"They say these things come in three's...?"

My buddy Steve Starkel -- affectionately referred to as "Gadget Guy" by Danny and me -- is in a hospital in Wichita. He was riding this past weekend in Kansas (at the Flint Hills Stampede, which I attended last year and swore I would not return to because I spent more time cleaning the bike afterward than I actually spent riding and because it's ... well ... Kansas!).

I spoke with Steve today on the phone. He's got eight (yes EIGHT!) broken ribs, a broken clavicle and collarbone, a collapsed lung, and some swelling/bleeding in the back of his brain (from his head hitting the ground so hard). He was on one of the Flint Hills' many gravel roads, just coming out of a corner and getting on the gas at about 35-40 mph, when he spotted what he thought was a small pothole in the road ahead of him. He gassed the bike a bit to lift the front end, thinking to sail right over this "pothole" the way you would any other. Next thing he knew, he was on a helicopter being medi-flighted out.

Near as he can tell, the hole was actually a collapsed spot in a culvert. It was either larger than he originally thought or it collapsed still further when his front tire hit it. The hole in the culvert took his front wheel out from under him and threw him down. He was a bit uncertain about a lot of this, though. Those riding behind him and those who assisted him afterward might be able to paint a clearer picture. (I haven't talked to any of them yet.) I gather that he lost consciousness and was pretty confused.

When I spoke with him on the phone, Steve seemed in good spirits, but I imagine he'll be out of commission for quite some time. Hell, Danny's still not getting around very well and he only broke 3 ribs!

Steve was quick to remind me that these things come in three's (actually, he told me I was next -- bastard!). Anyway, I'll be that guy in the back riding really, really slow for a while...

(Photos: Top photo is Steve on his Husky at last year's Flint Hills Stampede; looks to be at some point prior to us getting bogged down in the Gumbo Mud from Hell that prompted me to swear I would never return. The bottom photo is from this past October at the Oklahoma Dualsport Rally. I don't really remember why Steve is about to sample the local berries ... probably something to do with rumors of their psychotropic properties.)

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Addendum: There's a post at the Backroads Touring Kansas website about the accident and Steve's condition. I nabbed a few photos from there, courtesy of David JungRoth (a.k.a. Danger4u2). The first couple are of the hole that threw Steve down. David comments that the photo does not do the size of the hole justice (described as a 20x20 hole that's maybe 2 feet deep!) and notes that he wears a size 12 boot (that's his foot in the photo). To me, the hole (and what appears to be a gap between two buried culverts?) looks to be the perfect shape and size to capture a front wheel.



Next photo is of Steve's helmet, which obviously did its job. Without it, his contusion would have undoubtedly been a skull fracture and possibly brain injury or death. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Wear your gear, folks!


Heal fast, Gadget Steve!

K is for Kansas Mud Kleanup

Okay, so I've finally gotten all of Kansas scrubbed out of the Beemer. Lemme tell you, it wasn't an easy job! The Dakar says, "You ever take me there again, I'll toss your sorry ass in the ditch and ride home alone."

The wife says I'm obsessive ... that I go to extremes. I don't know where she gets that impression.


Sure, most people just take a hose to their bike and call it good. You already know that I'm not most people!



Had to get everything out from around the rear shock, of course, and I wanted to lube all the swingarm bearings just in case any of that Bentonite crap worked its way past the seals. So the rear end had to come off.


Same for the steering head bearings (which I noticed in this tear down are starting to feel like they've developed a bit of a notch when the bars are centered: brand new bearings next tear down, I guess). So the front end also had to come off.


There was the usual pile of parts spread out on the garage floor.



And, of course, we got everything cleaned up beneath the countershaft sprocket cover.

Now all I have to do is put it all back together again...

J is for "Just Turn Around Now!"

2007 Flint Hills Stampede, Council Grove, KS

Kansas ... whose idea was this anyway?

It rained. I left my rain suit at home. It was cold. We all got bogged down in this horrible stretch of Bentonite clay that our ride leader never should have led us into, 'cause he effing knew from previous years that it was there. Argh! To top it off, he was over the hill and long gone while we were stuck -- never saw him the rest of the day. What the hell kind of ride leader is that?!?!

I'm sure this Bentonite crap is the stuff the ancients used to make bricks for those old adobe structures that are still standing after thousands of years. This nasty shit packed into the wheels of my Dakar like concrete and the bike simply would not move. Took a friggin' hour and a half to fight our way out of it! The whole time there are rocks lodging in my chain and sprockets setting up the most godawful racket you've ever heard. With the help of other riders, we'd move our bikes about ten feet, then have to stop and dig some of the Bentonite out of the wheel wells, using our tire irons like picks and chisels. This went on for nearly a quarter mile!!! I was muddy from head to toe. I burned my arm on my exhaust. I was soaked in sweat from all the exertion fighting the mud, so that the rest of the day I got to be cold. I don't think I was ever truly warm again until about nine o'clock that night when I took a hot shower and then crawled into my sleeping bag to hide.

Took the bike to a car wash and blasted the mud with a high pressure hose afterward. The mud sat there and laughed at me! The worst of it would not budge, even when blasted directly by a high pressure car wash hose! I was afraid of doing more damage to the bike by riding it the 300 miles home, so I loaded it on Chris's trailer and hitched a ride. This turned out to be a smart move, as I later found hardened clay and rocks packed solid under my countershaft sprocket cover. Three hundred more miles of grinding my chain and sprocket through that would have surely destroyed them.

This is about as much of a ride report as you're gonna get out of me, folks. It sucked. All that time and expense to go to Kansas and ride one 100 mile loop on gravel roads. I can ride gravel roads right down the street from my house! I broke off a mirror (same mirror I just recently replaced, dammit!) and my chain is probably toast, maybe my sprockets, too. One guy burned out the clutch on his KLR, and I know my clutch took a beating, shortening its life expectancy by who knows how many thousand miles. On top of all that, I'm looking at a whole lotta hours tearing the bike down to the frame to clean out the mud-now-concrete that's completely packed in around the rear shock and up under the seat -- already put in about 3 hours on it today and didn't even make a dent in the job.

@^#*$&%!!!!!

My Dakar bogged down and going nowhere fast. With that much mud packed around the front wheel, it becomes a sled. (Photo by Daniel Holloway.)

Finally free, I let the cameraman know what I think of this ride. (Photo by Daniel Holloway.)


The entire group gives a big "You're Number One!" to our missing ride leader. (Photo by Daniel Holloway.)


And I take aim at the guy who got me into this mess! (Photo by Daniel Holloway.)


Lunch ... later that day. At least I'm smiling at him again. (Photo by Daniel Holloway.)


A high point of the trip. On the ride up there, Danny and I stopped for breakfast at this diner in Ponca City. The owner came out, sat down with us, and talked about motorcycles while we ate. When it was time to leave, he picked up our tickets and told us breakfast was on him. Great guy! Great establishment! And great food! If you're ever in Ponca City, stop in at the Cornerstone for some vittles.


The absolute coolest way to arrive at a dualsport rally: towing your offroad bike with your street bike!


I thought this was a pretty neat camping option. This belongs to Steve, a friend of Danny's. Steve was kind enough to feed us for the weekend. He did a wonderful job. The food was delicious and Steve thought of everything, even toothpicks. Thank you, Steve!


Whose idea was this anyway?


As ugly as it gets: a look under my Dakar's countershaft sprocket cover after I got home. The block of clay and rock you see there is as solid as concrete...

Not to end on too negative of a note, I should add that the camaraderie experienced at the rally was top notch. Met lots of really great guys and enjoyed getting to talk with them about bikes, wives, and life in general. Got to hang out with my buds. The BBQ was great. The raffle was cool -- I even won two prizes (a bottle of slime and a can of spray polish). Council Grove looked to be a really neat little town, with lots of interesting architecture. The Flint Hills scenery was really pretty nice, much better than expected. There were a lot of times I wanted to stop for a photo, but because of the rain I had left my camera back in my tent where it could stay safe and dry (along with my rain suit, I'd neglected to bring the rain cover for my tank bag). Our ride after the Battle of the Bentonite was really great fun. Hats off to Monty, the guy who stepped in and led our abbreviated group for the remainder of the day. Monty cracked me up by apologizing for not setting a faster pace ... when we were already doing 70 mph on wet gravel roads! What a joker!

You never know ... by the time this rolls around next year, I might even go back. I am, if nothing else, a true glutton for punishment...

Kansas Will Never Be the Same...

Flint Hills, here we come!

Danny, Chris, and I are packed and ready to head out in the morning -- well, okay, so we all know Chris never packs sooner than 5 minutes before the actual departure time (in fact, sometimes he's still packing after the scheduled departure). I'm packed, though. Danny and I will hit the road in the morning. Chris is hauling his bike and will meet us up there. He should arrive before us; the plan is for him to lay claim to a nice spot in the campground.

Say hello to Pierre:


Assuming Pierre can hang on tight enough, he's coming along for the ride. Pierre supervised my packing of the Dakar, though most of his suggestions had to do with what type of cheese I should take along and where I should stow it -- something about it needing to be accessible in transit.

When I get back, I'll probably let Pierre write the ride report, since I'm so far behind on things.


Later, gators...