The ExhaustNotes Blog

ExNotes Product Review: Vevor Welding Table

By Joe Gresh

I’ve gotten an undeserved reputation as a China booster. Some Internet wags think I work for China and must be getting a cut from the sales of products I test. Any time you guys want to get serious and ban all products from China let me know. I’m with you, man. I wish I got a cut from the sale of Chinese imports but the truth is, many times Chinese stuff is the only stuff I can afford. Take this Vevor welding table I bought on Amazon. At $62 including shipping it was even cheaper than the Harbor Freight welding table that looks like the exact same unit.

For fun I tried to find a similar sized, made-in-USA, welding table and the cheapest one I could find was from a company called Siegmund. The Siegmund table is way, way nicer than the Vevor and it comes with a bunch of clamping accessories included. The Siegmund costs $2569.00 plus shipping. For me, the choice isn’t made-in-USA vs made-in-China: the choice is a cheap welding table or no welding table at all.

Maybe if I ran a welding shop I’d bite the bullet and get the Siegmund, but that’s not exactly true. If I ran a welding shop I’d probably make my own welding table. It doesn’t matter for this product review because I don’t run a welding shop and I never will.

My previous welding table was a small, outdoor side table made from expanded metal mesh. It was too low and I was on my knees to do the welding. Everyone knows you have to be in a comfortable position to lay down a steady bead, more so when you can’t weld very well in the first place.

The Vevor welding table is one of those generic designs that are manufactured by many different factories in China. It has a tilting feature that I don’t foresee using but you never know. Out of the box the table comes complete with all the nuts, bolts, and screws needed for assembly. It’s easy to put together. It took me only 45 minutes and I’m a slow learner.

As delivered, the table worked fine, but there were several tiny modifications that made the thing much better. The tilting arc has two wing nuts and two plastic knobs on each side to lock the table in position. It’s almost impossible to get these fasteners tight enough to prevent the table from slipping when you push on the edge. It’s probably not a problem for welding but I replaced the factory hardware with acorn nuts. Once the acorn nuts are tightened with a wrench the table no longer slips.

I like my welding table high so that I have a better chance of seeing what I’m doing. The Vevor comes with two pins that allow height adjustability but even in the highest setting it was too low. If you weld from a chair it would be ok. I extended the table another inch and drilled the upright for a bolt/screw. To lower the table, I’ll have to remove the bolt but it will only take a moment.

I added two side braces to take a little side to side wobble out of the table. It’s relatively stable now.

The Vevor table folds for storage and came with wheels to roll the thing around. I didn’t use the wheels as the table is not very heavy and you can lift it easily.

The feet on the Vevor are an odd setup. Four plastic pieces fit into the ends of the legs and two crossbars with rubber tips snap into the plastic pieces. The crossbars fall out of the plastic easily so I drilled and added 4 screws to hold them in place.

Once I modded the Vevor welding table it felt sturdy. There are a few neat and not so neat features. The tabletop has slots for clamps but is not very thick metal (it’s about 2.4mm). It racks pretty easy until you flatten it out and tighten the tilt nuts. For electric welding it will probably be okay; gas welding may warp the top. On the sides are fences that you can raise beyond the tabletop to provide a handy place to clamp your work. Lowered, the fences are out of the way and razor sharp so watch your elbows. The lower cross brace on the Vevor comes with several size holes for tool/clamp storage and a couple loops to hang whatever you want to hang.

For a measly $62 you get a lot of welding table from Vevor. I’m satisfied with the thing and as soon as I clear out all the flammable stuff lying around the shed I’m going to test the table under real life conditions. Watch this space for a follow up report.

Springfield Armory’s New .22 Bolt Action Rifle

By Joe Berk

Springfield Armory has a new .22 bolt action rifle. It looks interesting from several perspectives. One, it’s a bolt action rimfire, so that has my attention immediately (I love bolt action rifles and I love rimfires). And two, it is being offered in both a composite stocked (read: Tupperware) competition version (something in which I have negative interest) and any of several grades of walnut. Fancy walnut…that works for me.

The Springfield Armory 2020 rimfire rifle stocked in what they call AAA walnut. It comes with a Picatinny rail for mounting a scope, or you can remove the rail and use conventional scope mounts.

A view from the right. If that’s AAA walnut, I’m the Pope.

Another shot of the Springfield 2020 rifle with fancier walnut and a Leupold scope. It is a good-looking rifle.

It’s the last part about the fancy walnut that has my attention. Springfield’s graded walnut runs from standard (they call it satin select) all the way up to AAA (or finely figured) walnut. That’s cool, as most manufacturers don’t give you a choice on the quality of the walnut figure. Judging by the photos on the Springfield website, I’d say they are grading their lumber way too generously; what they show as AAA walnut I would classify A grade stuff, but hey, it’s a start, and it’s a move in the right direction.

A Springfield 2020 rimfire rifle with satin select (or plain) walnut.As mentioned above, Springfield is also offering their new rifle with two versions of a composite stock. One is black, the other is a speckled charcoal affair.

The Springfield .22 with a black composite stock. These are on Gunbroker for as low as $389.

The Springfield 2020 .22 rifle wearing a sage wtih black webbing stock (their description, not mine).

I’ll be watching the Gunbroker.com and Gunsamerica.com listings. These rifles are already up on Gunbroker. When the listings that include photos of the actual rifles (and not just a standard print media photo) are up, I’ll pay attention. The gunshops will show the wood if it’s really good, and if it is, it’s likely I’ll pull the trigger (pardon the pun). If that happens, I’ll write about it here.

High end rimfire rifles appeal to me, and I own two or three that have exceptional wood. You can read about them here.

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ExNotes Movie Review: Men Are From Mars, Barbie Is From Mattel

By Joe Gresh

I had no interest in seeing the new Barbie movie; after all, I’m a boy. Dolls are for girls. We boys don’t play with dolls, we play with Action Figures which are completely different things…entirely. I started reading about a backlash to the movie, how it was anti-male and subversive to the natural order of things. I read demons made Barbie and if your kid watched it they would be swapping genders faster than you can pop the plastic, unborn fetus from Pregnant Midge’s® removable belly.

Settle down now, as I have some mansplaining to do here. I’ll try my best not to reveal too much of the Barbie plot. I must warn you that spoilers lie ahead so stop reading now if you’re going to the movie.

In my mind a subversive thing acts in subtle ways to upset the status quo. Under that definition Barbie is not subversive: It’s a sledgehammer and telegraphs its intentions so that there’s no confusion where the movie stands on a women’s place in today’s society. The opening scene of Barbie mimics 2001 A Space Odyssey’s monolith/monkey bit but instead of sticks and a large, mysterious block it’s a 50-foot tall Barbie and baby dolls. I imagine people who prefer traditional male/female roles will never make it past this first sequence.

Barbie lives in Barbieland, a place inhabited by universally beautiful women named Barbie and universally handsome men. Except for Allen. Women run Barbieland and the men (all named Ken) are merely decorative accessories who spend their time at the beach flexing. The cast represents many races and body types (but mostly thin and fit) and I suspect this blatant, utopian dreamscape won’t go over well with the one-drop-of-blood, you-will-not-replace-us crowd.

Barbie’s perfection begins to crack as a result of events in the real world. Instead of frozen in the high-heel position, her feet go flat. She develops cellulite. She contemplates her own mortality. That chick from SNL sends her off to sort things out. Barbie and Ken end up in the real world where Ken realizes for the first time that men control most of the levers of power. This is reinforced when Barbie meets the all-male corporate officers at Mattel. Hilarity ensues as Ken becomes Alpha-Ken and Barbie tries to find her real-world owner (it’s a long story). Ken goes back to Barbieland and introduces the other Kens to horses, bandanas and giant trucks. Barbieland rapidly becomes a hyper-male version of the real world.

As usual, when men get involved, things get aggressive. There is a jealousy-war between two Ken factions fighting over the Barbies. In the end Barbie saves the day and Barbieland is restored. Barbie has to solve Ken’s mental issues as well (a woman’s work is never done). You’ll hear complaints about the emasculated men in Barbieland, but since neither Ken nor Barbie have sex organs it’s kind of moot.

I give kudos to the Mattel Corporation for having a sense of humor and allowing their name and corporate logos to be used in this movie. I’m sure there will be a backlash against Mattel as there is against any corporation that shows consideration towards others. The suits at Mattel made a shrewd move and are getting billions of dollars of free advertising from the Barbie media frenzy.

Look, at this politically polarized moment in time I can’t tell you how to feel about a woman-centric movie that has boy problems as one of its major themes. It may be that the patriarchy is so ingrained there is simply no way to avoid it. You’ll need to look inward to understand what triggers your feeling of lost or gained status. It’s just a movie.

Barbieland is painted in simple, bright pastels but real life is much more complicated and dull. There are many women who navigate the patriarchy with apparent ease, like my wife CT, although it may not be as easy as it looks for her. I’ll have to talk to her about her feelings on the subject one day. Maybe a day I’m not pouring concrete or looking at big tires for diesel trucks.

Some people might think the playing field is equal, that women have arrived and are treated as equals all the time. I’d say we’ve come a long way baby (stolen from Virginia Slims cigarettes), but being male, I would say that. Despite frequent setbacks, progress trends towards justice and this is where the Barbie movie succeeds. Barbie has even me talking about women and their lot in the world we have created. That’s progress. Does that make me Ken?

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Life as a Digital Nomad: Peru Part 2

By Mike Huber

Peru is most famously known for one of the 7 Wonders of the World. What’s frustrating is that like national parks in the United States, whoever declares things a “Wonder of the World” keeps adding more to the list, or in this case with the 7 Wonders, they change them. Absolutely one of my life’s objectives is to hit all 7 Wonders. Machu Picchu is and should always remain in that highly respected list of these magnificent artifacts of humanity’s past.

Getting to Machu Picchu isn’t easy even if you are living in Peru. I feel the best way is to hike the Inca Trail over three or four days to arrive at this city deep in the Andes. One of the biggest issues with my whimsical lifestyle is it is difficult to plan too far in advance. To reserve a spot to hike the Inca Trail (at the time in 2012) was about four months. In Huber travel years that is equal to about two years, so that option was out. The more touristy way to arrive is via a train with a glass roof. Compared to my past bus rides, it was heaven (there were no showings of Fireproof on this ride).

The train pulled into Aquas Calientes, which is the small town nestled deep in the Andes at the base of Machu Picchu. Almost instantly I was filled with energy. I don’t know if it was energy from the ancient civilization that once resided here or that I was at a lower elevation of 7,000 feet as compared to the 12,000 feet where I had been living.

The following day I was up early to catch the first bus up to Machu Picchu. The bus ride was filled with hairpin turns with quick glimpses of one of the 7 Wonders. I had my face pressed into the cold bus window awaiting each new view around every corner. Upon arrival, I stopped at the kiosk just outside the park entrance to load up on water since a full day of hiking was on the itinerary.

Once entering the ruins and taking some time to… yes, hang out with the llamas…the realization hit me that I had two full days in this mesmerizing ancient city! I noticed people would unload from busses do a quick photo in that iconic spot we all have seen in every travel magazine, have an hour or so to explore the ruins, and then they were off. What’s funny is that angle is not even of Mt. Machu Picchu, but of Huayna Picchu. Having two full days here would allow me the opportunity to summit both mountains and enjoy the area to its fullest.

The first day I decided I would climb the higher and much less visited of the two summits. Mt. Machu Pichu towers approximately 1800 feet above the Inca city below. This should have been a more strenuous hike but between being 4,000 feet lower in elevation, the energy from these powerful ruins, and a solid reserve of coca leaves, the mountain was a fairly easy climb. With so few people along the trail (I was one of the first in the park and many were just there for the photo ops) the trail was pretty much mine for the morning.

After the hike and with the coca leaves leaving my system, it was time for a siesta. I wandered throughout the ruins until I found a hidden room and climbed atop the walls in the sun and snoozed for a bit until I was awoken by some new friends. Marmots. The little guys were scampering throughout the ruins and occasionally would knock off rocks loud enough to jostle me awake. The day couldn’t have been more perfect.

Day Two in the ruins was a similar routine with me catching the first shuttle of the morning. Plans for this day were to summit Huayna Picchu and then hike down behind the mountain to almost the same elevation as my base of Aquas Caliente, but on the other side of the mountain. This area had no one in it. It was a steep trail. In one hike it left the Andes Mountains and descended into a rain forest that felt like no one had visited in centuries. It wasn’t nearly as large as the main city on top of the mountain, but it had a few structures overrun with jungle growth. The difference in climate in this short and steep hike was amazing. After returning it was time for another nap and a few more short hikes along portions of the Inca Trail before returning to the shuttle to bring me back to Aquas Caliente.

With life always seeming so busy and the pressure to constantly move and go it was more than nice to be able to allocate so much time here and fully embrace every part of this city. Few people have this opportunity and the ones that do tend to rush through it so quickly that they don’t allow themselves to feel the mystical energy that emits from this city in the clouds of Peru called Machu Picchu.

Ruger No. 1 XXX Walnut

By Joe Berk

I promised a story on the Ruger No. 1 photo I shared a little while ago and this is it. It’s on my Ruger No. 1 chambered in .257 Weatherby. I’ll try to keep it short, but there’s a lot to this story. The bottom line up front: Ruger’s customer service is among the best in the business. They are one of two companies that all others should emulate (Leupold is the other). Ruger’s No. 1 single shot rifles are the most elegant rifles in the world. That’s a strong statement and you might disagree, but hey, it’s a free country and if you want to disagree, it’s okay by me. Go ahead and be wrong. I know that after seeing the photo at the top of this blog, you have to be wondering if the stock looks as good from the other side. The answer is yes.

The .257 Weatherby No. 1 from the starboard side. Red ped, exotic walnut, and a fabulous cartridge with a laser-like trajectory.

Back to the tale: Ruger has essentially discontinued the No. 1, but that’s okay. Inexpensive and tasteless rifles with black Tupperware stocks are all the rage now and if they float your boat, more power to you. But it’s not me. I own a few Ruger No. 1 rifles and their value has increased tenfold since I started collecting back in the 1970s. Not that I’m interested in selling; that’s not going to happen. I mention the No. 1 rifles’ appreciation just because…well, I’m not sure why. It makes me feel good, and that’s enough.

The .257 Weatherby cartridge. The parent cartridge was the .300 H&H Magnum. Roy Weatherby blew out the case with a rounded bottleneck, trimmed it back a bit, and voila, 4,000 feet per second. The cartridge is also known as the .257 Roy, to honor its creator, Roy Weatherby. Weatherby felt the .257 Weatherby cartridge was his finest creation.

Solids made by Barnes work best in the .257 Weatherby. Jacketed bullets can distintegrate in flight due to velocity, aerodynamic heating, and rotational inertia, as evidenced by the tell-tale molten lead spiral seen on this 100-yard target.

The .257 Weatherby cartridge is brilliant. It’s one of the fastest in the world at around 4,000 feet per second, which creates a unique problem: If you do not load with the right projectiles, the bullets travel so fast they tend to disintegrate in flight. The Ruger No. 1 in .257 Roy has a 28-inch barrel (two inches longer than the original Weatherby Mk V rifles in which it debuted back in the 1950s), and that extra two inches bumps the velocity up even more than the fabled round was achieving in its namesake Weatherby rifles (they have 26-inch barrels). The bottom line here is that you almost have to use monolithic (and expensive) Barnes bullets (they are solid copper, not lead sheathed in a copper jacket) to push the bullets at their max velocity without the bullets coming apart in flight. There’s something appealing about that. I like it.

The original Circassian walnut on the Ruger No. 1 wasn’t bad, but it cracked during load development. I wanted something as good on the replacement lumber. The first set didn’t answer the mail for me.

Another view of the rifle’s original stock. It looked good. I still have this stock, with a small crack in the wrist.

So, back to the main story. When Ruger first announced their limited run of the No. 1 in .257 Weatherby, I started watching the ads on Gunbroker.com for one with nice wood. It took a little while, but I found one and I pounced. I encountered the bullet disintegration problems mentioned above, I got some good advice from a guy I met on Facebook, and I got the rifle to group under an inch using Barnes monolithic copper bullets. Then while at the range one day I noticed the stock had cracked. My heart was as broken as the Circassian walnut stock, and the rifle went back to Ruger. I told them the story about wanting good wood, and they did their best to oblige. I also told them to make sure the stock was relieved behind the tang, as the first stock (the one that cracked) was not and that was what had caused the stock to split.

When the rifle came back, the stock had been relieved but the inletting and the gap between the receiver and the stock was excessive. The wood was not as good the original set, but it was not bad. The inletting was the real disappointment. I shot it a bit and the rifle grouped well, but it looked ridiculous with the gap around the receiver. I put the gun in the safe and it remained there for a year. Then one night I had a few beers and I wrote an email to Ruger. I wasn’t too complimentary. I told them the story. The beer helped get it all out.

I had an email from Ruger the next morning, and at their request I returned the rifle to them again. A few days later I received an email from a guy in Ruger’s No. 1 shop. He sent a photo of a matched stock and fore end that had just come in, he said. and he told me it was probably the last they would ever receive of this quality. Did I want it? Hell yes, I said. That was followed by another email: What color pad did I want? Red is the more collectible of the two colors (the older Ruger No. 1s had red pads; they switched to a black pad back in the 1980s. Red it would be.

When the restocked Ruger arrived (this rifle had now worn three sets of lumber), I was totally blown away. The wood is exquisite on both sides of the stock and the fore end. I’m pleased with the photos you see here, but trust me on this, they don’t do the wood justice. The fore end matches the stock on both sides. The figure is what stockmakers would grade as XXX and the rifle is just stunning. If there’s such a thing as rifle porn, this is it. And it’s XXX rated.

The Ruger No. 1 fore end on the right side. The fore end and the stock almost certainly came from the same tree.

The entire rifle from the left side. This model is called a No. 1B. It has a standard weight barrel and a beavertail fore end.

So there you have it: Two promises fulfilled. When you buy a Ruger, if you’re not pleased they will make it right. I promised you the story on this amazing set of walnut furniture. And if you are wondering, the answer is no. The rifle is not for sale.

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Want more Tales of the Gun? The stories are here!

Into Weatherby? We are, too!

Life as a Digital Nomad: Peru

By Mike Huber

Feeling sad departing Ecuador as it was quickly becoming a home for me where I was very comfortable, I boarded a flight to Lima, Peru to take in a new corner of the world. Peru has always felt like the pinnacle of South America, and even though I had never been there and knew very little about it, there was a calling for me to embrace this country. In fact, this resonated so strongly with me that I had purposely cut a lot out of Ecuador just to conserve my vacation for Peru.

After only two days in Lima, I quickly learned this wasn’t the Peru I was looking for. It was just a large city, and cities weren’t where I would find the culture and experiences that would help me grow. Knowing this, I booked a 12-hour bus ride to Cusco. Surprisingly, I clearly hadn’t learned my lesson from the Nicaragua to Panama bus ride, but I figured the chances of a repeat performance of Fireproof being played nonstop were pretty slim.

Falling asleep on the overnight bus ride while gazing out the window at the ocean and expansive desert of Lima, and then awakening to the massive vistas of the Andes Mountain range wasn’t a bad way to travel. I did however have a killer headache upon arrival in Cusco. Wasting no time, I found a cab to drive me to my AirBnB where I could relax for a bit. The host noticed I wasn’t looking too well and made me some tea. Within an hour I felt great. Turns out the elevation of approximately 12,000 feet, along with some minor dehydration, was the cause of my headache. The tea she gave me had coca leaves in it. These leaves not only are the cure for the altitude sickness, but soon became a replacement for my morning coffee.

As with Ecuador, it didn’t take long for me to get into a productive work and exercise routine. My lunchtime became a break from technology which was replaced by runs through the city of Cusco. It was beyond magical. This place was a perfect balance of culture and history with some color mixed in. During my runs I noticed there were always girls dressed in full Peruvian dresses walking around with what looked like baby llamas. It turns out you can hold and pet a baby llama for like 3 sole (about $1 USD). I like baby llamas. I mean, who doesn’t? So, every night during my evening strolls I ensured I had a few soles to give them and looking back I probably spent more on pictures with the baby llamas than I did for dinners.

Obtaining Peruvian soles for currency was as simple as going to an ATM. One problem that seemed to constantly arise was if the money was not in pristine condition the stores would refuse to take it. This refusal was often after a long huddle of the store’s employees and management to confirm the currency was too badly damaged to accept. After a few frustrating days of this I happened to visit Paddy’s Pub. It is the world’s highest Irish pub. I noticed they took my currency no matter what condition it was in. Perfect! Adding Paddy’s Pub to my daily itinerary to launder money for baby llama petting was an outstanding solution. The world was coming together quite nicely for Paddy’s, the llamas, and me.

It took no time for me to fall in love with Cusco. The people were wonderful, every weekend there was some type of event in the square, it was easy to jump on any random bus and end up in hidden ruins, AND there were baby llamas everywhere to hang out with. My work performance was improving even more than in Ecuador. At this time no one knew I was anywhere but Boston and would occasionally ask “How’s the weather up there Boston”, which I would quickly google it and reply “Meh, 60s cloudy, it’s Boston, ya know?” I never lied to them on where I was, they just never thought to ask, and even if I had told them they never would have believed me.

With my morale greatly improved and in a productive routine I was convinced Cusco would be home for the foreseeable future. Even better, my AirBnB host’s son was a travel agent. Perfect. We met for dinner, and he helped me set up plans to travel to different parts of the country every weekend, and many became 4-day weekend trips allowing me not to rush and really absorb the beauty and culture in remote areas that many would never see or experience. These trips included Machu Picchu, Lake Titicaca (like I would miss out on going to not only the highest alpine lake on Earth, but endless jokes based on the name, “Lake Titicaca”). After three weeks of adapting to Cusco it was time to get out and really take a bite out of the surrounding areas that would yield some of my greatest memories and travel experiences to date. That’s coming up.

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ExNotes Event Review: AHRMA Motofest, Monterey, California

By Joe Gresh

After riding through the stifling heat of Utah, Nevada and central California the cold, foggy mists of the Monterey Peninsula penetrated my mesh jacket and I shivered. It was wonderful to be cold and it was wonderful to be at Laguna Seca’s Weather Tech Raceway. This wasn’t my first visit to Laguna Seca but it was my first time inside the track. Years ago I rode up from San Diego back when Laguna Seca was a date on the world championship calendar. Today, Austin’s COTA circuit has usurped that role in America but Laguna Seca is still way prettier.

Two strokes ruled Moto GP racing in that era and when I pulled up to the entrance gate the $50 ticket price almost gave me a stroke. I was earning $3.50 an hour working on boats and $50 was a ton of money. I figured the hell with it and went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium instead. Oddly enough, the entry fee for AHRMA’s Motofest vintage racing was still 50 dollars some 40 years on. This time I paid for a ticket because riding from La Luz, New Mexico is a long way to go for nothing.

Motels around Monterey are sort of expensive. Your best deal is the 4-day camping pass at the track. I bought a reserved campsite because I wasn’t sure how things worked inside. Turns out there were plenty of campsites available for this event. I had site 110A, which gave me a view of turn 5 in one direction and a view of the bikes going up Rahal hill to the Corkscrew in the other direction.

Site A-110: it’s a good place to spend the weekend.

Plenty of portable toilets were sprinkled around the venue and hot showers were available in the more substantial structures. All the faucets were marked non-potable so bring plenty of water. I had to buy those little bottled waters in the paddock at $3 a bottle. The ground at my site was pretty hard so I never got my flimsy aluminum tent pegs to penetrate. Luckily my site had an old steel spike that someone left behind. I drove the spike into the hard ground on the windward side, tied the tent to the spike and used my gear to hold the other three corners down. The hydraulic jack came in handy as a hammer.

I say the ground was hard but apparently the hundreds of ground squirrels had no problem burrowing holes every 15 feet. The squirrels are all over the place at Weather Tech. I’m surprised that an aged vintage motorcycle racer hasn’t fallen in a squirrel hole and broken a leg. I’ve heard that when they get up in years it’s best to shoot them rather than let them suffer.

Me and Milich, he’s tall with a lot of drag but still wins. You can visit Milich’s websites at http://guzzipower.com/ and https://www.ducpower.com/.

Thad Wolf’s Suzuki. I never did find Wolff, he must have known I was looking for him.

Thursday was practice all day. The bikes were sent out in groups with staggered starts. There are a lot of classes in AHRMA, like dozens, to keep track of but I mostly just listened for two-strokes. AHRMA’s Motofest had a sort of mini Motorcyclist magazine reunion vibe. The Kevin Hipp racing family was there along with Thad Wolff and Ed Milich. Go-Go Gulbransen, whose name the announcer never tired of uttering was there also. Go-Go was the guy who tested the upper limits of new sport bikes for Motorcyclist magazine. All these guys live and breathe motorcycles and it’s the passion you can’t fake that made them such good journalists.

This might be a real S2 Kawasaki production racer. Very few were built. You had to know somebody.

Vintage racing today looks a bit different from when the motorcycles were current models. Hondas seem to dominate. The 160cc slopers, 175 twins and 350 twins were much faster than I remember them. In fact, I don’t remember them racing at all. I assume it’s due to better oils and electronic ignition systems, because in the old days the small bore grids were mostly Yamahas with a few Suzukis and Kawasakis. If there was a Honda racing it was usually sputtering at the tail end of the pack and the rider was wearing construction boots and welding leathers. Of course, things were different at the GP/factory level where Honda did all right for itself considering the handicap it was working under. It helps to have Mike Hailwood and Freddie Spenser on your team.

A brace of H2s these sounded good when they pulled in.

Jewel-like T500cc twin Suzuki. This was a revolutionary bike when it came out. Some people thought you couldn’t go this big without heating problems. Another bike I want to own one day.

Zoomie RD 350 with DG sunburst heads. Going for that squish band action.

A pile of Ossas. These are Stilettos; I want a Pioneer.

Stretched Honda Mini Trail with custom Grom-based block. 350cc, tops out around 100 miles per hour. I asked the kid if it was dangerous. He said he lived in Oakland, so it was the least dangerous thing he did.

After setting up camp I walked all over Laguna Seca: I needed the exercise after sitting on the ZRX1100 for five long days. To get to Monterey I took the long way around, up through Colorado to Grand Junction then across Utah and Nevada to California. I tried to ride Highway 120 through Yosemite Park but the road was closed. I detoured north from Lee Vining to Highway 108 and was rewarded with one of the world’s great motorcycle roads. Anyway, from my campsite to the paddock was only a 15-minute walk. Less if you didn’t tangle with a ground squirrel.

Vintage racing is all about the paddock. The racing, while serious, is almost secondary to checking out the old race bikes. The paddock is where the food is, where the beer is and where the old motorcycles are. Most of the spectators hang out in the paddock area. I wandered around for hours looking at motorcycles. I ate a turkey sandwich and drank a beer that was like 28 dollars but we need to support the moneymaking aspect of Laguna Seca or it’ll become luxury housing.

Saturday and Sunday were race days. I hung out with Motorcyclist Magazine alumni Ed Milich for a bit. Ed has an admirable cost per win philosophy in that he expends just enough effort to get first place and no more. His bikes look like hell but they run great. Paint don’t win races, says Ed. On the track he never seems to be trying hard, the gap between him and second place grew larger as if by magic. Ed won every race he entered (four) I did some math and determined that Ed spends around $4.37 per win. Hipp won his races also. Hipp’s bikes are those fast Honda 350s and they look like show bikes. Hipp’s wins probably cost more than Milich’s, but they still count.

Sunday morning I went over to the trials section. Set in gullies and on the sides of hills, trials riding never looks too hard until you try it. Trials events at the level Laguna Seca puts on have the advantage of being relatively safe as the speeds are very low and you can’t fall very far. This isn’t the crazy stadium trials you watch on YouTube but it suits the old motorcycles participating. I might try the trials on Godzilla next time I go to Laguna.

The legend Dave Roper. I think he’s still the only American to win at the Isle of Man races.

With such wildly different motorcycles it’s hard to compare rider skill. Except when it comes to Dave Roper: Roper, who resembles a stick of beef jerky with a cotton ball stuck on one end, was smooth and fast on any bike he rode. Roper and Walt Fulton, with a combined 300 years of racing experience, put on quite a show with their matching H-D branded, Aermacchi Sprints. There was a vintage motocross at Laguna Seca but it ran concurrent with some other races so I missed it. You really need to be two people to see all the action at AHRMA’s Vintage Motofest.

Nice, tank shift flattie. This bike sounded good on the track, very low rpm drone.

It was nice to have the campsite for Sunday night; I didn’t have to rush to pack and head out into the unforgiving freeways of California in the late afternoon. Wherever I ride the ZRX1100 it attracts attention. I’ve had people take selfie photographs standing next to the bike, I get asked what year it is almost every ride. The thing is bone stock. Laguna Seca was no different, the bike garnered a steady stream of complements from my camp neighbors. I must look hard up because the guy camping across from me handed me 40 dollars and said I had dropped it. I think he was trying to be nice to a vagabond. Normally I would have taken it but I’m trying to become a better person and told the guy it wasn’t mine.

Californians and Ex-Californians like to bitch about their state, but the damn place is beautiful. California has it all from the beaches to the mountains to the desert and all types of terrain in between. With straight roads crowded by farm equipment, the central valley (also known as The Breadbasket of America) was like the Tail of the Dragon for my nose. Sweet manure, grassy hay, dust and soil, the smells kept swapping back and forth giving my nasal passages whiplash. If it wasn’t so expensive, I’d live in California again but my total running costs at Tinfiny Ranch are less than the annual taxes on any house I could afford there. The Californians I met were universally friendly and interesting to talk to, we would start up a conversation like we had known each other for years and had just spoken last Thursday.

I’ll go to AHRMA’s Monterey bash again. It’s closer than Daytona for me and with the camping, about the same cost. I give the event high marks for value. You really get your 50 dollars worth with AHRMA.

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Want the story on the ZRX resurrextion? It’s right here.

ExNotes Review: Texas

By Joe Berk

I’ve been on a James Michener kick lately. You read my recent review of The Source. After reading that wonderful novel I wanted more Michener, but I wanted one I had not read yet. I read Alaska a few years ago and loved it. I set my sights on Michener’s Texas, and it was stunning. I used to live in Texas (El Paso and Fort Worth) in an earlier life and I thought I knew a little bit about that state’s glorious history. It turns out I was right…what I knew was just a little bit. Michener’s rich historical novel paints a much more enlightening picture.

At 1,419 pages, Texas is not a trivial read. It took me a good three weeks to get through it. I recently had a weeklong teaching gig at a company in Wyoming; I took Texas with me and read it at lunch, at night, and in the hotel fitness center while riding the stationary bike. I did the same thing at the gym here in California before and after I went to Wyoming. You could say Michener helped me get in shape. Before I realized it nearly every night I’d spent an hour on that bike. Texas is that good.

Michener’s approach in both The Source and Texas is to create a setting that taps into the present, and then he jumps historically with fictional characters and stories based on what actually occurred. In The Source, Michener’s temporal stretch extends to prehistoric times and the beginnings of religion. In Texas, the rearward time jump is shorter (about four centuries). The based-on-real-history fiction starts with the Spanish conquering Mexico, and then progresses through 21 generations. Each generation is a story detailing events and personalities, with richly-textured and believable characters.

The context for the group that ties all the above together is a five-person panel appointed by the Texas governor. The panel is charged with defining the history curriculum for Texas schools. What emerges is that the panelists are descendants of the people described in each of the novel’s historical tales. It really is a masterful approach.

Parts of Texas reminded me of Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove (another wonderful novel and a personal favorite I’ve read six or seven times already). The stories in Texas and the way Michener ties them together from one generation to the next is nothing short of, well, I’ll use the word again: Masterful.

While reading Texas, a friend mentioned that there also a DVD (Texas became a movie). I bought the Texas DVD, but I haven’t watched it yet. I don’t see how it can possibly be as good as the book (the book was that good). Trust me on this: Pick up a copy of Texas. It is a hell of a story.

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More product reviews are here.

Life as a Digital Nomad: Part 6 (Ecuador)

By Mike Huber

Feeling confident that Quito, Ecuador would work out for the foreseeable future I wanted to begin absorbing the culture as I did in Nicaragua. One of the best ways of doing this was to begin taking Spanish lessons. A great thing I learned about Ecuador almost instantly is they spoke Spanish much slower than in Central America, where I was frequently lost by the lightning speed with which they spoke. This would be the perfect place to take lessons where I could retain and practice speaking Spanish constantly as I went about my daily routines. Fortunately, there was an excellent Spanish school just two blocks from my aparthotel, so I could attend classes during lunch. It felt great taking steps towards integrating into this incredible culture.

I adjusted to a routine of work and Spanish lessons during the weekdays and on weekends I would explore local hikes and rainforests. I was almost at the base of Cotopaxi, which technically is the highest mountain in the world as it is on the equator and bulges out more than Mt. Everest (if you’re one of those rare people that believe the Earth is round).

With my weekday schedule and routine defined by Spanish classes and runs to increase my tolerance at the high elevation, I returned to being successful at my day job as a project manager. Doing the best to conserve my vacation days for the next country (an upcoming blog will get into that adventure), weekends were the only time to explore the surrounding areas of Quito in more depth. This, of course, had to include a trip to the equator.

The equator was just a short train ride from Quito. I fully understood it would be a total tourist trap but where else would I have this opportunity to jump on both sides of the line like an idiot? It felt almost mandatory to do so. When preparing to leave I saw an indigenous tour that brought you into the Andes mountains and included a 4-mile round trip hike. As I boarded the bus figuring I would be solo on this trip, three Germans jumped into the bus reeking of BO with nothing but a tiny backpack they each held. As we were dropped off and began the hike into the Andes I began a conversation with one of them who didn’t have shoes. It seems someone stole his shoes in Chile while playing soccer with some kids and he decided not to purchase another pair. It was also interesting that the only items in his backpack were a machete, a journal book, and his passport. I was instantly intrigued. These guys were minimalists to another level. Coming from me that is quite an extreme statement.

As we reached the summit of our hike there was an overlook that peered down into a small village in the valley of the Andes. It was abundantly clear that time hadn’t touched or changed this hidden village. As the guide ushered us in a half circle for him to sing and give thanks to all the beauty around us, the German I had befriended was fidgeting around and produced a marijuana joint and sparked it up while the guide was deep into his singing. Although some would see this as very disrespectful the guide seemed to relish in the smoke that emitted from the joint. This German represented full freedom to me. He was probably the most carefree person I have ever met in my life, and most of the people I surround myself with are pretty carefree, so this guy now has another title to add to minimalist in my eyes.

As my Quito adventure continued, I settled into a routine. One of my better work habits is writing a to-do list over the weekend for work tasks with dates. This has helped me in not only my organization, but also in the prioritization of tasks to stay ahead of any deadlines my team or myself are responsible for. Normally I write this list on a Friday afternoon when I am in good spirits and tend to over commit yet hold myself accountable for these deadlines. With hiking most weekends in Quito and exploring I found myself not having written out my list and it was Sunday afternoon with no plans.

I chose to go to a dark Irish bar in the heart of Quito to write my list. As I ordered a cold beer and began outlining my objectives for the week, I didn’t notice the bar became less and less crowded. It was now about 4:30 PM and I was alone in the bar with three beautiful Ecuadorian females. The bartender began pulling the shades down and locking the doors. With no idea where this was going, I thought I would order another beer before the bartender asked me to go home. It seems in Quito if you are IN the bar when they close you can stay. It didn’t take long for the Ecuadorians to invite me over and I quickly decided my task list was completed for the day. I was in love with Quito, Ecuador!

As the weeks flew by my time was filled with hiking, work, and immersing myself in the culture of this beautiful country I now called home. My frustration with work problems melted away as soon as I left the aparthotel every afternoon to meet new friends and partake in all the activities throughout the city of Quito.

Entering Week 4 in Quito I began to feel in the groove enough to venture forward. Although Ecuador has endless activities and places to explore, I was saving my vacation for the next country that I wanted to become even more immersed in. There would be no coin toss for this next stop as my soul has yearned to visit this country for years. Peru!

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An SR 500 On The Block

By Joe Berk

When Joe Gresh posted his article yesterday about downsizing his project list and knowing his limitations, we received an interesting comment from one of our readers:

Now that your flush with cash, how about a SR500, Its on my chopping block. With my recent dive in to the Ducati end of the pool I’m gonna keep the 1974 Suzuki Titan and the 99 Suzuki Bandit 1200s and the Ducati Monster S2R 1000… Thinking I have finally done it…. then boom, Hey come look at a 1965 BSA C15… Free. Dammit

Well, that comment sure had my attention. I’ve always wanted an SR500 Yamaha. So I wrote to Dragonknee about it, and here’s what he told me:

I do have photos and I’m asking 1850.00 for it. I do have extras but with those I’m into it about 2300 bucks. I have a spare motor and a bunch of period correct extras. Supertrapp and Lockhart oil cooler along with the parts to do a dual disc set up and just tons of other things.

In addition to the photo at the top of this blog, here are three more.

Dragonknee is up in the Pacific Northwest, and that’s a bit far for me. The bike seems like a hell of a deal. If you’re interested, leave a comment with your email address.

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