Cycle World Staff Blog, 2007

2007 Blog Archive January February March April May June July

I spend a good deal of time cruising eBay, and my hawk-like editor's eye is always offended by the often-horrible spelling, grammar and marketing I find on that site. eBay tip: Typing everything in capital letters does not make your copy more compelling; it just makes you look like a schmuck. And correctly spelling the name of the product you are selling will help potential buyers find your listing, unless they really are looking for a "ferring panal." But, hey, just because you can post an ad on eBay doesn't mean you can work the built-in spell-check feature, right? Last pointer: Wear suitable clothing when photographing an item with a reflective surface. At the very least, put on a pair of pants. Please.

So it's always a pleasure to run across a humorous, well-written ad. To wit: Moto Guzzi racer, rider and man-about-town Ed Milich twice posted an ad for his Quota, and each time the auction ended without a buyer. So he decided to post a third time with a markedly exasperated tone.

My Quota: Power-Commanded and dynoed. 62 blazing horsepower/62 ft.-lb. Hard luggage included—top case and side cases. Cosmetically fair condition—paint is sun-faded and has 60k worth of scratches, dings and other flaws. Mechanically good condition. Pro Taper bars. Very comfortable for distances. Old engine blew up. Complete motor replaced. Current motor has about 20k miles on it. Chassis has 60k on it. Bike is a good runner and can be ridden across country tomorrow. A question on the eBay page from a potential buyer: "The exhaust and crossover do not look stock. What system are you running?" Answer from Ed: "I am running Windows 95 on a Pentium III, and I have a 'Charles in Charge' screen saver." PLEASE NOTE: If you are an anal-retentive yuppie BMW R1100/1200GS rider with every Starbucks within 50 miles of your house logged on your GPS or a similar wacko, you won't want this bike and you should submerge your head under water completely for five minutes before contacting me for details on the maintenance history, mechanical ramifications of running 42 v. 45 psi in the tires or a complete, uninterrupted gas-mileage-history Excel spreadsheet from the minute it left the dealer. This bike is what we call a "rider." I have had not one but two wacko wannabees ask about riding the bike to Alaska...it just boggles the mind. No, I don't think you should take this bike 5000 miles up the Al-Can Highway. I personally don't think you should take any bike up that piece of God-forsaken bear-infested road, let alone the Cheapest Quota in the U. S. Plus, my crystal ball stopped working last week, so I can no longer predict the mechanical failures that will occur in the next 10,000 miles if you buy this, the Cheapest Quota in the U. S. So you're halfway to Alaska and a tranny bearing dies and tears up a seal and blows oil all over your clutch, disabling the bike. Unless you want to drop the motor on the side of the road to fix it, you’re done. So you're there for four hours before you see another car pass. You try to flag him down, but he obviously doesn't want any company and keeps motoring on. Meanwhile, those dark hulking shadows that you see in the distance seem to draw closer and closer... Then one day I get a call from your next of kin who says, "But you said that the bike would make it..." I just do not need this type of mental baggage. This bike does not have extensive performance work. This engine is stock. You want performance? Buy a Yamaha R1. This is Guzzi's 600-pound "dirtbike" with 60 hp out of an 1100cc motor...more like a two-wheel station wagon with snow tires and Yugo-level power. I can fit $100 in groceries in the hard luggage, though, so it's good for something. And no, you can't stay on my couch for a few days while you tool around SoCal if you buy this, the cheapest Quota in the universe, from me. Two words: YMCA, dude.

Ed can be found lurking in various blogs and forums.

Sound Off!  Have you found any eBay or Craig’s List ads that are worth noting?

Hard braking and nary a wheel out of line. Should we expect more of the same from MotoGP in 2008?

MotoGP's current 800cc four-strokes with their slide- and wheelie-taming electronic aids are boring. That's the consensus of many spectators and series regulars alike. "These bikes don’t move," one rider told me. "If they do, you just throw on a new tire." That may be overstating the current situation a bit but, bottom line, Dorna boss Carmelo Ezpeleta is under pressure to bring excitement back to GP racing’s premier class.

I recently came across this compilation video showcasing the 990s that were raced for five seasons from 2002 to 2006. I’d forgotten how much excitement those bikes delivered on a week-in, week-out basis. The footage is spectacular.

If there is an upside to the current formula, it's fewer crashes. Dorna is reporting that Casey Stoner, the reigning world champ, fell off six times this year—identical to five-time title-winner Valentino Rossi—a remarkable improvement compared to his 14 get-offs during the 2006 season. Then again, Frenchman Randy De Puniet hit the deck 12 times in '07...

Chicks dig the Vectrix, too, especially those in Birkenstocks and hemp skirts. A side benefit of going Green that Ed Begley Jr. has kept secret all these years...

Ten Best Vectrix Scooter Nicknames

1. Electric Chair 2. Charge Barge 3. Sparky 4. Plug-n-Play 5. Nuts-n-Volts 6. Current Affair 7. No Fuelin’ 8. Ohm Run 9. So Watt? 10. Cicuit de Soleil

What’s it like rollin’ electric? Well, when Online Producer Chris Worden (he pronounces it “Warden,” draw your own conclusions...) finished with the Vectrix electric scooter, it was mine for a week. Read about my adventures in going Green later this month in the magazine, but here’s some stuff I scooped up from the editing-room floor.

Company literature calls the Vectrix a ZEV, for zero emissions vehicle. Of course, there’s no such thing. After all, the electricity that recharges the bike’s nickel-metal-hydride battery pack comes from somewhere—probably a coal-fired powerplant. And even if you have a windmill or solar-panel array in the backyard, each of those has a “carbon footprint” in their manufacture, transportation and upkeep. (A small nuclear reactor would be my choice if it weren’t for the damn homeowners’ association—maybe one can be disguised as a sat-TV dish?)

Of course, let’s say that every garage in town had a Vectrix or all-electric car. Can you imagine the mass brownouts when hordes of e-commuters return home at 5:45 each night and plug into the grid? In the middle of a summer heatwave?

We had our own little meltdown at the Road & Track/Cycle World building. Seems the outside plug we connected the Vectrix to was on the same circuit as our kitchenette. When someone decided to nuke a breakfast burrito in the microwave, it blew the line big time. Cost the company $400 to have an electrician come out and patch things up. I fully expect the sum to be deducted from my lavish Hachette holiday bonus (hah!).

Every Vectrix employee I spoke to had an infectious, almost-Moonie-like enthusiasm for the bike. One claims—and I believe him—that he got 72 miles from full-charge to full-flat, riding the streets of San Francisco and taking advantage of the Vec’s regenerative braking feature on downhills. My results, with full-throttle (full-rheostat?) launches from traffic lights and extended runs at top speed (62 mph), showed that 40 miles was a more typical range. Sort of like riding on Perpetual Reserve.

Have to admit, though, it was kinda fun scooting right past gas stations and not even glancing at the cost of premium.

Sound Off!  Are you beswitched or a circuit-breaker? Join our forum discussion on the Vectrix.

No one can tell me that two-strokes are dead—I just bought one and love it. It’s a 2006 Kawasaki KX250, too sweet to pass up. I probably could have lived without buying the bike, but I wanted it because it was special. And to think I always thought being a Cycle World employee meant I would never have to buy a bike again.

Tractor tires and logs are all part of the fun!

But this bike was made for me, literally. In November, 2005, Kawasaki’s Spencer Bloomer built the KX for me to race in the EnduroCross at the Orleans Arena in Las Vegas. I liked it so much I raced it again the year after. So when the news came that Kawasaki needed to clear it off their books, I really had no choice but to buy it.

My plan was to race the 2007 EnduroCross series using the bike, but I wasn’t able to compete in any of the three events due to a nagging injury. As for the bike, it’s like a true factory KX; the motor was done by Rick Ash, Kawasaki’s two-stroke tech. Unfortunately, Kawi took off the works cylinder and carburetor before passing the bike to me. Killjoys!

Not to worry: the rest of the bike is dripping with trickery. The frame is powdercoated metallic silver and has special welded mounts for the skidplate and other guards. It also has a race-spec Pro Circuit pipe, heavy flywheel, magnesium covers...must I go on? Okay, twist my arm: Brett Leef—Kawasaki’s factory suspension guy—did the suspension. The aftermarket includes Renthal sprockets, DID chain, Michelin Bib-Mousse, Acerbis handguards, Dunlop trials tire, Pro-Moto Billet disc guard, BRP chain guide and a Pro Circuit holeshot device. Gee, I hope I didn’t forget anything.

How long ’til the 2008 Vegas EnduroCross? Maybe I can nab First Two-Stroke...

Back in September, while at the Motocross of Nations in Budds Creek, Maryland, I had the opportunity to attend a press conference introducing the Wings for Life (WFL) Spinal Cord Research Foundation to the American public. Although there are a number of motorcycle racers that have suffered spinal-cord injuries, there are also more than 300,000 Americans with a debilitating spinal-cord injury, most suffered while doing everyday activities like driving a car, working around the house, etc.

Wings for Life began as a collaborative effort between Austrian two-time World 250cc MX World Champion Heinz Kinigadner and Red Bull founder Dietrich Mateschitz in 2004. Kinigadner understands the effect of spinal-cord injuries better than anyone. He started the foundation for very personal reasons; his 23-year-old son, Hannes, became a paraplegic after suffering a severe injury in 2003, and his brother Hans—also a motocross racer—has been wheelchair-bound since 1984. Despite these personal tragedies, Kinigadner remains optimistic, telling his son, “There is no greater commitment than a promise. And there is no excuse for disappointing legitimate hopes.”

The foundation’s goals are four-fold: 1) Fund cutting-edge scientific research to heal spinal-cord injury; 2) improve scientific communication in this specific field of research; 3) develop concrete, clinical intervention strategies and their potential applications; and 4) prevent spinal-cord injuries.

In attendance at the event, held in the Red Bull hospitality area in the pits at Budds Creek, were Kinigadner, Former world motocross contender Pit Beirer, WFL Scientific Director Jan Schwab, two-time 125cc Supercross champion Ernesto Fonseca and Mark Zupan, star of the award-winning documentary film Murderball (pictured left to right in lead photo).

Please log on to www.wingsforlife.com to get more information or to make a tax-deductible donation.

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BATTLE OF KINGS

Hello. My name is Paul and I am an addict. Not a recovering addict; I’m a full-time, ain’t-about-to-quit user.

My addiction is not about drugs, alcohol, gambling or anything as boring as those self-destructive cravings. Nope, I’m addicted to tools. Matter of fact, I’m the Imelda Marcos of tools. I can’t walk through a tool department or a tool store or even browse a tool company’s website without buying something. It might be a tool I have no immediate use for, but I know that someday I will; when that day comes, I want to be prepared.

Time to double-deck? Between the IROC Z-28, Honda VFR750 and Husky 510—plus all those tools—things are little crowded in PD’s garage. Yes, he’s got a thing for red vehicles.

This explains why my meager two-car garage at home looks like a cross between a retail tool outlet and a car/bike repair shop. Name a tool and I probably have at least one of them. My two double-stack rollaway toolboxes are packed with just about every mechanic’s hand tool imaginable, with numerous others hung on pegboards above my workbench and more yet in several cabinets and storage shelves. Other equipment includes two automotive floor jacks, two motorcycle/ATV lifts, a 33-gallon air compressor, a 20-ton hydraulic press, a drill press, a bench grinder, a small TIG welder and an unjustifiably large assortment of air, corded and cordless tools. I also have collected all sorts of specialty and brand-specific motorcycle tools over the years, with a few woodworking items thrown in for the occasional home-maintenance project. Add in storage shelves packed with lubricants, polishes, cleaners and an array of various chemicals, and I think you get the message.

As the accompanying photos reveal, my garage is not a showplace like the glitzy workshops you often see on TV or in car magazines; in my mind, most of those look like a place where the owner spends more time polishing the tools than actually using them. Mine is a working garage in which my main objective is getting a job done properly and efficiently. The shop probably could be a little neater, but I like it just the way it is.

If you’re a regular reader of Cycle World, you may already have suspected that I have a tool fetish. In every issue, I try to include at least one cool, useful and often unusual bike-related tool in my monthly “Service” column. These entries are not just my rehash of supplied press releases; they describe tools I have personally used and proven to work well for their intended tasks. After all, Imelda wouldn’t buy a pair of shoes without first trying them on, and I wouldn’t recommend a tool without first using it myself.

Sound Off!  What’s your favorite tool?

Everyone knows the old realtors’ mantra: All that matters is location, location, location. Well, the Steel Horse Café—the lunch stop on Triumph’s recent Rocket III Touring introduction in the Texas Hill Country—has that covered. In fact, SHC has added a new twist to that one-track thought: location, libations, degustation.

Let’s first deal with the realtors’ obsession: location. Owned and operated by Valerie Gough Rutledge—one of those uniquely Texan women for whom the word “vivacious” was created—the Steel Horse Café is in the small town of Tarpley, home to maybe 100 souls, on FM 470 between Leakey and Bandera. And it sits smack-dab in the middle of some of the mythical Texas Hill Country’s best riding. In fact, four of the five best Hill Country roads as recognized by Ride Texas magazine are within spitting distance of Tarpley.

The Steel Horse Café could earn a recommendation based on the riding and scenery alone, but it doesn’t have to depend solely upon the torrid tarmac and lovely landscape, not by a long shot. That’s where degustation (i.e. to taste or savor carefully or appreciatively) comes into play, Texas-style. A partial menu list includes ribs, brisket and turkey (all smoked on SHC’s own pit barbecue courtesy of Frank Schultz, a.k.a. Uncle Butch); specialty burgers; chicken fried steak; chicken fried ... (wait for it) chicken; smashed taters; Aunt Jane’s green beans (don’t even ask for the recipe)—you get the idea. Then there are the desserts: Tarpley Mud (think vast quantities of chocolate, cream cheese, whipped cream, all in a pecan crust) and Coconut Colada cake. All made from scratch. “I use my own recipes for the potato salad, desserts and Aunt Jane’s green beans,” Rutledge says.

Having a press intro in the Texas Hill Country ensures access to rustic photo backdrops, sunshine, twisty roads and delicious barbeque. Photos: Brian J. Nelson

If you’re not salivating yet, you might want to lay off the Lipitor for a while. On the Triumph launch, we were privileged to have the pit-smoked barbecue selections, plus various sides, topped off with the Coconut Colada. It was epic, followed by much waddling to the motorcycles. Fortunately, the Rocket III Touring has a generous GVWR.

As for the third element of the SHC, libations, it’s pretty much standard fare, as you’d expect of a family-style eatery rather than some hardcore biker dive you might find in, say, Daytona Beach. Iced tea, soft drinks, coffee, root beer floats, bottled beer and wine. If you’re in the mood for stronger spirits, well, just ask Rutledge. She’ll be happy to tell you about the ghost that inhabits her home, which used to be the Tarpley Hotel, and is more than a century old. The ghost, she reckons, is that of a 12-year-old boy; the family that used to own the hotel had son who died. “He has a high-pitched, squeaky voice!” she says. “He’s said ‘Hi!’ to me and my son!” as she emulates the breaking pre-puberty voice of a young boy.

No such entities inhabit the Steel Horse Café, however. Apart from the excellent traditional Texas-style food, you’ll find one of the most motorcycle-friendly establishments you’ve ever visited. They’re more than happy, willing and able to serve large groups such as rallies, and even have a rally of their own. It’s a benefit, of course, for the Audie L. Murphy VA Hospital in nearby San Antonio, called Run for the Vets, and the next one will be April 18-20, 2008.

Plainly, then, the Steel Horse Café is a prime place for motorcycle riders to meet, greet and eat. It wouldn’t be that way, though, if not for Rutledge’s ebullience. “I love it!” she exclaims of her work. “I’ve met so many good bikers that have come through here!” She’s one of the few people you feel compelled to hang an exclamation point on her every utterance. A period is simply not up to the task.

So, if you happen to find yourself in that little slice of riding heaven known as the Texas Hill Country, mark Tarpley on the map in your tankbag, or punch in 11804 FM 470 on your GPS, and stop for a spell at the Steel Horse Café. You’ll be mighty glad you did.

Sound Off!  What’s your favorite barbeque joint?

Steel Horse Café
11804 FM 470
830/562-3325

Hours: Thursdays, 11 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.
Fridays, 11 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.
Saturdays, 8 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.
Sundays, 8 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. (“Sometimes later,” says Uncle Butch.)

Roy is long gone, and the owner of a fast-food chicken restaurant chain currently seems to own the place on old Route 66. Locals in Amboy said gas would be available in “a few months.” Food? Lodging? Maybe.

There is nothing like contrast to give a man reference in the world. After the shivering ride in the Sierras last month , I decided it was time to run for the desert.

How low can you go? Death Valley. When my friend Bill Getty and I rode past the sign that said “100 Feet Below Sea Level” I had to smile a little, because it wasn’t but a day earlier that we’d ridden over the pass in Big Bear at 8400-plus-feet.

On the way to our low spot, we stopped at the iconic Roy’s Café in Amboy for bottled water (the only thing you could buy out there at the otherwise shut-down gas station/hotel/landmark). A rough ride on a decrepit Route 66 from Newberry Springs meant I busted out the Whitworth wrenches to tighten fasteners, but no parts were lost. Bill lost a fender-brace bolt, and when I looked at him with wrenches in hand then turned to gaze out at the vast, empty California desert we were riding into, I was sure he had as many screws loose as I did.

The best part of the trip was camping in the middle of the Mojave Preserve at a primitive campsite (i.e. dirt, the Earth, a place that was not a place but just “somewhere”). Not another soul around for miles, and more stars than you could ever count in the deep, deep night sky. The trusty Triumph was returning 55-plus-mpg and not using much oil, and it seemed to love being in the desert, this street scrambler model’s natural habitat. The only real “repair” was a sparkplug service in Shoshone, just outside of Death Valley. I carried one new spare plug (couldn’t find the other in the garage before I left), and closed the worn gap on the better of the two used plugs, which cured my hard-starting problems.

Welcome to Nowheresville. Sunrise in the Mojave with coffee and Triumphs and not much else.

Otherwise, it was a trouble-free 750-mile weekend for me. The generator even worked for the entire ride, and no bulbs were lost. Amazing. Bill had inspired me to take the trip by being so enthused about saddling up on his ’54 T110. I borrowed some of his extensive collection of backpacking equipment, lashed it to the back of the seat and we were free.

Sound Off!  What’s your favorite place to get away to?