ExNotes Moto-mods:  Kawasaki ZRX1100 Petcock

By Joe Gresh 

I should have listened to the guys who knew.  They told me the vacuum operated fuel petcock on the ZRX1100 was a source of problems and that I should convert it to a standard on-off-reserve manually operated type. In my defense the new vacuum petcock lasted six months or so before the ZRX became hard to start after sitting idle for longish periods of time.

The vacuum petcock stopped sealing and the ZRX’s last line of defense was the float needle in the carburetors. In an ideal world these needles should stop the flow of gas and you wouldn’t even need a fuel shut off valve. We don’t live in an ideal world, however.

I tested my bad-petcock theory by removing the fuel line. A steady stream of fuel poured out of the hose. There is no “Off” position on the standard Kawasaki petcock so I drained the gas tank and set about converting the petcock to manual.

In practical terms the bike was starting hard because it was flooded. Constant velocity carbs, like the ones fitted to the ZRX, are a little harder to clear a flooded condition. Normally you’d hold the throttle wide open to get a lot of air flowing through the cylinder, thus blowing out the excess fuel. With CV type carbs opening the throttle only opens a set of butterfly valves. The actual throttle slides are independent of the twist grip and require engine vacuum to operate. Add low-vacuum cranking speed that struggles to raise the throttle slides and a flooded engine that doesn’t want to start and you’ve got a sticky wicket.

I bought this generic fuel petcock on Amazon for around $10 and figured if it didn’t work I wasn’t out much money. The hole centers lined up and the valve bolted into the Kawasaki tank without issue.

The new petcock came with these tiny plastic fuel filters fitted to the main tank standpipe and the reserve opening at the bottom of the tank. I got rid of these as they looked sort of restrictive and I planned on installing an inline filter on the bike to simplify the hose connections.

The original style vacuum petcock had a 3/8” hose barb that mated to a 5/16” barb on the carburetors. This mismatch required the factory to specify an unusual molded hose that was 3/8” on one end and 5/16” on the other. The new, manual petcock had a ¼” hose barb. These universal inline filters have both ¼” and 5/16” barbs to fit a wider range of machines. I trimmed off the 1/4″ barb on one side of the filter and had a nifty filter that fit both the petcock size and the carburetor size.

I know what you’re thinking, which is that the new petcock at ¼” won’t pass enough fuel. Maybe you’d be right if I drag raced or rode extended periods at high speed. At 50 miles per gallon the thrifty ZRX1100 gets plenty of fuel through the smaller line. I did a few full-throttle passes at an undisclosed test location and the bike did not want for fuel.

The new petcock hose barb exited 90 degrees rearward compared to the stock petcock, which exited down. This orientation required the fuel hose to run straight back and over the carburetor before turning down and routing under the bank of four carbs. The extra length made for kind of a loose hose so I used a couple rubber-covered clamps to secure the hose and tuck it in out of the way.

The new petcock makes starting easier but the Kawasaki ZRX is still reluctant to cold start. Which is odd because the bike always started on the first push. Maybe it’s just the fact that winter is here at the ranch and I’m starting the ex-Florida bike colder than usual. This is the first New Mexico winter for the ZRX and it takes three or four pushes on the button to get the bike to light off, a great improvement over the 25 or so with the old, leaky petcock. I never got around to adjusting the ZRX carbs; I just cleaned them and stuck them back on the bike as I had a long trip planned and wanted to get some shakedown miles on the bike. Maybe a carb sync is in order.

I’ll try adjusting my starting ritual to see if I can come up with a protocol that will save some wear and tear on the Kawasaki starter motor. Keep your eyes glued to ExhaustNotes.us for important updates as they become available.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

Four National Parks, One Inspiring Ride, and Fuel for the Open Road

By Bobbie Surber

Embarking on a spontaneous journey this past October to explore multiple national parks, my dependable Triumph Tiger 900 GT Pro (Tippi), and I escaped from an approaching winter. The objective? An inspiring tour encompassing White Sands, Carlsbad Caverns, Guadalupe, and the Petrified Forest National Parks. With an insatiable love for national parks, these scenic wonders often become a focal point during my motorcycle travels. Spending around 60-70 percent of my time on the road, I am drawn to these incredible natural havens.

Starting from Sedona on a crisp fall afternoon, I cruised through Oak Creek Canyon, reveling in the solitary road and the vibrant autumn leaves adorning the red rock landscape. Petrified Forest National Park is a familiar stop with ancient petrified logs and captivating vistas.

I continued through the desolate upper desert plains, making my way to Springerville, Arizona, before the next leg of my adventure.

The next morning’s journey steered me toward Faywood Hot Springs in New Mexico, but boy, was it a wild ride! Wrestling with savage winds that rivaled a cyclone, I stumbled upon a rider down on the road.  As we righted his bike, we ascertained the downed rider was scraped and bruised but fine. My nerves shot, I sought respite from the tempestuous gusts and made a beeline for Alpine, where winds had gone rogue, hitting outrageous gusts of 80 miles per hour. Amid what seemed to be tornado-like chaos, I found solace in the embrace of snug and hospitable Alpine, Arizona.

Rolling into Faywood Hot Springs in New Mexico a day late due to the windstorms, I was greeted by humble cabins and campsites stretching across the desert with views of distant foothills. As Tippi’s tires crunched on the gravel, I found myself in a moment straight out of a motorcycle comedy flick. Decked out head to toe in my riding gear, I sfound myself in a nudist colony!  Out of nowhere two mostly naked gents emerged, strutting towards me to help park my bike. Picture this: two bare souls, one bike, and a dangerous scenario brewing. They helped with the genuine enthusiasm of a nudist biker pit crew, and I could not help but nervously accept. However, my mind raced faster than Tippi’s engine, worrying about potential mishaps—my bike toppling over one of them or an accidental heat encounter with certain sensitive areas. The stakes were high, at least for them, and my concern was off the charts!

With Tippi safely parked (and the naked pit crew miraculously unscathed), I swiftly ditched my gear and clothing for the remainder of the day, joining the affable and entertaining guests at the bathing suit optional pools. Trust me, regaling the encounter turned into a comedic highlight of my adventure, spinning a tale of the night’s shenanigans that truly supported my aforementioned moto flick!

Eager to witness the sunrise and embark on my ride, I packed Tippi.  I anticipated a solar eclipse, but not before a detour to the City of Rocks State Park (a hidden gem a few miles away). Although time allowed only a brief hike and a few photographs, the park’s charm put it on my must-return list.

Continuing my journey, a stop at Hatch, New Mexico, promised a feast of authentic Mexican cuisine renowned for its chili.  It lived up to its reputation as I dove into a plate of green chili smothered enchiladas. But before my feast the anticipation of the eclipse lingered as I parked by the roadside with Tippi and a few fellow travelers, hoping for an unobstructed view. Unfortunately, a thin veil of clouds dampened our expectations, casting a shadow over the anticipated celestial spectacle, although the shifting light added its own atmospheric drama.

The adventure continued as I resumed my ride, following I-25 to I-70 for a two-hour journey leading me to White Sands National Park. Here, nature unveiled a captivating spectacle as I ventured deeper into the park. The landscape transformed into a mesmerizing sand festival, each mile revealing taller and more majestic sand dunes that stretched endlessly to the horizon. The park’s beauty and ethereal ambiance made my farewell bittersweet.

Leaving enchanting White Sands behind, I ventured onward, headed for Cloudcroft, New Mexico, where a charming hostel awaited.  This oasis in the mountains promised a restful evening, a sanctuary after a day filled with unexpected turns and nature’s breathtaking displays. I am a huge fan of hostels while traveling solo, not only for the inexpensive lodging but also for the opportunity to meet with fellow adventurers. Cloudcroft Hostel did not disappoint!  It is labor of love by a transplant named Stephanie, a fellow rider from Germany. The night’s stay even included a house concert with a traveling performer. I drifted off to sleep that night with the thought of returning to this delightful place.

Bright and early the following morning, I embarked on a dual adventure to Carlsbad Caverns and Guadalupe National Park. My first stop was in Carlsbad, where I had a planned visit with a fellow rider.  Parker and I arranged to meet at a historic restaurant.  Meeting this captivating rider in person matched the fascination I felt from afar. Our interaction was brief as I had to rush to make my 1:00 p.m. to the caverns. Negotiating the winding roads with enthusiasm, I navigated to the visitor center while maneuvering through the curves, passing slower vehicles, and arriving on time. The caverns exceeded expectations, and I leisurely explored the most picturesque chambers.

Daylight was fleeing, and I knew I had to rush to Guadalupe National Park before sunset. To my delight, a pleasant surprise awaited me as Parker joined me. Guadalupe, an unassuming jewel of a desert park boasting Texas’s highest peak, instantly captured my heart with its desert sunset over the rugged peaks. The night flew by quickly as I prodded Parker for more tales of his exhilarating riding adventures.  It made this stop an unforgettable highlight.

The following morning greeted me with thoughts swirling about the completion of my four-park tour and the route home. In a moment of whimsy, I yearned to revisit Cloudcroft for another night.  Such impulses are the joys of traveling by bike…logic takes a backseat to wanderlust! Retracing the previous day’s path, I arrived in the afternoon, affording me a chance to explore the historic downtown area.

In a move that defied logic (as is the norm in my travels), I reasoned that it made perfect sense to detour back home through Mesa, Arizona, for my bike’s much-needed service. The return ride, riddled with its own set of challenges, became a tale, featuring unexpected twists and yet another memorable encounter at a unique hot spring.  It’s a story for another time!

As I reflect on my incredible journey filled with unexpected encounters, stunning landscapes, and fellow riders’ camaraderie, the allure of the open road and unpredictability of travel are the true treasures of my motorcycle expeditions. Each detour, unplanned stop, and quirky encounter combined to create a tapestry of unforgettable experiences.  It is what fuels my passion for exploration and two wheel travel. Until the next adventure beckons, I will carry these memories as fuel for the road ahead.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

Season of Change: Part 4

By Mike Huber

I awoke in my tent still buzzing from the previous night’s ceremony. A frequent side effect from ayahuasca is not being able to sleep that well, but even with little sleep I was ready and excited to face the day with a renewed feeling of positive energy.  I had not only made it through the ceremony but came out the other side feeling a confidence and happiness that I hadn’t felt in years.

Even though I had this elated feeling I was still cautious not to be too upbeat.  I had a final ceremony that evening to go through and I was certain there were still a few things I had yet to process.  Hopefully, this evening would be where I would find the purpose that I originally sought, a star to steer by to light a path, even if it was just a few nearly dead chem lights to point the direction.  Just something.

I passed the day by talking with the others and listening to their experiences and getting to know everyone a little better.  As the day wore on, I began to feel uneasy again as to what that night’s experience would be.  With the ceremony starting at 19:30, the two hours leading up to it I spent in solace and went fishing to pass the time (I had two solid bites but didn’t set the hook so off they went).

Upon entering the yurt I sat on my mat and awaited to be called.  Since this was the third ceremony and I felt as though I had resolved a lot of what I had come here for I chose a smaller dose.  I wanted to be semi-coherent this night so that I could work with the plant, build a relationship, and have her assist me in bringing my purpose into the light.

As I returned to the mat with my cup of medicine, I sat looking deep into the cup for several minutes asking for guidance before I drank the bitter tasting plant medicine.  It didn’t take too long before the muscular black panther appeared and strutted up the mat to be face-to-face with me again.  As I sat eye-to-eye with this magnificent beast, I noticed behind it was the entire universe filled with an infinite amount of lavender colored geometric fractal patterns. I felt so uplifted and began to repeat “what is my purpose?” It was at this time the panther left and the universe melted into a dark scary funhouse as I began to violently purge into my trusty bucket that was kept at my side.  All the while the facilitators were singing and their icaros were resonating through my entire body.  It was beyond overwhelming.  Every sense in my body was heightened as I was blasted with emotion from every direction.

One of my proudest accomplishments is being a paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne Division, but on prior occasions taking ayahuasca my prior Army service never entered my hallucinations.  As the madness of the funhouse carried on, I looked up through the ceiling and could see an enormous 82nd Airborne insignia light up the entire universe.  I once again was in a dark place and began asking why was I seeing this insignia.  Did the plant have a problem with soldiers?  Paratroopers?  Every time I asked my surroundings just became darker and darker.  Every so often it would uplift me for a moment and I would ask about the insignia.  Each time I was thrust back into the funhouse of Hell.  Obviously, I was asking the wrong questions (I learned this after the third or fourth time purging and visiting these dark places).

I am a slow learner. I managed to refocus for a moment and it hit me.  It was almost as if the plant was screaming at me and punishing me for not coming to the obvious conclusion of these signs.  I had asked for purpose during that ceremony and that was it.  The medicine was showing me what my purpose was.  It is to help my fellow veterans in some capacity (this was the conclusion I reached). This was what I had asked for, but I had been too overwhelmed by the hallucinations to focus and obtain that answer.

It’s been three months since I attended the ayahuasca ceremonies. While I am still very mindful of what lessons the plant medicine has taught me, life (as it tends to do) has had me distracted and I find myself backsliding into old habits and losing focus on my new purpose.  I am now alert enough to realize this and I have the discipline to push myself back on track.  As I continue my path forward I am thankful for having the resolve to attend and learn from this beautiful plant medicine.  It is not a magic bullet, but if you follow through on the lessons this plant teaches you there is no doubt you will be a better person.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget:  Visit our advertisers!

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.

Thai taxi men, and one woman.
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).

A Thai Freightliner.

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.
It looks good. I like it.

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.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Help us keep the plates spinning and our advertisers grinning:  Please click on the ads!

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.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget:  Visit our advertisers!

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.

The right side of the Micro Medallion.

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.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Please click on the popup ads and visit the folks who advertise with us.

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 12th 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.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget:  Visit our advertisers!

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.

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget: Visit our advertisers!

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.

Don’t forget:  Visit our advertisers!

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!

Never miss an ExNotes blog:

Don’t forget:  Visit our advertisers!