The ExhaustNotes Blog

Bangkok Part 6: Bangkok bikes

By Joe Berk

So what’s today’s blog all about? I promised I would tell you a bit about the different kinds of motorcycles and motor scooters in Bangkok, and this is that story.

Scooters, Cubs, motorcycles…they are everywhere. Every traffic light is the start of a drag race to the next light by all the bikes.

Bikes dominate Bangkok’s urban landscape. I know that sounds like a catchy thing to say (snappy writing, perhaps), but it wasn’t intended to be literary lavishness. It’s just the way it is. Two-wheeled transportation is everywhere. In traffic, the bikes filter by on the left and on the right. In front of any business or in any parking area, there are hundreds of bikes. And at every stop light, dozens of bikes filter to the head of the line. The excitement builds as the countdown stop light nears green (they tell you how many seconds until the light changes over here), and in the last few seconds before the red goes away, a zillion motorcycle engines start revving. The word “glorious” seems appropriate.

Filter to the front of the line, start revving as the lights nears turning green. The pink autos are taxis (taxis are either pink or metallic green in Bangkok).

There are few big bikes in Bangkok. Oh, you’ll see one now and then, but they are a rarity. Over here anything over 200cc or 250cc is just wasted displacement. I’ve been to Bangkok several times and of the tens of thousands of motorcycles I’ve seen (and those are not exaggerated figures), there were exactly two big bikes. One was a Harley Sportster and the other was a Triumph Bonneville. There’s just no need for more displacement.

A lone Triumph Bonneville, tucked away in a Bangkok parking spot.

A Ninja. Honda, Kawasaki, and Yamaha are popular over here. Surprisingly, I didn’t see too many Suzuki motorcycles. We did see more than a few Suzuki automobiles, though.

One moto thing that’s noticeable right away are the orange vests. When you see a rider with an orange vest, that means they are using their bike as a taxi. They give short rides (the folks here tell me typically under 2 kilometers). The riders have to wear the government-sanctioned orange vests and a helmet; passengers don’t wear any safety gear. A lot of the female passengers wear skirts and ride side-saddle (I’ll show more of that in the next blog). I’d say roughly 10 percent of all the bikes are being used as taxis. Most of the drivers are men, but you do see women riders occasionally.

A mototaxi, a rider, and a food delivery bike.

Surprisingly, it’s rare to see more than two people on a bike. You do see it, but not like I have seen in China or Colombia (I once grabbed a photo in Colombia of a motorcycle carrying six people).

Bikes are working vehicles over here. I mentioned the taxi thing; it’s also very common to see bikes weighed down with all kinds of freight.

There are scooters (you know, the things that are styled like Vespas), step-through motorcycles (like the old Honda Cub), small sport bikes (small displacement CBR or Ninja type bikes), plain old motorcycles, and (surprisingly) a lot of Grom-styled bikes.

Another rare sighting…a Vespa in Bangkok. Most of the scooters are of Chinese origin. But this Vespa? If you’re thinking it’s from Italy, you’d probably be wrong. Zongshen (in China) produces these for Vespa.

Here’s a guy on one that looks a little like a Ducati. I’m pretty sure these are made in China, as Gresh and I also saw them for sale on our ride across China. If you were wondering, the clutches don’t rattle on these.

When I was last in Bangkok 6 or 7 years ago, I saw a few Kawasaki motorcycles that looked a little like the Honda Grom. Today, the Grom style is very popular in Thailand, with motorcycles of this style from several manufacturers.

I’ll close this blog with a three photos of a bike I spotted yesterday that I thought was pretty cool. It’s a CG-clone-based motorcycle, and its owner has a sense of humor.

A little Beemer. Well, a Beemer wannabe. Unlike modern Beemers, this one has a rational seat height.

I wonder if the Cafe Racer decals are factory original, or if the owner added them.

We are enjoying our last full day in Bangkok. We’re up early tomorrow for the flight back to California. It’s been grand. We’re staying in the top floor of a 5-star hotel in downtown Bangkok (the Pullman Grand Sukhumvit) and we’re living in the lap of luxury. The room is awesome, there’s a pool and a gym, there’s a free tuk tuk ride wherever we want to go, there’s free booze and breakfasts and dinners, and it’s costing less than what a Holiday Inn might cost in the United States. We’re going for a dinner cruise up the Chao Phraya River tonight with our good friends Kevin and Nan, and we’re going to hit another one of the temples later today. We took a grand long boat ride on the Chao Phraya yesterday and it was awesome.

There’s one more in this series of Bangkok blogs, and it will feature a set of photos showing Thai women passengers on moto taxis. Stay tuned. I think you’ll like it.

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Break-Up Bikes (my journey to a Yamaha TW 200)

By Bobbie Surber

Can we talk about an important matter that has been on my mind?

Do women who ride motorcycles handle breakups differently compared to women who don’t rider?

It’s a thought that tickles the imagination of everyone at some point, right? Well, maybe not everyone, but hey, this is my little tale, so here we go. Picture this: it was summer, I had just experienced a breakup that left my heart in pieces, and an opportunity for a soul-searching solo ride presented itself. In that moment of contemplation, I assessed my true desires in life, and you know what came to mind? Dirt and sand riding. Yeah, I’m talking about that exhilarating feeling of kicking up dust and cruising through sandy terrain. Don’t get me wrong, my beloved Triumph Tiger 900 (affectionately named Tippi) will always hold the top spot in my heart. But hey, a girl needs a little something on the side, a petite and playful companion for short rides. You catch my drift, right? I know some of you guys can relate! Ha!

Fast forward through the summer months and as August approached a dear friend (who also happens to be an extraordinary adventure rider) reached out to me. By then, I had been on my solo riding journey for over two months, feeling both physically drained and financially pinched. And then, like a shining beacon, my friend, let’s call her Destini, introduced me to the elusive TW 200—the side cheating bike of my dreams. This unicorn of a motorcycle was up for sale in Southern California, and armed with a few snapshots and a contact number, I was ready to make my move.

Now, you won’t believe the audacity I had, claiming to be financially constrained but wasting no time in contacting Eric, the seller. He was enjoying a leisurely dinner with friends on a perfect summer evening when I burst into his life with overwhelming excitement. I must have been yapping like a caffeinated squirrel, leaving him wondering if I was either on some mind-altering substance or going through a manic phase. But can you blame me? I had set my heart on that bike! It wasn’t just a want—it was a dire post-breakup remedy! A 2015 Yamaha TW 200 with a mere 800 miles on it listed for only $4000. Surprise, surprise, Eric turned out to be a gem of a person and agreed to a small Venmo deposit to secure the deal.

Now, here’s where the plot thickens. I was miles away in the Olympic peninsula of Washington while the prized possession awaited me in sunny southern California. One could say I needed a trusty sidekick, and luckily, a kind friend volunteered to inspect and purchase the bike on my behalf.

Before I knew it I was the proud owner of a TW 200. Come September, picture me cruising through the neighborhood on a splendid Sunday afternoon, giggling like a mischievous child. That little bike felt so lightweight and petite. Its chunky rear tire was the only contrasting feature. And would you believe it? My shattered heart seemed to magically mend, thanks to a mere $4000 and the promise of thrilling rides in Baja and my enchanting town of Sedona, conquering as much dirt as possible! Love was in the air once again, and my mind was filled with visions of the adventures that lay ahead.

And thus, my riding comrades, this is the tale of how I acquired my very own break-up bike!

The Yamaha TW 200 is a unique dual-sport motorcycle known for its distinctive features and versatility. Here are some key details about the Yamaha TW 200:

- Engine. It’s powered by a 196cc, single-cylinder, air-cooled four-stroke engine, designed for reliability and easy maintenance.
- Fat Tires. One of its most recognizable features is its oversized tires—both front and rear are unusually wide for a motorcycle of its size. The fat tires, with dimensions of 130/80-18 rear and 130/80-18 front, contribute to its off-road capabilities and stability on various terrains.
- Low Seat Height. The TW 200 boasts a low seat height, making it accessible and comfortable for riders of varying heights and skill levels. This characteristic also aids in maneuverability, especially off-road.
- Suspension. It’s equipped with long-travel telescopic front forks and a rear mono-shock suspension, providing decent travel for off-road adventures while maintaining comfort on the road.
- Utility and Design. Its design combines elements of a traditional dirt bike and a street motorcycle. It features a high-mounted exhaust, a large, round headlight, a rear rack for cargo, and a simple, utilitarian appearance.
- Availability. While production and availability may vary by region and year, the TW 200 has gained popularity for its unique design and capabilities, which contributes to its demand in the used market.

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A .223 Browning Micro Medallion A-Bolt

By Joe Berk

I recently posted a blog about a couple of accuracy loads for the 6.5 Creedmoor Browning X-Bolt. This blog focuses on a different Browning: A .223 Browning Micro Medallion A-Bolt. It’s the rifle you see here.

I bought the A-Bolt new from a local gun shop in southern California about 35 years ago. I paid $339 for it. It doesn’t have fancy walnut but when I saw it on the rack I asked to see it. I soon as I held it I wanted it. It just felt right. I fancied it as a walking around varmint rifle suitable for rabbits and coyotes, although I’ve never taken this rifle anywhere but the West End Gun Club 100-yard rifle range. I still make gun purchase decisions based on the kind of hunting and shooting I did 50 years ago in Texas. Someday I may get out and chase jack rabbits and coyotes with this rifle again. I can dream.

Browning offered their A-Bolt Medallion series, which were full-sized rifles, and their A-Bolt Micro Medallions, which have a shorter barrel and a shorter stock. The Browning Medallions and Micro Medallions were discontinued a few years ago when Browning shifted to the X-Bolt rifle, but you can still find the Micro Medallion A-Bolt rifle on the used gun racks and on the gun auction boards. A recent check showed that they go for around $650.

The rifle you see here is Browning’s Micro Medallion. I like the smaller size. It’s a lighter rifle and the shorter stock fits me well. I don’t like the gloss finish, but at the time it was all Browning offered (they later offered a satin finished rifle). What’s nice about the gloss finish, though, is that it has held up well. It and the deep bluing make this firearm look brand new. I like the rifle’s cut checkering and the darker fore end pistol grip tips, too. Browning made a big deal about their rifle’s short bolt angle in their advertising back in the 1980s and 1990s (bolt angle is the angle the bolt turns through to allow extraction, ejection, and loading). I like it, but if the rifle had a c0nventional bolt throw it wouldn’t have bothered me. It’s something different, but it’s not necessary. It is cool.

Fairly plain, gloss finished walnut. The Browning’s bolt throw is a short 60 degrees, much less than a conventional bolt action rifle’s 90 degrees. The rifle’s bluing is amazing.

A nice rifle. I use the notepad to keep track of which load I fire at which target.

Cut checkering on the Browning. These rifles were manufactured in Japan. They did a nice job.

The fore end tip and the pistol grip have rosewood caps. They look good.

Shortly after I bought the rifle, I mounted an inexpensive 4X Tasco scope on it. That worked okay for a couple of years and then the scope called it quits, so I bought another inexpensive 4X scope (a Nikko this time). The Nikko has held up well.

You might wonder: Why a nonvariable 4X scope? Why not the more popular 3-9X you see on most rifles? In my opinion, the 4X is a lot more useable in the field. I don’t get dramatically better groups with higher magnification scopes, and I like the lightness and the much larger field of view a 4X offers. Unfortunately, not too many companies offer fixed power 4X scopes these days. The scope companies’ marketing has convinced everyone they need variable scopes with high magnification.

The Nikko 4X scope was inexpensive. It has parallax and focus adjustments. Not the roll engraving on the receiver.

In my recent blog about the Browning maple Medallion 6.5 Creedmoor X-Bolt, I described a couple of accuracy loads I developed for that rifle. This time, my objectives were different. I wasn’t shooting the .223 Micro Medallion for accuracy. I was harvesting brass.

Bulk Remington .223 ammunition. It comes in a big plastic bag. I counted out 100 rounds for this range session.

A macro shot of the bulk Remington .223 ammo. Note the crimp applied to each round. I generally find that uncrimped ammo is more accurate with this cartridge. I think the crimping induces a bit of tilt in the bullet.

Several years ago I scoured the Internet looking for Remington brass. I’ve always had good luck with Remington brass (it lasts longer and it provides better accuracy, in my opinion). At that time and to my surprise, loaded Remington bulk ammo was cheaper than unprimed brass. For me it was a no brainer: I ordered a thousand rounds of loaded .223 Remington bulk ammo. When I need .223 brass, I’ll shoot up a bunch of the bulk ammo to get the brass.

The bulk Remington ammo was notoriously inaccurate in my Ruger Mini 14, which is the only rifle I had previously used with this ammunition. I wanted to see how the ammo would shoot in the Browning. I knew the Browning was accurate based on previous range testing at 100 yards (some of my reloads would shoot into a quarter of an inch in the Browning; I’ll give you those loads at the end of this blog).

The Remington ammo did well enough in the Browning. It held loads right around a minute and a half of angle at 100 yards, and it printed about where the scope was zeroed. Take a look:

Cheap ammo, but results that weren’t too shabby. I could hunt with this load.

This accuracy is good enough for minute of jackrabbit or coyote. The Browning Micro Medallion rifle is fun to shoot, too. It has negligible recoil, the shorter Micro Medallion barrel helps to keep the weight down, and it connects well at 100 yards.

About the accuracy loads I mentioned above: In a previous load development effort I tested .223 loads in several rifles, including two Remington 700 varmint guns with bull barrels and big scopes. To my surprise, the Micro Medallion and its 4X scope had no problem running with the big guns and their much heavier barrels and much higher magnifications. Here’s how the Micro Medallion and three other .223 rifles grouped a few years ago at 100 yards:

The Browning Micro Medallion shot half-inch groups with ARComp propellant (and it was basically a minute-of-angle rifle with nearly all other loads). I’ll reload the brass harvested from this range session with the Hornady V-Max bullet and ARComp propellant. This is great performance, especially considering the lightweight barrel and the 4X scope. It’s a great rifle.

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Season of Change: Part 3

By Mike Huber

I returned to my mat/astral spaceship with a full dose of ayahuasca in a cup that I was about to drink. This would be my 12^th time consuming this magical potion from the jungles of South America. As I sat staring into the cup that would soon bring me into another world I was as scared as I had ever been in my life, especially having just had one of the most frightening journeys of my life the night prior. Looking into the cup of dark molasses-colored and textured fluid I set my intentions and fearfully drank what was a little over an ounce, but it would prove to be more than enough to benefit me.

Similar to the prior evening I sat back to let the medicine absorb into my body. There was nothing for me to do but let the medicine perform its work now. Once the singing of the icaros began I could feel another entity coming towards me, but it wasn’t the panther from the previous night. It was a War of the Worlds type of jellyfish with tentacles. I was relaxed since in previous ceremonies this was the hallucination I was used to. One of the tentacles came down and at the end of it was the pattern of the inside of the ayahuasca vine but I could tell it was an eye scoping me out. Yet again I was eye to eye with a new entity introducing itself to me. What was constantly on my mind was if this entity would disappear and return me to the Hell I was in the previous night.

Pretty much as soon as the hopes of not returning to that Hell faded, yup, you guessed it I returned to the exact same Hell as the previous night. Damn it! It was for a shorter period of time though (or so I thought as time is relative in the spirit world). There were no voices or guidance this time, though, so I wasn’t quite sure of the lesson I was being taught (but I did vomit ferociously for quite some time). Once that began to wind down my name was called and I moved to the facilitator that would sing to me face to face. I was instantly uplifted and felt just pure happiness. A happiness and peace with myself that I hadn’t felt for years. I was comfortable within my own skin and felt as though I had been reborn and given a new chance to experience life through this new lens that I hadn’t had previously.

That evening I went back into the room to have tea with others and was no longer huddled in the corner. I participated in the conversations while also checking in on others to ensure none of them felt as I did the previous night. It was one of the best experiences I had to date with this medicine, but I still had one more night to go through, so I was cautious not to become overly comfortable. It was time to rest, eat, hydrate and get my head together for tomorrow night’s final ceremony.

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A Baja Endurance Run!

AMORAK (a Mexican motorcycle group) is having a Baja endurance run next month. It’s a ride from Tijuana to Cabo San Lucas…a cool 1,632 kilometers (or 1,014 miles) that entrants must complete in less than 24 hours. The run commences on 12 January (you have to be in Tijuana on 11 January for inspections, registration, etc.). If you’re interested in taking this one on, here’s the link to get started.

I’ve done that exact same trip on two different motorcycles at the extremes of the motorcycle spectrum. One was a Harley big twin (my old Heritage Classic) with 1340 cubic centimeters; the other was a CSC-150 Mustang replica that had a 150cc engine.

On both of my TJ-to-Cabo rides, we took several days. Doing 1,000 miles in 24 hours anywhere is a challenge (as Rob Morel wrote about here on the ExNotes blog); doing a run like this from TJ to Cabo is an extreme challenge. The roads are a combination of twisties, desert, coastal roads, mountain roads, and rides through the centers of many towns. It’s not freeway riding, and you never know when a burro or a vaca might wander onto the road directly in front of you. Add in the facts that gasolina may not be available in the middle of the night, you would have to eat somewhere along the way, and the police down there (both local and the Federales) are more rigorous about enforcing the speed limits these days…man, I don’t know. It’s more than I’d care to take on, but your mileage may vary. Our job is to help spread the word, and now you know.

If you would like more info on riding in Baja, check out our Baja page. Better yet, pick up a copy of Moto Baja.

Make sure you get BajaBound Mexican insurance before you venture into Baja, and if you want to get the right gear (and world class moto gear), be sure to check out British Motorcycle Gear.

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Imperial Police Harleys

My old man drove an Imperial for a couple of years. In the early days, Dad always bought his cars used, and our dark green 4-door ’56 Imperial was no exception. The car was monstrously huge and it rode as if it were floating on air. I remember one time we were all in the car when it lost its steering. Something mechanical came undone and we ended up in a cornfield, of which there were many in rural central New Jersey in the late 1950s. I can’t remember if that’s why Dad sold the Imperial or if it was something else, but I remember the car. And that’s why when I came across this YouTube video I knew I had to share it with you.

The sales approach back in those days was a little different than what we might see in an advertisement today. These are two more Imperial videos that I think are cool.

This next one, which obviously had as its target market rich old white guys who never went anywhere without a police motorcycle escort, is especially cool (and it fits with our theme of occasionally providing interesting motorcycle content).

So there you have it: 1950s Chrysler Imperial advertising and more. And hey, if you were intrigued by those police Harleys in the video above, pick up your own copy of The Complete Book of Police and Military Motorcycles.

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My Solo Motorcycle Journey from Sedona to Canada: Part V

By Bobbie Surber

Embarking on the final stretch of my epic 11-week solo motorcycle journey on Tippi, my trusted Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro, evoked a whirlwind of emotions. From Sedona, Arizona, through the diverse terrains of Utah, Nevada, California, and Oregon, each mile etched an unforgettable mark on my soul. Navigating the enchanting trails of the Olympic Peninsula on my slow crawl to Canada, every road whispered tales of resilience, liberation, and the joy of exploration. Each mile felt like a chapter—a blend of nostalgic past adventures and an eager anticipation for the unknown ahead. This last leg wasn’t just a ride; it was a transformative passage that shaped me, kindling a sense of wonder, fortitude, and an unyielding thirst for the uncharted.

After crossing the Astoria Bridge into Washington, a short ride brought me to my niece’s home in Westport. Nestled in a community rich in fishing heritage and coastline, Michelle, Mike, and their kids embodied a close-knit family life filled with outdoor adventures. What began as a brief stop extended to a 3-night stay, finding solace by the captivating shoreline. Continuing the journey with Mike leading the way, we explored scenic backroads and Highway 101, culminating in my first ferry trip aboard Tippi to Edmond, Washington.

We quickly stopped for some incredible tacos before continuing to see my adventurous 90+-year-old mother, just back from an epic cruise to Alaska. She regaled us with tales of her thrilling zip line adventure—so high and long that my sister opted for the gondola ride, watching our daring mother zoom by! Our time together, though brief, was filled with laughter and stories of adventure before I hit the road again, heading towards more family just a few hours away.

My ride to visit my sister and her husband at their enchanting cabin east of Granite Falls was swift. The primary purpose of this visit, alongside my travels through multiple states, was to gather and honor the memory of my beloved nephew, Brandon. A decade has passed since his tragic loss to brain cancer, leaving an irreplaceable void in our lives. The remembrance brought together both family and friends, a day spent in heartfelt reminiscence and reconnection. My sister, Deb, and her husband, Jim, seasoned sailors, spun tales that seemed to fill more than a lifetime’s worth of adventures. The days melted away as we relaxed in the tranquility of their picturesque cabin by the river.

After luxuriating for four nights, Tippi and I reluctantly bid farewell to embark on our journey to North Cascades National Park via the captivating routes of Highways 530 and 20. The morning air was crisp and invigorating, paired with the delightful twists and turns that entertained both me and Tippi. The park’s cloudless skies gifted us a rare visual feast. At the same time, the scarcity of traffic afforded precious moments to drink in the awe-inspiring panoramic views, such as the breathtaking Diablo Lake.

Further along our route, multiple pit stops and a restful night in the quaint western town of Winthrop, Washington, brought us tantalizingly close to the Canadian border. The journey along Highway 20 and the extended loop through Kettle Springs via Highway 395 bestowed upon me splendid views of the majestic Columbia River and the winding Kettle River before my solitary crossing into Canada at the serene expanse of Christina Lake.

Christina Lake’s allure was magnetic—a vast expanse fed by hot springs boasting the warmest waters in British Columbia, offering a tranquil respite. Energized and eager, I embarked on my next destination, Nakusp, for a riders’ gathering with Horizons Unlimited. A weekend of camaraderie and epic tales of global adventures awaited, including the awe-inspiring journey of a dear friend, Wayne Kouf, as he traveled from Canada to the tip of South America.

As was one of the main themes of my journey, I was once again saying my farewells to newfound friends as I pulled out of the campground to embark on the exploration of Banff, the Ice Fields, and Jasper. Despite planning a direct route on Highways 2 and 1, fellow riders advocated a detour closer to the border. The diversion led me towards Highway 31A to Balfour, where the longest free ferry ride in Canada awaited—a journey meandering alongside a lake to Creston, ending at the home of a riding comrade, Jody.

After an enchanting evening with Jody and his wife, savoring local wines and their tales of adventures, we reluctantly bid each other goodnight. Jody led the way on his BMW the next morning, guiding us through superior back routes toward Banff. As foreboding clouds gathered, he wisely turned back, leaving me to face an imminent storm that unleashed torrents of rain, hail, and fog upon my journey.

At last, I arrived in Banff under clear skies! A delightful two-night stay at Two Jack Campground unfolded with wildlife encounters, mesmerizing sunsets, and a lighthearted exchange with a Ranger regarding bear spray—affirming the amiable demeanor of Canadian bears.

The subsequent days were a whirlwind, exploring the lakes, trails, and the majestic Lake Louise before venturing along the Icefields Parkway in Alberta—a challenging yet breathtaking 144-mile scenic route through Banff and Jasper National Parks. A pause at a remote, off-grid hostel allowed both the physical and emotional respite I needed! I slept with peace despite a room full of men. I spent the days filled with wildlife observation, the magic of Athabasca Falls and thoughtful planning for the journey ahead.

Reluctantly leaving the hostel, I caught a glimpse of Jasper before setting my sights on Mt. Robson, the towering pinnacle in the heart of the Canadian Rockies. From there, my journey through the mountains made its way towards Kamloops, a historic river ferry delivering me to the abode of Melanie, a truly exceptional rider. Gathered around for dinner were local riders, their camaraderie transforming the evening into a truly memorable encounter.

The next morning, Melanie and I embarked on a thrilling ride towards Whistler via the legendary Highway 99, a route destined to etch itself into my memory. Reluctantly bidding farewell to Melanie, I found a respite at a hostel nestled on the outskirts of Whistler, immersing myself in the awe-inspiring vistas. The following day, I embarked on the Sea to Sky Highway, Highway 99, enroute to the home of newfound friends I’d met during my time in Nakusp.

A brief stopover in Vancouver included a heartfelt reunion with a friend from Sedona and an embrace of warm hospitality from new acquaintances, setting the stage for a chilly, rain-soaked morning journey to the ferry terminal. This ferry would lead me to Pender Island and the sanctuary of Karen and Wayne’s idyllic home, perched above stunning views of the sound amid a serene fruit orchard.

I was enfolded by their sanctuary for three nights before hopping onto ferries, journeying to Salt Spring Island for a short but sweet visit with friends. Eventually, my path led me to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island, where I sought rest for the night. The following morning, we rode to Tofino, immersing myself in the town’s essence for several nights, exploring every nook and cranny, from the bustling streets to the expansive Long Beach. Subsequently, I found solace in camping at Ucluelet for two nights, discovering the untamed and authentic allure of the rugged west coast of Vancouver Island.

Spending five captivating nights absorbed in the wild embrace of the untamed West Coast reluctantly gave way to a journey along the backroads, savoring every moment by Cowichan Lake and basking in the sheer picturesque beauty of Port Renfrew. The coastal ride on Road 14 leading into Victoria was a spectacle to behold, painting a stunning portrait of nature’s allure. However, despite an entire week on Vancouver Island, it felt like I’d barely scratched the surface of its boundless treasures. This experience fueled a resolute determination to return, armed with Tippi, and unearth more of the island’s hidden gems waiting to be discovered.

A ferry ride from Victoria to Port Angeles led me to family friends who are seasoned globe-trotters and avid sailors. Their tales of adventures on the high seas enthralled me, offering a glimpse into their adventurous lives. Their home, a serene haven, was difficult to leave behind after two lovely nights.

Crossing that final ferry from Kingston into Edmonds, Washington, marked the poignant end of our remarkable 6700-mile journey. As Tippi’s three-cylinder engine hummed for the last time, an array of emotions swept over me—an amalgamation of triumph, nostalgia, and bittersweet closure.

This journey wasn’t merely a travelogue; it unfolded as an epic tale of self-discovery, resilience, and unspoken connections. It bestowed upon me the confidence to traverse vast distances riding solo, fostering encounters that enriched the very essence of my being. Amidst nature’s awe-inspiring grandeur and tempestuous weather, I forged deep bonds with fellow riders, weaving together memories that now compose the tapestry of cherished moments. My heart took this journey bruised and found solace and renewal in the liberating embrace of the open road. It transcended beyond a physical expedition—it became a profound emotional odyssey. Tippi and the open road weren’t simply an escape; they provided a sanctuary for introspection, solace, and rediscovery.

In this odyssey, Tippi evolved beyond a mere motorcycle; she transformed into an unwavering companion, accompanying me through every peak and valley, guiding me along uncharted paths as a steadfast confidante, offering unspoken reassurance and understanding. She remained my constant, always propelling me further.

My solo adventure reaffirmed a timeless truth: life’s most defining chapters often unfold in uncharted territories, far from the familiar comforts. It underscored that the most impactful moments, those that shape us profoundly, emerge when we embrace the unknown with open arms, daringly venturing beyond the confines of what we know.

By the Numbers:

- 6700 +/- miles
- 2 Countries /2 Provence’s /6 States
- 2 Bike Drops
- 3 wicked Hangovers
- 3 Islands
- 6 Canadian National Parks
- 14 US National Parks
- 9 Ferry Rides
- 54 nights camping
- 1000 amazing memories!

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Brazil Moto Chase

Here’s a chase scene that’s billed as the wildest motorcycle chase ever. I don’t know if that’s entirely accurate, but it is an entertaining few minutes.

The presumption here is that the chase is real, and some dude and his pillion dudette were in a heap of trouble down there in Brazil when they were finally caught. You’ve got to be pretty nuts to attempt outrunning a police officer on anything, but I guess more than a few crazies do so even here in California. About 25 years ago I was in the carpool lane on my TL1000S Suzuki honking along at about 95 mph when I suddenly sensed something on my 5:00 position. I looked in the mirror and there was a CHP cruiser not 5 feet off my rear wheel, just a little bit to my right rear. I hit my turn signal, slowed slowly (I didn’t want that CHP car giving me a proctological examination), wove my way through traffic, and got off at the next exit. I was expecting the indignant, outraged lecture, but to my surprise the CHP officer was an attractive young female who politely asked for my license, insurance, and registration. “I’m surprised you pulled over,” she added.

“Really?” I asked. “You actually get people try to outrun you?”

“All the time,” she said. “If they get away, we can’t go by their tags and arrest them. They’ll just say it wasn’t them, and because of the helmet, it stands up in court.” Hmmmh. You could have knocked me over with a feather. “That’s if they get away,” she added. “Most of the time they get wadded up somewhere down the road. We just follow the ambulance to the hospital and issue the summons there.”

On this topic of motorcycle chases: They are a staple of more than a few motion pictures. I think the classic chase scene (and the best one) is Steve McQueen in The Great Escape (Bud Ekins did the jump in this scene, for which he was paid an unheard of $1000 when the movie was made). There are many great movie chase scenes. Let’s hear from you: What’s your favorite motorcycle chase scene?

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Two Browning 6.5 Creedmoor Loads

By Joe Berk

The creek is dry and getting to the West End Gun Club is a lot easier these days, so I reloaded some 6.5 Creedmoor ammo in the brass good buddy Johnnie G sent to me. I wanted to try a couple of new loads in my maple-stocked X-Bolt.

A right side view of the Browning 6.5 Creedmoor rifle. Note the muzzle brake on the end of the barrel.

I bought the X-bolt when I saw the wood, and it had a cross-country ride and a half to get to me. I saw it in a shop in Lamar, Colorado, and I knew I had to own the Browning as soon as I saw it. You don’t see many rifles with wood of this caliber.

There was a problem, though. The Colorado shop owner wouldn’t ship it to California. There’s an extra hoop or two a dealer has to jump through to ship a gun to California and I guess folks in Colorado aren’t basketball players. Here’s where capitalism came to the rescue. There’s a guy in Virginia who makes a living off of these kinds of situations, so I had the Colorado dealer ship it to the Virginia dealer, who then shipped it to my dealer in California. None of these dealers did so for free (going to Colorado-to-Virginia-to-California route wrapped the Browning in another $100 bill, and you can guess who had to pay up). But that’s okay. I wanted the rifle and now I have it. It really is an exquisite firearm. And it is exquisitely accurate. I’ll get to that in a minute.

I mounted a 4×12 Vortex scope on the Browning 6.5 Creedmoor. Check out the roll engraving on the receiver.

Another view of the 6.5 Creedmoor Vortex scope. The scope includes a parallax adjustment on the objective lens.

A macro shot of the receiver’s roll engraving. It’s a nice touch.

The stock has a darker wood fore end tip. It’s a classy rifle. The action is glass bedded from the factory.

The X-Bolt has a muzzle brake. The bluing is fine; that’s powder residue you see on it. I can feel a light puff a fraction of a second after the bullet leaves the barrel.

I used the Hornady 140-grain full metal jacket boat tail bullet for two loads I wanted to test; one with IMR 4350 propellant and the other with XBR 8208 propellant.

Reloaded 6.5 Creedmoor ammo with Winchester brass and the 140-grain jacketed hollow point boat tail bullet. It’s good looking ammo.

The business end of the 140-grain Hornady bullets.

The loads showed no signs of excess pressure after firing. The bolt opened easily and the primers were not flattened.

Winchester brass, and unflattened Winchester large rifle primers.

I full length resized the 6.5 Creedmoor brass because I have two rifles chambered in 6.5 Creedmoor (see our earlier story, A Tale of Two Creedmoors). The alternative approach is to neck size the brass only (which can theoretically offer improved accuracy), but when you neck size the brass the reloaded ammo will only fit into the rifle in which the brass was previously fired. I didn’t want to try to keep my ammo segregated by rifle, and as it turns out, I don’t need to. The full length resized 6.5 Creedmoor brass provided great 100-yard results in the Browning X-Bolt rifle with both the XBR 8208 and IMR 4350 loads.

The first shot of the day at the upper left target was low and to the left, which is a common occurrence when shooting from a clean and lightly oiled barrel. The next three grouped tightly into the orange target (I could see the bullet holes with the rifle’s 12X scope). I let the barrel cool for a few minutes, and then I fired another three rounds at the upper right target. I was pleased; the load returned an even tighter three shot group in about the same spot as the first group. Both groups, when measured later, were a satisfyingly tight half minute of angle.

I let the barrel cool again, and then I moved on to the IMR 4350 loads. Wow, talk about consistent. Both shot to the same part of the target, and both were exactly the same group size: 0.829 inches.

Two great 6.5 Creedmoor powders: IMR 4350 and XBR 8208.

My old RCBS powder trickler still works well.

I had read that IMR 4350 was a “go to” powder for 6.5 Creedmoor accuracy, and my results confirmed that. I had not found much information about XBR 8208 accuracy in this chambering, but it sure seemed to get the job done for me. As the above target shows, the XBR 8208 performed even better than the IMR 4350 loads. Here’s a bit more on info on these two loads:

- Both had the Hornady 140-grain bullets seated to an overall cartridge length of 2.800 inches.
- I did not crimp the bullets in place.
- I did not trim the brass for either load.
- The powder charges for both loads were weighed for every cartridge. I used my powder dispenser to drop a little bit lower charge, and then trickled in the last few grains.
- I used 31.5 grains of XBR 8208.
- I used 39.0 grains of IMR 4350.
- I used Winchester brass with Winchester large rifle primers.

So there you have it: Two great 6.5 Creedmoor loads for the Browning maple Medallion.

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Getting Your Kicks: ExNotes Motorcycle Mods

By Joe Gresh

I bought the 2008 Husqvarna SMR510 in 2009. I forget the exact mileage on the bike but it was around 800-ish, I think. The Husky was essentially a new motorcycle and the bike sat very tall for a guy with stubby legs. The seat height wasn’t my biggest problem though, the real issue was the diabolical kickstand the manufacturer cursed the Husky with.

The stand was both too short and angled wrong so that when deployed its contact point was only a few inches left of the centerline of the motorcycle. On the stand, the bike would lean way over, unloading the rear suspension to the point the rear wheel was nearly off the ground. This meant the bike fell over a lot. The slightest breeze would pivot the bike onto the stand and knock the Husky onto its left side.

That’s not all that was wrong with the Husky’s kickstand. The foot of the stand was only a millimeter or two wider than the 7/8-inch steel tube the stand was made from. Parking the Husqvarna on anything other than solid concrete was an iffy proposition. If the bike was on sand or dirt the stand would punch through the ground and the bike would fall over. I learned that in the dirt you had to lean the thing against a tree if you wanted to park.

One of the first things I did to the bike was add a gigantic chunk of steel to the bottom of the stand in order to spread the load a bit on soft terrain. I angled the new foot outboard, effectively moving the contact point an inch further from the centerline. The new foot also moved the contact point forward a bit to help even out the fore-aft balance. It kind of worked. The bike fell over less but it still fell over.

The SMR510’s high seat was a pain to climb onto so I decided to raise the rear shock bolt about ½-inch which lowered the back of the bike a full inch. Now I could reach both feet to the ground on tippy-toes or one foot flat. The lowering also improved the kickstand angle and stability although it caused trickle-down issues.

The Husky is blessed with an ultra plush rear suspension. The bike is a Cadillac on rough dirt trails. With the shortened ride height the bike leaned less on the stand in fact it was almost too vertical. Now when I got on the bike the rear would sag pushing against the stand causing the bike to lean hard right. To get the stand folded up I had to lean the bike much further to the right like a 45-degree angle so that the arc of the stand-swing would clear the ground. Even if I wasn’t sitting on the Husky to fold the stand up I had to hold the bike well over center. I dropped it a few more times.

Things stayed like this for many years. My method of mounting the SMR510 was to first fold the stand up then swing my leg over the back of the seat, scratching the rear fender with my boot and settle down into the saddle as the suspension sagged and my feet hit the ground. It was an ok system when I was younger and more flexible.

Unfortunately frailty creeps up on all of us over time. The last few years it became harder to swing my leg high up over the rear of the Husky. The pack I keep strapped to the rear fender made the situation worse. I had to change my methodology and begin a more right-angle frontal assault, high-kicking my leg over the seat like a hurdler or John Cleese at the Ministry of Funny Walks.

You can guess how well that worked: to get on the Husky I had to flip the stand up, hold the bars with one hand, step back far enough to give my leg clearance and kick as high as I could while stepping forward into the bike. Most of the time it worked but if you didn’t get your foot high enough it would smack into the seat and push the bike over. The Husky falls well and all, but still. Getting off the bike was no easy feat either. In fact, I dropped the Husky more dismounting the motorcycle than mounting, although it was a close run thing, percentage-wise.

It got to where I didn’t want to ride the Husqvarna because I dreaded getting on or off of the bike. It all came to a head a few weeks ago when the Mud Chuckers and I did a 140-mile pavement loop with a 40-mile dirt section in the middle. We pulled into the café at Mayhill for a lunch stop but the place looked closed. Neither of us actually checked the door because we didn’t want to go through the trouble of climbing off our bikes.

The parking lot at the Mayhill Café has a slight slope to it and I rolled the bike backwards to leave. The Husky wouldn’t start. Nothing. No clicking. The instrument panel and fuel pump energized so I figured something was wrong with the starter motor circuit. I made the fatal error of positioning the kickstand side downhill. I slid my butt off the seat and started to drag my tired leg over the top of the seat Normally not a big problem. The added distance created by the parking lot falling away meant my leg needed to go even higher to clear the seat and the bike began to topple over onto me. I was bunny hopping with the one leg on the ground and the other leg still not clear of the seat. Events rapidly overtook my hop-speed and the bike fell over. Luckily I was still wearing my helmet because when I fell backwards I smacked my new helmet on the asphalt pretty hard. I think I would have cracked my head open otherwise.

As I was lying on the ground with the Husky on my leg I cursed a torrent of bad words, some of them even I didn’t know the meaning of. It was like I was speaking in foul-tongues except the Holy Spirit was not the one doing the talking. We got the bike off of me and picked it up. I told Mike, “I’m not riding that @#@ing motorcycle again until I fix that #$@@-%ing kickstand.” We push started the bike and I rode home. So I guess I did ride it again after all.

The starting problem turned out to be a loose connection at the start relay but to be sure I took all the bodywork off and disconnected all the multi-pin plugs on the wiring harness and gave them each a shot of silicone. I relocated the horn to gain a bit more wiring room behind the headlight and changed the old, crumbling air filter for a new one. The Husqvarna was running fine. Except for that diabolical kickstand.

The main problem with the kickstand is that when deployed it is too close to the centerline of the wheels. The reason for this is the kickstand-mounting lug on the frame is angled wrong. Instead of the stand swinging out it sort of swings down. All of the Husky’s kickstand issues stem from this one critical design flaw.

I don’t want to mess with the Husky’s frame so I decided to hacksaw a wedge out of the stand (below the return spring mount) and closed the wedge so that the stand would project about 4 inches further outboard. I welded the join as best I could not being able to see the weld or the seam.

Moving the foot outboard made the bike lean over too far so I borrowed a few inches of tubing from an old Yamaha handlebar to extend the length of the stand.

I made a plug to insert into the tubing where the old stand and the handlebar piece join, a couple holes drilled into the tubing allowed me to butt-weld the insert and weld the thin tubing together without burning through.

I made a new, lighter foot and cut a new angle on the end of the stand to suit

And it is wonderful. Parking the bike is so easy when it doesn’t fall over from the slightest breeze. My new mounting technique (with the stand in the down position) is to put my left foot on the peg, grab the bars, stand on the foot peg, swing my leg easily over the rear pack, settle down into the seat and with my left foot, swing the stand up. Easy-Peasy. It sounds like I should have been able to do this all along but the geometry just didn’t work that way.

Putting up with the old kickstand for 14 years shows how a bad idea can keep loyal followers. It took that hard fall In Mayhill to jar me into action. There is no free lunch, however. The new stand angle awkwardly juts out from the side of the bike and will most likely break when I crash on that side. I’m hoping my shoddy welding will be like a fuse and it will break at the join before something important breaks.

The kickstand mod has made me fall in love with the Husqvarna again. It’s such a light, powerful bike you feel like there’s not much you can’t do with it. Now that I can easily get on and off the bike those feelings of dread are distant memories.

I’ll see you on the trails.

More motoliterature from Dos Joes? You bet!