San Gabriel Mountains – The ExhaustNotes Blog

By Joe Berk

I spent most of the morning in the garage, organizing my reloading bench and the tons of components I have stacked in, on, under, and around it. I rearranged a good chunk of my 9mm brass (I probably have something north of 4,000 empty 9mm cases, enough to keep me in Parabellum paradise for the rest of my natural life). I’m waiting on a part for my Lee turret press (Lee is sending it to me at no charge), and when it gets here I’ll start reloading 9mm again. It’s become a favorite cartridge, but more on that in a future blog.

Busy real estate, my reloading bench is. Those coffee cans are chock full of 9mm brass.

As part of the garage cleanup and reorg effort, I pushed the Royal Enfield out so I could sweep the floor. A young lady who lives in the neighborhood was walking her dog when she spotted the Enfield. “It sure looks like a nice day for a ride,” she said. We chatted for a bit and then I thought about her comment. It really was a nice day for a ride. We’ve had rain big time for the last couple of weeks (don’t believe the lyrics…during the winter it rains a lot in California), and today we finally had a day that was bright and sunny. I did what anybody would do…I closed up shop and fired up the Enfield.

The nice thing about the winter rains here in So Cal is that when the clouds disappear we see the San Gabriel Mountains blanketed in snow. It really is quite beautiful. I started a ride into the mountains to get a good shot of the Enfield with the snow-capped mountains as a backdrop, and then I realized it was already 1:15 p.m. I had a 2:00 appointment with Doc Byrne, my chiropractor. I stopped for the quick shot you see above, and then it was over to the doctor’s office.

People who see a motorcycle parked in front of a chiropractor’s office should probably realize the doctor knows his business. My guy does, and another plus for me is that he is a rider. We’ve had some interesting conversations about motorcycles while he works his magic. I’m a big believer in chiropractic medicine.

A motorcycle parked in front of a chiropractor’s office. What’s wrong with this picture?

After getting my back straightened, I pointed the Enfield north and wound my way into the San Gabriels. I was looking forward to a late lunch at the Mt. Baldy Lodge, and I was not disappointed.

The Mt. Baldy Lodge, a favored destination in the San Gabriel Mountains.

I like the Mt. Baldy Lodge. It was busy (that was good), although like a lot of places their prices have climbed irrationally (that’s not so good). I ordered a turkey melt sandwich and paid the extra $2.00 for onion rings instead of French fries (not exactly a healthy option, but it was delicious).

As soon as I sat down at the bar, a younger guy (they’re all younger these days) who was shooting pool asked if I came in on the Enfield. “Guilty,” I answered.

“Cool,” he said. “I had an Enfield about 10 years ago, but I crashed and the insurance company totaled it.”

“Ah,” I answered. “You had the Bullet?” I was thinking we could have a conversation about that bike, because Gresh and I gave both the Bullet and the Interceptor a thorough wringing out on our Baja run.

“No, I had the new 650 Interceptor,” he said.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the Interceptor was only introduced about four years ago. I had no interest in a conversation with a guy who was obviously making it up as he went along. Better he should find a job with the news media or in politics, or maybe as an Ivy League university president. (Does that count as politics? We don’t do politics here on ExNotes, you know.)

I enjoyed my sandwich and the onion rings. I didn’t eat the whole thing, which somewhat eased my guilt pangs (I’m having a weight loss contest with Baja John, and he’s kicking my ass). I was having a good day. There’s something about a motorcycle ride into the mountains, sitting at the bar in the Mt. Baldy Lodge, having a good lunch, and listening to the pool table balls clicking and clacking that just feels like all is right with the world. I had a great ride and a great lunch, but it was getting late and the outside temperature was starting to drop. I knew I’d better head home. Even though it was cold, I enjoyed the ride down out of mountains as much as the ride up. The next time I see that young lady walking her dog, I’ll thank her for her suggestion. She was right; it was a nice day for a ride.

So, in case you are wondering why you received a notification email about the new Janus 450 Scrambler and the link didn’t work…well, that was a case of operator error. I hit publish before I should have, which triggered the email notification, and then I took the blog down so I could repost it on 23 February. But the email notification had already gone out. I reposted the blog on the 23rd (like I was supposed to do to first time), and you can view it here. My fellow blogistas have warned me that they are going to lop off yet another finger if I screw up again, so I have to be careful. I only have a few fingers left, and it’s getting hard to type. Mea culpa, and all that…

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I haven’t been riding the new Enfield all that much since I bought it, which was exactly one week before the virus hit our shores. You know, Covid 19, the lockdown, autonomous zone crises, and all that. And as a consequence, I’ve come under heavy criticism from two good buddies for my failure to accumulate miles on the Taj Mahal (as I sometimes refer to my orange Interceptor).

“I can’t believe you’re not riding that new Enfield all the time,” said Joe Gresh. Guilt. The guy reminds me of my Mom. You should try riding across China with him.

And then after I published that bit about getting out on the RX3, good buddy Rob had to weigh in: “Take the Enfield on the same road,” he said. “It will be a completely different ride.” Guilt again. If you don’t believe me, read the comments on the RX3 blog a few entries down. Rob, a guy who rode with us on the Western America Adventure Ride. He was waiting for us on a lawn chair by the side of the road early in the morning when we first met, already suited up, just before we crossed into Idaho. Rob’s RX3 was parked right alongside, both man and motorcycle ready to roll as soon as we approached so we wouldn’t have to wait. He seemed like such a nice guy back then.

Well, it worked, guys. Your guilt tripping got me out on the Enfield two days later, and it was awesome. I didn’t do the Glendora Ridge Road ride, but I was up in the San Gabriels. The very eastern end of that range, actually, riding deep into those glorious So Cal mountains through the little town of Lytle Creek. I went right past the West End Gun Club without stopping to send lead downrange, and that doesn’t happen too often. Not stopping in, that is.

So this is another one of those blogs where I’ll let the photos do the talking. Here we go, folks.

The first time I ever put gas in the new Enfield, and it returned 58 mpg and change. That’s consistent with what I saw on the first tankful on the Enfield I rode in Baja. By the end of that trip (nearly 1500 miles later), the bike was consistently getting between 70 and 72 mpg. Not too shabby for a 650 twin.

This is a good-looking motorcycle. My good buddy Art over at Douglas Motorcycles gave me a hell of a deal on it.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I take a good photo. I look better in a full face helmet, people tell me.

Not today, but I had to stop for the photo op. Top gun. That’s what I want to be.

You could interpret that sign to mean it’s okay to shoot at my street legal vehicle. Time to move along.

Ah, the great San Gabriels, just west of the little town of Lytle Creek. The road dead ends a few miles further.

A man, a motorcycle, America, and a mirror. Gets me every time.

Time to open her up a bit. But not too much. I’m still breaking in the Royal Enfield.

Editors hate these “motorcycle by the side of the road” shots. I kind of like them, especially when the road is in the San Gabriels.

And finally, re-entering the burbs. Lawrence of Suburbia, as Gresh sometimes calls me. Look at those donuts. There’s probably 20,000 miles of tire wear there; the guy who did it probably owns stock in a tire company. I used to have tire company shares when I worked for GenCorp, the corporation that owns General Tire, but that’s a story for another blog.

Wanna know a secret? The ride above occurred several days ago. I went for another ride this past Friday with good buddy Duane. Duane was on his Indian, a motorcycle made in America. I was on my Enfield, formerly a British motorcycle but now made in India. As you can see above, the Enfield is a glorious orange and that’s the fastest color…just ask my good buddy Orlando (about the orange thing, that is). Duane and I had a hell of a ride, and along the way we bumped into good buddies Steve and Rosemary by Silverwood. But that, too, is a story for another blog. Stay tuned!

Want to read about the Royal Enfield ride in Baja? Just click here! Want to know more about the CSC RX3 I mentioned above? The skinny is just a click away. Are you interested in a killer deal on a Triumph or a Royal Enfield? Check out Douglas Motorcycles in San Bernardino!

Want to read a story about another beautiful motorcycle? Motorcycle Classics recently published my piece about good buddy Steve’s stunning and brilliantly bright red ’82 Yamaha Seca. You can read it here.