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    Originally posted by pmong View Post
    Wonderful place, warm people, and full of life. Gee I miss it!
    True, True, and True.

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      Just a small update. My transmission started to leak from the shaft-drive seal and I dismantled half of the bloody bike to get to it. In the process, I found two broken bearings from the swing-arm pivot point. One is completely destroyed and the other is broken in multiple places. Good thing the shaft started to leak.

      I'm at my friend's house in Curitiba, Brazil and have a place to work on it with plenty of tools at least.

      Last edited by Guest; 09-10-2012, 04:55 PM.

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        Happy Birthday!!!

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          Thanks Billy,

          I honestly didn't remember my own birthday until I got an email from Philip Morris wishing me a smokey birthday. Birthdays are hard to remember when you're on the road and having too much fun

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            A belated happy birthday to you also.
            ....
            Matos law: Murphy was a lucky B@stard!
            1979 GS850GN
            sigpic

            In memory of Dave "Gonzo" Steele
            1975-2008

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              Hi guys,

              The laptop finally took its last breath and died. I’ve ordered a new one and it should be here sometimes next week. Then I can transfer the pictures and my files and post the stories. Stay tuned.

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                Chris,

                I just wanted to say "Hi" and offer my continued thanks for sharing your adventure. May God continue to watch over you and give you safe travels.


                All the best,

                Cliff

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                  Thank you guys. every little thought and prayer helps I'm honored to have friends like you and I wouldn't do it any other way.

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                    Glad to see you posting here as I have not heard from you in a while, think we have a few board meetings to catch up on

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                      Hey Jared, how are you doing man? I called you a several times before my laptop died. The new one should be here next week so we'll catch up. How's your shoulder doing?

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                        Doing better, go in for surgery in a week to get the plate taken out. I have to pm you my new cell number. The old one works but never leaves the house so always miss the calls.

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                          December 12th, 2012 - Touring Brazil on Motorcycle – Curitiba

                          I know I’ve been away for an eternity but I’ll try to catch-up with the back stories as best as I can. My laptop took its last breath and finally gave up and left me hanging. I ordered the best mobile workstation I could find which took over a month to build and 40 days to ship down to South America. Now that I have no excuses, here is the rest of the story.

                          After the ignition switch repair, it was time to pack up and leave the beautiful Florianópolis but I was told to visit the south of the island or I was going to regret it. With that in mind, we rode south to see what all the fuss was about.

                          South of Florianópolis is the oldest part of the island with colonial houses and cobbled roads, and in more ways than other, it reminded me of fishing towns of the northeast except that it was tropical. The whole town revolved around one commodity and we soon found out why. The shallow waters of the bay produced some of the biggest oysters I’ve ever seen and the sheer size aside; they were the best I’ve ever tasted to this day. Again with the suggestion of the locals, we found our way to the best oyster joint in town and walked in. The restaurant was way too fancy for my traveling budget but the smell of seafood won the battle. They had nothing but seafood on the menu and the cheapest item was $15 which luckily was the oyster plate. I could write pages on how delicious these oysters were but pictures should do the justice.

                          Belly full and beautiful blue skies in sight, we headed north to my friend’s house in Curitiba. The 400km ride was beautiful with the blue ocean on the side and lots of twisties and the weather was the warmest in days. I started enjoying the ride until we took the first rest stop. The oil seal on the back of the transmission was leaking and it wasn’t a small leak either. My entire rear wheel was covered with slippery gear oil and the rear brake was useless. I could go without rear brake, but the condition of the slippery tire was unnerving and we were still 200km away from Curitiba.

                          At every opportunity I got on the sandy shoulders to clean the tire and topped off the oil. We limped away with me clinching my teeth and waiting for the deadly slide which never came. As a result the 200 remaining kilometers took almost five hours to cover and we got to Renato’s apartment well after dark. Renato is a mechanical engineer and university professor who I met while I was hired to develop a website for him. Renato and Patricia welcomed us into their home and a new friendship was born. They are awesome.

                          I started my search for the oil seal and as it was already the weekend, we put the work aside and went out to the countryside for a perfect Saturday picnic at Renato’s friend’s farm. Lush, beautiful, and rustic, this little farm was a place I could stay at forever. The festivity was not short of the 4th of July and we ate seemingly nonstop until the sun went down. Brazilians sure know how to BBQ and good company always make it doubly better.

                          When I finally came out of the food coma, with Renato’s help, we located the oil seal and got to work. To get to the rear transmission oil seal, I literally had to disassemble half of the bloody motorcycle to get to it, but it had to be done. In the process, I also found two broken bearings from the swing-arm pivot points. One bearing was completely destroyed and the other was broken in multiple places. At this point, I was glad the transmission started to leak as I would have never known about these problems.
                          We had to put everything on hold again until we found the right size bearings locally or have them shipped from the US. Stay tuned.

                          P.S. It was brought to my attention that the website contact-form is not working. If any of you have tried to contact me through the website for the past few months, I never received your message so my apologies. I’ll look into it ASAP.






















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                            Part II




















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                              Part III



















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                                December 16th, 2012 - Touring Brazil on Motorcycle – Santos

                                With two useless shocks, leaking fork seals, broken swingarm bearings, and a leaky transmission; the possibilities of going further into Brazil was growing dim, but you just have to keep fixing and rolling. After a few visits to different shops with Renato, we finally located the bearings and the oil seal. The problem was that we couldn’t find the right bearings as the original bearings had built-in rubber dust caps and the ones we found*didn't.*Since Renato taught a machining course at the Curitiba University, we headed to the university machine shop and we built our own. Taking off the old bearing races turned out to be a time consuming job without a welder, but nothing that a turret head milling machine*couldn't*handle. Finally, we cut two aluminum caps for the bearings and it actually turned out better than the original ones.

                                Curitiba is a nice city, with a very cool climate. Compared to the rest of Brazil, Curitiba is rather a cold place and when the rest of South Americans were in short sleeves and shorts, we bundled up with everything we had. We had a great time with Patricia and Renato and as much as they tried to teach us some basic Portuguese, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to pronounce a word correctly. Portuguese is an easy language to read but as soon as they speak it, all hopes go out of the window. From their apartment in the middle of downtown Curitiba, you could see a large flock of Herons that had made the tall trees of the city their permanent home. It was fascinating watching the giant birds, maneuver in the air so gracefully. Three feet tall with wing span of 5 feet, Great Egrets were almost driven to extinction at the end of the 19th century so that their feathers could decorate ladies’ hats, but they’ve bounced back in numbers and now they rightfully **** on hat of others.

                                We visited a local fair and a cool classic car show while there and passed time drinking Chimarrão (Brazilian version of Mate) and coco water. In good company, the time flies by and by the weekend, the bike was back on the road and we had to head north again. We were all set to head out on Friday but a sudden invitation back to Renato’s friend’s Farm was too good to resist. If I thought that the first festivity was the best that Brazil could offer, I was in for a surprise. Back at the farm, we ate and drank to a level which will be hard to beat, even by South American standards. As it turned out, Anderson also made homemade liquors so a tasting session was in order. All in all, when I tried to put on my motorcycle pants on Sunday, I*couldn't*button it up, no matter how hard I tried. I must have gained at least 10lb since entering Brazil. We said our farewell to our gracious friends and they sent us away with beautiful local woodwork gifts and Chimarrão for the road.

                                We headed north along the Atlantic coast for the coastal city of Santos in São Paulo State. Traffic started to get heavier as we got closer to São Paulo and it came to a halt 50 miles outside of the city. With 12 million souls in the city limit alone, São Paulo spreads out seemingly to no end and sheds its population on weekends to the nearby beaches. Those who have money go north or south, and the rest go straight for the beaches of Santos. Covering the last 50 miles to Santos became a Nintendo game of lane splitting between rows of cars with less than 5 inch clearance on each side.

                                We arrived in Santos around 8pm and found the city unnerving. With a long stretch of beaches, giant buildings, rival gangs, drunks, and drug dealers; Santos mirrors Miami in every sense except the language. Santos is a city that you could very well be killed for a nice pair of shoes if in a wrong place at a wrong time. As unnerving the city was, the people we met were extremely helpful and hospitable. Our couchsurfing host was a guy named Valmique and he bent backward and forward to make us comfortable. He arranged for the bike to be parked inside the garage, we chained it down and unloaded every piece of gear and hauled them up to his apartment on the 12th floor, and then we went to his friend’s house for a little party. It was at Shirley’s house that I remembered that it was my birthday so we doubly celebrated it. We had a great time in Santos, thanks to our new friends and we stayed another day. Lat day on the way down to the garage, a naked drunk guy walked in the elevator and rode down with us 12 floors in complete silence while staring at us. It was definitely time to leave Santos for a less happening city. Stay tuned.



















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