61 for 61 ride report - part 1
Posted: Mon Sep 29, 2008 8:18 pm
Well guys, this is the first part of my ride report. I lifted it right out
of my personal ride diary, which I normally don't share but I think it will
make a good story. It's a bit long, but I hope you will enjoy it. Mom
stopped by for a visit, so I'll have to finish my report tomorrow. Ross
September 27th, 2008 61 for 61 Ride Report
I got invited to participate in the annual 61 for 61 Fundraiser for the
Roger Maris Cancer Center in Fargo. Surprisingly I had never heard of it
even living in the area most of my life. Always too busy with harvest I
guess. The plan was to meet my friend Vicki in Ada, then head to Moorhead
and meet some other friends at the starting point of the ride. As I rolled
my KLR out of the garage I discovered that is was 43 degrees outside, so
warm clothing was in order. With two sweaters, long underwear, a balaclava,
winter gloves and a neck warmer on I had a comfortable ride to Ada to meet
Vicki. As usual she was running a bit late, so I kept her company as she
got all her gear on, then helped her mover her Harley out of the garage. I
let her lead today and she showed me a fun way to get to Moorhead via back
roads that was a fun and scenic drive. I was excited to participate in the
ride because my father is a 4-time cancer survivor thanks to the dedicated
staff at the Roger Maris Cancer Center. It was my humble way of saying
thanks to those wonderful people for adding many years to my father's life.
Once Vicki and I arrived at the start point, my enthusiasm was immediately
dampened as I saw the group of riders assembled. The vast majority of these
folks I will refer to as the future as the SPB. The Small Penis Brigade.
There is a T-shirt in the Aerostich catalog that says "Small Dick, Big
Bike". This pretty much gives an accurate picture of the yokels running and
riding in the event and will become more evident later in this post. The
event is being organized by the FM Crusaders Motorcycle Club. From what I
can see they are Fargo's equivalent to the Hells Angels. There is a glimmer
of hope though. Along one side of the parking lot is a lone red KLR! I
swing around the parking lot and pull in next to him. If nothing else I'll
let him know that he is not alone in the crowd of hooligans. The rider is
nowhere to be seen at first, but I figure we will meet up eventually. I
spot the friends we were supposed to meet and direct Vicki over to them. As
I'm stowing some of my gear, I hear a friendly voice say "Are you from
Fertile? Is your name Ross?" The rider of the red KLR showed up and turned
out to be Rick Johnson from the DSN KLR List. He is a very nice fellow and
we became instant friends. We spend some time looking over each others
bikes and discussing mods, maintenance and tires. We probably would have
stood there all morning until Vicki returned and reminded me that we had to
register.
AS we went in to register, I notice an old Yamaha XS650 twin on a trailer
with a battered Kawasaki tank strapped to it. My first thought is that they
are going to have a Bike-Blow-Up contest, but the truth is even uglier. The
hapless XS is there for the true Harley-Davidson SPB Brethren to smash with
a sledgehammer to express their discontent with Japanese motorcycles with
the weak excuse of raising more money. These folks are definitely sliding
down my opinion scale in a hurry. Going inside to register I get to meet
members of the club. Definitely no improvement here either. I try not to
be too judgmental, but it is rather difficult. In my mind there are two
types of Harley owners; people who happen to own a Harley and Harley riders.
I have no problem with the people who happen to own a Harley. The vast
majority of these folks are very nice people who enjoy motorcycling and take
the responsibility that comes with riding a bike seriously. They are riders
concerned with safety on the road, and do not mind what other bikes their
fellow riders are on. Some of my best friends and riding partners have
Harleys, and they are very nice people who are a joy to be around. It's the
other group of Harley owners that I have a problem with. Portraying the
image of the bad-ass biker, the use of alcohol and drug and the lack of
safety equipment as well as the caustic attitude that accompanies these
people gives motorcyclists in general a bad image. Sadly, as the day
progresses, this will become even more evident.
Heading back outside, I run into Rick again and we pass the time discussing
our bikes. At one point I turn to him and say "You do realize that we are
the only two people here riding real motorcycles." He smiles and tells me
to keep that between us as we are vastly outnumbered buy rather large people
who are unlikely to share our opinion. Our discussion turns to the mods we
have each done to our bikes. He is running a fork brace which he thinks was
worth every penny for the increase in handling and stability. I recommend
the stainless steel brake lines that I installed on my bike. The start time
for the ride is approaching, so we decide to ride together and head for our
bikes. Parked next to us is a beautiful V65 Honda Magna. I have a soft
spot for these bikes as I had a 700 Magna years ago and just loved that
bike. As the ride starts, the rider mentions that his bike won't start. I
misunderstand due to all the noise of unmuffled V-Twins and think that he
is joking. A few minutes later I see him come with a giant pair of jumper
cables which he hooks to a van in an attempt to start his bike. I pass on a
bit of wisdom gleaned for the DSN group and caution his friend to make sure
that the van isn't running so he won't damage his electrical system. The
Cables are too bulky to fit into the confined battery box on the Magna, so
they resort to push starting it. The racket from all the V-Twins is so loud
that he can't hear his bike running, and conversation between Rick and I is
impossible. I yell at the Magna rider to look me up if he had any further
problems because I am carrying tools and jumper cables. It is so loud
though, that he doesn't hear me.
Rick and I wait until the majority of bikes are out on the highway before
our turn comes up. Rick takes the lead directly in front of me and we are
both in the left-hand half of the lane. Our bikes are pretty well evenly
matched as far as a load, although mine probably weighs a bit more due to
all the tools and supplies I always carry, and because I outweigh Rick by at
least 75 pounds. We travel north on Hwy 75 about 5 miles before I see a
very quick warning wave from Rick, then he's hard on the brakes. I can see
the forks dive, and see Rick change his riding position to try and get the
most out of his brakes, but it looks like a losing battle. His KLR doesn't
seem to want to scrub off speed and he aims for the center of the lane to
give himself some extra braking room as there is oncoming traffic in the
opposing lane, and he is gaining on the bike ahead of him. It is spooky
watching this unfold directly in front of me, but Rick is a good rider and
handles the panic stop very well. I am just as surprised as he is by the
sudden stop, but there is less drama aboard my bike. With the combination
of stainless steel brake lines and Powerpegz swiveling foot pegs, I get more
braking force from both the front and rear brakes. I'm able to come to a
safe stop with two fingers on the front brake and moderate pressure on the
rear brake, while at the same time using my left hand to signal the riders
behind me. In talking to Rick later he told me that it felt like his bike
was losing braking power the harder he tried to stop. I had the same issue
with the stock brake lines, hence my change to Stainless lines. Thank you
very much Fred! You saved my day again.
After a turn to the west which was the cause of all the commotion, it occurs
to me that none of the riders before us gave any signal or warning of the
slow-down ahead of us. I initially put it off as riders getting settled in,
but I was a bit nervous and cranked up my attention level. After another
few miles I notice a bike ahead of me in the right column apparently losing
power and pulling off on the shoulder. I look for fellow riders pulling off
to assist him, but there are none. The other bikes pull around and pass him
without even a glance. I look at Rick's bike and make a snap decision. His
attention is fixed on the other bikes swerving around the coasting rider.
If others won't help him, I will and will hopefully find Rick again. The
stricken bike turns out to be the Honda Magna that was parked next to me.
The rider is a nice fellow and is really bummed that his ride is over before
it got a chance to even start. He knows he has a charging system problem
and figures that he will have to find a friend to haul him home. I offer to
help him fix it thinking that it is probably just a short somewhere. He
says "How are we going to do that? I haven't got any tools!" I tell him
not to worry; I have the tool situation covered. I formulate a plan that we
will pull out his battery and let it charge off of my bike while we look for
a hopefully obvious problem. I pull out one of my tool rolls and his jaw
drops in surprise. He proves to have some mechanical know-how and tears
into pulling the battery from his stricken bike. The battery was pretty
well buried behind hoses, wiring and other crap. As he pulled apart a
snap-together connection he announces that he thinks he found the problem. A
corroded connection has overheated and melted the connection block so that
two wired were touching causing a dead short. He hangs his head and says
"Now I am screwed. Where will I find a connector like this?" I tell him
"No problem. We'll build one!" "Yeah, but that will require electrical
connectors. Where do we get them at?" I just smile and hand him a
container full of all types of connectors from a spares bag in my pannier.
I then produce another tool roll and pull out a wiring pliers and a side
cutter. I instruct him to cut back the electrical tape holding the wires
together then cut off the offending connector block. The light bulb comes
on in his eyes and he smiles and sets to work. About this time his two
buddies come back after noticing that he had disappeared. He explains what
we are up to as they are staring with amazement at the amount of tools and
supplies spread out around his bike. They replace the connector and debate
how to start the bike. His friends suggest bump starting it again, but the
battery is completely dead. I tell them that we can jump start it and pull
out some jumper cables. Astonished stare greet me, then finally one of the
guys asks "What else do you have in that box?" I tell him there is an air
compressor, tire tools and patches, extra tubes and other goodies. These
guys can't believe that I can fit all this stuff on my bike, but they are
glad that I do. I explain that I ride alone much of the time, and it's
easier to fix things in the boonies rather than walk home. They see my
point and make some plans to carry a few tools in the future. It is amazing
that the vast majority of people I meet on these rides have never given a
thought to what would happen if they broke down. Their idea of a toolkit is
a credit card. The rider tries his bike and it fires right up. The
charging problem is fixed and he and his buddies are thrilled. The ride is
back on! As we mounted up, the Magna rider pointed at me and yelled "YOU!
You're my partner for the rest of the day!" We all had a good laugh and
rode to Mapleton together which was the first stop of the ride. The sun was
out and the temperature had warmed to a comfortable level and the four of us
were all in a good mood. Two Harleys, a Honda and a Kawasaki riding
together and enjoying a beautiful day. One of the fellows pulled alongside
me and gave me a smile and a nod. I was one of their buddies now and it was
a good feeling. Normally I don't ride side by side because it's always best
to have plenty of maneuvering room in the event of an unpleasant surprise,
but in this case I let him ride alongside me for a few miles. These were
good guys and they were looking out for the mechanic on the dirt bike. I was
in good hands.
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