Yamaha RD350 Part 8: I’m Gonna Ride My Horse Till I Can’t No More

One of my many personality flaws is that I’m overly fond of television talent shows. It’s pretty embarrassing how many of these type of programs I watch by dribs and drabs on YouTube. I’d like to break free from the habit but it seems like there is always another undiscovered talent that needs my attention. One of my favorite talent show singers is a chick named Hadwin.

Hadwin has a very distinctive voice like Amy Winehouse or Janis Joplin had distinctive voices except she’s not like them at all. When she was very young, Hadwin’s strange body movements bordered on uncomfortable-to-watch but now that she is older she seems to have calmed down a little. Her voice ranges from a squeak to a low, hollow echo and it’s not so much the quality of her voice that makes her great, it’s the way she rips apart songs with abandon. I wouldn’t call her voice sweet but you’ll be able to tell it is her singing as soon as she opens her mouth. It doesn’t hurt that she looks a little bit like Emma Peel from the 1960’s British TV show The Avengers.

Which is an off-kilter intro for my first big ride on the 1974 RD350. The bike still needs some work but I really wanted to put some miles on the thing to see how it would fare on a longish ride. I started with a run up highway 54 into Carrizozo. 54 is a long, straight road that averages about 4500 feet elevation. As it’s located down in the Tularosa Valley, 54 is usually a bit warmer than the mountain roads to the east. Most of the time traffic on 54 is going about 70 mph and on this day the RD350 was keeping up easily, spinning between 55 hundred rpm and 6 thousand. Unfortunately the RD’s speedometer was showing 85 miles per hour and no way was I going that fast unless a RD350 tops out at 130. I calculated my fuel mileage at the first gas stop as 41 miles per gallon. I thought that was pretty good fuel mileage for a thirsty two stroke. Must be that Torque Induction?

On the way up 54 I noticed the RD350 had a narrow blubbery spot around 5000 rpm and as I turned onto Nogul canyon road and climbed in altitude the blubbery spot grew wider. Nogul canyon road takes you by many curves to the base of the Ruidoso/Alto area. It’s a fun road to let the RD350 wail a little and the road tops out at a little over 7000 feet. I couldn’t wail too much because the RD’s oversized rear tire rubs the fender in hard corners. I have new, correct size tires ordered. By managing my engine speed, a process made easier by the Yamaha’s smooth-shifting 6-speed gearbox, I could get past the rich spot on the fuel delivery and from 5500 up the bike ran fine. You could feel the power loss the higher you went. Gavalin Canyon Road skirts Ruidoso to the east; it’s a twisty road but has a lot of local traffic trying to avoid the zillions of Texans who visit Ruidoso. Many times there are more Texans in Ruidoso than Ruidosoans.

On my way downhill on 70 to Tularosa I took the old road to The Old Road Café on the Mescalero Indian Reservation. The Old Road Café is a multi level place that looks like some sections are real adobe. The back porch area has a decided slant, I wouldn’t be surprised if it toppled over one day. The Old Road Café has the best tacos around. They are oily corn tacos with shredded beef, homemade salsa and I love the things. I loaded up on tacos, rice, beans and iced tea before taking the final plunge into Tularosa and the Tuliefreeze ice cream shop for a little reward.

All in, the RD350 tootled through the mountains and the valley for 150 miles. It was a blast listening to the little twin sing that old song and I was surprised by the RD’s ability to keep up with modern, yet rural traffic. If you had to you could run 80 miles per hour as long as you wanted to hold on. From faded memories I thought the RD would be more of an around town bike but after I get it sorted I see no reason the bike wouldn’t do well on long trips. The only limiting factor is the 3-gallon gas tank, which means you need to find a gas station every hundred or so miles. That’s not always easy to do in New Mexico.

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Richie and his GTO

There’s cool, and then there’s really cool.  When I was kid back in New Jersey, Richie Haluska was really cool.  He lived in New Brunswick and he was my next door neighbor Pauly’s cousin.  Richie was a few years older than us and he was always way ahead of the curve when it came to cool.  Pauly and I weren’t old enough to drive, but Richie was, and in line with his coolness he showed up at Pauly’s one day driving a 1965 GTO.  Alpine blue with a black vinyl top and a black interior, three deuces and a four-speed, and a 389 (remember that last phrase; you’ll hear it again shortly).  Did I mention this guy was cool?

I’d never seen anything as beautiful as that GTO.  The looks, the wheels, the wide oval redline tires, and, you know, the exhaust notes. I could (and did) look at that car for hours, from every angle, dreaming of one day owning my own GTO.    John De Lorean was the guy who pioneered the muscle car concept and Pontiac was the first to drop a big block motor into a mid-size car.  Pretty soon all the manufacturers were doing it, but Pontiac was the first and it was the GTO.  De Lorean later went on to fame making snowmobiles (the Back to the Future car), but we didn’t know any of that in the mid-1960s.  We just knew that the GTO was so cool a rock group sang a song about it.  And Richie had a GTO.  Like I said, this guy was cool.

One day I was playing hookey (I can’t remember why, but in those days I didn’t need much of a reason) and later in the day I decided I needed to get to school.  Richie offered to take me.  A ride in GTO!  I had never been in one.  I think I was maybe 14 years old.

The car was magnificent, but the best was just seconds away.  We reached the road to my school and after making that sharp right, Richie put his foot in it.  Up to that point I had not felt a muscle car as the Lord intended muscle cars to be felt, but that character flaw disappeared in an instant.  Pushed into the seat and hearing the deep ExhaustNotes growl, seeing that big hood scoop loom large, I remember what I thought:  I have got to get me one of these!

The other day Susie and I were in Costco.  They had a bunch of die cast metal car models, and they were blowing them out for just $14.95.  They were all awesome, but the one that instantly arrested my attention was the 1965 GTO.   It’s as if the Maisto maestros had Richie in mind when they created it. It was exactly like Richie’s.  Alpine blue.  Black interior.  Black vinyl roof.  White pinstripes.  It was perfect.  And it’s mine now.

Richie has gone on to his reward (he passed a year or two ago).  I hadn’t seen Richie since I was a teenager.  But I remember Richie and I remember that ride to school like it was yesterday.   That’s Richie and his wife Dina in the photo above, and the photo captures his personality perfectly.  He was a cool guy.

Rest in peace, Richie.

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The CMP Custom Gunshop, a 1903 Springfield, and Cast Bullets

This is an interesting story and it’s one of the very few times in my life I was hosed on a firearm purchase.  The rifle is a 1903 Springfield I bought a few years ago and didn’t shoot much.  The times I shot it previously I had experimented with cast bullets and it shot okay, but not great.  Then I tried it with jacketed bullets (loads at much higher pressures), and what do you know, I had a headspace issue.  I could see it in the primers that had partially backed out of the brass after firing, and on one round, I split a case circumferentially just ahead of the base (indicating with near certainty an excess head space issue).  I borrowed good buddy Greg’s 30 06 head space gages, and the bolt closed on both the no go and the field service gages.  That’s a no no.

The 1903 Springfield rear sight. The 1903A3 went to a much less expensive stamped steel rear aperture sight.

My first thought was to have the existing barrel set back and rechambered, but that didn’t work.  The 1903 Springfield has a barrel collar that holds a very sophisticated rear sight and positions the upper handguard.  When we set the barrel back, the rear sight integrity was greatly weakened and the front handguard had excess play.  Nope, I needed a new barrel.

I checked around and came to the conclusion that the best place to get this kind of work done is the Civilian Marksmanship Program (CMP) Custom Gunshop.  This is a quasi-government arsenal and these folks are the experts.   I priced having a new barrel and rear sight collar installed on my 1903, cutting a new 30 06 chamber with the correct headspace, and having the entire gun re-Parkerized.  The work was surprisingly reasonable.  I had to wait my turn in line, but that’s okay.  I had other guns I could shoot.

With a re-Parkerized finish and a new barrel, my 1903 looks great.
Very cool. The 1903 “scant” stock, complete with cartouche.

When the rifle was returned to me, it was stunning.  It literally looked like a brand new 1903.  A quick trip to the range followed, and I tried some jacketed bullet factory level reloads.  I loaded and fed from the magazine, as the 1903 is a controlled round feed and it’s best in these guns to let the cartridge rim ride up and find its position behind the extractor.

A 30 06 cartridge in the 1903’s magazine.

I shot a few targets with copper jacketed bullets and found that the rifle shot about a 8 inches high and slightly to the right.  The rear sight would take care of the right bias, and I figured the high impacts were okay.  Some military rifles of this era are designed with a 300-yard battlesight zero, which means they shoot to point of aim at 300 yards at the lowest sight setting (everything in between is high, with the idea being that if you hold center-of-mass on a human size target, you’ll have a hit out to 400 or 500 yards).

High and slightly to the right with factory-level reloads. My point of aim was 6:00 on the orange bullseye.

I could buy a taller front sight blade to lower the point of impact, but that wasn’t the way I wanted to go.  Nope, my plan was to shoot cast bullets in this rifle.  My guess was that if the rifle shot 8 inches high at 50 yards with jacketed bullets, cast bullets would be right where I wanted them to be.

Loading my first batch of 1903 cast bullet test ammo was easy.  Years ago I was on a reloading tear, and I had loaded a bunch of plated 110-grain round nose bullets with 14.0 grains of Unique.  I knew those loads were terrible in other 30 06 rifles (the lead under the copper plating is dead soft and it tears off, resulting in terrible accuracy).  Hey, no problem.  I pulled the plated bullets, left the 14.0 grains of Unique in the cartridges, flared the case mouths, and seated different cast bullets.  One was the 180-grain cast Hursman bullets with gas checks (these worked well in the .300 Weatherby), the other was the 210-grain Montana bullets I picked up from good buddy Paul (these are also gas checked bullets).  After seating the cast bullets, I crimped the brass with my Lee factory crimp die.

The Lee factory crimp die. It’s shown here with a jacketed bullet. It has collets that circumferentially crimp the case mouth to the bullet.
30 06 reloads with cast bullets. That’s the Montana bullet on the upper cartridge, and the Hursman bullet in the lower cartridge.  If you look closely, you can see that the case mouth has been crimped by the Lee factory crimp die.
A macro shot of the Hursman 180 grain bullet. The case was crimped with a Lee factory crimp die.
A similar photo of the Montana bullet. It’s cast with a Lyman mold. The Montana bullet’s rounded nose fed better from the 1903 magazine.

I only loaded 20 rounds (10 each with the two different cast bullets), as this was to be a “quick look” evaluation.

A morning at the range on an overcast day, a beautiful 1903 Springfield rifle, and .30 06 ammo loaded with cast bullets. Life doesn’t get much better.

Both loads shot reasonably well.   I’m not going into the upholstery business with either of these loads (they are not tack drivers), but they are good enough.  I was particularly pleased with the 210-grain Montana bullets.  The Hursman bullets had proved to be the preferred load in the .300 Weatherby; the Springfield showed a decided preference for the Montana bullets.

I shot at 50 yards with both loads; future testing will be with the Montana bullet at 100 yards.

The Hursman bullet load at 50 yards. The load was 14.0 grains of Unique; it may be that the Hursman bullets will group better with other propellants.
The Montana bullet at 50 yards on the left-most bullseye (the other bullseyes were shot with a Mosin-Nagnt rifle, covered in another blog). I found a sweet spot with that 14.0-grain Unique load and the Montana bullet.

Unique is not the best powder out there for loading cast bullets in rifle cartridges.  In the past, I’ve shot much better groups in other rifles with IMR 4227, 5744, SR 4759, and Trail Boss.  Those evaluations in the 1903 are coming up.  For now, I know I’ve got a good load with Unique and the Montana bullets.

One of the big takeaways for me in this adventure is that when you buy a milsurp rifle, always check the headspace to make sure that it is within specification.   It’s pretty common for these rifles to have gone through arsenal rebuilds and to have been cobbled together from parts bins, and when that occurs, if the chamber isn’t matched to the bolt you can have an excess headspace problem.   That’s a bad situation, as it can be dangerous to the shooter and anyone nearby.

You can find headspace gages on Amazon and elsewhere.  If you’re going to buy a military surplus rifle, checking the headspace should be part of the drill.

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Grand Canyon National Park

Arizona’s Grand Canyon National Park is another bucket list destination.  As As was the case described in our recent blog on Devils Tower, a movie inspired my first visit.  A contemporay review of the 1991 Grand Canyon movie said it was about “random events affecting a diverse group of people exploring the race- and class-imposed chasms which separate members of the same community.”  That’s an artsy-fartsy tinsel-town mouthful.  Grand Canyon was pretty good and it had some big name actors in it.  But we’re not here to talk about the movie.

On to Grand Canyon National Park. The name sounds majestic, and the Grand Canyon surely is.  I’ve been to the Grand Canyon many times (it’s only a day’s ride from home) and I would not pass on an opportunity to see it again.  It’s a great ride in a car or on a motorcycle. I’ve done full-family car trips and I’ve done a number of motorcycle trips. Interestingly, some of the best rides were on the 250cc CSC RX3 motorcycles with guys from China, Colombia, and the US (you can read more about the RX3 trip in 5000 Miles At 8000 RPM).

A Grand Canyon photo from the 5000-mile Western America Adventure Ride.

There are two places to see the Grand Canyon National Park, the North Rim and the South Rim. The South Rim is by far the most heavily visited area and offers the best views, but the North Rim is a better ride, especially the last 50 miles or so along Arizona Route 67 (also known as the North Rim Parkway). Getting to the South Rim involves riding through a spectacular desert to get to Grand Canyon National Park, at which point you enter a beautiful pine forest. And when you visit the South Rim, you can continue on in the direction you were traveling when you leave — you don’t have to backtrack. The North Rim is different: There’s one way in, and one way out. It takes longer to get to the North Rim along heavily-forested Route 67 (and that road shuts down when it snows), but wow, what a ride!

My first Grand Canyon visit brought me and a riding buddy to the North Rim on a couple of Harleys nearly 30 years ago. It rained all the way in, we were thoroughly soaked and chilled, and I still remember how much fun I had. The Grand Canyon Lodge is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s a magnificent place to stay or you can just have lunch there.  The view is awesome, but I think the views from the South Rim are even better (and there are more vantage points).

Ah, the South Rim. That’s where I took the big photo at the top of this blog and it shows none other than world-famous concrete consultant and moto-journalist Joe Gresh.  It almost looks fake, like I had a cutout of Gresh and pasted it into the photo, but it’s not.  He’s just a very photogenic guy.

You can approach the South Rim from either the east or the west via state Route 64 running along the canyon’s southern edge. On my last trip, we came in from the eastern end, paid our fees to enter the park, and a helpful Ranger explained that there were a series of viewpoints along the way. We hit every one and each was beyond stunning. It’s hard to believe what you see when viewing this magnificent region, and it’s easy to understand why the early Spanish explorers concluded it was impossible to reach the Colorado River a mile below. You can see all the way to the North Rim (10 miles away as the hawk flies, but a full day on a motorcycle).  On a clear day you can see 100 miles.

The Tower at the eastern edge of the South Rim.

There’s an ancient tower of sorts on the easternmost viewing spot along the South Rim and we had an interesting experience there on the CSC Destinations Deal tour.  Our good buddy Orlando left his gloves on this new RX3 while we were taking in the view, and when we returned, we caught a thief red-handed trying to steal them.   Or rather, I should say red-beaked.  It was a big old crow (a bird, not the whiskey) and he was trying to make off with one of Orlando’s gloves.  We all started screaming at that big old blackbird, and it dropped the glove and flew away.  That was a good thing.  It was super cold that morning and Orlando would have had a tough time continuing the ride without both gloves.

Good buddy Rob giving a Grand Canyon elk a drink on the CSC Destinations Deal ride.  Don’t try this at home, kids.

The earliest known Grand Canyon habitation occurred during the Paleo-Indian period nearly 12,000 years ago, but the emphasis here is on “known.” Archeologists are still discovering ancient stuff down there. Geologically, the Grand Canyon started about 20 million years ago.  The Colorado River, flooding, ice, wind and seismic shifts worked their magic to create the 277-mile-long, 15-mile-wide, and mile-deep Grand Canyon.

Fine dining in Williams’ Red Raven restaurant, right on Old Route 66.  That’s me and good buddy Paul after a wild boar hunt.

Hey, here’s one more thought:  If you’re doing the South Rim, it’s something that you can take in in a day.  Most folks stay in Grand Canyon Junction just outside the entrance to the South Rim, but that’s a real touristy area and if you don’t like McDonald’s or pizza, your dining choices are limited.  My advice is to stay in Williams, about one hour south.  It’s just off I-40.  Williams is a bit touristy, too, but the hotels and restaurants are a cut above what’s in Grand Canyon Junction.  It’s a nice ride north to the South Rim early the next morning.   Trust me on this; you can thank me later.

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Mini 14 Bench Cleanup

When you’re a reloader you get a bunch of odds and ends components and you go on a jag to load them all just to get the stuff off the bench.  Oddball bullet dribs and drabs, brass you don’t want to bother cleaning, trimming, or sorting, that sort of thing.   I had a bunch of the above laying around crying out to become .223 ammo, I hadn’t been to the range with my Mini 14, and it was time to shoot up the leftovers.

First, a bit about the rifle.  It’s what Davidson’s called the Mini 14 Tactical, and it was a limited run they had Ruger make with Circassian walnut stocks.  I looked at a bunch of them on Gunbroker before I spotted the one you see here and I pounced (most had very plain walnut).

An unusual Mini 14 with a Circassian stock. I get a lot of compliments on this rifle. It’s not for sale.

This is a rifle that gets compliments every time I bring it to the range.  I’ve written about my Mini 14 before here on the ExNotes blog and I know what it takes to make this puppy group.  This wasn’t going to be one of those days; like I said, I was just using up remnants from reloading sessions for other rifles.

The left side of the Mini 14’s Circassian walnut stock.
The right side. This sure is a nice-looking Mini 14.

The Davidson’s Mini 14s came with 30-round mags and a flush suppressor, both of which are apparently favored by folks who rob gas stations and convenience stores (our legislators have their heads so far up their fourth points of contact they haven’t seen daylight in decades).  I replaced the flash suppressor with a muzzle brake to make the rifle much less intimidating.

You might laugh at a muzzle brake on a Mini 14. It works, though. Fire a Mini 14 with a muzzle brake and then fire one without and you’ll feel the difference.

I also installed the Tech Sights Mini 14 rear aperture sight, which I like a lot better than the standard Mini 14 rear sight.

The Tech Sights rear aperture sight. If you have a Mini 14 and you don’t have one of these, you’re missing the boat.

I loaded three configurations of ammo.   The first was a new load I had developed using XBR 8208 propellant.   For reasons I can’t remember, I had a bunch of Hornady 55-grain full metal jacket bullets I had pulled from another load.  If you look closely at the photo below, you’ll see the circumferential ring where the collet puller grabbed the bullets.  My thought was that pulled bullets would degrade accuracy, which is why they were tucked away and ignored for a long time.  The load was 25.3 grains of XBR 8208, mixed brass previously fired in the Mini 14 (neck sized only for this load), and Winchester small rifle primers.  I seated the bullets about midway in the cannelure, but I didn’t crimp.   For this load, I didn’t tumble or trim the brass, either.

55-grain bullets loaded in .223 Remington brass for the Mini 14. Note the circumferential bullet puller collet marks just above the cannelure.

Surprisingly, the above load shot relatively well.  If the marks on the bullets affected accuracy I couldn’t see it.  I shot a few 10-shot groups at 50 yards just to get into the swing of things, and then I fired a 10-shot group at 100 yards (which I’ll get to at the end of this blog).   The 10-shot group at 100 yards wasn’t too shabby.  The rifle shot low left (my aim point was at 6:00), but I hadn’t adjusted the sights for this load.

50-yard groups with the above load. The flyers are do to operator error. The groups showed promise at 50 yards, and I knew I would test them at 100 yards.

For the next load, I had a few 35-grain Hornady V-Max bullets I normally use for my .22 Hornet.  This is a bullet I guessed would not do well in the much-higher-velocity .223 Remington cartridge, and I was right.  Some of them grouped okay at 50 yards, but they were right on the edge of instability.  A few tumbled and went wide.  I didn’t bother firing these at 100 yards; if they were flaky at 50 yards, they would be positively flaky at 100.

.223 Remington cartrdiges loaded with 35-grain Hornady VMax Hornet bullets. The ammo looks good, but it was not a good load for the Mini 14.
The 35-grain VMax loads at 50 yards. The bullets were right on the stability threshold.

The last group was one I put together using another set of leftover Hornet bullets, the 46-grain Winchester jacketed hollow point bullet.  They shot poorly when I tested them in my Ruger No. 3 Hornet, and they were really terrible in the .223 Mini 14.   I suspect they were breaking up in flight.  Several went wide or through the target sideways.

46-grain Winchester hollowpoint jacketed bullets loaded in .223 brass. This didn’t work out at all.
A huge hollowpoint. It might work well on prairie dogs in the .22 Hornet, but these bullets weren’t stable and didn’t group well in the .223 Remington cartridge.

The 46-grain Winchester groups were huge at 50 yards and I could see on the target that they were unstable.  At least one tumbled.  Some never even made it to the target.

The above load’s poor performance was predictable, but I’m one of those guys who has to pee on the electric fence. You know, just to make sure.  The arrow points to a spot where a bullet went through the target sideways.

After testing the above bullets at 50 yards, I knew that the Hornet bullets were a no go.   Actually, I kind of knew that before I tested the load.  But I had the bullets and I thought I would give it a try.

I wanted to see how the pulled 55-grain Hornady bullets would do at 100 yards, so I moved a target out to 100 yards they did relatively.   The group centroid shifted from my usual Mini 14 load, but it was fairly tight for iron sights with junk/untrimmed mixed brass.

55-grain full metal jacket boattail pulled Hornady bullets, 25.3 grains of XBR 8208 propellant, Winchester small rifle primers, and mixed brass provided a 3.65-inch 10-shot group at 100 yards. The black bullseye is 5.50 inches in diameter. I was pleased with these results.

Well, you live and you learn.  I cleaned off the reloading bench, I had a little fun, and I now know from personal experience that 35-grain and 46-grain Hornet bullets won’t do very well in the .223.  Sometimes it’s good to learn what doesn’t work as well as what does.

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A Note From Zuo

Timely, perhaps…with the reactions we received on our recent Nine Reasons You Should Ride A Chinese Motorcycle blog, I received a nice email from Sergeant Zuo, the man who led our ride across China a few short years ago.

大舅：

最近可好？我买了宗申RX3S，是老版的，排气量380cc，RX3已经8年9.6万公里了。我们国家的机动车有强制报废的规定，所以我还是再换一台摩托车吧，谁让我喜欢呢。RX3我就再怎么喜欢还得卖掉，因为我们小区车棚里我只能申请一个车位，所以还是给RX3找个喜欢她的人吧。

我们这里的疫情是好是坏，你们那里的疫情好点了吗？一定保护好自己。

有一个知道我和你是好朋友的朋友说过：“真正的中美友谊在民间。”我非常喜欢这句话，送给你。

随信寄去几张我的RX3S的照片。（我发给你的信和照片你怎么使用都行）。非常想念你，我的朋友！代我向你的爱人，家人问好，特别是你的几个孙子。

——— 左振义 2021.10.16 中国•兰州

What, you don’t read Chinese?  Okay, here you go:

Uncle:

How are you doing recently? I bought the Zongshen RX3S, which is an old version with a displacement of 380cc. The RX3 has been 96,000 kilometers in 8 years. Our country’s motor vehicles have mandatory scrapping regulations, so I’d better replace them with a motorcycle. Who makes me like it. No matter how much I like RX3, I have to sell it, because I can only apply for one parking space in our carport, so let’s find someone who likes RX3.

Is the epidemic situation here for good or bad? Is the epidemic situation there any better? Be sure to protect yourself.

A friend who knows that you and I are good friends once said: “The real Sino-US friendship is among the people.” I like this sentence very much and I give it to you.

Enclosed are some photos of my RX3S. (You can use the letter and photos I sent you anyway). Miss you very much, my friend! Say hello to your wife and family, especially your grandchildren.

——— Zuo Zhenyi 2021.10.16 China•Lanzhou

Here are a couple of additional photos that Zuo sent to us:

So there you have it.  That “uncle” business…I used to be a secret agent, you know, the Man from U.N.C.L.E., and…nah, just kidding.  The Chinese named me Big Uncle and they called Gresh Little Uncle when we rode across China with them.  The Chinese words are Da Jiu and Ar Jiu (Big Uncle and Little Uncle) and the “jiu” parts sounds a lot like Joe, so it was kind of a natural fit.

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Lee Ermey’s Guns Go To Auction

R. Lee Ermey was the real deal.  A United States Marine and a drill instructor hired to advise the actors in Full Metal Jacket who was so impressive in showing the phonies how to be a real Marine the folks in charge hired him to play the role (or so the story goes; there are various versions floating around).  We’ve all seen the movie; I watch it every time it airs.

What grabbed my attention is that the late R. Lee Ermey’s gun collection is about to go up for auction.  I looked through the guns listed out of curiosity to see what Gunny Lee had, and he had good taste in firearms.  Lee Ermey owned a lot of shotguns, a few handguns, and a few rifles.

Here are a few of the Gunny’s guns that got my attention.

The first is a Colt Python that is part of a three gun cased set Colt offered several years ago (the set included a Python, a Single Action Army, and a black powder revolver).  What’s interesting to me is that Gunnery Sergeant Ermey used his Python (it’s got the scratches and finish wear showing that).

Another one that’s interesting is the Model 62 Winchester. I have one of those that my Dad left to me; he bought it when he was a kid.  One of these days I’ll do a blog on it.

And one more of the many that are going on the block.  It’s a 1932 Mosin.  If you’ve spent any time on the ExNotes blog, you know I love shooting my Mosins.   Gunnery Sergeant Ermey was a man who knew his guns.

You can view the complete Lee Ermey auction here.  I’ll be watching the auction as it unfolds, especially on the Mosin pictured above.  It’s likely it will quickly go beyond my pay grade, but you never know.

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KLR250 Reflash: Part 4

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’ve been working on the KLR250 for forever. It seems that way to me also. Since the last KLR blog 325 years ago we have sold The Love Shack in Astor, Florida and the Widowmaker 250 no longer has a purpose in my life. I’m not one to store a good motorcycle and the KLR250 will make some newbie rider (or older experienced motorcyclist) a fine machine to learn the dark art of dirt riding.

It’s time for the KLR to go. I can’t keep all these bikes registered and insured, much less in operating condition. But before I let a new owner crash about on the KLR there are a few more things I need to fix.

Equipped with a worn out 21” front tire, a very popular size, I blew a few bucks on a new Dunlop semi-dirt tire and a new tube. These skinny 21” wheels are super easy to change tires on, it took like 20 minutes.

The Widowmaker’s fork seals were dribbling a decent flow of oil; in fact one tube only had a few ounces left inside. One fork leg came apart easily: Impact wrench on the bottom bolt and zing-zing it was apart. The other leg was more trouble. The recessed allen bolt just spun when I hit it with the impact.

I needed something to stop the inner damper rod from spinning the fork spring, which wasn’t offering enough resistance. Looking through my nut and bolt bins was futile. I found a spark plug was the closest to fitting the damper. I cut down the plug and removed the ceramic, then welded a length of all thread to the plug. With my new eye I could just make out the puddle. It was great, before I saw nothing but glare.

The damper rod retaining tool worked excellent and I was able to dismantle the other fork leg. After cleaning assembly was straightforward. A length of PVC pipe was used to press the new seals into the sliders. I didn’t have enough fork oil in one viscosity so I mixed 10 weight and 15 weight together. I figure I’m running 12.5 weight in the forks now.

I reassembled the front forks and all seemed done at the front. Next I installed a new battery just for the KLR250, no more sharing with the Husky and Z1. The battery has been sitting around a year or so but still had juice. I popped it into the KLR250, lowered the bike off the motorcycle jack and the thing started in about 7 kicks. These KLRs are tough cookies.

Thinking I was pretty much done, I took the bike on a road test. The carb might be a little clogged up as it’s either idling at 3000 RPM or dying. Once up to speed the bike ran as good as it ever has. Parking the bike on the brand new shed floor it was easy to notice coolant dripping from that small hole in the water pump housing. Rats, this is what I mean when I say I can’t keep them all running.

I ordered a new water pump seal and when it arrived I drained the Widowmaker’s coolant and removed the water pump cover and impeller. The seal is a spring-loaded ceramic type of deal and the spring part pulled off with little effort. That left the steel part still stuck in the engine.

If you’re lucky, sometimes you can thread a deck screw into the thin metal seal and pull the thing out with no problem. I wasn’t lucky and the seal kept looking worse the more I tried to remove it.

Finally I gave up and removed the right side engine cover to gain access to the seal from the other side. Removing the cover meant I had to remove the rear brake lever, foot peg and clutch cable. With the engine cover off it was a piece of cake to poke the seal out from the inside with a ¼” punch.

As you can see, I pretty much mangled the seal trying to save taking the engine cover off. For good measure I also destroyed the pump shaft oil seal in the process. I guess it needed changing also. Now I’ve got to look up a pump oil seal and a cover gasket for the Widowmaker. I think I’m going to clean the carburetor and see if I can’t make it run better low speed. Since I have to take the tank of to clean the carb I may as well adjust the valves. It’s super easy on the KLR250. And then it will be ready to sell.

More on the KLR and other Resurrections!

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Cannibalize, mayhem, and other mototerms

Gee, I was gonna buy the RX3 and then I heard they were coming out with the RX4.  Then I was gonna buy the RX4 and I heard they were coming out with a 400cc twin.   Then I was gonna buy the 400cc twin and I heard they were coming out with a 650cc twin.  Then I was gonna buy the 650 and I heard about this new 850cc Zongshen adventure bike.

I’m going to guess the above is a thought that has trickled through more than a few minds.   It’s what I’m guessing occurs everytime Zongshen announces or leaks (I’m not sure what the appropriate word should be) that they have something newer, bigger, and better coming down the pike (like the RX850 you see above).  Webster defines mayhem as “needless or willful damage or violence” (in a criminal context it’s the intentional mutilation or disfigurement of another human being) and Dictionary.com defines cannibalize as “to cut into; cause to become reduced; diminish.”  Both words (i.e., cannibalize and mayhem) somehow seem relevant to Zongshen’s marketing practice of announcing new models just as (and sometimes even before) the preceding displacement model enters the marketplace.  You’d think it would cannibalize sales of the models currently in showrooms, especially given our brainwashed belief that more displacement is always a good thing.

But what do I know?   I sell one or two used motorcycles every decade or so, while Zongshen sells something like a million new motorcycles every year.  I suspect companies selling Zongs both here and in other countries sell every bike they get (I know that’s the case with CSC, and I’ve seen it to be the case in Colombia).  I once had a guy write to me who wanted to buy two RX3s so he and his wife could tour Colombia, but he couldn’t find a dealer in Colombia who wasn’t sold out.  He wrote to me after reading Moto Colombia to ask if I could intervene with the AKT Motos general manager (I did, good buddy Enrique obliged, and that couple’s ride through magical Colombia went well).

My advice?  Buy what you can get now.  The 650 Zongshen hasn’t even hit the streets yet, so don’t wait for it or the RX850 you see above.  If you want to have a lot of fun for a little money, any of the available Zongs will serve you well.  I put a lot of miles on my RX3 and I got good money when I sold it 5 years later.

Oh, one more word I wanted to address, and it’s an adjective:  Dormant.  Webster defines it as being asleep or inactive.  It is a word that is not in Zongshen’s dictionary.

Epic motorcycle rides on Zongshens, Harleys, KLRs, Enfields, and more?  It’s all right here!

Firecrackers and Fall Colors

When I was a kid growing up in New Jersey (a very rural New Jersey in those days), it was a local challenge to take off your shoes and socks and walk across the dam at the Old Mill.  The Old Mill is one of those cool places that attracts kids (even old ones, like me).  Remote, interesting, a hint of times past, and plenty of ways to get in trouble.  There had been a water-powered mill there decades ago (a common approach to factory power in our early history); now, only the dam and the lake it formed remains.  We called the area the Old Mill.

The upper arrow points to the Old Mill dam. The lower arrow points to an island (the scene of the goose attack, as will be explained below).  The lake formed by the dam stretches upstream for a good distance.
The Old Mill dam. We used to wade across the top when we were kids. I wouldn’t attempt it today.

Those were fun times. The Old Mill was a little over a mile from my house and the big adventure when we were kids was to ride our Schwinns there (I wish I still had that bike). Walking across the top in your bare feet was the double dare. The water was about 4 inches deep as it rushed over the top, the dam was coated with algae, and it was slick. And 4 inches of rushing water carried a lot of power.  Taking that challenge marked you as a kid of substance (it was sort of a kid’s Combat Infantryman’s Badge).  Pauly, Zeb, Verny, my cousin Bobby, me…those were grand times, riding our bikes and pretending they were motorcycles, coasting down Riva Avenue to the Old Mill, and looking for new ways to get into trouble. My Schwinn had chrome fenders and I used to imagine it was a BSA 650 Lightning. Fun times. It’s hard to believe it was 60 years ago.

So, I need to go tangential for a second to give some context to this Old Mill story.  When we were kids, my Dad had one cardinal rule I probably heard the day I was born and at least weekly thereafter.   It was simple:  Never mess with firecrackers.  Dad lost two fingers when he was a kid fooling around with firecrackers cutting them up to pour the contents into a pipe to make a bigger firecracker.   You know the nutty things kids do.  If kids did that today they would be called terrorists.  In those days it was just kids doing what kids do.  But the results were not good…there was a spontaneous ignition and when it was over, my Dad had two fewer fingers.   Hence, the constant Dad drumbeat:   Don’t mess with firecrackers.

Well, you might guess where this story is going.  I couldn’t wait to mess with firecrackers.   My cousin Bobby was 6 years younger than me back then (he still is) and we were thick as thieves when we were kids.  One day Bobby, my friend Verny, and I rode our bikes to the Old Mill.  Verny had a bunch of firecrackers in his saddlebag.  Wow.  The forbidden fruit.  He even bought matches.  Boy oh boy, we were having fun…lighting the things and throwing them out over the water.   Bam!  Bang!  Pow!  It was like being in a Batman TV show.  Awesome fun.  I was playing with firecrackers.  It was better than running with scissors.

Boys will be boys, and Bobby was the youngest.  It wasn’t too long before Verny and I were lighting the things and throwing them at Bobby.  We were all laughing and having a good time.  Even Bobby.  He thought it was fun, too.  Right up until the time one of the firecrackers landed in his collar behind his neck.  To this day, I can still see it in slow motion…the little inch-and-a-half Black Cat tumbling through the air, its fuse sparkling, and then lodging in Bobby’s collar.  And then…BOOM!

All laughter stopped at that point.  Bobby froze, not making a sound after the detonation.  The firecracker literally blew all the hair off the back of his head, which suddenly looked like an orangutan’s butt…bright red and bald.  Bobby came through it okay.  Me, not so much. I knew what would happen when my Dad saw this. It was a death sentence.  Verny knew, too.  Everybody knew about my Dad and firecrackers.  Wow, were we ever in trouble.

Being Jersey boys, we came up with a plan.   Maybe if we gave Bobby a haircut, it wouldn’t look so bad.  Yeah, that’s the ticket.   A quick trim and no one would notice.   Ah, if only stupidity were money…I’d be the richest man in the world.  We rode our bikes over to Verny’s house, found a couple of scissors, and went to work.   After a few minutes, we realized what a sorry state we were in.  Instead of just looking like a kid who had all the hair blown off the back of his head, Bobby now looked like…well, a kid who had all the hair blown off the back of his head and a really bad haircut.  We were cooked.

All three of us rode to Bobby’s house, where my Uncle Herman (my Dad’s brother) took everything in with a single look.  Herman had been there when Dad lost his fingers (which, when I think about it, would have been about 90 years ago now).  Uncle Herman knew what the outcome would be if my father ever found out what we had done…I wouldn’t have made it to adulthood, and you wouldn’t be reading this blog.  So he did me a whale of a favor…he and Bobby stayed away from our house until Bobby’s hair grew back.  Uncle Herman, you’ve been gone for more than half a century now, but trust me on this…I’m still grateful!

Susie and I were in New Jersey a couple of weeks ago and we did what we always do when we’re back there:  We visited the Old Mill.  The leaves were turning colors and it was spectacular.  Visiting the place always brings back memories…especially the ones above.

The Old Mill lake, as recently captured by my Nikon.

The Old Mill was built by the Davidson family (a nearby road is called Davidson’s Mill Road).  I have no idea what they milled and I couldn’t find anything about it on the Internet.  There was a another mill a few miles downstream that processed snuff (a major industry in this area a hundred years ago), so maybe it was a snuff.  Whatever.  The mill is long gone, but the dam remains and the area is a county park today.

As I was snapping photos, I noticed a blue-gray speck in front of the little island near the dam (there’s an Uncle Herman story about that island, too, and I’ll get to it in a second).  I zoomed in, and it was a blue heron.  I’d seen them here before.  I wished I could have gotten closer, but my 120mm lens and Nikon’s vibration reduction technology did the trick for me.

A blue heron looking for lunch at the Old Mill.

Once when I was a kid, I rowed my little aluminum boat here all the way from my house.  The creek behind my place (Lawrence Brook) flowed to the Old Mill and beyond.   Uncle Herman, Bobby, my cousin Marsha, and I were having a good time as I rowed toward that island when we suddenly heard a god-awful hissing.  A goose was flying straight at us, low over the water, with what appeared to be a 10-foot wingspan (it probably wasn’t that big, but the overall effect was one of sheer terror and if that goose was trying to intimidate us, it succeeded).   The goose had a nest on that island, and we were where the goose didn’t want us.

When I visited the Old Mill earlier this year, the water snakes were out in full force and I photographed a large one below the dam.  You can read more about that in the blog I did a few months ago.  There are a lot of cool critters in these waters, including frogs, several species of turtles, pickerel, sunfish, and snakes.  Good times for kids.  It was a good place to grow up.

A very large water snake sunning itself in New Jersey.

On this most recent visit, we were in New Jersey just as the leaves were turning colors.    This last photo is one I stitched together in PhotoShop.  A click will enlarge it, and then click on it again to see it full size.

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