Aug 04, 2014 Keeping it in the family

Tomorrow's Aug 4th, 2014 and after 11 years of ownership I'll be saying goodbye to my Aprilia Pegaso 650 Cube.

2008 Alaska here I come! 

Yesterday was spent assisting my friend Jerry Smith in the removal or as he said it "the separation" of the Sputnik sidecar that's been joined to the Pegaso for nearly the entire time. The "operation" was a success and they're no longer a single entity, there will never be another ride on them as a united pair. How sad that seems.

2014 Bye bye baby! Gonna miss you...

The journey to Alaska with Mac was and continues to be among the highlights of my rides and I've nothing but the fondest of memories of it. Sadly after returning home I became aware of a persistent oil leak in the Pegaso's upper end, or so it seemed. This issue kept the rig out of play and after two attempts to correct the problem I moved it to the back burner to be looked at when time allowed.

Time passed and eventually through a series of purchases and trades I came into possession of 1992 BMW R100GS "Bumblebee" outfitted with an older Ural sidecar. It's a well sorted rig and I chose it for a successful summer tour through several states in the southwest. It proved to be reliable, especially easy to ride and I've decided to keep it as my sidecar outfit.

Link to this summer's ride: http://bumblebeehack.blogspot.com/

I know, I know, I'm a hottie...!

All of this leads me to tomorrow when the Pegaso goes to its new home in Sandy, OR. My youngest son Brian will be the new owner and has already made arrangements to have the engine gone through and hopefully that will spell the end of the oil leak. Brian's a very experienced rider and has owned a slew of bikes over the years so I'm happy he's decided to take the Pegaso under his wing.

So what about the Sputnik?  Well currently it's living in the barn next to a first generation KLR that I just happen to have a sidecar mounting kit for...

So what's next boss? You ain't gonna leave me in this barn are you?

Who knows?

LL

April 3, 2010 It's a sad day today....

No new pics for this post, just a couple of old ones that have been laying around in the archives. Mac just sent an email telling me he's sold Olga today. I'm very sad to hear that as I liked Olga a lot even with her quirky Russian faults. Maybe her new owner will take her to more exotic places like Mac did. My own hack - still nameless after all this time unless "whatsherface" is acceptable - is currently in the care of the local Yamaha dealer who is attempting to chase down an oil leak. If they're successful I'll try for a ride to Inuvik in Canada's Northwest Territories later this coming summer (2010). Before that I've got a ride to TN via AZ on Red Dog Scooter, my latest fashion statement...

LL75

Mac on Olga somewhere in Alaska

Larry on whatsherface somewhere in Alaska

Thanks for following our blog everyone! We had a great ride.

Larry & Mac

Aug 11 - Epiblog 2 - Mac is alive & well but Olga's not a happy Ural

Mac's finally arrived home in Iowa but only after several days of mishaps. Here are his emails and pics * of the final days.

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Aug 9 - 10 - I left Columbia Falls at about 2 pm their time and had the bike delivered to the dealer in Spring Valley , Minn. and was home about 8 pm on the 10th. A trip of about 1550 miles and drove straight thru in 28 hours. Just wanted to get home.

It looks like I will be getting a new engine in my bike, all covered under warrenty.

In times of trouble there are a lot of very nice caring people out there and I met some of them. If they are reading this, Thank you very very much.

Mac
* This is my bikes last trailer ride.

Aug 9 - Headed out to Bob's and got about 10 miles when all hell broke loose and my engine froze up. I now knew what the noise was that I was hearing. Now what to do., it did make me feel a little better about hauling the bike out of Canada as it would have failed in another 10 miles there too.

Along came two wonderful people, Joe and Paula Forrest . They ride bikes and had a trailer. They went home and got it and Joe loaded it on and tied it down with my help. They had called and had a U-Haul saved for me at Columbia Falls.

* This is Joe Forrest getting my bike tied down. I do not know what I would have done with out them. Finer people you will not find. They would not take a cent for their trouble. Joe also used his straps to tie my bike in the U-Haul. I will be sending them back to him.

Aug 8 - Bob called the first thing and asked me to check the kill switch. The thought of the kill switch being turned off never entered my mind as the engine would turn over, the lights worked, etc. Much to my chagrin, the switch was turned off, I turned it on and the bike started right away. I no longer have an ego , it is laying in ashes. All bikes I know about , when the kill switch if turned off, all systems are dead. Not the Russians however, they do things differently.

I washed the bike and planned to take it to Bob's the following day to find out what the noise was that I was hearing and also to get a new rear tire.

After I got thru beating myself up, I slept well that night.

Aug 7 - Darryl's brother , Doug, to me and my bike to the US border and then on to the town of Eureka where I got a motel room.

I contacted the Ural dealer in Montana, Bob's Motorwerks at Roberts Montana. Bob was a great person to work with. We had several calls during the evening as I was trying to explain the noise I was hearing before the bike went dead. He had me checking some things but nothing worked.

Aug 6 - Today started out fine, I felt great and figured I would make the US border today. A distance of over 600 miles. I felt up for it after a good nights sleep. But little did I know what the day would bring. About 50 miles north of Radium hot springs my troubles began. I began to hear some scraping noises coming from the engine. I pulled over to see what I could find out. After checking the bike over I tried to start it and no go. No spark. I pulled a plug to see if I could see any spark and there was none.

Two women with kids stopped by and they said they would try to find someone to come out with a truck to pick me up. They said that if the driver needed a credit card no. they would give him theirs. What great people, I wish I had gotten their names.
After they had left, another person stopped by and also checked my bike out and then told me if the girls could not help me to give him a call on his cell phone and He had a buddy in Calgary that would come and get me. He, Paul Zedic, told me that they would not leave me stranded out there. He was talking about a distance of about 150 miles . As it turned out I didn't have to call him but it gave me a good feeling that I had help if I really needed it.

After getting me loaded we headed for Radium hot springs. Darryl, my Indian driver then loaded my up in his personal pickup and found me a motel for the evening. A really great person who did not want a tip but I talked him into it.
* Mt. Robson. quite a sight to see in front of you

* A picture of the ice fields south of Jasper

* I felt a little safer with a fence between us

* A picture of me patiently awaiting the truck

* Getting me loaded

* Darryl getting my bike tied down

* A nice little motel for the evening

Aug 5 - Today I rode from Ft Nelson to Prince George. A little over 500 miles and I was really tired at the end of the day

* The scenery made up for the long ride

Aug 4 - A little over 300 miles today, all told a very nice day

* More critters to ride around
* One of my favorite lakes, Muncho Lake
* Some of the obstacles on todays ride
* Our last campsite at Watson Lake. Larry and I said our goodbys and I rode to Ft. Nelson and got a motel room.

August 9th - Epilog (Epiblog?) Where the heck is Mac?

I checked my email this morning and opened one from Joe dated 2 days ago and it goes like this:




"Boy, nice guy you are......Mac broke down in the middle of no where. Lost electrical power to the engine. Bottom line.......no spark. Had to get a truck and was hauled back to Eureka MT which is just across the border in MT. Don't have all the details but he has a truck rented to take him and the bike some where close to have it worked on. . Part will be flow in ASAP from Washington. Not sure how long he is going to be there......... Long story so he can fill you in when he gets home. Will keep you informed as the story unfolds........... Might just have to head that way myself...Think he was having a beer so its not all bad..........joe"



I'll post the news as soon as I have any, in the mean time there's hope as long as there's beer. The photo's of my good luck mascot which I found abandoned somewhere along the Whistler route. Mac was disgusted by the whole notion but hey, I made it home eh?

August 8th - The longest day, 500 miles but home again

This day, my last, was to be the longest ride yet all the while with crossed fingers. The Aprilia has been complaining constantly, making very loud metallic noises accompanied by irregular lurches. The chain and both sprockets are worn badly and the upper idler roller is completely missing. Not good.

I broke camp early, said good bye to the kitty and joined the happy-off-to-work folks on I-5 south. Somewhere around Renton a McDonald's was calling my name plus Mr Fuel Gage began blinking so I stopped for my 2nd breakfast and tested my bulging credit card again. Both worked, I left a couple of pounds heavier and the bike ran smoothly. Making good time down the interstate it occurred to me I just might make it home today, in fact I might even make it to the family reunion east of Roseburg where Linda was staying. Then I recalled she had a full RV of giggly girls and two dogs so I'd likely end up doing the tent thing again. That tipped the scales and I popped off the freeway at Olympia and headed west for the longer coastal way home. This was a whole lot nicer riding than sustained freeway speeds of 65 mph and I wasn't in a hurry.

Along about the time I hit Elma, WA, the racket and jerking coming from the chain became too intense to ignore so I found the local auto parts place and bought a scissor jack and adjusted the chain. While there I got to talk to a couple of guys who do the local motocross thing, seems like bikers are always ready to talk wherever you go. The fact that my rig has an extra wheel didn't seem to matter to them, it only made it more interesting.

Continuing south I crossed that long bridge leading to Astoria and noticed the chain clatter had begun again in earnest, so I stopped to readjust it one more time. This was beginning to worry me but I really didn't have much of a choice other than to move on. My next chain adjustment was in the Tillamook Fred Meyer parking lot -I love those big chunks of asphalt! It was then that I found there was no more adjustment left and that whatever had been there was all used up. Leaving town on highway 101 I rode less than a mile when I realized to continue was to invite spending the night parked along the roadside, the noise was much louder after my last expert adjustment and I decided it would be best to head back to Tillamook and look for a mechanic. This, on a late Friday afternoon - 5:30pm - but I gave it a go. Knowing that in small towns everyone knows everyone I stopped at the first gas station and asked. The guy hanging out inside told me about a guy named Dan who ran a bicycle-motorcycle-TV-appliance-video rental shop "Just down the road a piece, ya can't miss it as long as you head straight at the intersection and don't go right or left." Damned if he wasn't telling the truth, I found the place and waited patiently while Dan the owner finished chatting it up with one of the locals. He must have figured I wasn't from around there and asked another guy to see if he could "answer my questions" Yep, I had questions alright. Turns out guy #2 is his main bike mechanic just heading for home, but he took a quick look at the beast and confirmed what I already knew with one exception - I'd over adjusted the chain and now it was running too tight. Dang it anyway, how dumb can I be? (We'll ignore the diesel fuel episode) With that said I whined around again so he agreed to open up the shop and do the adjustment himself, this time getting everything lined up correctly. Unlike the Indian guy in Vanderhoof, these folks work cheap but not for nothing so I was happy to drop $15 in their kitty. The mechanic told me not to worry, it would make it home without busting but I'd have to fix all that stuff very soon. Like tomorrow probably.

On my way again only with reduced noises coming from the chain I set out south towards Hebo, center of the known world... It was there that two things happened, almost simultaneously, it began to rain and it got dark. Neither one bother me but given the state of the bike's health I wasn't looking forward to dealing with it. I donned my funny red Santa raincoat and 3-fingered Spock gloves and went back at it. This was not ideal or fun riding, it was just sit-up-and-pay-attention and try not to get hit by a truck or run into a deer. It was so miserable and hard to see I shut the GPS off to reduce light glare. At this point I noticed the headlights were undulating in brightness as were the dash lights, an indicator of low battery power. Time to shut off the electric vest and hand grip warmers. That helped, the lights went back to normal and I was more than warm in the red Santa vinyl sweat suit.

Eventually I made it into Newport where I gassed up and hit the next door Burger King. The gas station attendant made the comment "I hope you don't have far to ride Buddy, this rain and fog is real nasty all along the coast." I told him that manly men like myself were conditioned to ride in crappola weather and not to worry. It was 8:00pm when I left the warmth of the Burger King.

Things didn't change a whole lot after that, I rode slow and moved over whenever cars came up behind me and that was about it. I made one last stop for gas in Reedsport where I entertained the guy in the booth by circling around all the pumps looking for one that didn't say Full Service. Turned out all of them said that and I explained to Mr Non-Smiling Attendant I didn't want to pay to have my windshield cleaned. Ha ha. Yuk yuk. Not funny dude, here, and he handed me the nozzle. I filled up, handed it back, he grimaced (no thank you from him) and walked off. For a brief moment I was annoyed but then I felt sorry for him having to pump gas for a living. What the hell, it's his problem not mine, so off to Bandon I rode. Yippee, got home at 11:23 pm with 8,250 miles logged on the old hack and tons of great memories of riding Alaska's infamous Dalton highway. Plus the Top of the World highway. Plus the Winter Harbour haul road. Dang! What's next?

August 7th - Back in the USA!

Lillooett was already baking as I left town early this morning. I had a brief continental breakfast at the Gold Panner Hotel, said goodbye to Jay and his wife and headed up the canyon on highway 99. The road is rough but the scenery is beautiful so I rode slow, stopping often for a last view of this mountainous area. A doe was standing so close to the road at one point I could have touched her nose when I rode by - at a very slow speed of course. Everything went pretty smooth until I reached the area south of Pemberton and there the road construction began in earnest. This lasted nearly all the way to Horseshoe Bay and was particularly bad in the area around Whistler. Like most things though, it eventually ended and I rode on to the border crossing at Blaine, WA where the waiting lines in both directions seemed unending. This seemed odd considering how short they were when Mac and I crossed over just a few weeks ago. When I finally got to the booth the girl asked the usual questions, checked my passport & bike license and sent me through.

The weather continued to be scorching hot so I watched for a campground sign as I rode down

I-5 towards Seattle. Just below Bellingham I saw a kid pushing his HD chopper so I pulled over to see what's up. His tank was bone dry he said so I donated a gallon or so to the cause. What a kid, he was sporting more facial hardware and tattoos than I've seen in quite awhile. All of that aside, he was grateful for the benzino and when his bike started I headed south again. My payback for being snotty to the old HD geezer in Dease Lake a few days ago. Mr. Nice Guy...

Spotting the sign for Wenberg State Park located 20 or so miles north of Seattle I chose it for my final night's camp out. The basic tent sites run $19.00 - sorry, no change for a twenty so I donated the extra buck to who knows who and settled in for the night. Next morning I awoke to the loudest snorer on the planet, honest to God I've never heard anyone pump air like that guy and eventually I heard his wife jab him (or whatever). He let out a bellow and a few snorts, then went back at it again. Clean living?

While eating breakfast I was visited by one of the local camp kitties begging for food. From the looks of her she wasn't missing very many but I'm a sucker for beggar cats so I fabbed a bowl out of aluminum foil and passed over the remainder of my milk. She drank down two rounds, then took a break mid-way on number three. Happy kitty.

August 6th - Onward into the inferno - Vanderhoof to Lillooet

I haven't a clue why some days I ride less than 200 miles and others I ride off the end of the earth. Or so it seems any time I crack the 400 mile barrier. This means nothing to those who belong to the iron butt league but I ain't one of them so it's a big deal to me, especially on a hack that's cantankerous. Today was one of them.

I started out with a great breakfast at the adjoining restaurant, then enhanced it even more by commenting to one of the Harley guys parked next to me as to how shiny his bike was. He liked the attention I think.

At the local gas station the lady attendant told me she thought there used to be a bike shop a couple of blocks away so off I went in search of help for my floppy chain. It turned out there actually was a guy who fixes bikes, seems he rents space from the guy who operates a repair shop for cars & trucks. Unfortunately the bike guy only shows up when the mood strikes him and that's not often. There were at least a dozen bikes in various stages of disassembly cluttering up the place and from the looks of the dust layers on them I doubt the bike guy has been in for quite awhile. The mechanic guy turned out to be a gem, he's in his mid-70's and runs the shop just to keep busy. He told me straight off he doesn't work on bikes but I whined around in my usual grating nasal style about not having a jack and how simple a job it was, etc. Being a mechanic he couldn't help get interested in it and before you knew it, we had the bugger up in the air and adjusted. This whole procedure took maybe 15 minutes, 10 of which to locate his metric allens as he didn't want to use mine. After the bike was done we stood around swapping stories about guns and hunting, all of which were better told by him as mine pale in comparison. Humble as that may sound I've never even seen a grizzly let alone shot a silver tip when it was coming at me in a pissy mood. Did I mention he's an Indian? I didn't get the name of his tribe but he can shoot as many bears, deer, buffalo (his favorite) and so on, all without permits. Seems fair to me. When it was time to leave he wouldn't accept anything for payment but finally agreed to five bucks just to get rid of me.

I rode on for a couple more hours, then stopped to gas up at the no-name-station on the outskirts of Hixon. What do you call folks from Hixon you ask? (Sorry, couldn't help myself) Just to demonstrate my dexterity I sprayed gas all over the front of my jacket in a large enough volume that it soaked through. I screamed the usual curse words most of which were directed at the idiots who passed laws allowing innocents like myself to pump their own gas. Inside the store where you pay the lady in line behind me commented to the cashier that she could smell gas and maybe there was a leak? Ha ha. I explained it was me and she did a hasty embarrassed stage-left.

After that I smoked on down the highway, stopping at Wal-Mart (sorry Hon) and picked up some more chain oil & food bits. Also a McDonald's Quarter Pounder which seemed more like an 8th-pounder but what do I know. Maybe it's the metric thing?

I decided fairly late in the afternoon I would keep riding as stopping in a park or hotel would be wasted time so I kept at it. A couple of miles outside of Clinton I noticed a bike parked on the shoulder with no one around and a mile or so up the road there came the owner, trudging back in million-degree heat looking like heat stroke might be on it's way. I found a spot to turn around and scooted on back and offered him a ride on the now empty spare tire rack. He'd ran out of fuel and was sporting a 1-litre bottle full of gas so I waited while he got his bike started, then we both rode into town and gassed up. Grateful guy from California. His bike was shiny too. Maybe I'm just jealous? He wanted to take my picture so I took his just to keep things in balance.

I made it into Lillooet just before 7:00pm, checked into the Gold Panner, said hi to the owner Jay and his wife, hosed off and went to dinner at the Greek restaurant. Jay was there with his family and invited me to share their table which I did. The dinner was great as was the company, after which it was time to expire, I'm all out of steam for the day. "Camping" is definitely fun I'd say. And yes, I know one of the pics is out of focus. So what?