April 13, 2008
Surf City Tech Day
Slightly groggy from the cognac the night before I woke up this morning and velcroed my boots over the stitches on my shin and gritted my teeth. I mounted the GS and rode through the Santa Cruz mountains over to Darryl Richman's house where he was holding the 8th annual Surf City Tech Day. It was the first hottest day of spring and the sun was shining. As I rode up his steep winding driveway I looked to the right and saw the southern end Monterrey Bay in the distance and on the left a bunch of old guys standing around talking and looking at old motorcycles. Some were even taking them apart and fixing them. I saw some old friends and and I made some new ones and have never seen so many valve adjustments in a row in my life.
Dude, there's an old bike. Dude, it's Darryl's R52!
I walked into the garage and there was Greg Hutchinson rebuilding the front calipers on his GS. Who do these people think they are working on there own bikes? It's crazy! Crazy I tell ya!!
No, this man is not in the middle of a severe hernia. He's syncing the carbs on this Airhead by ear. With his own ears! I'm starting to get frightened. Very frightened.
Inside my head, I asked this man, "Are you doing a valve adjustment all by yourself?" He replied, inside my head, "No, not really there will be a handful of guys that will stand behind me and tell me how to do it correctly and give me secret tips." I hope he just doesn't void his warranty!
And then an odd looking bike showed up with a large tank and a small seat.
There were toaster tanks with no toast in them.
His name is Joachim Groeger. He's 86 years old and still rides. He owns a machine shop in Redwood City and works on vintage BMWs. 'Nuff said.
David Brick smiles as Sophie waits in the background for Greg to show her how to adjust her valves.
MOA Ambassador, Darryl Richman is the Cliff Claven of vintage BMWs and that's a good thing. He is a repository of information regarding the restoration and history of these old machines. The best thing he does with all that information he acquires is that he shares it.
Then I met this guy from France named Jean. He's been hiding out in Napa Valley for ten years making wine at Opus One. At $183 a bottle I'm going to make friends with this guy and see what he brings to the next party I invite him to.
The king of Castle Drive perches on one of his non-porcelain thrones enjoying a day well done. Thank you Darryl.
After a few hours of absorbing the testosterone from the motorcyles and tools in the little paradise above the clouds I invited my two new friends from France to join me in a quest to the Corralitos Market for apple wood smoked honey glazed bacon! Yes, a Bacon Run! En francais, Course de Lard! Could the day end any better?
If you want to see the rest of the photos you will have to click on the link below.
All the photos here.
Posted by stephen at 12:06 AM | Comments (0)
April 11, 2008
Hardware Removed
After laying on the couch for seven days watching movies and Anthony Bourdain reruns I'm experiencing a little bit of cabin fever. Last Thursday, I had the plate and the thirteen screws removed from my left tibia that I fractured spirally last June in an off road motorcycling adventure. The past week is a blur and I don't remember much as I was sedated with the bung you up drug, Vicodin. I can't wait to be regular again. I have line of stitches split in two down my shin and a two-stitcher hole to one side where I presume the doctor went in to remove a screw. Currently I'm only in pain when I stand up for more than five minutes and all the blood rushes down to my leg. My circulation will get better and I have lost most of the feeling on the top of my foot above my big toe, just like the first time they went in and cut up the nerves. It will take about a year to get most of the feeling back. They say 99 percent of broken leg victims with hardware leave the hardware in. The past rainy winter in the Santa Cruz mountains reeked havoc on my hardware just above my ankle. I also figured out that the doctor who installed it used too long of screws and they protruded out the back of the bone and rubbed against the tendons on the inside of my ankle. When I moved my foot up and down and squeezed the skin behind my ankle I could feel a crunchiness. This aggravated my tendons and it felt like I had a permanently sprained ankle. I had a very noticeable limp. After the removal of the plate and screws the crunchiness is gone. From my limited walking around the house this past week I can already feel a huge difference in my leg and there is no more stiffness above my ankle. I'm quite confident that my limp will disappear. In the next seven weeks my bone will grow and refill the holes that the screws were in and my leg will be back to normal. It has been a week since I have ridden my motorcycle and I'm going a little crazy. Perhaps on Saturday I will go on a test ride to see if I'm up for the full commute to work on Monday.
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March 13, 2008
Santa Cruz to San Luis Obispo Ride
Here's the video for the previous blog post.
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February 19, 2008
SLO Ride
On Sunday, my friend Peter and I departed Santa Cruz on our way to San Luis Obispo, CA. The plan: ride roads we have not ridden, ride some dirt, eat well and have fun.
Old Hernandez Road off of Hwy 25. The goat path turns to dirt with so rocks the size of your fist scattered in soft dirt.
Riding the San Andreas Fault we take Parkfield Grade into the tiny town of Parkfield.
After a BBQ tri-tip sandwich and ortega burger we took some photos...
It's a great time to ride in California. After the rains the hills turn vibrant green, rather than the yellow straw we see in the summer. I imagine I'm riding in Ireland. Bitterwater Road is quite sweet.
Peter was falling asleep when we were riding on hwy 58 about 22 miles out of SLO. He stopped to rest for a few minutes and I went into town to gas up, get beer and check in to the motel. As I was stuffing my duffel bag with beer, my cell phone rang at the Chevron and Peter was on the stuck side of Hwy 101, 4 miles north, with and empty tank of gas. My MSR fule bottle with a liter of gas came to the rescue. My R1200 made it 220 miles on a tank (fuel spout drilled) and I put in 5.7 gallons of gas there. The 1150's range was a bit shorter.
After we checked in we polished of a 12 pack of Pacifico and walked over to our favorite Italian restaurant, Buono Travola. Carpacchio, penne ariabiata and veal along with two bottles of the Central Coast's finest red wine.
This Sangiovese was so complex I had to think about it.
After dinner we stumbled over to Mother's bar and made some friends..
It was karaoke night and I'm not shy. I convinced our new friend April to join me on stage but she got stage fright and would not sing into the mic.
Sweet Child O' Mine!
The crowd can't contain themselves. It was as if the spirit of Axl Rose had taken over my body. I wish his voice was included.
The best place in the area to have breakfast is in Santa Margarita. No relation to the other Tina's Place in McKittrick, CA.
The central coast of California is the birthplace of tri-tip. That tender triangular tip of the sirloin. It's not just for dinner around here.
Hangover cures: Vitamins, Advil and Grease...
After breakfast we headed over to one of our favorite roads in the area: Hwy 229, Creston Road. I have never taken any photos of this rollercoaster because there's no where to stop and you don't want to stop because it's so fun.
We pop out behind Paso Robles and take Estrella Road for the first time up to San Miguel. A nice find on the GPS...
After gasing up in San Miguel we rode Indian Valley Rd to Peach Tree Road. I think we saw two motorcycles and one car on the entire 38 mile stretch.
From here we flew up the the Airline hwy toward Hollister where we split up to go home.
A great Presidents Day Ride.
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January 23, 2008
Big Sur Ride and Camp
Sharon and I rode down south of Big Sur to Kirk Creek campground. This was Sharon's first long ride on her Buell Blast. She now wants a bigger bike.
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December 15, 2007
The Death of a Motorcycle
Back in the summer of 2003 Peter, my friend, and I went on a motorcycle journey of a lifetime. At the time, I was riding a 1980 Kawasaki KZ750 with bicycle panniers strapped to the back and Peter was on a 1988 BMW K75S. We rode through the Pacific northwest up to Vancouver Island and across British Columbia to Calgary to visit his brother Dave. We then traveled south through Montana, Yellowstone Park, Wyoming and Idaho. We slept under the stars, ate the finest grease at diners and met interesting people along the way. Even though Peter and I returned home safely, I can't say my KZ750 did.
As we rode westward across Idaho in the darkness, around 10 o'clock, my guardian angel watched overhead. I was in the lead flying down a two lane rural highway at 80 miles per hour as Peter followed. Suddenly, out in front of me jumped a huge elk and a smaller one following. I instantly hit the brakes and most likely hit more rear than front. Miraculously, I missed the elk and kept the bike up. All Peter saw was me, the elk, and a 50 foot patch of rubber on the road. This was our introduction into riding at night so we immediately checked into the next motel down the road. I was new to riding and now I wished I had known better. The leading cause of motorcycle deaths in the US is from collisions with deer.
The next day my engine seized in the desert, twenty-five miles north of Winnemucca, Nevada. About a month before the trip I had installed an Dyna electronic ignition on the bike. The problem was I had melted a wire that ended up grounding out on the frame so the bike kept blowing a fuse and stalling. Stupidly, I ended up bypassing the fuse by wrapping the glass tube fuse with tinfoil. The ignition eventually failed and I was only running on two of the four cylinders by the time we got to the Idaho-Nevada border. Within thirty miles, the engine was spewing oil and smoking. A while later we pulled into a Chevron gas station to assess the situation only to discover the bike was cooked. My second guardian angel came in the form of an ex-convict on parole. He and his crystal methed-out girlfriend gave me and the KZ a ride into Winnemucca in their 1976 Ford F250 as Peter followed. In the cabin of the truck I calculated that I had more teeth than the two of them put together. Good times indeed. I could not have planned the timing of the breakdown any better. We ended up throwing the bikes in a Uhaul cube van and drove home to the Bay Area the next day. A few weeks later I purchased a 1987 BMW K75S with the money from the parted-out KZ750. My addiction to BMWs began.
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October 23, 2007
Morro Bay, California Ride, Eat & Camp
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Riding the San Jose Half Marathon
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