T
TheCafeKid
Guest
Ohhh no...we will NOT forget that, I must warn everyone how much it costs to fill up down there....LOLJosh, Don't forget how much it costs to fill up a Corolla in East Kentucky either!
-
Required reading for all forum users!!!
Welcome!
Register to access the full functionality of the GSResources forum. Until you register and activate your account you will not have full forum access, nor will you be able to post or reply to messages.A note to new registrants...
All new forum registrations must be activated via email before you have full access to the forum.A Special Note about Email accounts!
DO NOT SIGN UP USING hotmail, outlook, gmx, sbcglobal, att, bellsouth or email.com. They delete our forum signup emails.A note to old forum members...
I receive numerous requests from people who can no longer log in because their accounts were deleted. As mentioned in the forum FAQ, user accounts are deleted if you haven't logged in for the past 6 months. If you can't log in, then create a new forum account. If you don't get an error message, then check your email account for an activation message. If you get a message stating that the email address is already in use, then your account still exists so follow the instructions in the forum FAQ for resetting your password.Have you forgotten your password or have a new email address? Then read the forum FAQ for details on how to reset it.
Any email requests for "can't log in anymore" problems or "lost my password" problems will be deleted. Read the forum FAQ and follow the instructions there - that's what we have one for...
-
Returning Visitors
If you are a returning visitor who never received your confirmation email, then odds are your email provider is blockinig emails from our server. The only thing that can be done to get around this is you will have to try creating another forum account using an email address from another domain.
If you are a returning visitor to the forum and can't log in using your old forum name and password but used to be able to then chances are your account is deleted. Purges of the databases are done regularly. You will have to create a new forum account and you should be all set.
Fear And Loathing on The Way To Red River (or, My Tales from the Red River Rally)
S
seuadr
Guest
TCK is a motorcycle story tease!
T
TheCafeKid
Guest
Tonight, I promise....
S
seuadr
Guest
liar liar pants on fire! don't make me come down there and.. uh. eat.. at your.. restaurant?Tonight, I promise....
D
dwvoss
Guest
Still waiting.... :-\\\
P
PAULYBOY
Guest
Aahhhhhhhh-such potential
Aahhhhhhhh-such potential
C'mon, Josh. Finish what you started. As a previously published individual, I see potential in you, my son. You were weaving a very interesting and entertaining tale. You just need to writh the last chapter and finish it up!
Aahhhhhhhh-such potential
C'mon, Josh. Finish what you started. As a previously published individual, I see potential in you, my son. You were weaving a very interesting and entertaining tale. You just need to writh the last chapter and finish it up!
T
TheCafeKid
Guest
OK OK so its been a little while...sheesh..
OK OK so its been a little while...sheesh..
After everyone rehydrated, chatted for a bit and saddled back up, we headed up an amazingly fun road (I do believe it was KY399 but dont quote me on that) that was high speed sweeper after high speed sweeper, the kind that if you dont pay attention lasted so long that you'd become disoriented. You'd almost swear they were coming around a full 180 degrees. At some point there, Mike Riddle, who was leading, (had been most of the weekend and did a superior job i might add) bounced us off the mapped out route because we got stuck behind a slow moving dump truck. Exectutive decision there, and a good one at that. The route we took to get away from the truck climbed up and down a couple of ridges, snaking back and forth the whole time, untill it popped out into a small little town, one of many that cropped up on the Kentucky countryside. This one was particularly neat, as it was pretty old timey, with older buildings running down the left of what I would assume was the main drag in this little place. On the right hand side of the road however, there was a bit of a drop, and it looked out over a pristine green valley, farm fields with tobacco, soy beans and some other vegetation. The bright, hot, July sun lit the valley in a sureal way, making it seem like you had ridden right into one of the many postcards that littered the impulse racks at just about every filling station that we'd stopped at. Truely, this land was made for this very thing. People like us, who at different times of the year passed thru these parts in route to somewhere else, or simply visiting to take in the unspoiled scenery. This little part of the world was, by my estimation, no good for much else other than farming, as most of these towns seemed stuck in the past, stubborn to change, poor, living off the land and the dollars of people like ourselves, and damn proud of it. You got the sence that troubles here couldnt possibly compare to whatever was troubling you when you left home, or returned there. However, as with most places, the troubles are just as real whether you're passing thru, or digging in.
Shortly after passing thru this town, we ended up back on KY 11. In some parts, such as near our cabins, some 30 miles or so to the north, this road was a shere joy to ride, littered with long sweepers and gorgeous scenery like the roads we had just come from. However, this far south, The Great Commonwealth had deemed fit to widen the road to four lanes, and straighten it out significantly. The next 20 minutes of the ride were spent blasting North, my speedo running around 75-80mph the entire time. Normally, this would be slab hell, but with the heat of the day already, (and mind you, it was probably only 11ish at this point) in full gear, the wind blast was welcomed. It filtered thru my mesh riding gear, and my sweat soaked tshirt became instantly cool. I'd always refered to this as 360/60 AC. You were getting cooled 360 degrees at 60 (or more) miles per hour. Heh.
Finally, after 20 minutes or so, the road cut the number of lanes by two, and the sweepers and chicanes began. The slight relax of the previous stretch of road had my mind right to dive in to these babies with full vigor. Back and forth we blasted down the road. It was about this time that I was thinking to myself how impressed with how Cole (N1Elkyfan) was doing. Although the mere trip to the CABINS was more miles than he'd ever ridden, he seemed to have little fear of leaning that old 79 750L over just about as far as the tread would allow. And, it was just about this time that he seemed, from what I could tell, to become a bit delerious and mesmerized by the yellow line that kept wrapping back on itself in this particular stretch of sweepers. Suddenly, his bike was upright, and he was over into the other lane. His brakes lit up in a flash, and as soon as I saw the red, my brakes were on, trailing the rear brake heavily, as I was pretty much laid over. He regained controll quickly enough and got himself back into our lane. None to soon either, as coming immediately around the bend was a large town car type. In less than two seconds he could have been a hood ornament. His speed thru the remaining sweepers slowed just a touch, and in turn I backed off a little as not to make him feel pressured. I'm sure he was a little shaken, I would have been, and HAVE been in the same scenario down in WV, only I didnt have a car to negotiate. I simply knew that I had f***ed up royaly, and was riding over my limits at that point. He seemed to gather that himself, and that was fine. Id rather ride a little slower than to see a friend get hammered by a cager, needless to say. We came out of the sweepers just passed Natural Bridge, and the road straighted a bit, as the Mountain Parkway was upcoming, and the on and off ramps would need the clear vision of the straight road. I had just straightened the bike up coming out of the last nice curve, when suddenly a felt something quite disconcerting in the rear end of the bike. A steady "whomp whomp whomp" from the back wheel. Immediately, I knew there was a problem, and I had a good idea of what it was. I slowed and steered the bike for the first little set of roadside tourist traps I saw and stopped it. I shut it off, climbed off and started stripping my gear. Jim (RageZro) pulled up right behind me, but the rest of the crew in front of us took no notice that we had dropped off. This wasnt entirely unexpected, as off and on both Jim and I had been dropping back to tach the tight curves, he more so than I, but I wasnt suprised that they didnt notice.
I sat my helmet on the seat of the bike, wiped the sweat from my brow and scoweled at the bike. "You son of a bitch" I muttered under my breath. Jim had his helmet off by now and asked what the problem was. I explained that the final drive was dragging. I could feel it buffeting the rear wheel. I pulled the bike up on to the centrestand, and turned the wheel with my hand. It was indeed dragging in one spot. I double checked to assure that it wasnt my brake hanging up, and decided it wasnt. I then let off a slew of cussing that would make a sailor blush, or envious of my command of the foul mouth.
Shortly thereafter, as both Jim and I baked in the now seemingly twice as hot as earlier sunshine, the "Fast Group" who'd left probably 30 or more minutes AFTER us this morning on the same route, saw us and pulled into the lot. I remember thinking, "Man, they must have been hauling ass" cause we were not slouching ourselves. Brian Wringer stripped his helmet off and said something about construction traffic. I didnt quite catch it all as I was still busy fuming over my newest problem this weekend.
"Whats up?" he asked.
" I dunno for sure, the final feels like its dragging on something"
I started the bike up, and put it in gear on the center stand and let him watch it occilate, the back end of the bike vibrating fairly sharply every time it passed that spot where it was dragging. He and Al and I bounced ideas of what the problem was off eachother. The concensus was the rear wheel bearing was shot. Another slurry of sharp cussing from me, I think I may have even thrown something, but I cant remember for sure.
"Well, the good news is those bearings are common as dirt. 6303. Should be able to get them at just about any autoparts store." Brian stated.
Then coming up the road was the rest of the crew. They, when stopping to fuel up, realized that Jim and I were obviously NOT coming and doubled back to find us. While everyone yaked back and forth, Brian, Adam (AOD) and myself made busy with trying to locate these bearings. No luck from the auto parts stores. At least with the guys we could get on the phone. I was hesitant to strip the back wheel off to assure that this was the problem, as, if the bearing was truely shot, I feared it would come apart when I pulled the wheel and then I couldnt even LIMP the bike back to the cabin, which was only 10 or so miles back.
It was decided that we would go back up the road, leaving my bike, and eat lunch at a little greasy spoon that we'd passed and work on the situation....
OK OK so its been a little while...sheesh..
After everyone rehydrated, chatted for a bit and saddled back up, we headed up an amazingly fun road (I do believe it was KY399 but dont quote me on that) that was high speed sweeper after high speed sweeper, the kind that if you dont pay attention lasted so long that you'd become disoriented. You'd almost swear they were coming around a full 180 degrees. At some point there, Mike Riddle, who was leading, (had been most of the weekend and did a superior job i might add) bounced us off the mapped out route because we got stuck behind a slow moving dump truck. Exectutive decision there, and a good one at that. The route we took to get away from the truck climbed up and down a couple of ridges, snaking back and forth the whole time, untill it popped out into a small little town, one of many that cropped up on the Kentucky countryside. This one was particularly neat, as it was pretty old timey, with older buildings running down the left of what I would assume was the main drag in this little place. On the right hand side of the road however, there was a bit of a drop, and it looked out over a pristine green valley, farm fields with tobacco, soy beans and some other vegetation. The bright, hot, July sun lit the valley in a sureal way, making it seem like you had ridden right into one of the many postcards that littered the impulse racks at just about every filling station that we'd stopped at. Truely, this land was made for this very thing. People like us, who at different times of the year passed thru these parts in route to somewhere else, or simply visiting to take in the unspoiled scenery. This little part of the world was, by my estimation, no good for much else other than farming, as most of these towns seemed stuck in the past, stubborn to change, poor, living off the land and the dollars of people like ourselves, and damn proud of it. You got the sence that troubles here couldnt possibly compare to whatever was troubling you when you left home, or returned there. However, as with most places, the troubles are just as real whether you're passing thru, or digging in.
Shortly after passing thru this town, we ended up back on KY 11. In some parts, such as near our cabins, some 30 miles or so to the north, this road was a shere joy to ride, littered with long sweepers and gorgeous scenery like the roads we had just come from. However, this far south, The Great Commonwealth had deemed fit to widen the road to four lanes, and straighten it out significantly. The next 20 minutes of the ride were spent blasting North, my speedo running around 75-80mph the entire time. Normally, this would be slab hell, but with the heat of the day already, (and mind you, it was probably only 11ish at this point) in full gear, the wind blast was welcomed. It filtered thru my mesh riding gear, and my sweat soaked tshirt became instantly cool. I'd always refered to this as 360/60 AC. You were getting cooled 360 degrees at 60 (or more) miles per hour. Heh.
Finally, after 20 minutes or so, the road cut the number of lanes by two, and the sweepers and chicanes began. The slight relax of the previous stretch of road had my mind right to dive in to these babies with full vigor. Back and forth we blasted down the road. It was about this time that I was thinking to myself how impressed with how Cole (N1Elkyfan) was doing. Although the mere trip to the CABINS was more miles than he'd ever ridden, he seemed to have little fear of leaning that old 79 750L over just about as far as the tread would allow. And, it was just about this time that he seemed, from what I could tell, to become a bit delerious and mesmerized by the yellow line that kept wrapping back on itself in this particular stretch of sweepers. Suddenly, his bike was upright, and he was over into the other lane. His brakes lit up in a flash, and as soon as I saw the red, my brakes were on, trailing the rear brake heavily, as I was pretty much laid over. He regained controll quickly enough and got himself back into our lane. None to soon either, as coming immediately around the bend was a large town car type. In less than two seconds he could have been a hood ornament. His speed thru the remaining sweepers slowed just a touch, and in turn I backed off a little as not to make him feel pressured. I'm sure he was a little shaken, I would have been, and HAVE been in the same scenario down in WV, only I didnt have a car to negotiate. I simply knew that I had f***ed up royaly, and was riding over my limits at that point. He seemed to gather that himself, and that was fine. Id rather ride a little slower than to see a friend get hammered by a cager, needless to say. We came out of the sweepers just passed Natural Bridge, and the road straighted a bit, as the Mountain Parkway was upcoming, and the on and off ramps would need the clear vision of the straight road. I had just straightened the bike up coming out of the last nice curve, when suddenly a felt something quite disconcerting in the rear end of the bike. A steady "whomp whomp whomp" from the back wheel. Immediately, I knew there was a problem, and I had a good idea of what it was. I slowed and steered the bike for the first little set of roadside tourist traps I saw and stopped it. I shut it off, climbed off and started stripping my gear. Jim (RageZro) pulled up right behind me, but the rest of the crew in front of us took no notice that we had dropped off. This wasnt entirely unexpected, as off and on both Jim and I had been dropping back to tach the tight curves, he more so than I, but I wasnt suprised that they didnt notice.
I sat my helmet on the seat of the bike, wiped the sweat from my brow and scoweled at the bike. "You son of a bitch" I muttered under my breath. Jim had his helmet off by now and asked what the problem was. I explained that the final drive was dragging. I could feel it buffeting the rear wheel. I pulled the bike up on to the centrestand, and turned the wheel with my hand. It was indeed dragging in one spot. I double checked to assure that it wasnt my brake hanging up, and decided it wasnt. I then let off a slew of cussing that would make a sailor blush, or envious of my command of the foul mouth.
Shortly thereafter, as both Jim and I baked in the now seemingly twice as hot as earlier sunshine, the "Fast Group" who'd left probably 30 or more minutes AFTER us this morning on the same route, saw us and pulled into the lot. I remember thinking, "Man, they must have been hauling ass" cause we were not slouching ourselves. Brian Wringer stripped his helmet off and said something about construction traffic. I didnt quite catch it all as I was still busy fuming over my newest problem this weekend.
"Whats up?" he asked.
" I dunno for sure, the final feels like its dragging on something"
I started the bike up, and put it in gear on the center stand and let him watch it occilate, the back end of the bike vibrating fairly sharply every time it passed that spot where it was dragging. He and Al and I bounced ideas of what the problem was off eachother. The concensus was the rear wheel bearing was shot. Another slurry of sharp cussing from me, I think I may have even thrown something, but I cant remember for sure.
"Well, the good news is those bearings are common as dirt. 6303. Should be able to get them at just about any autoparts store." Brian stated.
Then coming up the road was the rest of the crew. They, when stopping to fuel up, realized that Jim and I were obviously NOT coming and doubled back to find us. While everyone yaked back and forth, Brian, Adam (AOD) and myself made busy with trying to locate these bearings. No luck from the auto parts stores. At least with the guys we could get on the phone. I was hesitant to strip the back wheel off to assure that this was the problem, as, if the bearing was truely shot, I feared it would come apart when I pulled the wheel and then I couldnt even LIMP the bike back to the cabin, which was only 10 or so miles back.
It was decided that we would go back up the road, leaving my bike, and eat lunch at a little greasy spoon that we'd passed and work on the situation....
Last edited:
T
TheCafeKid
Guest
We all gathered and had lunch. It was decided that Marge, Brian's wife would take me in their car, which she had driven down to the cabins, to go hunting for the bearings I needed. So, off she and I went, and off the group went to enjoy the rest of the day.
Let me preface this next part by saying that Brian, Marge and everyone else were so amazingly helpful, I couldnt begin to thank them enough. I have strong suspicions that not many groups in the world are as tight knit as this, even though I had never met most of these people before in my life other than talking to them on the board here. Let me also say that the following part of this tale was likely one of the most infuriating times of my life. For all the beauty and splendor of Kentucky, and its quaint reluctance to step into modern times, its this very thing that can turn to bite you in a time of need. So, let this be a lesson to all of you. When you take a trip such as this to Kentucky, WV or any other remote, backwoods locale, BE PREPARED...heh. (there are still simply some things you cannot be prepared for)
Our first targets were a couple of auto parts stores that Adam had looked up on his phone located in Campton, about 20 miles away from where we started. Now, 20 miles generally isnt much, but 20 miles on some Kentucky roads can last a century, what with the windingness of them. Fortunately, this part of the trip was on the Mountain Parkway, mini slab, and we were there in a jiff. The biggest threat here for us, besides being able to find the bearings at all, was the fact that it was now well after noon. And Saturday. In Kentucky. Where they roll up the sidewalks early on the weekends. So time was of the essence for sure. Our first stop was a Napa. Guess what? Closed. Shop number two had nothing. Campton was a bust. Marge and talked about options, and then decided to keep hunting. I had seen an Advance Autoparts on a recent trip to Beatyville. So, we started down KY 15 bound for Beatyville. En route, we passed thru Jackson, where we stopped at a couple of places there to check. No one had any idea what I was talking about. I was becoming more and more annoyed. Some time later, we had stopped at an ATV shop. The young kid there said he didnt have what I needed, but that there was a YammaHondaKawaZuki dealership in Hazzard. Another 30 miles away. BUT, they were open till 5pm, and this seemed like the best bet. I went out and informed Marge of the possibility, and she was all for trying, which I thought was very very nice of her. She needed gas though, and I instantly offered to fill up her tank. Ohhh... what a fiasco ensued...
Let me preface this next part by saying that Brian, Marge and everyone else were so amazingly helpful, I couldnt begin to thank them enough. I have strong suspicions that not many groups in the world are as tight knit as this, even though I had never met most of these people before in my life other than talking to them on the board here. Let me also say that the following part of this tale was likely one of the most infuriating times of my life. For all the beauty and splendor of Kentucky, and its quaint reluctance to step into modern times, its this very thing that can turn to bite you in a time of need. So, let this be a lesson to all of you. When you take a trip such as this to Kentucky, WV or any other remote, backwoods locale, BE PREPARED...heh. (there are still simply some things you cannot be prepared for)
Our first targets were a couple of auto parts stores that Adam had looked up on his phone located in Campton, about 20 miles away from where we started. Now, 20 miles generally isnt much, but 20 miles on some Kentucky roads can last a century, what with the windingness of them. Fortunately, this part of the trip was on the Mountain Parkway, mini slab, and we were there in a jiff. The biggest threat here for us, besides being able to find the bearings at all, was the fact that it was now well after noon. And Saturday. In Kentucky. Where they roll up the sidewalks early on the weekends. So time was of the essence for sure. Our first stop was a Napa. Guess what? Closed. Shop number two had nothing. Campton was a bust. Marge and talked about options, and then decided to keep hunting. I had seen an Advance Autoparts on a recent trip to Beatyville. So, we started down KY 15 bound for Beatyville. En route, we passed thru Jackson, where we stopped at a couple of places there to check. No one had any idea what I was talking about. I was becoming more and more annoyed. Some time later, we had stopped at an ATV shop. The young kid there said he didnt have what I needed, but that there was a YammaHondaKawaZuki dealership in Hazzard. Another 30 miles away. BUT, they were open till 5pm, and this seemed like the best bet. I went out and informed Marge of the possibility, and she was all for trying, which I thought was very very nice of her. She needed gas though, and I instantly offered to fill up her tank. Ohhh... what a fiasco ensued...
P
p_s
Guest
I've definitely experienced the GSR hospitality, and I'm sure most other groups aren't anything like it. Don't say the motorcycle dealer stocked something exotic like wheel bearings?! They offered to order them, right?
R
Rake
Guest
I may have come into it late but I am loving it! You sir can write!
I'd love to tell my tale about 4 flat tires in 3 days on a road trip but after reading yours Id be too embarrassed!
I'd love to tell my tale about 4 flat tires in 3 days on a road trip but after reading yours Id be too embarrassed!
G
Guest
Guest
It's been 2 weeks, even typing one handed and just with your left hand at that you should be about ready to post the final chapter! 
Just sayin'....
Just sayin'....
T
TurboChris
Guest
Com'on now.......we're waiting. Great storys like these HAVE to be shared...
CafeKid....?
Kid.....?
You there?
Okay, so I have been reading along. Enjoying your writting style. Saying yah, that sounds like Brain, yah, that sounds like Adam.
I see that you have learnt about lubing the rear hub (something I have learned).
And now you are about to learn about wheel bearings (maybe I will learn from you). Will check back for the continiouing story.
Need any more pictures explaining stripped out rear hubs? har har har
Dave "Redman"
PS: Red River Rally is bi-annuall? Hum, that was on my list to concider for the upcomming year.
Kid.....?
You there?
Okay, so I have been reading along. Enjoying your writting style. Saying yah, that sounds like Brain, yah, that sounds like Adam.
I see that you have learnt about lubing the rear hub (something I have learned).
And now you are about to learn about wheel bearings (maybe I will learn from you). Will check back for the continiouing story.
Need any more pictures explaining stripped out rear hubs? har har har
Dave "Redman"
PS: Red River Rally is bi-annuall? Hum, that was on my list to concider for the upcomming year.
T
TheCafeKid
Guest
Right right right...my bad folks...
Right right right...my bad folks...
SO..where was I...hrmmm, Oh yes..
I cant quite remember now, which town exactly, it was that we were in when we stopped for gas. Maybe Jackson? Something like that. A town of many on the way to Hazzard. As much as it would have been not so fun to ride this particular stretch of 15 for the turns, as there really werent any anymore, it did have some majestic views. The road trailed thru passages blasted thru solid rock, and in turn, the action of blasting those passages, left sharp, jagged walls on either side of the road, glistening in the sunlight as the moisture burried deep in those rocks found its way to the surface, and down the face of these man made cliffs. The heat of the day, and the frustration had me a bit burnt, and I nodded off for a bit in the car. We pulled into a fuel station, somewhere, and I went inside to pay, or at least give them my card so they would start the pump for Marge. I tossed my card on the counter, and pointed out to the little white Toyota. I even TOLD the clerk, "the little white Toyota"
She replied "Pump 3?" I looked out to the lot. She was the only car that I saw out there, so i says "yeah, sure"
Leaving my card on the counter, I went to use the restroom and grab Marge and I something to drink. When I returned to the counter, there was a gentleman standing there, chatting with the clerk. She looked at me and stated that the total was 75 dollars and some change. I know I must have had a completely puzzled look on my face, as I looked at her, and looked out at the little white Tercell, and back at her. I thought to myself, "What, is she stowing gas inside the doors of that thing or what??" But, I hadnt paid attention to the price of gas when I went in, and who knows, maybe that thing had a bigger tank than I had thought. So, still with some bit of hesitation, I said, Ok, and signed my slip, and went out the door. Walking back out to the lot, I still couldnt fathom the thought that that little car was taking 70 something dollars worth of gas...and then I looked up. Marge was still standing there, the pump handle still on its hook. I stopped dead...
Right right right...my bad folks...
SO..where was I...hrmmm, Oh yes..
I cant quite remember now, which town exactly, it was that we were in when we stopped for gas. Maybe Jackson? Something like that. A town of many on the way to Hazzard. As much as it would have been not so fun to ride this particular stretch of 15 for the turns, as there really werent any anymore, it did have some majestic views. The road trailed thru passages blasted thru solid rock, and in turn, the action of blasting those passages, left sharp, jagged walls on either side of the road, glistening in the sunlight as the moisture burried deep in those rocks found its way to the surface, and down the face of these man made cliffs. The heat of the day, and the frustration had me a bit burnt, and I nodded off for a bit in the car. We pulled into a fuel station, somewhere, and I went inside to pay, or at least give them my card so they would start the pump for Marge. I tossed my card on the counter, and pointed out to the little white Toyota. I even TOLD the clerk, "the little white Toyota"
She replied "Pump 3?" I looked out to the lot. She was the only car that I saw out there, so i says "yeah, sure"
Leaving my card on the counter, I went to use the restroom and grab Marge and I something to drink. When I returned to the counter, there was a gentleman standing there, chatting with the clerk. She looked at me and stated that the total was 75 dollars and some change. I know I must have had a completely puzzled look on my face, as I looked at her, and looked out at the little white Tercell, and back at her. I thought to myself, "What, is she stowing gas inside the doors of that thing or what??" But, I hadnt paid attention to the price of gas when I went in, and who knows, maybe that thing had a bigger tank than I had thought. So, still with some bit of hesitation, I said, Ok, and signed my slip, and went out the door. Walking back out to the lot, I still couldnt fathom the thought that that little car was taking 70 something dollars worth of gas...and then I looked up. Marge was still standing there, the pump handle still on its hook. I stopped dead...
T
TheCafeKid
Guest
"Is she going to start the pump??" Marge questioned.
It was then that I realized that, yes, some grave error had been made by both me and the clerk. "Jaysus, hang on" I replied to her.
I walked back up to the counter, where the gent was still chatting, and looked at the lady.
"There's been some sort of misunderstanding" I stated "she hasnt pumped any gas yet."
She was already confused, as the gent she was talking to was trying to pay for HIS gas, on the other side of the lot. She and I both looked out to see his ginormous van. I looked back at her...there had to be a bit of an angry sneer on my face at this point...Moreso at myself than with her, but it was written on my face, and she immediately took it as I was angry with her.
" Oh im sooo sorry" She appologised. "Well," she fumbled a bit "HE owes you 75 dollars." She pointed at the guy at the counter, who then looked at me like "who the hell are you, and how do I owe you 75 bucks?" The clerk quickly explained to him that I had paid for his gas, which is why she couldnt find it on the computer screen. So, the guy handed me 75 bucks, and laughed and was on his way. The clerk started the pump, and Marge filled up, to the tune of 28ish dollars. That was more like it, I thought.
Back out in the car, I explained to Marge what happened and we both had a bit of a laugh. THIS was just how this day was going, and I was begining to think that it wasnt going to turn around any time soon.
Back on the road we went, and soon saw the rather large YamaKawaHondaZuki dealership. We pulled in to a suprisingly busy lot. This gave me quite a bit of hope actually, as, if this place was this busy on a late Saturday afternoon, this MUST be the only place around that had parts. Maybe the day was turning after all.
I walked up to the parts counter, and a late teens early 20s kid asked me if he could help me.
"Man i sure as hell hope so. Im stuck about 500 miles from home at this point, and I need some wheel bearings to get my bike on the road." I stated.
He asked the make and model of bike, and I told him, 82 Suzuki GS1100G.
"GSX1100?" He asked...
"No, not quite, GS1100G" I said again.
He fingered the keyboard of his computer for a while, "hrmming" and staring into the screen like it was a crystal ball, or like it was going to talk to him and tell him what he needed to know. This went on for about 10 or so minutes, untill finally, and I saw it, a lightbulb went on in his head.
" Oh man," he said, " I just remembered, we dont even have any Suzuki parts. We JUST took on the Suzuki dealership, and havent gotten any stock in yet" He looked at me wide eyed, almost as if to say, "Youre screwed dude"
I think I might have popped a gasket a little bit on him, which I felt bad for later, but I had had enough.
"Look, Dude," I said, "these are not manufacturer specific bearings. They were used on all kinda ****. Lawnmowers, tractors, rototillers, bikes, everything. I dont care if it says Suzuki on the package, or if it says Yamaha, Kawasaki, Honda, Ducati or Huskavarna on it. I just need TWO of bearing number 6303."
He looked at me wide eyed again, clearly seeing my patience had worn thin, and I was getting rather perturbed with either him, the situation, or both.
"Well man, you can come in the back and have a look thru the bearings and see if you can find some" he said.
That was good enough for me. I was behind the counter in a flash, and into the back digging thru bins upon bins of bearings in little bags. They were haphazzardly organized, many different types in a bin marked for one type. But i continued on. Suddenly he shouts " I found ONE!"
I rounded the corner of the shelf.
"Good, but i need TWO." I replied
So we dug some more, untill i found one all the way on the other end of the shelf.
Elated, we went back out to the counter, and he rang me up. The bearings werent in their system, even tho they were in HONDA bags. Apparently, nothing they sold used them. So he turned and whispered to the parts dept manager, who whispered back. 'Great,' I thought "they're going to gouge the sh!t out of me for these"
The kid typed on the keyboard, asked my address, which I told him, and when he heard " Dayton, Ohio" he looked up, as if to say "You werent kidding were you, you really ARE stuck out here"
A couple more tacks on the keys, and he said "22.50"
"EACH??" I questioned.
"No, for them both" He replied.
I gladdly handed over the money, turned back to see Marge standing there, both of us with grins on our faces, and back to the car.
We headed over from 15 to 11, and back up to where my bike was parked. Again the heat, and now the relief of the stress was enough and I nodded off again for a short time. A bit later, we pulled into the lot and I began stripping my rear wheel apart. I had parked it on the sidewalk next to a building in the shade, so i backed it up to the edge of the walk, and undid the upper shock bolts, and slid them off the posts, and the wheel dropped off the edge of the walk, low enough that i could get the axle out without dealing with the pipes. Brian showed up with a couple of the other guys a few minutes later, and pitched in with me. After a few hot sweaty minutes, the wheel was off, and Brian went to looking at the bearings. As he was, I looked over at the bike, now sans wheel, and then saw some scuffing on the pumpkin. I then looked over at Brian, and he looked up at me.
"Well, its not the bearings, its this" he pointed to a couple of the bolts that hold the inner hub gear in place. Our lack of having any loctite when I replaced the inner gear had allowed the bolts to back out just a bit, and drag on the pumpkin. I didnt need the bearings that we had just spent many hours and many miles searching high and low for...
Needless to say, I was a bit embarassed. "Huh. I guess we should have pulled that wheel off first eh?" I said, somewhat sheepishly.
"Well," replied Brian "if you'd had, and it WAS the bearings, and you couldnt find any, it would have been bad, so I guess it was a good thing we didnt"
I still felt like a total ass. All the running and stress and whatnot that Id put on he and Marge was needless. I could have fixed the problem in about 15 minutes had I looked, and we could have been out riding the whole time. I was now furious with myself, at the situation, and at the bike, even though it was no ones fault but my own. We spent a few minutes, and replaced one bolt, which was bent over, and tightened down the rest, which i doubled up on with an impact driver. Hopefully, this would hold. No way we could get loctite at this point. We reassembled the bike, and everyone geared back up. Most had already called it a day and gone back to the cabin, but Brian, Jim, and Adam and Al said they were going to run 2016 again, as it was a blast. I agreed to go with, since i had missed out on the day for the most part. We headed up 11 to get gas, and I filled up. Standing in line, I had the sudden realization that I simply did not have my head into riding anymore today, and 2016 was a bit of a fun twister, but with a couple hairy areas. I decided it was best that I simply went back to the cabin, rather than run the risk of riding without full concentration on the task at hand.
I let them know of my intent, and we parted ways. Later that night, everyone gathered for a final meal together at the big cabin, as most would be leaving the next morning for home, but Jim, Victor, Cole, Mike and Scott and I would be staying one more day and leaving Monday. After the meal, we all sat out on the deck, jawing and swapping stories. I regaled my tale of woe in the hunt for the bearings, and everyone got quite the kick out of the misfunction at the gas station. The day ended on a high note, and the following day was spent ripping thru the Kentucky countryside again. This time, though, I had no misfortune, and had quite the day with Jim, Cole, Vic, Mike and his boy Adam. We came back to the cabin late that evening, completely tuckered out but full of grins. The sun was begining to set, and the heat was subsiding. We had beers on the deck, and sat enjoying our last night at the cabin. Vic left a little earlier on in the afternoon, as did Adam, so now it was only Jim, Cole, Mike, Scott and his wife and I. And of course Miley the rides mascott.
Later that night a wicked summer storm moved thru, and we watched the lightning bounce around the gorge. It was an amazing site, a tribute to the power of mother nature, and the beauty of our surroundings. Early the next morning, we all headed out to the gas station, had some chicken biscuits for breakfast, topped off oil and the tanks, and Mike parted ways with us. Jim, Cole and I headed for home, but we managed to make what would have been a 3 hour trip last 8. We found some beautiful roads on the way back, and some of which were used on Jims SWOKZ rally this year. I hit my drive way late in the evening on Monday, with a heavy heart. Such a wonderfull place, and we'd barely scratched the surface as far as the roads in the area went. Its too bad its a bi-annual ride, as it would take us 10 straight years id bet to ride out everything in that area alone, let alone 100 miles in just about any direction.
Hope to see you guys there in 2010!!!
TCK
It was then that I realized that, yes, some grave error had been made by both me and the clerk. "Jaysus, hang on" I replied to her.
I walked back up to the counter, where the gent was still chatting, and looked at the lady.
"There's been some sort of misunderstanding" I stated "she hasnt pumped any gas yet."
She was already confused, as the gent she was talking to was trying to pay for HIS gas, on the other side of the lot. She and I both looked out to see his ginormous van. I looked back at her...there had to be a bit of an angry sneer on my face at this point...Moreso at myself than with her, but it was written on my face, and she immediately took it as I was angry with her.
" Oh im sooo sorry" She appologised. "Well," she fumbled a bit "HE owes you 75 dollars." She pointed at the guy at the counter, who then looked at me like "who the hell are you, and how do I owe you 75 bucks?" The clerk quickly explained to him that I had paid for his gas, which is why she couldnt find it on the computer screen. So, the guy handed me 75 bucks, and laughed and was on his way. The clerk started the pump, and Marge filled up, to the tune of 28ish dollars. That was more like it, I thought.
Back out in the car, I explained to Marge what happened and we both had a bit of a laugh. THIS was just how this day was going, and I was begining to think that it wasnt going to turn around any time soon.
Back on the road we went, and soon saw the rather large YamaKawaHondaZuki dealership. We pulled in to a suprisingly busy lot. This gave me quite a bit of hope actually, as, if this place was this busy on a late Saturday afternoon, this MUST be the only place around that had parts. Maybe the day was turning after all.
I walked up to the parts counter, and a late teens early 20s kid asked me if he could help me.
"Man i sure as hell hope so. Im stuck about 500 miles from home at this point, and I need some wheel bearings to get my bike on the road." I stated.
He asked the make and model of bike, and I told him, 82 Suzuki GS1100G.
"GSX1100?" He asked...
"No, not quite, GS1100G" I said again.
He fingered the keyboard of his computer for a while, "hrmming" and staring into the screen like it was a crystal ball, or like it was going to talk to him and tell him what he needed to know. This went on for about 10 or so minutes, untill finally, and I saw it, a lightbulb went on in his head.
" Oh man," he said, " I just remembered, we dont even have any Suzuki parts. We JUST took on the Suzuki dealership, and havent gotten any stock in yet" He looked at me wide eyed, almost as if to say, "Youre screwed dude"
I think I might have popped a gasket a little bit on him, which I felt bad for later, but I had had enough.
"Look, Dude," I said, "these are not manufacturer specific bearings. They were used on all kinda ****. Lawnmowers, tractors, rototillers, bikes, everything. I dont care if it says Suzuki on the package, or if it says Yamaha, Kawasaki, Honda, Ducati or Huskavarna on it. I just need TWO of bearing number 6303."
He looked at me wide eyed again, clearly seeing my patience had worn thin, and I was getting rather perturbed with either him, the situation, or both.
"Well man, you can come in the back and have a look thru the bearings and see if you can find some" he said.
That was good enough for me. I was behind the counter in a flash, and into the back digging thru bins upon bins of bearings in little bags. They were haphazzardly organized, many different types in a bin marked for one type. But i continued on. Suddenly he shouts " I found ONE!"
I rounded the corner of the shelf.
"Good, but i need TWO." I replied
So we dug some more, untill i found one all the way on the other end of the shelf.
Elated, we went back out to the counter, and he rang me up. The bearings werent in their system, even tho they were in HONDA bags. Apparently, nothing they sold used them. So he turned and whispered to the parts dept manager, who whispered back. 'Great,' I thought "they're going to gouge the sh!t out of me for these"
The kid typed on the keyboard, asked my address, which I told him, and when he heard " Dayton, Ohio" he looked up, as if to say "You werent kidding were you, you really ARE stuck out here"
A couple more tacks on the keys, and he said "22.50"
"EACH??" I questioned.
"No, for them both" He replied.
I gladdly handed over the money, turned back to see Marge standing there, both of us with grins on our faces, and back to the car.
We headed over from 15 to 11, and back up to where my bike was parked. Again the heat, and now the relief of the stress was enough and I nodded off again for a short time. A bit later, we pulled into the lot and I began stripping my rear wheel apart. I had parked it on the sidewalk next to a building in the shade, so i backed it up to the edge of the walk, and undid the upper shock bolts, and slid them off the posts, and the wheel dropped off the edge of the walk, low enough that i could get the axle out without dealing with the pipes. Brian showed up with a couple of the other guys a few minutes later, and pitched in with me. After a few hot sweaty minutes, the wheel was off, and Brian went to looking at the bearings. As he was, I looked over at the bike, now sans wheel, and then saw some scuffing on the pumpkin. I then looked over at Brian, and he looked up at me.
"Well, its not the bearings, its this" he pointed to a couple of the bolts that hold the inner hub gear in place. Our lack of having any loctite when I replaced the inner gear had allowed the bolts to back out just a bit, and drag on the pumpkin. I didnt need the bearings that we had just spent many hours and many miles searching high and low for...
Needless to say, I was a bit embarassed. "Huh. I guess we should have pulled that wheel off first eh?" I said, somewhat sheepishly.
"Well," replied Brian "if you'd had, and it WAS the bearings, and you couldnt find any, it would have been bad, so I guess it was a good thing we didnt"
I still felt like a total ass. All the running and stress and whatnot that Id put on he and Marge was needless. I could have fixed the problem in about 15 minutes had I looked, and we could have been out riding the whole time. I was now furious with myself, at the situation, and at the bike, even though it was no ones fault but my own. We spent a few minutes, and replaced one bolt, which was bent over, and tightened down the rest, which i doubled up on with an impact driver. Hopefully, this would hold. No way we could get loctite at this point. We reassembled the bike, and everyone geared back up. Most had already called it a day and gone back to the cabin, but Brian, Jim, and Adam and Al said they were going to run 2016 again, as it was a blast. I agreed to go with, since i had missed out on the day for the most part. We headed up 11 to get gas, and I filled up. Standing in line, I had the sudden realization that I simply did not have my head into riding anymore today, and 2016 was a bit of a fun twister, but with a couple hairy areas. I decided it was best that I simply went back to the cabin, rather than run the risk of riding without full concentration on the task at hand.
I let them know of my intent, and we parted ways. Later that night, everyone gathered for a final meal together at the big cabin, as most would be leaving the next morning for home, but Jim, Victor, Cole, Mike and Scott and I would be staying one more day and leaving Monday. After the meal, we all sat out on the deck, jawing and swapping stories. I regaled my tale of woe in the hunt for the bearings, and everyone got quite the kick out of the misfunction at the gas station. The day ended on a high note, and the following day was spent ripping thru the Kentucky countryside again. This time, though, I had no misfortune, and had quite the day with Jim, Cole, Vic, Mike and his boy Adam. We came back to the cabin late that evening, completely tuckered out but full of grins. The sun was begining to set, and the heat was subsiding. We had beers on the deck, and sat enjoying our last night at the cabin. Vic left a little earlier on in the afternoon, as did Adam, so now it was only Jim, Cole, Mike, Scott and his wife and I. And of course Miley the rides mascott.
Later that night a wicked summer storm moved thru, and we watched the lightning bounce around the gorge. It was an amazing site, a tribute to the power of mother nature, and the beauty of our surroundings. Early the next morning, we all headed out to the gas station, had some chicken biscuits for breakfast, topped off oil and the tanks, and Mike parted ways with us. Jim, Cole and I headed for home, but we managed to make what would have been a 3 hour trip last 8. We found some beautiful roads on the way back, and some of which were used on Jims SWOKZ rally this year. I hit my drive way late in the evening on Monday, with a heavy heart. Such a wonderfull place, and we'd barely scratched the surface as far as the roads in the area went. Its too bad its a bi-annual ride, as it would take us 10 straight years id bet to ride out everything in that area alone, let alone 100 miles in just about any direction.
Hope to see you guys there in 2010!!!
TCK
T
TheCafeKid
Guest
I have considered making the RRR an annual rally, but with the proximity in time to the WV rally, and no other real place to put it between the BC rally, and the WV rally, Don and I had pretty much agreed to do each every other year. However, if someone has a suggestion, so that it doesnt impede on another rally, Im all for atempting an annual rally down there. It really is quite a magnificent area, and like I said, this past rally, we BARELY scratched the surface of what is to offer there...
M
martyman
Guest
Great story telling...I really enjoyed that.
A few years back I took the long route to Florida through Southern hills towards the coast (a scenic trip). My wife and kids sound asleep in the Mini-van and I was hoping to find a stop to sleep. Winding and winding it never stopped and at one point driving in the pitch black (nothing to light the way except my headlights) I drove my van into space and even with blinking my eyes and shaking my head I felt no road below, just the tingle of my energy drink and pure fear and imminent death surrounding me. The next day at a service station I noticed a vehicle with damage down the side of the vehicle and surmised that it must have been someone that fell asleep. I've driven in Snow storms (I plow for a living) and have 25 years experience and will never forget that night in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
A few years back I took the long route to Florida through Southern hills towards the coast (a scenic trip). My wife and kids sound asleep in the Mini-van and I was hoping to find a stop to sleep. Winding and winding it never stopped and at one point driving in the pitch black (nothing to light the way except my headlights) I drove my van into space and even with blinking my eyes and shaking my head I felt no road below, just the tingle of my energy drink and pure fear and imminent death surrounding me. The next day at a service station I noticed a vehicle with damage down the side of the vehicle and surmised that it must have been someone that fell asleep. I've driven in Snow storms (I plow for a living) and have 25 years experience and will never forget that night in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
