Stranded, "Like a Ship Out Of Water..."

I did exactly 500 miles my first day on the road, departing Oklahoma via the southeast corner, nipping a wee bit of Texas and Arkansas as I worked my way into northern Louisiana. The ZZR was running beautifully, the new chain and sprockets I'd installed last weekend humming along smoothly. (I'd been hearing and feeling quite a bit of crunching and grinding from the old hardware, but what do you expect after 25,000 miles on a sportbike that makes 160-something horsepower? I'd say I got my money's worth out of the original set.) Twilight found me pulling into a Super-8 somewhere along I-20.

I considered rolling the bike into my room, but it's quite a workout muscling the big ZZR through a standard-sized doorway. I settled for rolling it up on the sidewalk and parking it in front of my window. With the blinds partway open, I could keep an eye on it. If anyone messed with it in the middle of the night, I'd hear them. Wish I'd gone ahead and rolled it in the room, however, because my battery -- the original battery, now three and a half years old -- didn't care for the 28 degree low that night. When I tried to start the bike in the morning, I got nothing ... absolutely nothing, not even the clicking of a starter solenoid.

I wandered the parking lot of the hotel for the next hour until I finally found someone with jumper cables. The bike started easily enough using the juice from a good Samaritan's auto. See, cages are good for something after all!

Unfortunately, that was not to be the end of my woes. I blazed out I-20 (my first and only bit of Interstate for this trip), heading for Vicksburg. It had warmed up a bit. About 31 degrees, I think. My carbs were icing: the bike sputtering and stumbling any time I backed off the throttle or went to speed up for a pass. Just across the Mississippi River, I exited on Highway 61. The bike stuttered, tried to die a couple times. I was looking for a place to stop and let the carbs warm up. (To be honest, I kinda needed to warm up too.) There was some construction, and as I pulled in the clutch to downshift around some of those lovely orange cones that always haunt such areas, the bike stalled. Naturally, I immediately dumped the clutch to do a rolling restart. Nothing. I pulled in the clutch and hit the starter button. Nothing. Glanced down at my dash and absolutely nothing was lit, not even the digital clock.

I rolled to the side of the road. Battery again, I thought. The next five cars that came along -- when I waved at their drivers to flag them down and ask about cables and a jump -- sped up and passed me by. Thanks, folks! However, the next guy stopped. Charles didn't have cables, but offered to run down the road to a buddy's auto garage and borrow some for me. Definitely above and beyond! Charles confessed to being a rider himself. Said he had a Harley-Davidson, of course. I think he was getting a kick out of finding a rice-burner broken down alongside the road ("crotch rocket," I think he called it -- or that might have been the cop that came along later and was so concerned about me being stalled in the construction zone). Isn't it the Harleys we always expect to find?

We tried jumping the bike, but it wasn't getting any juice to the starter. I checked everything I knew, even the secret (not included in Kawasaki's wiring diagrams for the bike) 30 amp main fuse hidden down beside the battery well, but my troubleshooting was yielding nada damn thing. The cop wanted to have me towed out of his construction zone. I asked that they try calling any local bike shops, knowing from experience that they'd charge me a lot less than a tow company. They tried three bike shops: all of them were closed until after the first of the year. Crap!

Then Charles remembered an ATV and lawnmower dealership on 61 north of the Interstate. We called them and one of the guys agreed to come get me. He loaded my bike on a trailer and hauled it back to their shop, Magnolia Lawn and Tractor (1029 Hwy 61 North, Vicksburg, MS), where they helped me diagnose the problem. Turned out to be a blown fuse hidden in the connector for the starter solenoid. (Another fuse not shown in the wiring diagrams in Kawasaki's ZZR1200 service manual.) I'd obviously blown the fuse while jump-starting the bike. The bike had run just fine until it stalled, but of course, with the fuse blown it hadn't been charging the battery even when running. They happened to have a brand new battery in stock that fit my bike. The price was reasonable, so I bought it. They charged me just a half hour labor for working on the bike and installing the battery, even though I know I took up at least 2 hours of their time. And the guy who drove his own truck about 10 miles each way to pick me up off the side of the road wouldn't take a dime. Great folks! If you're ever in Vicksburg, stop in and say hello. If you live nearby and need a new mower or a Polaris ATV or work done on something, take your business to them. They certainly saved my bacon.

Having lost more than 3 hours out of my day, I skipped the sightseeing plans I had for the east bank of the Mississippi River. Maybe on the return trip. I pulled into my folks' driveway in Gulfport just shy of 5 p.m.

Gulfport hasn't changed much since my last visit. (For example, the tugboat pictured above is still beached near those railroad tracks, a LONG ways from the water.) Things are still in recovery mode here. Katrina still dominates the local news. Blue tarps still cover an inordinate number of rooves. FEMA trailer parks are still crowded. Insurance companies are doing their best to screw everyone they can. New Orleans gets all the national media attention (and, according to folks I talked to on the way down here, New Orleans gets most of the government money for rebuilding). The Highway 90 span over Bay St Louis is still down, although they have a ferry across the bay now -- something I think the ZZR and I will have to try. With my luck, though, the ferry will probably sink!

I'll write more as I get out and explore a bit.

"All My Bags are Packed and I'm Ready to Go..."

Despite Pratt's teasing about overpacking and overplanning, my bike is loaded with everything I'll need and plenty of room to spare, using nothing more than my Givi sidebags and a small tankbag.

Of course, the friggin' weatherman is predicting a low tonight of 25 degrees! No worries, by the time I hit the road about 8 a.m., the temp will have climbed to at least 28. Piece of cake! (Well, maybe. Last time I started a trip when it was this cold, I had trouble with my carbs icing up. It's not a show stopper, mind you; just means I'll need to stop occasionally and allow the heat of the idling bike to de-ice them. I can hug the headers and de-ice myself at the same time.) As you can tell from the parenthetical, my Kawasaki ZZR1200 won out over the BMW Dakar as to the weapon of choice for this trip. Something about having all that plastic to hide behind and a monstrous alternator (I think it puts out about 640 watts) to run my electric vest, grips, the portable space heater I'll be balancing on my lap, etc.


I'll post more when I have Internet access ... from some warmer clime.

Hope everyone had a merry Christmas!

"Everything But the Kitchen Sink..."

While most of you are enjoying leftovers from the Christmas goose, I'll be hitting the road.

With two weeks of time off from "the dreaded day job" (that dispiriting slice of Hell I endure in order to pay for my motorcycles), I know I'll go apeshit if I stick around the house. Even without the wife's "So, where do you think you'll go while you're off work?" (note she says "where," not "if"), I know she's hoping I'm leaving (without committing the insult of actually saying so) and wondering if she could endure having me at home for that length of time any more than I could endure being here. If Horton hears a Who around my house on the day after Christmas, it'll be the neighbors asking "Who was that masked man who just blazed out of here at 120 miles an hour?" (Actually, scratch that last bit. The neighbors will know good and well who it was.) The wife will tell me how much she's going to miss me, give me a peck on the cheek, and make me promise to be careful, but I know when the garage door drops behind me it'll be masking a huge sigh of relief. Thank God, I won't have to put up with his sorry ass moping around the house! And me, I'm off on another motorcycle adventure, just about the only thing that stirs my tired old soul anymore.

So ... win-win situation all around, right? That's what I tell myself. Such is the state of things when you've been hanging out with the same person for 30 years. But I digress...

The packing for this trip will start several days in advance. I use my pool table as a staging area (my dreams of becoming satisfyingly good at billiards died long ago), slowly gathering all the items I'll need after carefully weighing gear options that vary on my decision about which bike to take, what the weather's going to be like, how long I'll be gone, etc. Over the years, I've built a pretty detailed checklist for my motorcycle traveling. If you haven't started one of your own, you should.

The most obvious place to start is the gear you'll be wearing while riding. Head to toe: helmet, jacket, gloves, riding pants, boots, etc. If I'm going to be out for more than a day or two, I'll wear a do-rag under my helmet, purely in the interest of keeping my helmet liner fresh. I also wear ear plugs when traveling to prevent that annoying ringing at the end of a long day. The type of helmet I take will vary on the type of riding I do: my Scorpion for street, my Arai XD for dualsport, my dirtbike helmet for pure offroad stuff. (Reading this article, you'll discover rather quickly that I'm something of a "gear whore.") If I'm taking my XD or dirtbike helmet, my checklist will remind me to pack my goggles. Since I generally travel with a tinted helmet visor, I'll pack a clear one for those times I'm caught out at night or in a storm.

My jacket and pants decision varies on the type of bike I'm taking, the length of the trip, type of riding I'll be doing, and so forth. Do I want leather or textile? For a spirited sportbike outing, I'm apt to go with leather -- because roadrash really, really sucks and the risk of me acquiring some is higher when chasing some of my crazy friends through the twisties -- but my textile gear is generally better for touring or dualsport rides. If I'm wearing leather, my checklist reminds me to take rain gear. Gloves: I generally take more than one pair. Which ones I choose, again, depends on the type of riding and the weather. Under the category Riding Gear, my checklist also includes a hydration pack and 'cycling shorts -- the padded type that bicyclists wear. These come in pretty handy when you spend the entire day on your rump. Monkeybutt is no laughing matter. (Well, it is, but only if you're talking about someone else's butt.)

Your checklist might start out something like this (as mine does):

• boots
• Camelbac
• clear helmet visor
• 'cycling shorts
• do-rag
• ear plugs
• gloves
• helmet
• jacket
• pants
• rain suit

Yes, it might seem a little silly to have things like riding pants on your checklist -- after all, you're certainly not going to ride off in your underwear, so it's not like you'll forget your pants -- but it helps me make the decisions about my trip when I see such things on my list. And, yeah, you're right, I have become a bit retentive in my old age (which, in case you didn't notice, is the reason the items above are listed in alphabetical order).


To this, we add the usual assortment of socks and underwear and toiletries and so forth. I don't think you need me to go into that stuff. It's more-or-less the same stuff you'd throw in a suitcase for any other type of trip. Don't forget your toothbrush! In the summer, you'll want to remember sunscreen, insect repellent, and your swimsuit. A ball cap will spare your vanity the dreaded condition known as "helmet hair," and if you have no hair, it'll keep you from burning your scalp.

If it's winter, the Winter Only category of my checklist kicks in with:

• balaclava
• electric gloves (never use them, but since I have a pair they haunt my checklist)
  
• electric vest (and the detachable sleeves, even though I rarely use them)
• jacket liner
• stocking cap (for when the helmet comes off and I want my head to stay warm)
  
• sweatshirt (a handy underlayer for when it gets really cold)
  
• thermal underwear
• wool socks (my feet get cold when riding)

If I'll be offroad, I'll augment my gear with the aforementioned goggles, as well as a chest protector (actually my Six Six One body armor), a Buff (you've seen these on the TV show Survivor) for keeping the dust out of my snoot, and my knee/shin guards (I've broken my lower extremities enough times, thank you very much).

The next category on my checklist is for tools, maintenance items, emergency repairs ... that sort of thing.

• air pump (mine plugs into an electrical outlet on my bike, but you can use a hand-pump if you prefer or enough CO2 cartridges to limp to a gas station)
• chain lube
• duct tape (Ask any Bubba: "Don't leave home without it!")
  
• electrical tape
• electrical wire
• first aid kit (in case it's you that needs repaired)
• flashlight
• JB Weld
  
• multi-tool (for those quick jobs when I don't feel like digging out the proper tool -- mine's made by Gerber, but there are a zillion on the market these days)
• rags
• owner's/repair manual (you probably have this stashed under your seat anyway)
• safety wire
• Slime tire sealant (I only carry it for tube-type tires, even though they also make it for tubeless tires)
• spare key (nothing worse than misplacing the key to your bike when you're a thousand miles from home -- if you're traveling with a buddy, trade keys with him; if not, stash yours someplace accessible, separate from the key you're using in the ignition)
  
• spare tire tubes (many folks get by with carrying just one, but I like to carry a spare for both the front and rear of my bike -- naturally, you can leave this off if you're riding on tubeless tires)
• spares (an assortment of things you think you might need for your bike: throttle and/or clutch cables/levers, a quart of oil for your leaky Harley-Davidson, bulbs, spark plugs, etc)
  
• tie-down straps (Even when I have no plans to strap the bike to something, I like to carry a couple of these. First of all, my dualsport bike doesn't have a center stand and there have been times when I've used the straps to winch the bike in the air under a tree while I repaired a flat tire. Second, when your buddy runs out of gas, a couple tie-down straps make a handy tow rope.)
  
• tire gauge
• tire irons (I carry three)
  
• tire repair kit (patches for tubed, plugs for tubeless)
• tool kit (varies with the bike I choose -- most of the time you can get away with the cheapo tools supplied with the bike, but for serious traveling you'd better build your own kit)
• WD-40
• zip ties (you can fix anything with a zip tie)

Of course, navigation is critical (although getting lost can be fun). You might want to carry:

• GPS receiver
• guidebooks
  
• maps
  

Paperwork (the job's not finished until it's done, doncha know):

• calling card (the wife does require me to check in occasionally and I often find myself without a cell phone signal)
  
• cash (money talks!)
• credit card(s)
• id/driver's license/passport
• proof of insurance, title, registration, and other documentation for the bike
  

Electronics, how did we ever survive without them? Just don't forget spare batteries (or the chargers) for these items:

• camera
• cell phone
  
• laptop computer
  
• MP3 player and headphones
  

If I'm camping:

• folding chair
• hatchet (for pounding in stakes and addressing that recalcitrant root poking your back in the middle of the night)
• pillow (I never carry one, not even the inflatable kind, but it's on my checklist just so I can feel macho when I scratch through it with a gruff "Real men don't need a pillow!")
• sleeping bag
• sleeping pad
• tent and footprint (that thing you put under your tent to protect the bottom)

If you're not only camping, but cooking, you'll have a whole list of other things you'll need to carry. I don't cook. Ever. I'd rather do a Euell Gibbons on a pine tree than cook (link provided for the youngsters who don't even know who he was).

Miscellaneous stuff you might also want on your list:

• binoculars
  
• (a good) book*
• bottled water
  
• bungee cords/net
• cable lock (for locking your helmet, jacket, etc to the bike while hiking around in a National Park)
• notepad and pen
  
• rain cover for your tank/tail bag
• reading glasses (unless you're a young whippersnapper and don't need them)
• snacks
  
• sunglasses

And that ought to at least get you started. Naturally, you'll want to tailor my list to make it entirely your own. You might want to organize things in different categories. You might be afraid you'll forget clean underwear if they're not on the list (you know your mother told you to always make sure you're wearing them). And so on.

Stick around and as I pull my gear together for this trip, we'll talk about actually getting it all on the bike. Then, what the heck, I'll see if I can take you along with me via the miracle of the internet. Or, hey, here's an idea. Go load up your own bike and head somewhere fun. South is always good this time of year. That'll be my direction ... soon as I figure out where I put my winter gloves.

Cheers.



* Here's a good one. :)

"That's Gonna Leave a Mark..."

Who knew Bill was gonna be so damn fast!?!? Watching the ass end of his Kermit-green KLX250S disappear down the trail -- flicking away the muddy clods he just roosted across my chest -- I realize he might have been blowing smoke up my exhaust pipe when he gave me that whole song and dance about not having been on a dirtbike trail in 30 years. Who do you think you're kiddin', buddy?

Still, I don't think I'll have too much trouble keeping up with him; if nothing else, I know the trail better than he does. I know where I can push it a bit and make up some time. You crest this hill -- not too fast now, 'cause there's a hard right-hander on the other side and it's really hard to turn with your front wheel in the air, not to mention that everything is still wet from that snowstorm we had a week or so ago -- then slide through the left-hander past the big sweet-smelling cedar into a tight section beneath the trees. The trail splits there, in the gloom under the naked winter oaks, only to rejoin again after a hundred feet or so. The left fork is shorter and faster. Bill doesn't know that, though. If he takes the right, I'll definitely have an edge; maybe make up a bit of the time I lost when I let him shoot off ahead of me, not realizing he was going to be so friggin' fast!

There's only one problem: the sun hasn't been under here in ages. That's not just shadow darkening the trail ... that's sticky red gumbo mud! I'm coming in way too fast, sliding the rear end of the CRF in order to square off the turn into the left fork, but the front end is suddenly sliding too. This isn't good. Traction abandons me as that slimy syrup I herewith dub "Oklahoma Red, vintage 2006," stamps null and void on my Pirelli 321's. Knobbies? Where? It seems I'm now on slicks made of rubber colored to match the bricks in my house.

The ground comes up and smacks me a good one. The right foot peg of my CRF delivers a hardy "this'll be a pretty purple color tomorrow" jab to my calf muscle. I slide ten feet or so, plowing a deep, juicy furrow. At least the mud makes for a nice soft landing. My first thought as I'm slopping to a halt, getting peppered by the mud spraying from the still-spinning rear wheel of my prone motorcycle, bubbles burping up around me like the gaseous emanations in some fetid swamp, is this: "At least Bill didn't see me crash, so I'll be spared that embarrassment!"

Then I wipe the mud from my goggles and sit up to find that Bill is likewise just rising from a mud bath. He and his Kawasaki are just 20 yards away, oozing ever deeper into a muddy furrow of their own. We spot each other at the exact same moment and burst into hysterical laughter.

And that's just one brief glimpse into the fun Bill and I, along with a half dozen other friends, as well as at least a hundred other dirtriders, had at CrossTimbers Offroad Park this past Sunday. The event was the Oklahoma Dirt Riders' annual Toys for Tots Poker Run, and if you missed it, feel free to stop reading now and give yourself a good solid kick in the seat of your motocross pants. You missed not only the opportunity for some great riding, but the chance to help out for a worthy cause. Mark it on your calendar for next year now, so you don't forget.

Kids of all ages participated in the Toys for Tots Poker Run ... on bikes large ...

...and small.

Participants ranged in age from dinosaurs like Bill and myself to a little kid perched on the tank of his father's bike. My favorites, of course, are the little guys just getting started on their PeeWee 50's. My face is split by the biggest grin watching those little guys twist the throttle and rocket off with a roostertail and a boisterous "Yeehaa!"

Dirt bikes of every popular brand were to be found in abundance, carving ruts in the soupy Oklahoma Red. There were minibikes. And ATVs. And even a few dualsports.

A rider's card gets punched at one of the checkpoints on the trails. The event is organized and run by volunteers. This happens to be my riding buddy Ed. Nice work, Ed!

A rider drawing his poker hand at the final checkpoint. I drew two pair, Kings over Threes with an Ace kicker, but I was too busy riding and having fun to even hear if I won anything.

The entrance fee was one toy (they filled a very large pickup bed with them!) or a cash donation, and prizes were awarded for things like the best and worst poker hands. Mostly, though, everyone was there to have a good time. Our prize was enjoying the beautiful sunny day on our motos and knowing Santa would pay a visit to kids that might otherwise get nothing for Christmas.

As for Bill and me and that particularly slimy stretch of CrossTimbers trail ... well, neither of us had a camera at the scene of the great gumbo mudslide ... so, technically, without photographic evidence, it never happened. Right?

Sure, "Getting Lost is Half the Fun," But...

I read an article this morning which said that the state of Georgia has dropped nearly 500 small towns from their official state map. The reason given was that they want to remove the clutter from the map, making it easier to read. Towns with populations fewer than 2,500 were simply erased.

Now, I don't know about you, but the next time I'm touring Georgia on my motorcycle, I'm not going to be looking on the map for places like Atlanta, Macon, Valdosta, and so on -- cities I could easily find by following major highways and interstates. I'm going to be looking for little hole-in-the-wall places like Bogart (pop. 118), Eden (pop. 750), Experiment (pop. 2400), Isle of Hope (pop. 1200), Mountain City (pop. 829), and Doerun (pop. 828) -- well, maybe not that last one, but you get the idea. I'm going to be visiting burgs you can only find by following roads like Booger Holler Pass and Maybe You Ought To Turn Back While You Still Can Lane. (Yeah, I made up those roads, but the towns are real.)

So what. It's just Georgia, right? But what if other states follow suit? What if Oklahoma decides its maps are too cluttered?

Any true adventure rider will tell you that you never experience the essence of a place unless you immerse yourself in its backroads where the culture and heritage of the communities shine brightest. The old guy behind the counter of the little Mom and Pop gas station not only owns the place, but probably helped his father build it. He can tell you about all his neighbors, about the year the courthouse burned down, about the community center they built the year before last, about how Mabel down at the post office makes the finest brownies known to mankind. On these less-traveled byways, you'll meet people who aren't afraid to walk up to you with a smile and an extended hand. They'll want to know where you're going, if you need anything, and "Hey, what type of motorcycle is that?" They'll be genuinely please that you avoided the four-lane and the Walmart Superstore and visited their small town.

What does it say about a state that doesn't want to promote these rural communities? A state that doesn't value its history and culture?

Just one of many rural communities that could vanish from Oklahoma's maps if ODOT's mapmakers decide to follow Georgia's lead.

Fortunately, Rand McNally, North America's biggest commercial mapmaker, has said that they are not going to follow Georgia's example. "Our criteria for keeping towns on the map is not just population," said Joel Minster, the company's chief cartographer. "We won't take a town off the map if we can confirm there's still a landmark, even if there are no people there." The mapmaker generally deals with clutter by varying the size and style of the print on its maps.

Endless skies of blue, clean air, and grain silos -- just a few of the treats waiting for you off the beaten path.

Next time you're traveling through Georgie, skip the free maps at the welcome center and go with Rand McNally's. Better yet, stop in at the welcome center and let them know why you won't be using their map.

Ask any adventure rider; he'll tell you that true adventure lies off the beaten path, along the rural byways, through rustic towns whose culture, heritage, and history still seep from every pavement stone and crumbling cornice.

Will Oklahoma eventually follow Georgia's example? I sent the following email to the Oklahoma Department of Transportation:

Good morning. I saw a recent article about the state of Georgia dropping hundreds of towns from their official state map due to small population numbers in those towns (the article cited any town with less than 2,500 persons). The reason they are doing this is simply to make the map less cluttered and easier to read. It seems to me that a simpler solution would be to make maps with different font faces, larger surfaces, and perhaps multiple sheets.

As an avid traveler in Oklahoma, I know the real pleasure in traveling comes from following Oklahoma's rural byways and visiting these small, unheard of, and often forgotten communities. I'd hate to see them dropped off Oklahoma's official maps. Anyone can travel the major highways and interstates that connect a state's major cities, but to understand the history of an area and to truly experience that state's culture and people, you must leave the well-trodden paths. Without accurate maps, fewer and fewer travelers will be able to accomplish this ... which I find sad.

Please assure me that ODOT mapmakers have no plans to follow Georgia's lead on this.

Thank you for your time.

I'll let you know as soon as I get an answer. Meanwhile, get out and explore. Interact. Live.