting around Lakeshore Drive and the blue lights area, under half the city, overlooking some huge American river, me and an Italian buddy from summer camp on his bike, living if not the dream then certainly some kind of alternative reality. To this day I don’t know why I did that. No insurance, no clear provenance to the bike, certainly no observance of the speed limits, and only my trusty grey cardboard AA international driving licence that didn’t mention motorcycles. But nothing happened. Back then that was all that mattered.

A gap of some years and then a BMW R1000, a bike that vibrated so much that a trip from London to Wiltshire left me literally unable to make a sentence for about fifteen minutes. It felt good though, that lumpy, dumpy, so-solid bike. I traded that one for a Harley-Davidson Sportster which is what I thought was the ultimate motorcycle ought to be before I found out that I needed to spend £200 a month pretty much every month to get it the way it ought to have left the factory before their accountants had a say in the recommended retail price. It got stolen, we recovered it and instead of putting it back in showroom metal flake purple turned it jet black, bored it out to 1200, and put Brembo four-pot brakes and a fuel-injector on it before it transmogrified into a laptop and a laser printer, when laser printers were a long way from the couple of hundred a good one is now.

And somehow that was 30 years ago. This time the iron horse is a BMW F650, almost as old as when I stopped riding for a while, but with a documented 13,000 miles on it. My idea of common sense says changing the oil and the filter and swapping out the original brake lines and replacing them with stainless steel would first of all look cool but possibly more importantly, be quite a sensible way of not relying on thirty year old rubber. I mean, would you? On any Saturday night?

In the intervening coughty years I’ve either sold or given away my original Schott jacket, the gloves, the Rukka, the Ashman Metropolitan Police long boots and the Belstaff scrambler boots. The Cromwell helmet and the Bell 500 open-face are long gone. I need everything, from the toes upwards and I find that most of the names I grew up with such as Ashman or Cromwell just don’t exist any more. I bought another Bell, but a full-face ACU gold Sharp 5-rated lid this time. I got some gloves, some chain lube and a tube of Solvol Autosol to keep the chrome shiny. I found some leather jeans and my old not-Schott jacket that I bought in Spain and after only three applications of neatsfoot oil and old-fashioned dubbin and hanging it over a radiator it’s now soft enough to be wearable and looks, I think, pretty darned good, even if it doesn’t have a single CE rating to its name. I’ve skipped the red Hermetite that used to decorate every pseudo-serious biker’s jeans.

Of the kids I knew that got in Bad Trouble on a bike, one was drunk and showing off. He died. My cousin lost his job and an inch off one leg when he was swiped by a car that ignored him on a roundabout. One in Wiltshire rode his bike under a combine harvester. He died too. It wasn’t really funny and I try not to think of him looking like SpongeBob SquarePants, with his arms and legs sticking out of the straw. He’d had a 20-year break from bikes and had just picked up an early retirement pension payoff. He didn’t read the T&Cs that said you still can’t ride like an arse. The American guy I didn’t ride around Chicago with lost his foot and they didn’t find it in time to put it back on. For all I know it’s still in a field in Wisconsin.

CE-rated armour wouldn’t have helped a single one of them. I’m certainly not saying safety gear isn’t worth the effort, or I wouldn’t have specced out my new helmet so carefully. But motorcycles aren’t the safest thing. You have to watch your sides, your front and what’s underneath you, as well as your back.

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Top 10 California Motorcycle Roads: Part 2

By Mike Huber

This is a continuation from my previous blog highlighting ten of the best roads in the beautiful state of California.

California 198 to Sequoia National Forest

Rated 5 WheeliesRoute Details.  Yes, another mind-blowing road that goes through another National Park. This route has beautiful mountain switchbacks with no towns and minimal distractions. This allows you to lose yourself while focusing on the tight corners as you speed next to some of the largest trees on the planet. This route highlights how small you as a rider next to these majestic trees in Sequoia National Park.

    • Start to Finish Points: Wood Lake to Pinehurst
    • Distance: 78 miles
    • Ride Time / Recommended Time: 3 to 6 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: May to October
    • Main Point Of Interest(s): General Sherman Tree
    • Cautions / Dangers: Wildlife in early morning and evenings
    • Important Contact Numbers: CHP (Visalia) 559-734-6767

Road Description.  Although this route can be completed in a day, I would recommend you take two days. The reason for taking this slower is to allow yourself to stop and enjoy the sightseeing along this national park. The road is in excellent condition as you climb the switchbacks to crest the highest point in the park. There are no gas stations along this route so it is imperative that you fill up in either Three Rivers or Hume Lake (75 miles between the two) or outside the northern part of the park near Squaw Valley (90 miles from Three Rivers).

Points of Interest.  Since this is a National Park there is plenty to do outside of riding including hiking, sightseeing, and camping. This is one of my favorite National Parks since it is so stunning but everything is a very short hike to get to. Some of the largest trees in the World reside in this park. The General Sherman Tree is the world’s largest tree and is along this route. There are many other gigantic trees that are awe inspiring and shouldn’t be missed.  These are the points of interest I recommend:

Where to Stay/Camp.  Camping and hotels are limited to what is available in the National Park. Reservations should be made ahead of time as the park can often be booked full and will leave you no other options for 50+ miles for a place to stay.  Here’s where to check:

Fort Bragg to Bodega Bay on Highway 1

Rated 4 Wheelies

Route Details.  This route can be combined with the Fort Bragg to Garberville route, but I wanted to ensure they were written on separately as I feel the riding and terrain changes from the previous one to this route. This is Northern California at its finest. Pristine ocean views that include lighthouses and beaches for over 100 miles.

    • Start to Finish Points: Fort Bragg to Bodega Bay
    • Distance: 107 miles
    • Ride Time / Recommended Time: 3-6 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: May to Oct
    • Main Point Of Interest(s): Numerous Beaches and Lighthouses
    • Cautions / Dangers: Possible heavy fog in the morning
    • Important Contact Number:  CHP (Ukiah) 707-467-4420

Road Description.  Beautiful sweeping corners that hug the cliffs consume this ride. You can feel your lungs cleanse as you breathe in the mist of the Pacific Ocean while blasting along one of the most well-known, yet less traveled roads in our country. The road is in great condition and there are plenty of small Oceanside towns that have locations to fuel up and allow you to stop in for meals or a beverage. It is important to ensure you soak up some sun while taking a breather and meet other riders at one of the many stops along this epic part of Highway 1.

Points of Interest.  This stretch of Highway 1 has some of the most beautiful and unpopulated beaches in the country along it. There are several lighthouses that are worth stopping by to visit. Mendocino Headlands State Park is a perfect place to stop and get a short hike in to regain focus for the upcoming curves you will be leaning heavily into. There are also several small beach communities like Mendocino, Fort Ross, and Gualala you will ride through, any of which make for a great stop for lunch or a stayover if you have the time.  Here are my favorite spots:

Where to Stay/Camp.  This stretch of road is one of the easier places to locate campgrounds and hotels due to the lack of crowds along it. As always making reservations ahead of time is recommended to ensure you have a safe place to rest for the evening. I have always had a pleasant experience staying along this route.  Any of these places are good:

Northern Tahoe Loop

Rated 4.5 Wheelies

Route Details.  113 miles of diverse riding from open field to challenging switchbacks as you climb the cliffs along beautiful Lake Tahoe and take in some of the most intense roads and vistas in California. The road is in excellent condition with much of it newly paved. There are plenty of turnouts for taking photos, which is fortunate because the curves are very sharp and come up quickly so the ability to pull over and take in the views is an added bonus along this trip. The route is not a letdown. You and your motorcycle will be smiling all day.

    • Start to Finish Points: Kings Beach with Reno Junction in the north as your turnaround back to Kings Beach
    • Distance: 113 miles
    • Ride Time / Recommended Time: 4 to 6 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: May to September
    • Main Point Of Interest: Lake Tahoe, Reno
    • Cautions / Dangers: Quickly changing weather conditions, especially in fall
    • Important Contact Numbers:  CHP (Truckee) 530-563-9200

Road Description.  This is one of the more picturesque and challenging rides in California. This route provides such a range in diversity, both in the scenery and the road types. You start in Kings Beach where there are rolling meadows and begin to quickly climb to over 9,000 ft. where you will be skirting the edges of cliff sides with some serious switchbacks thrown in for added intensity. This road is not for beginner riders as the technical cornering along with the beautiful views can be too dangerous for a novice to safely navigate, however, for seasoned riders on a clear day the photos from this ride will soon be the background on your laptop screen.

Points of Interest.  This route has plenty of tourism along Lake Tahoe and in Reno as you loop through the stunning Tahoe National Forest. There are plenty of pullouts along this route to catch your breath and absorb the beauty that is fully surrounding you. As you traverse this loop you will not have to worry about any long stretches without gas or places to stop for food.  Here are a few favorites:

    • Gar Woods Grille & Pier is the perfect place to start or end your day with great food, beautiful views of the lake, and live music on the weekends
    • Brewforia is perfect lunch location with excellent craft brews and delicious burritos
    • The Peavine Taphouse in Tahoe at the top of the loop it is worth pulling in to get some heavily loaded pizza to fuel up for the return trip

Where to Stay/Camp.  With Tahoe National Forest surrounding you there are plenty of opportunities for dispersed camping along this ride. There is also an abundance of hotels, both high end and budget as well as state and private campgrounds. In short there is no need to worry about finding a place to lay your head and recover or to prepare for an incredible day of riding here.

Death Valley Highway 190

Rated 4 Wheelies

Route Details.  This road is quite unique from any other road in this state. It is 135 miles of just raw desert. Ensure you carry extra water to drink although there are gas stations every 35 miles or so. However, with this area having some of the hottest weather on the planet keeping an extra gallon of water (at least) on you is a wise move. The road is as desolate as you can find on a motorcycle, and the topography is like something from another planet. Even though the roads are straighter as compared to other rides I have listed, it’s the region and scenery that really make this road jaw dropping. Be very aware of the weather prior to traveling through this area.

    • Start to Finish Points: Lone Pine to Death Valley Junction
    • Distance: 135 miles
    • Ride Time/Recommended Time: 4 to 6 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: September to early May
    • Main Point Of Interest: Death Valley National Park
    • Cautions/Dangers: Extreme heat conditions, possible sand in road
    • Important Contact Numbers:  CHP (Bishop) 760-872-5150

Road Description.  If you’ve ever dreamed of driving a motorcycle on Mars this is what it would be like. This road is one that you will never forget due to the dramatic landscape and post-apocalyptic feeling as you roll through the desolate desert of this National Park. The temperatures are extremely hot so I will mention this again to confirm the weather prior to embarking on this route. Early morning is a perfect time to go if you are traveling east to west to watch the landscape change colors in front of you while you are riding.

Points of Interest.  The main attraction of this part of the country is Death Valley National Park. This area is home to the lowest point in the southern 48 with an elevation of 280 feet below sea level. As you stand in the depths of that point and turn northward you can see Mt. Whitney in the distance. Mt. Whitney is the highest point in the lower 48 rising up at over 14,000 feet. During springtime the desert erupts with beautiful fields of wildflowers that stretch across the desert. This makes February and March one of the best times to visit this area. This time also provides relief from the extreme heat of this National Park.  There’s more info on Death Valley National Park here.

Where to Stay/Camp.  This road has only a few places to stop along the way so it is important to ensure your water and fuel levels are topped off at each stop. Even though there are so few places to eat there is plenty of camping along the way during cooler months.  Here are the spots I recommend:

    • The Panamint Springs Hotel is the only place in Panamint Springs to get food, water, and a hotel room
    • Just prior to entering the National Park the Death Valley Hotel is the perfect mid-way point to either grab lunch, camp or a hotel room
    • The Oasis at Death Valley resort has a great steakhouse and saloon that is perfect for a beverage to wind out your day; on the eastern side of the park this resort will be a welcome break from the heat of the day

San Juan Capistrano to Lake Elsinore on Route 74

Rated 4 Wheelies

Route Details.  This is a perfect ride for a Sunday afternoon to wind down from the weekend. Fun switchbacks up through the Ronald W. Caspers Wilderness. The road has some beautiful pullouts for a panoramic view of the lake right before you descend down into the town of Lake Elsinore. This ride is popular with local riders so be aware of that as you travel through it and be mindful of speed traps.

    • Start to Finish Points: San Juan Capistrano to Lake Elsinore
    • Distance: 52 miles
    • Ride Time / Recommended Time: 2 to 4 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: Year round
    • Main Point Of Interest(s): Lake Elsinore
    • Cautions / Dangers: Speed Traps
    • Important Contact Numbers:  CHP (San Juan Capistrano) 949-487-4000

Road Description.  Beautifully maintained roads where you can really practice cornering on your motorcycle. This road is more of a social route that will allow you to stop and chat with fellow riders and build new friendships than a long distance run. It’s close in proximity to LA which makes it a perfect ride on any day where you have a few spare hours and are in need of wind therapy.

Points of Interest.  Once you leave San Juan Capistrano there is nothing until Lake Elsinore, except for probably one of the coolest motorcycle bars I have ever visited, Hell’s Kitchen Motorsports Bar and Grill. This is a place you have to stop at along this road to meet other riders and get a beverage and a burger. There are also several hikes with waterfalls that are worth stopping by for a break and to stretch out.

    • The Ortega Waterfalls is a lovely place to rest and take a quick swim, located at 33382 to 32806 Ortega Highway in Lake Elsinore, California
    • Hell’s Kitchen Motorsports Bar and Grill is a great stopping point to meet other riders and car enthusiasts
    • Kristy’s Country Store is the only place along this route to get snacks or water

Where to Stay/Camp.  Surprisingly for such a short stint of road there are several wonderful camping opportunities either along the beach or in the hills along Route 74. All the campgrounds along this road are very clean and well maintained. These can allow for a weekend getaway that isn’t too far of a ride to get some air and enjoy a nice fire glowing off your motorcycle as you unwind from a week at work.

    • Doheny State Beach is a great location for beach camping
    • The Orange County Park area is a perfect campground with short hikes you can start right from your campsite; closer to Lake Elsinore, this campground also has some short beautiful hikes that are closer to the waterfalls

Conclusions

As you can see there is no shortage of beautiful roads in California. These routes listed along with the bars, restaurants, and tourist points are some of my favorites in the state. The experiences you embrace along these roads are sure to create some of the fondest memories that will stay with you for a lifetime. If you found this article useful or would like to share your favorite roads and experiences in California please feel free to share so we can work together to expand our knowledge on this unforgettable state.

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The Wayback Machine: 1200 Triumph Daytona

By Joe Berk

I guess a bike can still be a dream bike if you owned one and then sold it.  I still dream about my Triumph 1200 Daytona, so it qualifies. It was a fantastic bike. A real locomotive. Crude, strong, powerful, and fun.  And fast.  Wow, was it ever fast!

Somewhere in New Mexico on the 2005 Three Flags Rally with my ’95 Daytona 1200, a bike I still dream about.

I first saw a 1200 Daytona at a CBX Honda meet (yeah, I had one of those, too). It was at a guy’s house somewhere in Hollywood, and this dude also had a black 1200 Daytona.  Well, maybe that’s not quite right…I saw one at the Long Beach Show even before then, but I didn’t really appreciate what it was all about. This CBX guy was laughing and telling me about the Daytona’s design.

“What they did, har har har, was basically just hang an extra cylinder off the right side of the motor, har har har,” he said. “Here, har har har, take a look at this, har har har,” and with that, he walked behind the Daytona and pointed to the engine. Holy mackerel, I thought. It had been a 900cc triple. Now it was a 1200 four, and the added girth of that extra cylinder stuck out of the frame on the right.  They didn’t even re-center the engine in the frame.  Anything this crude, I thought, I had to have. Har har har, the CBX guy was right.  This was a machine worth owning.  I had to get me one.

I guess the feeling passed (they usually do), but that bike stuck in my mind.  I had pretty much forgotten all about that Daytona until one day when I received an email, way back in ’02, from my riding buddy Marty. It seemed there was a brand-new 1995 Triumph Daytona on Ebay.  7 years old, never sold, and the dealer in Wisconsin was auctioning it off on Ebay. In 2002.

Jesus, I was still on dial up Internet in those days.  I can still hear the squelching when I logged onto AOL to get to the Internet.  This can’t be right, I thought, as I studied the Ebay listing.  I called the dealer. He was a Ducati and Kawasaki guy now, somewhere in Wisconsin.  Used to be a Triumph dealer.  He got the Daytona when he was still selling Triumphs, he had put it on display (it was stunning), nobody bit, he was anxious to sell, he lost the Triumph franchise years ago, and he was finally getting around to unloading the Daytona. Yep, it’s brand new, he told me. Never registered. 0.6 miles on the clock. $12,995 back in ’95.  I already knew that.  It was beyond my reach back then.

I did the only thing I could think of. I put in a bid. Using dial up. On Ebay. My friend Marty was shocked. So was I.

Over the next several days, the price climbed. Then it was D-day. Then H-hour. Then M-minute. The bid was $7,195. For a 7-year old, brand new, originally $12,995 motorcycle. I waited until there were just a few seconds left and I put in a bid for $7,202. On dial up Internet. Nothing happened. That was dial up for you.

The auction ended, my dial up Ebay was flashing at me. I swore up a blue streak, cursing the genes that had made me a cheap SOB who wouldn’t pay extra for broadband.  I used dial up to save a few bucks, and now it had cost me big time.  I thought I had let that dream bike get away. Then Ebay announced the winner, and it was me.

Yahoo! (No, Ebay and AOL!)  I won!  Whoopee!

My dream come true, after arriving from Wisconsin by air. I had visions of flying to Wisconsin and riding back, but when I called, the dealer’s wife told me he was out front shoveling snow…
I know. Stunning. Mine. A dream come true.
Beauty like this can drive ya buggy. The aftermath of a CLASSIFIED high speed run across central California on Highway 58.

A few days later, I had the bike, and my dream came true. I put 20,000 miles on it, I rode the thing from Canada to Mexico on the 30th Anniversary Three Flags Rally with Marty (I was the only Triumph among the 400 bikes that rode the event that year), and then I sold it. A dream come true, and I sold it.  I know, I know.   What was I thinking?

I can still dream, I guess, and I often do, of that big yellow locomotive with one cylinder hanging off the right side…

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Top 10 California Motorcycle Roads: Part 1

By Mike Huber

California is beautiful from every aspect, but once you climb on a motorcycle and get the full experience of this gorgeous state you’ll realize it is difficult to find a place with more riding diversity. From the northern redwoods to the people-watching along Venice beach to the eastern deserts and right up to the Sierras. California is a destination where you’ll want to spend time.  And when I say time, I mean having the ability to savor each region and each road.

Garberville to Fort Bragg

Rated 5 Wheelies

Route Details. This is a beautiful road with twisties that rival the famous Tail of the Dragon in North Carolina, with much more diversity due to the forest and ocean views.

    • Start and Finish Points: Garberville to Ft. Bragg
    • Distance: 68 miles
    • Ride Time / Recommended Time: 3-4 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: May-Oct
    • Main Points of Interest(s): The stretch from Leggett to Rockport
    • Cautions / Dangers: Minimal but possible sand/rocks on road in mountain twisties
    • Important Contact Numbers  CHP (Ukiah) 707- 467-4420

Road Description. I chose this route as my #1 in California due to the technical street riding, lack of traffic, and scenery. This route also has plenty of classic Americana stops along the way that even for this short ride will add to the enrichment of this route. It is an out of this world experience and you will feel at times as if you are in Star Wars zooming through Endor on a speeder. Once you adapt to that environment you are thrust out of the forest and into views of the vast openness of the mighty Pacific Ocean. It is hard to achieve a greater riding experience from every aspect over such a short distance.

Points of Interest. Garberville is a wonderful place to start as it is a quaint little hidden California town with wonderful people. The people are down to earth and easy to talk with as you consume a cold beverage or lunch while comparing tales from the road. There aren’t a lot of restaurants or stores in Garberville but the two I recommend are:

    • The Blue Room (747 Redwood Drive in Garberville, a great place for a drink/lunch/dinner)
    • The Eel Café (801 Redwood Drive, which offers breakfast and lunch sandwiches)

Another must see spot is the Drive Thru Tree Park for an unforgettable experience and great photo opportunities.  Make sure you drive your moto through the Redwood tree.

Fort Bragg is larger compared to Garberville and offers more choices for nightlife and entertainment.   Two of my favorites are:

    • The Tip Top Lounge, a great place to stop after riding all day for a beer and a solid burge
    • The Piaci Pub & Pizzaria for great pizzas and an environment conducive to unwinding

Where to Stay/Camp. Both Garberville and Fort Bragg offer numerous hotels and camping spots, and even though this is a short ride I highly recommend making this trip an overnighter to fully absorb the culture of this part of the state and its beauty.  These are my favorite spots:

Santa Monica to Oxnard on the Pacific Coast Highway

Rated 5 Wheelies

Route Details. This is the quintessential California beach road with exhilarating sweeping corners that introduce a new view of the Pacific Ocean as you lean through each turn.

    • Start and Finish Points: Santa Monica to Oxnard
    • Distance: 50 miles
    • Ride Time/Recommended Time: 3 to 4 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: April to November
    • Main Points Of Interest: Beaches along the route
    • Cautions / Dangers: Minimal, but possible sand near beaches
    • Important Contact Number: CHP (Woodland Hills) 818-888-0980

Road Description. As far as a California dream road, this is the one. Riding it early morning can be the best time due to low traffic and the ability to taste the salt from the Pacific Ocean as you wind northbound. There are plenty of beaches and overlooks to stop at. This really allows yourself to fully absorb the beauty of this part of California.

Points of Interest. Santa Monica is a great starting (or ending) point and you can walk out to the pier or rent bicycles to ride the boardwalk down to Venice Beach which will allow for some outstanding people watching and opportunities to engage in tourist attractions along the way. As you travel north from Santa Monica there are no shortage of quaint restaurants and shops along PCH1 to visit and relax. This is a road that feels as though it’s designed for a leisurely ride in order to fully experience the sights and sounds while on two wheels. A classic place to get some seafood is Neptune’s Net right along the Pacific Coast Highway for great seafood and wonderful people.  If time allows, a worthwhile day can be spent visiting Channel Islands National Park.

Where to Stay/Camp. Camping is limited along this route but Point Mugu State Park is a great place for beach camping. Hotels are plentiful but expensive in both Santa Monica and Oxnard.

Highway 120 and Tioga Pass

Rated 5 Wheelies

Route Details. This is one of the best roads in California.  It runs through Yosemite National Park and over intense switchbacks to Tioga Pass, where you will feel as though you are on top of the world (at almost 10,000 feet elevation, that isn’t too far from the truth). There are minimal fuel stops along this way so make sure you are fueled up.

    • Start and Finish Points: Groveland to Lee Vining
    • Distance: 92 miles
    • Ride Time / Recommended Time: 4 to 6 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: May-September
    • Main Points Of Interest: Yosemite National Park and Tioga Pass (elevation 9,943 feet)
    • Cautions/Dangers: Wildlife throughout the passes, loose rocks and dirt on some mountain passes
    • Important Contact Number: CHP (Bridgeport) 760-932-7995

Road Description. Some incredible scenery as you pass through Yosemite National Park and even more breathtaking as you lean into some of the tightest switchbacks you can ever hope to encounter with serious drop offs so be sure to not get too caught up in the scenery and maintain focus on the road.

Points of Interest. Although this area of California is not as populated as some of the others there are plenty of places to stop and eat. With Yosemite National Park as the centerpiece of this ride there is a plethora of beauty and experiences to be had.  My favorites are:

Where to Stay/Camp. There are numerous inns, hotels, and quaint bed and breakfasts along this route. All the ones I experienced have been wonderful experiences. Here are two of my favorites on each side of the route, and the camping opportunities within Yosemite.

    • Lakeview Lodge in Lee Vining is a clean safe place to stay with modest rates and parking for your motorcycles
    • Yosemite National Park for camping, where reservations are strongly recommended
    • The Sonora Inn in Groveland is another winner both from a price standpoint and for the quality and cleanliness of the rooms

Cotton Springs Road to Joshua Tree

Rated 4.5 Wheelies

Route Details. A short but deeply satisfying route that winds through Joshua Tree National Park. No services along this way so be sure you fill your tank either east on I-10 at the Chevron Station or in the town of Joshua Tree (depending on which way you are traveling).  Ensure you have water and are hydrated due to excessive heat during hotter times of the year.

    • Start and Finish Points: Exit 173 off I-10 to Joshua Tree
    • Distance: 94 miles
    • Ride Time/Recommended Time: 4 to 6 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: September to November, February to May
    • Main Point Of Interest(s): Joshua Tree National Park
    • Cautions/Dangers: Loose rocks/dirt on some corners
    • Important Contact Number: CHP (29 Palms) 760-366-3707

Road Description. Beautiful desert and mountain views. In spring there are fields of wildflowers that really show how much life is in the fragile ecosystem of Joshua Tree. The roads are in excellent condition and encompass fun sweeping corners then will open up with straightaways that provide majestic vistas of the region.

Points of Interest. This is a desolate road, which is great for riders looking to just check out of the crowds and embrace riding.  As previously stated there are no gas stations in the park so ensure you fill up prior to entering it.

    • Chevron off Exit 173 along Interstate 10 (62450 Chiriaco Road, Chiriaco Summit, California 92201)
    • General Patton Museum is next to the gas station and worth a visit
    • In included the added mileage here through Joshua Tree National Park to allow you to fully explore the park (including the ride out and back to Keys View
    • For a great diner to fuel up before or after your ride try the Country Kitchen restaurant

Where to Stay/Camp. With Joshua Tree National Park being so desolate, camping there is a magical experience. On a clear night you can see the stars and planets like nowhere else. The campgrounds tend to fill up during peak seasons so be sure to reserve a campsite prior to your trip. As far as hotels go, both the town of Twenty Nine Palms and Joshua Tree have numerous hotels that are perfect for unwinding after the ride.

Mulholland Highway

Rated 4 Wheelies

Route Details. This is a 50-mile route that is beyond filled with some serious mountain switchbacks. This is an incredibly intense road that to me rivals the Tail of the Dragon in NC. The switchbacks just don’t end as you climb through the Santa Monica Mountains and then spit out onto Highway 1 and views of the Pacific Ocean.  It is a motorcyclist’s dream ride.

    • Start and Finish Points: Alizondo Drive Park to El Matador Beach
    • Distance: 50 miles
    • Ride Time / Recommended Time: 2 to 4 hours
    • Recommended Time of Year: Year round
    • Main Point Of Interest(s): The Rock Shop
    • Cautions / Dangers: Speed Traps
    • Important Contact Number: CHP (Woodland Hills) 818-888-0980

Road Description. For being so near to Los Angeles this road is a real getaway without having to travel far. The quality of the road is perfection and something that people from all over the LA area flock to. For this reason be cautious with your speed as there are several places they set up speed traps, however, quite often fellow riders will park ahead of these speed traps and provide you a warning. If you are looking at getting rid of the chicken strips on your tires this is definitely the road where you can accomplish that.

Points of Interest. This road has minimal places to stop along the way, but with all these switchbacks why would you want to stop. There is one famous attraction that is a must do as you traverse these mountain roads, and it is The Rock Store. It is a popular place for riders of all types to stop and get a sandwich and a drink. Jay Leno is often seen here talking shop with the riders and being social with others riding this fantastic road.

Where to Stay/Camp. With this ride being so close to the city there are minimal camping options. Hotels are numerous on both sides of this ride however. There are plenty of canyon roads off the main highway that are worth exploring, so even though this is a shorter ride you can absolutely make a full day out of this area. This will allow you time to fully embrace the roads and fellow riders along the way.  My favorite place to camp is the Decker Canyon Camp.

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The Wayback Machine: Riding in the Rain

By Joe Berk

I thought I would repost a blog I wrote in 2019 about riding in the rain.  It’s been raining nonstop here in So Cal for days.   When I say nonstop, that’s what I mean.  Ordinarily when you get caught in the rain, it lasts for a while and then stops, and then maybe starts again. With this atmospheric river (the meteorological term) we are experiencing, it has literally been constant rain.  I’m staying warm and cozy with a cup of coffee here in my home, but looking out the window, I’m reminded of past rides in the rain…and with that intro, here’s our previous blog.

Wow, it has been pouring here for the last week, with little respite other than this past Sunday. Sunday was nice. Every other day this week and the tail end of last week has been nonstop rain. Big time. Buckets full. And my iPhone just started buzzing with a flash flood warning for this area. Wow again.

So I’m sitting here at the computer, enjoying a hot cup of coffee, looking out the window, and I’m thinking about what it’s like to ride in the rain. We’ve all had those rides. Those memories stick in my mind. I remember every one of those rides like they happened yesterday.

The first was the return leg of my first international motorcycle foray, when good buddy Keith Hediger and I rode up to Montreal and back. That was in the early ‘70s, and we didn’t call them adventure rides back then. They were just motorcycle rides. I was on a ’71 CB750 and Keith was on a Kawi 500cc triple. It rained the entire length of Vermont at about the same intensity you see in the video above. We had no rain gear. It wasn’t cold, but it sure was wet. We were soaked the entire day. Wouldn’t trade a minute of it. It was a great ride.

Another time was on the second ride I ever did in Baja with good buddy Baja John. It was pouring when we left at 4:00 a.m., and it didn’t let up for the entire day. I was on a Harley then, and we finally stopped somewhere around Colonet to checked into a cheap Baja hotel (a somewhat redundant term, which is becoming less redundant as Baja’s march in to the 21st century unfortunately continues). Leather, I found out on that trip, makes for lousy rain gear. I went hypothermic, and I had the shakes until 4:00 the following morning. It made for a good story, and the rest of that trip was epic. Down to Cabo, back up to La Paz, on the overnight ferry over to Mazatlan, out to Puerto Vallarta and Guadalajara, back up to Nogales, and a thousand-mile one-day dash to make it home on New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t trade a second of it.

Riding with Marty on the ’05 Three Flags Classic, we were caught in a downpour the second day out as we rode along the Dolores River in Colorado. It was a magnificent ride, with Marty on his K1200RS and me on my 1200cc Daytona.  It wasn’t a drizzle.  It was a downpour, just like you see in the video above.  I remember it vividly, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Colombia had lots of rain, but it only hit us hard on the very first day. It was raining hard that first morning as we rode out of Medellin and into the Andes early on that fine Colombian morning, but it lightened up by breakfast. I had real rain gear and the only issues were visibility and passing 22-wheelers on blind curves, as my Colombian riders did with gleeful abandon. Exciting times. But good times, and certainly ones I remember. Colombia was an adventure for the ages. I wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything else.

I’d have to say the heaviest rains I ever rode through were in China, where it rains a lot. It probably rained 25% of the time on that trip, and the first few days were the worst. Imagine riding up into the Tibetan Plateau, in the dark, on dirt roads, in rain way heavier than what you see in the video above. That’s what it was like, and I loved every mile of that ride. I wouldn’t trade it for anything else on the planet.

You might be wondering…why no photos? Well, the simple truth is that my cameras on each trip were tightly wrapped in plastic bags, and I wasn’t about to break them out in the rain. That’s something I guess I forgot to mention in my earlier blog about what to bring on a Baja trip: Garbage bags. They take up almost no space when you’re not using them, and they work great for keeping stuff dry when you ride in the rain.

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The Top Five Southern Colorado Motorcycle Roads

By Mike Huber

As an avid motorcyclist it’s easy to appreciate the beauty in each state and for many riders discovering amazing roads that many would overlook can become second nature to us.  Some might even say it’s an art form.  Throughout this vast and beautiful country called the United States of America we are fortunate enough to have a plethora of both paved and dirt roads that are meant to be sought out like the Ark of the Covenant.  These roads are meant to be experienced intimately the only way they can be, on two wheels. Experiencing them on a motorcycle can become a thirst that is never quenched, and although each state has its own unique characteristics, ultimately some will stand out more than others. One state that has that effect for me is Colorado.

Colorado is one of those states that as soon as you ride past the “Welcome to Colorful Colorado” sign the roads seem to present themselves to you like a feast on a golden platter with an endless amount of wine.   The rides we will review can each be completed in one or two days and are best ridden between late April and early October.  To help with prioritization since there are so many incredible rides we have developed a very complex mathematical rating system of 1 to 5 wheelies (5 being the highest).  The rating uses the following criteria:

    • Road conditions
    • Diversity of riding options
    • Activities along the route
    • Abilities to disperse camp/hotel access
    • Scenery

Route 550:  The Million Dollar Highway

Rated 5 Wheelies

Road Description.  This loop may be one of the greatest roads in all of North America. The road is paved and in immaculate condition.  It combines some of the tightest switchbacks one can expect to experience on a motorcycle. The full route per the map is ~355 miles and can be done in 1 day, but highly recommend taking at least 2-4 to fully experience and immerse yourself in this beautiful part of the country.  There are endless forest roads off 550 to get your fill of dirt riding littered with an infinite amount of beautiful dispersed campsites. Also some wonderful old mining towns rich with history, hiking, restaurants, hotels, and hot springs.

Points of Interest.  There’s no shortage of amazing places to stop along this road.  Below is a small list of the places you should not miss along this route.

    • Silverton is a great little mining town with wonderful people.  It’s a perfect place to load up on supplies if you are camping.  You can warm up after getting some miles in at the Brown Bear Café.
    • Ouray is a beautiful mountain town with several hikes to waterfalls, hot springs, and some wonderful restaurants. My favorite is the Ouray Brewery.
    • Rico is a really tiny town which consists of a great hotel and bar called the Enterprise Bar and Grill, with wonderful people, great food and cold beer.

Where to Stay/Camp.  There is an immense amount of national forest land that can be used to camp on along this loop.  Really any dirt road you ride down will guide you to an epic campsite next to a creek. This makes for a relaxing post ride time to wind down in a hammock, while having a refreshing beverage. The towns of Silverton and Ouray have several hotels that are right in the heart of the town and a short walk to tourist activities and restaurants.

Off-Roading.  There is an endless amount of dirt roads to find here, this goes from flat well-groomed forest roads to find a campsite to the technical challenging mountain passes like Engineer or Imogene Pass (which I have not done due to the size of my GS1200 and conservative riding style).

Out of so many outstanding rides in the state of Colorado, the Million Dollar Highway should be on the top of any list.  This road and area really earn that 5 Wheelie rating due to exceeding each standard for riders of all ability levels. There are so many sights to see along this route that you will never tire of absorbing the beauty that surrounds you in this part of the state. If you are fortunate enough to have the time, doing the loop in reverse can be a great way to add a few more days to your adventure.

Mesa Verde National Park

Rated 5 Wheelies

Road Description.  As soon as you enter Mesa Verde National Park the road begins screaming up in elevation with some incredible views overlooking the valley below you will almost have a sense of vertigo overcome you.  What is wonderful about this feeling as it goes on and on as you travel through the park.  Although the distance from the park entrance to the furthest point is only 28 miles, those miles are filled with numerous overlooks and pullouts that can make this seemingly short ride take 2-3 days.  This is especially true if you are taking in the hikes along the way.  The only piece of concern for this ride is the numerous road snakes in some areas of this ride. Otherwise its full enjoyment as you have a 360 view of the valleys below that outstretch clear into Utah, New Mexico, and Arizona.

Points of Interest.  Since this is a National Park there are ample amounts of short hikes and tours to break up the day(s) you spend in this magical location. A few of the more popular ones are outlined below:

    • The Cliff Palace requires purchasing a tour ticket at Park Visitor Center, but even without one you can walk to the overlook to get a spectacular view of the houses the Hopi built into the cliffs which are all but hidden except from this vantage point.
    • The Balcony House also requires a tour ticket but is well worth it as you can walk through the ruins and really get a sense of the
    • The Knife’s Edge Hike is a great 2-mile hike with little elevation next to Morefield Campground that has incredible sunset views, which enable the rocks to really light up and glow.

Where to Stay/Camp.  Morefield Campground- This is the only campground in the park so making reservations ahead of time is recommended. It is one of the better National Park campgrounds I have stayed at and includes free showers, great Wi-Fi from most campsites (antennas are off the bathrooms), and a launderette, gas, and fully stocked store for all your camping and souvenir needs. There are also several wonderful hiking trails right next to the campground.

Off-Roading.  This is one of the drawbacks of a National Park, as there is no off-roading permitted within the park boundaries.  The beauty and activities from hiking and riding makes up for this shortcoming.

Route 65: Grand Mesa Scenic Byway

Rated 5 Wheelies

Road Description.  Yet another beautiful Colorado mountain road filled with switchbacks that rise in elevation and bring you to over 10,000 feet up and onto the World’s largest Mesa. There are several pullouts along this route to take in the views, but no gas stations from Cedaredge to Mesa (50 miles, but can be close to 100 miles if you are doing the off-road portion) plan accordingly.

Points of Interest. The main point of interest the mesa itself and the amazing views, alpine lakes, dispersed camping, and off-roading.

Where to Stay/Camp. Dispersed camping is plentiful along Rte125 where you can get a lakeside campsite with little issue and make it your own paradise for the evening as you watch the sunset glistening off one of the many alpine lakes. There are also plenty of campgrounds along this way if you are looking for less primitive camping.  Hotels are scattered along this route in the towns of Delta, Mesa, or driving to up Grand Junction for a greater variety of lodging.

Off-Roading.  Route 125 Surface Creek Road is a great 15-mile loop.  This road has you experience the mesa while passing crystal clear alpine lakes with numerous dispersed camping areas.  There is also a 10-mile dirt road in great condition to visit the Lands’ End Observatory. The views off the mesa looking down on the plateau can allow you to see into Utah on a clear day with awe inspiring views.

Route 141: Grand Junction to Naturita

Rated 4.5 Wheelies

Road Description.  This is a low elevation beautifully paved road that is 105 miles long.  This road will have you leaning your ride until you feel the mist kissing your windshield from Dolores River as you pass amazing rust colored mesas that stretch into the sky and rival that of Monument Valley. The road has very little traffic which will allow you to enjoy some solitude as you embrace the scenery you ride through. The only reason this route is rated as 4.5 is the lack of amenities.

Points of Interest.  This road is in quite a desolate area, outside the tiny town of Gateway.  Gateway Canyons General Store is owned and run by the preacher of the church next door to it.  This is the only place to gas up between Grand Junction and Naturita so be sure to check your fuel levels.

Where to Stay/Camp.  Dispersed camping here is plentiful but mainly in one area just south of Grand Junction, Divide Road. This road is a steep switchback dirt road that connects to numerous other roads which are great fun exploring for campsites to settle down in.  There are numerous dispersed sites with beautiful views over the canyon in which you can see the Dolores River running far beneath you.

Off-Roading.  Divide Road also encompasses numerous off-roading opportunities that sprawl out across this mesa.  This is a perfect place to explore for that unique dispersed campsite while hitting some fun dirt to enhance your day.  There are however areas of slippery clay, so if it is raining it can become slick in portions of this road.

Routes 160 and 149: Pagosa Springs to Lake City

Rated 4 Wheelies

Road Description.  This route consists of 45 miles of a four-lane highway on Route 160 that will have you summit at over 10,000 feet.  The road will then drop you into South Fork, Colorado.  This is where you will turn left onto Route 149.  Route 149 will quickly whittle down to a tighter and quieter road for the next 75 miles, which are filled with mountain passes. South Fork is the only town between these areas so make sure you gas up and grab lunch before heading onto the second part of this amazing road.  The next portion will have you speeding across lower elevation prairies and then climbing high into the mountain tundra that will resemble something from another planet before descending into Lake City.

Points of Interest.  I specifically wanted this trip to begin (or end) in Pagosa Springs so you have an opportunity to experience the hot springs in Pagosa.

Where to Stay/Camp. Throughout the ride there is no shortage of camping in both dispersed and paid locations. In Pagosa there are numerous hotels. I prefer the hotel directly across the street from the spa as it is much more affordable then the spa and in a great location.  For Lake City, the Matterhorn is a beautiful Swiss style motel which will allow you a solid night’s sleep at a great price. It’s a perfect spot to recharge if you are going to take on some of the more challenging off-road portions in Colorado the following day.

Off-Roading.  Lake City is the starting point for some of the more serious off-roading mountain passes, such as a few of the most popular passes including Cinnamon and Engineer.  Both of these passes surpass 12,000 feet.  If you crave technical off-roading challenges with views that can’t be beat, these are the two passes I recommend.

Conclusions

Southern Colorado is a rider’s paradise, and a region that should not be missed for riders of all experience levels. Other avid motorcyclists have also recommended these roads to me, which reinforces my approval for these routes and motivated me to write this comprehensive layout to help others. I hope this breakout has been helpful and serves as a reason to visit Southern Colorado and have the riding experience of a lifetime.

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Geezy Rider

By Joe Berk

I like that title.  Geezy Rider.  It kind of says it all.  A close runner up was “You might be a geezer if…”

We haven’t blogged a listicle in a while and I thought it was time.   Sue and I like to entertain and we had three couples over for dinner recently.  Everyone was our age (which is a nice way of saying we are all geezers), we all came from similar backgrounds, we all have grandkids, and we all travel.  Those commonalities notwithstanding, the conversation centered on the same topic it always seems to center on these days when I’m with my geezer buddies:  Getting old.   Some of you might be thinking that you don’t want to read about old people, but you might already be one.  So how do you know?   Well, here we go.  You might be a geezer if:

You get senior discounts without asking.  When you do ask for the senior discount, no one asks to see your ID.  You sometimes find yourself thinking that 55 is too young to be considered a senior citizen.

A good night’s sleep is based on how many times you had to get up to take a leak, you wonder how in the world taking a leak on the side of the road ever became a sex crime, or you plan rides at least partly based on restroom locations.

You know more doctors than motorcycle dealers, and you have a different doctor for each organ in your body.  Sometimes you realize you can’t make a planned ride because you have a doctor’s appointment that day.

You look at other people at a motorcycle event and think they’re really old, and then you realize you’re the same age as they are.

You’re on a first name basis with the Costco people who give out free samples.

You can identify pills without seeing the bottle, a day on the bike is routinely preceded by a couple of Ibuprofens, and you have a pill container organized by day.  Forget penicillin; you know that Sildenafil and Tamsulosin are the true wonder drugs.

You no longer use a tail pack or have a sissy bar because it’s easier to get on and off your motorcycle.  You may have pondered where to attach a cane on your motorcycle.

You buy motorcycle clothes a couple of sizes larger because the damn manufacturers are making them smaller these days.  You buy riding gear with pockets big enough to hold baby wipes.  You substituted food for sex years ago and now you’re so fat you can’t get into your own pants.

You stopped worrying about helmet hair decades ago and when you get a haircut you find yourself thinking about the cost in terms of dollars per hair.  You haven’t carried a comb in decades.

You watch news shows based mostly on which ones you don’t shout at.

A motorcycle’s weight is more important to you than 0-to-60 or quarter-mile times.  You and your buddies talk about cholesterol, A1C, PSA levels, and medications instead of motorcycle performance specs.

When it’s time to change your oil, you think about where it’s going to hurt the next day because you have to get down on the floor to reach the drain plug.  Ibuprofen is a normal part of your oil change equipment.

You don’t think there’s anything particularly wrong with a motorcycle in a handicap parking spot.

You don’t like to ride after dark and going to bed by 9:00 p.m. seems like a perfectly normal thing to do.

Easy Riders or The Great Escape is on TV, and you don’t even need to think about it.  You’re going to watch it again.

A new movie stars Clint Eastwood, you know you’re going to see it, and you don’t need to know what it is about to make that decision.

So there you have it:  My take on how to assess if you are a geezer.

Now get off my lawn.

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Medicine Bow, Wyoming

By Joe Berk

We were a swarm of 250cc bees bound for Medicine Bow, Wyoming.   I didn’t know why that excited me and I didn’t know what to expect, but the place sounded romantic.  Not romantic in the sense of female companionship; it was instead the romance of the Old West.  Medicine Bow, Wyoming, and we were headed there on our single-cylinder Zongshen motorcycles.   We had been on the road for a week, showing the American West to our Chinese and Colombian visitors.  It all started on the other side of the world in Chongqing when Zongshen asked if I could take them on a ride though America.

Wow, could I ever.

Susie took this photo as I was showing the Zongshen execs where we might ride in America. The guy on my immediate right is good buddy Fan, who follows the ExNotes blog.

Medicine Bow.   It had a nice ring to it.  I was thinking maybe they had a McDonald’s and we could have lunch there.   I think the reason Medicine Bow sounded so intriguing is I had heard it maybe dozens of times in western movies and television shows.  Medicine Bow was one of the major destinations for cattle drives in the 1800s, where cows boarded trains for their one-way trip east, where they would stop being cows and become steaks.  An average of 2,000 cows shipped out of Medicine Bow every day back then.   That would keep McDonald’s going for a day or two (except there were no McDonald’s in the 1800s).

The very first western novel.

I was surprised when we buzzed in.  Medicine Bow is about five buildings, total, none of them was a McDonald’s, but one was the Virginian Hotel.  It’s the hotel you see in the photo at the top of this blog and as you might imagine there’s a story to it.  You see, back in the day, the first western novel ever was written by a dude named Owen Wister, and the title of his book was The Virginian.  It was later made into a movie.  The story is about a young female schoolteacher who settled in Medicine Bow and two cowboys who vied for her attention.  When the historic hotel was later built in Medicine Bow, what other name could be more appropriate than The Virginian?  And about the name of the town, Medicine Bow?  Legend has it that Native Americans found the best mahogany for making bows (as in bows and arrows) in a bend (a bow) along the Medicine River, which runs through the area.    I can’t make up stuff this good.

I was the designated leader of the Zongshen swarm on this ride. My job was easy.  All the mental heavy lifting and deep thinking fell to good buddy and long-time riding compañero Baja John, who planned our entire 5,000-mile journey through the American West.  John did a hell of a job.  The roads he selected were magnificent and the destinations superb.  It’s also when I first met Joe Gresh, who was on assignment from Motorcyclist magazine to cover our story (more on that in a bit).

Big Joe Gresh, or “Arjiu” as the Chinese called him, on our 5000-mile ride through the American West.

Back to Medicine Bow, the Virginian Hotel, and a few of the photos I grabbed on that ride.  The place is awesome, and the Virginian is where we had lunch.

Lunch at the Virginian. That’s Gresh on the right, and Juan and Gabe (two dudes from AKT Motos in Colombia) on the left. A few months later I rode with Juan in Colombia, another grand adventure.

After lunch, we wandered around the hotel for a bit. It would be fun to spend the night in Medicine Bow, I thought.  Dinner at the hotel and drinks in the bar (as I type this, I can almost hear someone on the piano belting out Buffalo Gal).    I will return some day to check that box.

The lighting isn’t great in this selfie (of sorts). Yours truly on the old D200, Lester, and Mr. Zuo. Lester is a teacher in China. Mr. Zuo owns a motorcycle jacket company in China.
Bison.   We saw a few live ones in the next couple of days.
Who’s a good boy? That’s Baja John and Lester, taking a break after a great lunch at the Virginian Hotel.  Lester came to America as a vegetarian.   That lasted about two days.   He sure enjoyed his hamburger at the Virginian.  He told us he wants to be like Baja John when he grows up.
Yes, there are moose in Medicine Bow, along with mountain lion, bear, elk, deer, and a host of other animals.  Theodore Roosevelt hunted this part of the world.
A Virginian Hotel hallway. I think you can still stay here overnight.
Hotel hallway art.
Even a public telephone.

The Virginian Hotel bar was indeed inviting and I could have spent more time there, but we were on the bikes and my rule is always no booze on the bikes.  I grabbed a few photos.  We had more miles to make that afternoon and more of Wyoming awaited.

The Virginian Hotel bar. It looks like it would be a fun spot to have a beer or three at the end of the day.
Photos and artifacts on one of the Virginian Bar walls.
A mural in the Virginian Hotel bar

The Virginian Hotel owner (who looked like he could have been someone right out of Central Casting) saw our interest in photography and showed us this photograph.   He told me only six or seven copies of it exist.  Spend a minute reading the writing…it is amazing.

There are more than a few interesting characters depicted in this photo.

Medicine Bow was a fun visit, it is a place I would like to see again, and it has a palpable feel of the Old West.  It was a place where we could have stayed longer, but after lunch it was time for Happy Trails and we were on the road again.   I felt like a cowboy, I suppose, swinging my leg over my motorcycle.  Instead of “giddy up” it was a twist of the key and a touch on the starter button; the result was the same as we continued our trek west with Frankie Lane’s Rawhide on repeat in my mind:  Keep rollin’, rollin’ rollin’, keep those motos rollin’…

In a few hours, we’d be riding into the sunset.  Lord, this was a fantastic ride.

Here are a couple of videos you might like.  The first is about Medicine Bow, the second is Joe Gresh’s video covering the ride.  And one more thing…don’t miss Joe Gresh’s magnificent story about our ride in Motorcyclist magazine.

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