Wilsons Sandbox

If you have a master link with a clip, check it!!! While wiring up a temperature controller for my new Gerbing heated vest, I just happened to notice the clip was missing!!! Luckly nothing happened, and I have some spares, so I replaced it. And this time I MIG-welded the clip closed. This last clip had epoxy covering it up, doesn't look like the epoxy even held up. Next chain, no clips. Darren Clark 2004 KLR-650 Fowlerville, MI

I had a shop install master link clip WRONG and it fell off when chain hit against chain guard so beware of that as well

The four of us pull into Mapleton, and I am shocked by what I see. There are bikes parked EVERYWHERE! I soon realize that my chances of finding Rick are very slim, so I decide to hang out with the guys I came with for now. I find out later that there are over 900 bikes in the charity ride. Mapleton is a small town about 10 or 15 miles west of Fargo, and the bikes practically fill the south side of town. This is supposed to by a mystery ride where no one knows where we are going, but considering the leaders it s no surprise where we stop at. The Mapleton bar. The organizers never bothered to call ahead, so the bar is frantically trying to serve 900+ people with 3 employees. It is a mess inside. My new riding friends and I get some soft drinks after a long wait then head back to the bikes. After a few minutes of visiting we hear the bikes starting up and know that we will be leaving soon. We get in line and get near the start of the pack. As soon as we get rolling we come across a shocking sight. A smashed Victory is lying in the road. The rider is struggling to his feet and had obvious road rash around his left eye. A large bandage is covering his eye and blood is running down his face. There is no helmet in sight, so his injuries are no surprise to me. This rider never even made it 100 yards past the bar. I find out later that he was a first year rider who had a few beers and decided to show off a little. He grabbed a handful of throttle, the bike got sideways and the rider panicked. When he let off the throttle, the bike snapped around, spit him off the high side then landed on top of him. Among his injuries was a hole in his skull above the left eye. I hope to myself that this will be an isolated incident, but I am to soon learn otherwise. mile out of town we cross Interstate 94. I notice a guard rider parked on top of the bridge in the opposite lane. I m thinking that he is there to warn traffic coming from the other direction, but he is supposed to be warning us that we will be making a sharp right-hand turn directly after crossing the bridge because the road ends in a Tee. He s not doing his job though and there is another panic stop situation. Off to the side is a crotch rocket rider. He is scuffed up and his eyes are the size of saucers. In a cruel, humorous touch, his buddies are dragging his bike out of a swamp. He came flying over the bridge, was surprised by the sudden corner and launched himself OVER the ditch and out into the swamp. A sadder by wiser young man for sure. As we head west towards Casselton, I am starting to think this was not a good idea to go on this ride. I would pull out, but I ve become separated from Vicki and my other friends and I don t want them to worry about me. I increase my following distance from the bike ahead of me and hope to find them at the next stop. At Casselton the ride turns south and heads into farm country on a beautiful ride. North Dakota is pretty much flat in this part of the state, but there is one hill ahead. To give you an idea of just how much real estate 900 bike on a road takes up, when the hill is 1-1/2 miles ahead of me, I can see the leaders going up in a ribbon of bikes. When I get to the summit myself I look back and can t see the end of the group. Bikes are stretched out as far as the eye can see. We have an uneventful ride to Leonard, where we fill the town again. The organizers called ahead this time. 15 minutes before we arrive they call the town bar and announce We are coming with 900 bikers. Can you get ready for us? It s another madhouse. The town bar and caf are overwhelmed. No plans have been made to feed all these people and there are a lot of hungry people. The bartender is busier than a one-legged man at an ass-kicking contest. Since the kitchen can t keep up, many folks decide to cure their hunger with beer. Not me. I order a hamburger and wait. And wait. And wait some more. The poor cook is overwhelmed as is the rest of the staff. After a long wait we hear the bikes firing up again and see the caravan start to leave town. Those of us waiting for food debate about forgetting the warm meal that is supposed to be coming, but to a man we decide to wait because the poor cook is trying so hard to get everyone served. By the time the food finally arrives the group has left and the cook is in tears. She is so upset that there was no warning. Had someone given them a days notice they would have had a big meal ready and extra staff on hand. She is also upset that the group rode off without us. We assure her that the group riding off was no great loss to us, and that we appreciate her efforts. We also explain that the people running the event DO NOT represent the average motorcyclist and not to assume all motorcyclists are like those clowns. I tell her that I really felt upset that she was given no warning, and that I had thought about trying to assist her in the kitchen but didn t know how to help so I thought it best to be patient and stay out of her way. I m rewarded with a smile, a big hug and an invitation to come back and visit again. One of the remaining riders has found out where the next stop is at. The bar in Walcott. No surprise there. I hurriedly eat part of my hamburger and throw the rest of my food in my top box. The cook was thoughtful and put it in a to-go box for me. Instead of waiting, the small group roars off while I m getting my gear on and leaves without me. I realize that I have no idea where Walcott is. I get my gear on while paying attention to which direction the small group is heading. After leaving town I spot the group and work on catching up. This ride is turning out to be a nightmare and I find that I am not enjoying myself anywhere near as much as I have other charity rides. I have become separated from my friends and am now riding with strangers. It is not a comfortable feeling for me. [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]