Ride from Seattle to Champaign

[p_s]

Day 4: August 11, 2008
Start: Red Lodge, MT
End: Custer, SD
482 miles
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&sadd...5,6.965332&z=8


You won't be surprised to find out that I had to push-start the bike in the morning. It didn't start after the first trip through the parking lot at the motel, but a man polishing his chrome offered his help, and we got the bike started. I filled up with gas two blocks away and had to push start the bike again, but it's much easier when it's warm.

Then I left town heading towards the Beartooth pass. With a bit of effort I passed a pack of cruisers--they don't like to be passed and I didn't have fuel injection and they did, so it wasn't as easy as it is at sea level. My bike didn't want to rev past 6 grand, and that's where all the power is. I don't understand why you'd want a maniac on a crotch rocket right on your tail, but maybe these guys were still in the mentality that they were driving to their boring job downtown and needed to make everyone else late. I assume that's the reason for the tight formation, even in turns. The locals all pulled over and waved me by, except for the few that were quicker than me (which isn't hard if you have fuel injection and gas it on the straights).

I began ascending the east side of the Beartooth pass. It was slow, tight turn after slow, tight turn with a mountain range to stare at on the short straights. This was motorcycle heaven: increasing radius turns, decreasing radius turns, positive camber, negative camber, blind turns, u-turns. I could have ridden up and down this all day. I was dragging my toes on half the turns, and I was huffing and puffing when I got to a rest area, even though the temperature was not much above freezing.

From the top:

Here is a picture of a fun turn that these three and their support van would take at half the posted speed:

I got stuck behind them on the way down and missed a few good turns. Then I got stuck in the middle of their pack and missed a few more turns.
This scenario would repeat itself all day. You could pass them on the double-yellow, wait, or get stuck. Riding a mountain pass on a dry day would definitely be better with a fuel-injected bike so you could pass these overweight relics and the machines they ride. In May I rode a mountain pass while it was snowing and, given the choice, I'll always take melting snow over slow, American cruisers. It's probably not so bad if you aren't riding in Wyoming right after Sturgis.

Then I took the Chief Joseph Pass into Cody. It was fun, but nothing like the Beartooth. Then I filled up and push-started the bike in the direction of the Medicine Wheel Pass on US-14a. This pass was closed when I rode west in May, and I'd heard great things about it. The views definitely lived up to everything I'd heard about it, and the curves were fun, but, again, nothing like the Beartooth pass. I think the US-14 pass through the Bighorns I took in May was more fun for motorcycling, but the views were far less impressive.

Then I had lunch, push-started the bike, and put down 140 miles on I-90 to get to the turnoff for Custer, SD. I was averaging about 85--the going rate of traffic--and I got to the gas station on fumes. I turned in under 35 mpg that tank. This bike is not made for high-speed touring. But this time the electric start did work.

I made it into Custer around 5 and found a room. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that I only get at the end of a good snow-skiing vacation. Even though I would ride around the Black Hills the next morning, the excitement was over, and I felt like I just had to put in a lot of boring miles and get home.

[gbw]

Day 4: August 11, 2008...
they don't like to be passed and I didn't have fuel injection and they did, so it wasn't as easy as it is at sea level. My bike didn't want to rev past 6 grand, and that's where all the power is.

I hafta say that I am really enjoying reading this. You have some talent in this story telling/writing area. Thank you for doing it.

I also hafta wonder about the affects of high altitudes on carburated vehicles. I bet you were at several thousand feet above sea level so the air must have been very thin. I know what this feels like when I try to run in Denver. The just isn't enough air.

But how do you compensate for it? Would opening the choke a little help or do you have to completely re-jet the carbs to compensate? Actually, now that I think about it, opening the choke would probably have the opposite of the desired affect...or would it?

Anyway, thanks again for sharing and I can't wait for more.

[Planecrazy]

Enjoying the trip so far! I hope you learned at this point to pick a hotel at the top of a hill so that the push starting aggravation could be avoided - hehe!

Regards,

[p_s]

But how do you compensate for it? Would opening the choke a little help or do you have to completely re-jet the carbs to compensate? Actually, now that I think about it, opening the choke would probably have the opposite of the desired affect...or would it?

Right, I was starting around 5k ft up and going up to 10k or so. You could just guess with the jetting and I'm sure it'd run better. Probably I should have just pulled the air filter. The '83-'86 GS550E/ES has two siamesed carbs, so dropping the two bowls wouldn't be a big deal, really (if you've put allen-head bolts in). If I ever take this bike to the mountains again, maybe I'll bring some jets.

Another crazy idea would be to pull the choke jets, so it's just letting in air. I can't remember how much work was involved in that. And that would be adjustable.

I had a friend who did a similar trip on a carburated 1988 Ninja 600 (liquid cooled, much more power at sea level) and also had a hard time in the mountains.

[p_s]

Day 5: August 12, 2008
Start: Custer, SD
End: Oneill, NE
380 miles
http://tinyurl.com/5986nr

I packed, had breakfast, etc., and then discovered this on the seat of my motorcycle:

I think the windshield needs more than that:

Some dirt from Glacier National Park construction:

They must have confused my bike with all the spotless chrome parked next to a trailer a few spots over.

I'd removed the battery and put it on my Battery Tender overnight, so I didn't have to pushstart the bike. Then I filled the tank across the street and did have to pushstart the bike.

I turned left onto US-16 instead of left onto US-16A and missed half the twisties I'd been planning on riding. I discovered this 15 miles up the road, and I should have turned around and done the original plan but I didn't.

[p_s]

I still had fun. I was less than an hour away from Sturgis two days after the official end of the 2008 Sturgis rally, so the road was especially thick with riders that could barely negotiate a Starbucks drive-through on some of the best roads in the west. But the only thing to do here was to slow down to a crawl and lug first gear on the straights. In May I'd ridden the exact same roads with no other traffic, but the road was wet and covered with slippery plant matter everywhere but in two tire tracks from cars, and this was far better.

There were 4 places where you make a tight turn, then go through a single-lane tunnel, then make another tight turn and go over a bridge over the tunnel. It was like a video game.



I crossed paths with a well-traveled 2-up BMW in this loop, bridge, and tunnel:

Then I set off for my boring ride back east. I was trying to reach Sioux City. About halfway across Nebraska I finally felt all the top-end horsepower come back--I figured I must have rejoined sea level. About a half hour west of Valentine, I stopped to adjust my no longer functioning velcro kidney belt. I pulled back onto US-20 and really gave the bike some stick. I felt a couple clunks in the pegs. I could then reproduce these clunks, but only if I was going above 80 or uphill. I figured I was still using mountain gas at sea level and I just needed to get some 87 octane in the bike. I put in two-thirds of a tank of 89 octane in Valentine to balance out the 85 octane, and I started the bike, with the starter this time. But the problem didn't go away. In fact, the knocking in the pegs would occur at lower and lower speeds. I pulled over and drained the bowls, which did nothing.

I stopped for lunch at a restaurant that looked closed in tiny Wood Lake, Nebraska. I ate a delicious cold-chicken plate with pasta salad and cole-slaw, listening to three old ladies talk about their knitting and their grandchildren. While I was waiting, I called DanTheMan, who told me my problem had nothing to do with gas, and everything to do with either a loose clutch nut or a loose countershaft nut. (The countershaft nut is the nut that holds on the front sprocket for the chain, for my less mechanically-enabled readers.)

So I started the bike (with the starter) and rode to the next town, Ainsworth, and meandered through the tiny city center until I found the NAPA. I pulled the countershaft cover, and just like Dan said, the nut was loose. I bought a big 32 mm socket, carb cleaner, and red loctite and got to work. But the nut wouldn't tighten. It was stripped.

One of the clerks at NAPA knew someone that might help. He drove me to a shop just outside of town which had dirtbikes and ATVs strewn everywhere. One of the mechanics said he had a GS rusting in his backyard. Saved! We went to his house, and then he said there was just one problem. I thought it was that the bike was covered with weeds and he didn't want to get filthy. Then pointed out that it was a shaft-driven bike. Damn!

He took the countershaft nut off his dirtbike and we tried it on my countershaft and it didn't fit. Then we went back to the shop and he found a nut that had the right threads but didn't have recessed threads like the stripped nut I had in my pocket. This meant that the sprocket would still wiggle a tiny amount on the countershaft. I'd thought earlier that maybe I should pick up some fender washers in case this is how it ended up, but by now NAPA and everywhere else was closed for the night. We put on the nut with a generous amount of red loctite and off I went (and the starter worked again this time). This mechanic pointed out that the threads on the countershaft were a bit rounded off. This was something I'd have to deal with when I got home.

The sun was now coming down, so I rode to Oneill and looked for a room. The first few motels had no vacancies, as they were full of construction workers. The last one had a few rooms, because one team of workers was on a weeklong break.

I didn't sleep well, because I was worried about how I'd make it home the next day with that nasty countershaft and the wiggly sprocket. At least the starter problem had sorted itself out, for now.

[Planecrazy]

What? you didn't buy the shaftie??

[82Shafty]

Did someone say shafty?

Hey Paul, I think your old scoot is part HD man.

Good story and good pictures!

[p_s]

Day 6: August 13, 2008
Start: Oneill, NE
End: Bellevue, NE
224 miles
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&sadd...2,4.592285&z=8


I hit the road by about 6:30. At any speed the front sprocket would wiggle around and make an awful jarring feeling in the pegs. By the second gas stop the rear sprocket was wearing down fast. What's more is that my red gas can had fallen off the bike again. The ratchet strap was tightened down as tight as it can go. The same thing happened on the last day of my trip west, but that time the ratchet strap got caught in the rear wheel and snapped my tail-light. This time the strap stayed on the luggage rack.

Next time I'll not bring gas or get one of those bottles that I can put *inside* my saddlebags.

I kept going, thinking that if I could just get 150 miles into Iowa I could call for a ride home. I stopped again about 60 miles later to get something to eat in Fremont, Nebraska. Now the rear sprocket looked totally trashed:


At this point I really didn't know what to do. In hindsight, I should have gone to a hardware store and bought some fender washers and ridden home. Instead, I gave up.

First I called all the local U-Hauls and Enterprises and so on trying to find a truck. I found nothing--it was move-your-kid-to-college season and there wasn't a truck anywhere. Eventually a friend found one in Omaha (only 20 miles away) that'd be over $400 one-way, not to mention gas! Another friend suggested I buy a used motorcycle there and come back for mine later. Naturally I called every motorcycle dealer in the Omaha region, and none of them had sprockets. I knew they wouldn't, but you have to go through the motions. Some had chains, most didn't. They all "really wanted to help" when I explained my situation but didn't want to help that much. I'm sure there were a half-dozen old-motorcycle guys in Fremont with rustings GSes and CBs and XJs and KZs in their garages that could have helped me, but there was no way to find them.

I ended up camping out at this gas station for about 3 hours making phone calls and got nowhere.

So I tightened the chain and set off and tried to cross the slow way into Iowa. I had a friend who didn't want to drive all the way to Omaha (16 hour round-trip), but if I could make another 150 miles or so of progress he was more willing to do it. I got to the US-34 bridge in Plattsmouth, NE. It was closed for construction. The only other crossing on my map was on Interstate 80. No way I was taking this bike through downtown Omaha freeways.

I talked my wife into taking the next day off work and picking me up, but then I got a call from GSR member 80GS750, who lived just a few miles away from where I'd completely given up.

[Skyboy8950]

and..........

[80GS750]

yea i wanna hear the next part!!!!!!

[Planecrazy]

I talked my wife into taking the next day off work and picking me up, but then I got a call from GSR member 80GS750, who lived just a few miles away from where I'd completely given up.

yea i wanna hear the next part!!!!!!

"You're a real riot, Alice!"

[80GS750]

hahaha... i love it

[p_s]

So 80GS750, who actually has a beautiful GS1000, told me to come over. I creakily made my way 8 miles to his house.

First he found me a good-as-new countershaft nut from his parts bike. Then he found me a good used sprocket, but it turned out it was for a different chain. He called a few bike shops looking for a sprocket--none had any of course. So we turned my rear sprocket around, tightened the chain, lubed the chain, and went for a ride around the neighborhood.

The erratic knocking feeling in the pegs was gone. Now all I had was a regular clicking that must have had to do with the master link on the chain not wearing in the same way as the other links.

I drank a beer and took a shower while 80GS750 and his wife cooked an excellent dinner. I slept on the softest mattress in the world and woke up refreshed and ready to go home.

Day 7: August 14, 2008
Start: Bellevue, NE
End: Champaign, IL
473 miles

http://tinyurl.com/63b97a

I bummed some oil from my host and set off. It turns out there is another two-lane road that goes across the river into Iowa, and it was only a few miles away. I crossed into Iowa and enjoyed the rolling plains and the quiet roads.

80 miles later I stopped for gas. My foot slipped as I put the bike on the centerstand and I almost dropped the bike but I recovered.

There was engine oil everywhere!

All over my right shoe, all over my right sock, and all over the right side of the bike. I had forgotten to put the oil fill cap back in. It was sitting behind the cylinders right where I left it. And I couldn't see any oil in the sightglass.

I used a roll of paper towels and cleaned myself and the bike and poured in some more generic oil. I swapped my winter gloves for summer gloves and secured my jacket liner under some bungy cords.

I rode off and 20 minutes later I had an inkling and reached back for my liner and it was gone. I turned around and rode a few miles looking for it and then gave up. Maybe I could order another. I just wanted to get home.

How was the sprocket? It looked just as it did when I'd left Bellevue that morning, and the excessive lube we applied to the chain had sorted out the clicking. The bike was running very well.

In Ottumwa, IA I filled the tank and spotted a restaurant across the street. It was a cheaply-constructed blue building with the front door propped open with a chair and a sign: "PUPUSERIA". My sister went to El Salvador a few years ago and raved about the pupusas, so I went in. Actually, first I took off my right sock and squeezed all the oil out. Then I gave up and put on a new sock. And used a good number of paper towels trying to dry my right foot and right boot. Then I went in.

They asked me if I knew what pupusas were. "Yes," I lied. And they were delicious, as was the tamale I ordered. The best lunch of the trip. Maybe I was just in a good mood since I was going to get home on my old GS in 3 hours. They also didn't take credit cards and I gave them all the cash in my wallet. (The countershaft sprocket incident in Ainsworth two days before had left my wallet a little light.)

The next gas stop was the last one, in Macomb, Illinois. I'd only ridden 300 miles but my butt was killing me. By day 7, even with a gel seat pad, I just didn't have the stamina. I called DanTheMan to let him know everything was a-okay and chatted for a while about tires and oil and an upcoming rally. Then I got home around 7. My wife said I stank, so I showered and we went out for dinner and I didn't touch the bike for a few days.

[Skyboy8950]

Glad you made it back to the Champoo-Banana. More than that, I'm glad I'm not there! Its a great story, though. Thanks for telling it.