"Just Rub a Couple Sticks Together..."

If only it was that easy to stay warm on your motorcycle in the winter, right?

If you're like me, you want to ride your motorcycle year-round; none of this parking your baby until spring with gas stabilizer in the tank to keep her from waking up cranky, a plug in the exhaust to keep out the mice, and a nice warm blanky so she knows you still love her even though you've set her aside for the warm, dry cab of your pickemup truck. Of course, you probably also have a strong aversion to shivering, turning blue, and the occasional finger, toe, or other cherished appendage dropping off due to frostbite.

Oklahoma sees its share of cold temperatures -- and more than its share of ice and freezing rain. When there's ice on the roads, leave your bike at home; otherwise, you can ride if you know how to stay warm ... even when it's as cold as the proverbial witch's tit.

While it might not be the Great White North, Oklahoma sees its share of cold temps. This is December 8th of last year ... the number in the lower right is the outdoor temp. Yeah, it does say 8 degrees.

Keep in mind that you're generating your own wind while riding (no, I'm not referring to the gaseous emanations resulting from that chili you ate the night before). The effect commonly known as the wind chill factor will drain the warmth from your body faster than Dracula drains the blood from pretty girls in their nightgowns. For example, if you're riding at 60 mph in 35 degree weather, it's going to seem like it's 17 (reference the chart below), so plan accordingly. (For more information on the effects of wind chill, the National Weather Service maintains a great website here.)

Don't forget the wind chill factor when planning your ride.

How long you plan to ride is also important when choosing between your motorcycle or the embarrassment of borrowing the wife's minivan. My commute to work is less than 15 minutes in duration, allowing me to ride when many of my friends who have an hour-long ride are forced to seek alternate means of transportation (i.e., a vehicle in which I will not wave back when we pass). When traveling in extreme temperatures, plan for more frequent stops. You need to get off the bike and move around to keep your blood circulating. Don't expect to be able to match the distances you covered when riding in more temperate months.

What type of bike you've chosen is also a factor. It's much easier for me to stay warm on my sport-touring bike than my dualsport, because on the sportbike I have all that plastic to hide behind and the fairing naturally directs all the engine heat up toward my body. A cruiser with no windscreen leaves your upper body completely exposed. Both a cruiser and a half-faired bike will leave your lower extremities to the wind's not-so-tender mercies.

Independence Pass, Colorado. 12,095 feet and a balmy 32 degrees.

Of course, the most important thing to consider is the gear you wear. While leather is excellent for blocking the wind, in my experience most textile (i.e., Cordura and the like) jackets and overpants are better insulated. Generally, textile gear also features waterproof liners. Trust me, the only thing worse than being cold on your motorcycle is being cold and wet. In extreme temperatures, wearing rain gear over your regular gear will also aid in blocking the wind. It goes without saying that you should dress in layers. I prefer natural wool undergarments: they breathe well, retain warmth even when wet, and I've never seen a sheep shivering. The current crop of high-tech synthetic materials are also good, but make sure you find something that breathes well. You want the sweat that you generate to pass back out through the garment; otherwise you've got a layer of damp air trapped against your skin, working against you.

Gloves should be well insulated, but not so thick and cumbersome that you can't work the controls. An advantage to most dualsport or adventure bikes is the handguards, which not only keep you from snapping fingers against tree limbs, but also block much of the wind. Gloves with a gauntlet will seal off the sleeves of your jacket, keeping cold air from finding your armpits.

A scarf or muffler is a must, not only for its insulating value, but in order to block cold air that might otherwise find its way under the chin of your helmet. I prefer a balaclava, which goes over my head, completely covers my lower face, and then tucks under the collar of my jacket. I bought mine years ago at a local Harley-Davidson shop and it claims to be made of "turtle fur" ... I don't even want to know what part of the turtle yields fur!

Today in Oklahoma, 22 degrees. Snow and ice on the ground present a challenge that'll definitely help keep you warm.

Most riders who spend a lot of time out in the cold wisely invest in electric warmth. Having used one for years, I can tell you that an electric vest is the ticket. Gerbing, Widder, or any other major brand will serve you well. I like the high, heated collar on my Widder vest, as it keeps the blood that pumps through the major arteries in my neck nice and toasty. The Widder also has electric sleeves that snap on and off. Though I own a set of the sleeves (as well as the gloves which connect to the sleeves), I've found that I rarely need them. If you maintain your body's core temperature by using the vest, your heart will keep sending warm blood out to your extremities. What happens with hypothermia is that the blood vessels in the extremities constrict in order to restrict blood flow and conserve body heat in the organs. This leads to frostbite, which is definitely not a good thing. Keep that warm blood pumping and you'll be fine.

The electric gloves I own (Widder) are thick and cumbersome, nearly impossible to ride with, so I don't use them. What I do swear by are heated grips. Though some manufacturers (BMW and Triumph come immediately to mind) offer heated grips on their bikes, they're generally an expensive option -- usually in the 200 dollar range. I've had good luck with the inexpensive filament type, the kind where the heating element is embedded in a mylar or plastic sheet that adheres to the handlebars, under the rubber grips. These generally cost only 25 or 30 dollars and are worth every penny. Wiring is straightforward and uncomplicated. Though the bars do tend to act as something of a heat-sink (especially on the clutch side), this type of heated grip delivers enough heat into the palm of your hand to keep you comfortable without having to resort to thick, unwieldy gloves. Don't get me wrong, the heated grips in which the heating element is embedded in the grip itself definitely perform better (I had a set on my Triumph Tiger a couple years ago and loved them) and are more durable (the exposed wires on the cheaper type eventually wear out), but in my opinion the benefits don't warrant the difference in cost.

Like any other electrical accessory you plan to install on your motorcycle, you'll need to compare the power requirements with the available wattage provided by your bike's alternator. The vest will require some sort of quick disconnect or DC outlet (I prefer the BMW-type sockets). Your wiring should be capable of carrying the necessary current without suffering a meltdown and should be fused. Switched power (power that is only on when the key to your bike is switched on) is always best; you don't want to find your battery dead some morning because you forgot to turn off your heated grips.

A BMW power outlet mounted in the fairing of my Kawasaki ZZR1200. Also note the hi/lo/off switch for my heated grips.

Another power outlet mounting option: this one is mounted in an aluminum plate near my passenger peg.

Yet another: this one is tucked away on the handlebars of my BMW Dakar.

The vest will require a power cord suited to the type of connection you've chosen. The cord will need a means of controlling the vest. While many riders prefer a thermostat, I've found that a simple on/off switch is sufficient. Typically, if it's cold enough to wear the vest, I've got it turned on all the time. If I get too warm, it's easy enough to switch the vest off for a few minutes.

Be sure and check the alternator output of your motorcycle before adding accessories. My CRF, for instance, doesn't have the wattage to power much.

Let me conclude with a few safety-related comments about riding in cold temperatures. Aside from the obvious danger of hypothermia and freezing off the family jewels, you should keep several other things in mind.

Those sticky tires that allowed you to drag pegs through the corners this past summer? They will take much, much longer to reach operating temperature in the cold. In fact, they will never perform as they did when it was warmer. Take it easy for the first couple of miles when you start, and even after your tires have warmed up, be careful of sliding. If road crews have been out recently scattering sand because of winter ice, be wary. Sometimes that stuff can linger on the road for weeks or longer, especially if we haven't had much rain.

Be prepared to have far more trouble with your helmet visor fogging up: invest in some anti-fog spray, peel-off strips, or a fog-free visor (one of the reasons I love my Scorpion helmet is its fog-free visor).

And last, but certainly not least, be extra vigilant when it comes to our 4-wheeled friends on Oklahoma's highways. Most people are too lazy in the winter to scrape all the ice from their windows or wait for their defroster to do its job (generally preferring to squint unsafely through a small hole they've chiseled in the ice), their own windows are fogging (especially side and rear windows), and they're probably paying even less attention to their driving than usual.

With the proper gear, attitude, and attention to safety, there's no reason you can't ride all year round. So what are you waiting for? Winter be damned, let's ride!

"Necessity is the Mother of Invention..."

At least that's what they say.

With my rear tire sliding down the side of a steep railroad bed, loose gravel shifting out from under me, my front tire bouncing over the trestles within inches of being edge-trapped by the rail, I was beginning to think I should have stayed at home. Because he was still nursing a broken wrist, our ride leader had promised an easy ride, but easy for him on his DR-Z400 and easy for me on the heavier F650GS Dakar are two different things.

Railroad tracks in downtown OKC ... a hidden byway for dualsport motorcycles?

I thought I wasn't going to make this Saturday morning ride. The BMW had been sitting in my garage with its chain hanging off to one side for the last week. At a little over 10,000 miles, my chain and sprockets were totally shot, victims of a great deal of offroad fun. I'm pretty aggressive about chain maintenance, but they just don't last very long when constantly subjected to Oklahoma's abrasive sand and red dirt. I'd already installed the new sprockets, but I didn't have a chain-breaking tool to remove the old chain and size the new one. Nor did I have a link press to join the ends of the new chain. Running to the bike shop and buying the tools was a simple solution, but I'd never used them before, so I had taken up a friend on his offer to come over with his tools and show me how it was done.

The only problem was I didn't know when my friend would make it over, as he was tied up with family for Thanksgiving weekend. And I seriously wanted to join the gang for their Saturday morning urban dualsport outing in downtown Oklahoma City. James Pratt's urban rides are something of a revolution in dualsporting, putting knobby tires to use in an environment where at first glance they might seem out of place. Better to cruise the mean streets with a nice low-slung cruiser and your favorite lady's arms wrapped around your waist, right? Catch your reflection from the storefront windows before they open for the season's Christmas shopping mayhem, early in the morning before traffic demands all of your attention. Why on Earth would you need a dualsport motorcycle to ride downtown?

What's not at first obvious when you're downtown is the hidden world between the buildings and behind the storefronts ... shipping and freight yards, alleyways, drainage culverts, vacant lots, railways, construction sites ... the secret places under the spaghetti system of interstate exchanges ... places probably better known by our nation's homeless than by any motorcycle riders. Pratt has made a fine art of finding these secret byways. The riding is great fun and at times very challenging.

You never know what you'll encounter downtown...

The roof of a vacant parking garage makes for an excellent racetrack!

But there sits my Dakar, temporarily out of commission. What to do?

Surely not everyone in the world has fancy tools for this job? What would you use if you were stuck somewhere a hundred miles from the nearest bike shop? Or in a third world country in the middle of a ride around the world? Necessity, they say, is the mother of invention.

I used my Dremel tool to grind off the ends of the roller pins on a link of the old chain, then wedged a screwdriver into the link to break it apart. Tossing the old chain aside, I congratulated myself on completing half the job ... only problem: that was the easy half. I stretched out the new chain and counted links to get the size I wanted. The stock chain on the BMW is 112 links, but I was going up two teeth on the rear sprocket to change the gearing on the bike, so I needed a 114 link chain. The chain I'd bought was the standard 120 links.

When your sprocket looks like this (asymmetrical valley between the teeth and the tips of the teeth hooked over), it's definitely time for a replacement!

Again, I ground off a couple pins. Because I didn't want to damage the new chain, I couldn't wrestle it apart with a screwdriver the way I had the old one. Instead, I placed the chain on a block of soft pine in which I had drilled a hole just slightly larger than the pin. Then I used a hammer and a punch to carefully tap the roller pin out of the chain. Now to run the chain over the sprockets on the bike, being sure to route it correctly through the chain rollers and match up the end links on the rear sprocket.

I thoroughly greased the pins on the masterlink, put the o-rings in place, and joined the ends of the chain. Pressing on the sideplate would be tricky. Too tight and you risk crushing the o-rings. Too loose and you'll never get the masterlink clip to seat and stay in the retaining groves on the pins. I solved the problem by taking a spare sideplate, drilling the holes out slightly so that it would slip over the ends of the roller pins, then used it with a pair of channel-lock pliers to press the new sideplate in place. By keeping the pliers over the end of the pin, you won't crush the o-rings.

Using a spare sideplate and channel-locks to press a masterlink.

I used needle-nosed pliers to snap on the masterlink clip, closed end in the direction of travel. With a magnifying glass, I verified that the clip was indeed seated in the retaining groves on the pin. Most people lose their clip because it was never properly seated. Last thing, I put silicon sealant over the clip to help keep it in place.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a firm believer in having the right tools for the job. And if I'd had the right tools, I could have probably done this job in a third the time. But it's good to know that I could change out a motorcycle chain in just about any situation.

New chain and sprockets: ready to rock-n-roll!

With a new chain and sprockets, my reward is finding myself sideways on the steep bank of a railroad bed. My rear tire is slipping downhill as the gravel bank crumbles away. My front tire is parallel to the track, pointed the way I want to go, and I know proper technique here is to probably get up on the pegs and manage my throttle, trusting the rear of the bike to eventually climb the slope and fall in line with the front. But I'm worried about the front tire getting up against the eight inches of exposed train track, knowing it'll throw me down. Traction would be a huge help, but the rear tire just keeps slipping in the loose gravel.

I wound up easing the bike, still mostly sideways, for forty or fifty feet, walking it with one foot on the ground and nursing what little traction I could out of the rear wheel, fighting the great enemy Gravity. Not pretty at all, but at least the Dakar and I stayed vertical. When I finally got to the other side of the series of railroad tracks, sweating under my gear and feeling the euphoria of tired muscles and subsiding adrenaline, I found my riding partners waiting. Pratt had his camera out, evidently thinking he was going to get a shot of me on the ground. Fooled ya, buddy!

Once again, I've learned a bit more about riding. When necessity demands I cross similar terrain in the future, I'll have experience to draw on. When I face my next two-wheeled challenge, whether it be a maintenance procedure I've never tackled or a rugged stretch of landscape, I'll have the confidence to know I can figure it out.

Hope to see you on the road soon. Right now, I'm off to the bike shop to buy some new tools!

"Just Start at the Beginning..."

It's been said that there's nothing so intimidating as a blank page.

I've never really had that problem. Ever since I was a kid, I've always seen blank spaces as a challenge. If it was a clean sheet of paper, I felt the need to either write a story or draw a picture on it. That long stretch of silence between two people? Count on me to fill it by opening my big mouth. An unexplored field, mountain, or forest? It's a sure bet that my footprints will soon be decorating the landscape. New experience? I'm in!

But for some reason this whole motorcycle blog thing seems particularly daunting. Maybe that's because I could easily point to ten friends who know more about motorcycles than I do. Or to plenty guys who ride better than me. Or ... You get the picture: there are probably folks better equipped for the job. I'm hoping, however, that my passion for motorcycles and my ability to put that longing for two-wheeled adventure into words will ring true.

As a professional writer -- one who's actually made money (not easy!) and won awards (easier than you might think) for stringing words together -- I was taught that when you don't know where to start, it's best to just start at the beginning. Straightforward stories are told that way ... with a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Here we go.

My first motorcycle was a Kawasaki KZ-something-or-other. 1980? 1981? I dunno. Couldn't even tell you with 100% certainty what size it was. And if I ever did have a photo of that bike, it's long since been lost. Motorcycles were strictly verboten growing up, because they were "much too dangerous," but that didn't stop me from wanting one. My dad had once owned a little Yamaha 50cc scooter for a few months; that was the extent of motorized 2-wheel transportation in the Hopkins household. Closest I got to a real motorcycle was way back in high school (shortly after the invention of the wheel, if you're curious), when my martial arts instructor used to give me rides to the dojo on the back of his bike.


When I was finally out of the house and on my own, I walked into the first dealership I saw, picked out a pretty one that caught my eye, and plunked my money down. I didn't really know what I wanted ... didn't really know what I was getting ... and as a starving college student at the time, it was a sizeable chunk of change. I most definitely had the Jones to be a motorcyclist, though, even if I didn't fully comprehend exactly what that meant.

The shop prepped the bike, shook my hand, and tossed me the keys. There was only one problem: I had never ridden a motorcycle in my life. When I told them this, they took maybe 5 minutes to show me the obvious things: brakes, clutch, shift lever, throttle, etc. "You'd better ride around in the little subdivision behind the shop before you get out on the main roads," they advised. This was Memphis, TN, and as I was to learn a few months later, those who travel about on four wheels can be merciless when it comes to their two-wheeled brethren.

I took the shop's advice. Taught myself how to shift gears, how to turn, how to use the brakes, all in the confines of that quiet little neighborhood. Within the first 15 minutes, however, I ran wide in a corner, hit the curbing, and went down. Crunch! My brand new bike was on its side. There was a hole in the knee of my jeans through which could be seen my first applique of asphalt on skin, a cheese-grater-like tattooing otherwise known as road rash. Damage to the bike was minimal, just a few scratches, but my shift lever looked like a double-helix from having been run up against the curb. I managed to get the bike into first gear and creeped dismally back to the Kawasaki dealership, where they were nice enough to remove and reshape my shift lever without laughing too loud and making me feel any more humbled and embarrassed than I already did.


As I hinted above, the Kawasaki only lasted a couple months (I promise we'll get to that story eventually). Seven weeks of traction and eleven months in a cast later ... and there I am, undaunted, buying a Honda, a 650cc Nighthawk to be precise. A 1982 model, I believe. Black with silver foil striping. And from that point on, limping or not (I've been limping for the last week, in fact, the result of an unplanned dismount from my dirtbike last Sunday), I've been on motorcycles most of my life. Cruisers at first, then sportbikes, dirtbikes, and dualsports.


Motorcycles have taken me to some great places over the years and introduced to me to some of the most amazing people. They've taught me to use all my senses, to open up and soak in every aspect of this mind-boggling journey we call life. They've helped me fill the blank pages in my mind with memories that'll last me well beyond the point where I can still swing a leg over the saddle.

Stick with me here at Ride Oklahoma, and we'll share some of those stories, old and new.