Life After Death

As mentioned in previous postings I had decide that I would definitely be looking at a different type of motorcycle, not that I have been unhappy with the Boulevard, to the contrary, it has been a wonderful relationship, but now that it is over I want something different. I have grown up a bit in this world of motorcycling since my impetuous decision to buy the Boulevard in the middle of winter 2014 at the Toronto Bike Show. I’ve learned a little, realized that there is more to motorcycling than riding a big heavy powerful iron and had a chance to figure out what I really want. All too often I have had to ignore a road that looked interesting because it was gravel or likely to become gravel and then the thought of taking some of those trails up mountain sides and through verdant forests is very attractive. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to cross Africa, north to south, a la Ewan MacGregor, then I will definitely need experience on something other than a cruiser.

There are few other things, for one, I’m looking for a motorcycle that I can understand, mechanically that is.  Maybe it’s to fill a hole in my experience that the sheer accountantness of my younger years denied me, but I want something that works a little bit like the teeny engine I had on a model aero plane when I was nine years old. Something I can get my non-mechanical brain around with the help of a decent manual and a few YouTube videos. I want to understand what the engine is doing and why it is making a funny sound, I want to do the services, change the oil, adjust whatever needs adjustment, the inner grease monkey in me has been awakened. I want a bike that is low on pretensions, high on performance, I also want something that is light, agile and I can manage to throw around corners a little.

I have test ridden the Ducati Scrambler (as indicated previously). It is a really super machine to ride, a little more than half the displacement of the Boulevard, but it would totally smoke it, except maybe when carrying a passenger. I really like the L air-cooled configuration, only 10% less displacement than the Harley 883 but the motor is way smaller, lighter and  the L config is more space efficient than the V, allowing for more ‘stuff’ to fit between the cylinders.  I have however decide against buying this for a number of reasons, this is not really a dual purpose motorcycle, this is a bike to ride on the road with, although value for money it is good, it is a lot of outlay in absolute terms. But most of all it is too low for me with the foot controls situated where they are, my slightly arthritic hips ached for hours after the half hour test ride. It also needs a windshield and I like to have saddlebags. Sadly this bike with a windshield, saddlebags and forward controls will look like an Arabian stallion with a plough harness on. There is a lot to like about this motorcycle, decent torque and horsepower, beautifully styled, it is a Ducati after all,  and a totally honest bike, aluminum rather than plastic bits, so it was with regret that I scratched it from the list, but if I wore a younger man’s clothes….

I didn’t manage to test ride a Triumph Tiger, but did sit on one and did a heap of internet research on the bike (or rather bikes as there are several versions). I found it a little too tall for me, I am challenged in the inseam department, but once actually on the machine everything was fine... apart from the fact that I was merely sitting on a stationary motorcycle rather than rolling off the apron and taking it for a spin. I don’t know how actually relevant all the fancy stuff that this bike has… ABS, ride by wires, antiskid and so on, but it does get some very favorable reviews and is a serious dual sport (adventure tourer, as it is called) motorcycle, without a doubt it can handle the trails as well as the motorway. The downside is the price tag, once you have paid the sales tax and the ‘dealer deliver charge’ (what the fuck is that anyway?) and all the other bits and bobs you are looking at a serious investment. Which investment, I have firsthand experience of, can turn into spare parts in the wink of an eye.

My next test ride is the BMW F700GS, which absurdly does not sport a 700 cc displacement engine, but rather an 800 cc one. Also excellent reviews, but not quite an off-road bike, little on the genteel side in the rough, I am led to believe. The folks that seem to know what they are talking about punt the F800GS ADVENTURE for a truer dual bike or better still the R1200GS ADVENTURE which actually does have a 1200cc motor (well slightly less, but in the motorcycle world you generally round up)… I have arrived at the appointed time at BMW Toronto, a very upmarket establishment, befitting the products it pushes, the sales staff are impeccably dressed, and I suspect even the mechanics wear ties. Motorcycles are a few floor up so I ride the elevator, a superior experience in itself. It is a very different showroom to the usual, the bikes are laid out in neat spacious rows, there is no overcrowding and shaved-head, overweight, tattooed dudes are completely conspicuous by their absence. Now I must admit that I am ever so slightly prejudiced against the bike for one reason, the space between the seat and the handle bars is molded plastic that has the appearance of a fuel tank, but actually it isn’t, it a just houses the battery. The fuel tank is under the seat. Now I fully understand the engineering reasons for putting the fuel tank where it is, it lowers the point of gravity, and of course I understand the aesthetic reason for a fake fuel tank, the bike would look ridiculous with just a bloody hole there, but I don’t like the deception. Maybe I would prefer a storage compartment which is obviously a storage space than a fake fuel tank. Anyway I have huge doubts that BMW give a flea’s droppings for my opinion on fake fuel tanks. I fill out the disclaimers and they bring the motorcycle down to ground level for me and I take it out on a loop that includes a decent stretch on the Don Valley Parkway (motorway) and a nice twisty ride through the park area. Needless to say this bike is the sweetest bike to ride I have yet to experience.  It is smooth, responsive, deceptively powerful, light and easy to handle, those German engineers, fake plastic fuel tank and all, certainly know what they are about. The sticker shock is less than the Tiger and I damn nearly buy the thing on the spot. Reason prevails – taste and try as many as you can before you buy.

After the ride I am reluctant to leave all these motorcycles un-fondled, as such, and spend some hour touching and sitting on the inventory. Being bikeless on a lovely Saturday morning renders a chap a little needy and pathetic. That’s when I spot a lone G650GS, pushed a little to the side. This is a 650 cc single cylinder – a thumper, real enduro bike. I don’t get to test ride, but do sit on it and get a feel for it – a thought process is set in motion.

I must give credit where credit is due, Helena suggests that if I am considering something like the BMW G650GS, then I should look at similar motor cycles as a comparison, Suzuki, Honda, maybe the Kawasaki 650 KLR. Internet reviews on the KLR are very positive, a very popular bike. I also discover that there are herds of them available on Kijiji at prices that would not even cover the sales taxes and delivery charge of a BMW. I am a little skeptical, the horsepower and maximum torque are a lot smaller than anything I have considered to date, but this bike does comply with the desire for something I can get my head around the mechanics of, it has a carburetor for goodness sake, even the latest model. I find one that looks interesting, a 2000 year model with only 18000 km on the clock, right here in Newmarket. I make a date with the owner and arrive with my kit, including brand new helmet – helmets are one use appliances, one ding and its toast. The bike has horrible colors (apple green and vivid purple), but besides that it really is in showroom condition. The seller is a policeman, and clearly a man that takes good carte of his stuff, his garage is neat and tidy, he has the bike’s original manual and a book that describes the care and maintenance of the KLR 650 in great detail… and the bike still has two keys.

The Green and Purple Machine 

I take off on a test ride. Man what a surprise, sure it isn’t an 800cc BMW, but that single cylinder motor has guts aplenty and the bike is so light that it needs so much less. Even on my very first ride I can feel the easy of handling and can throw it around a corner or two with no problems. I take it down a gravel road, and though I am a little unsure of the techniques required, it is much more sure-footed than the Boulevard on a similar road. Then we get on Highway 9 for the acid test, how does it manage at 100-110 and even a little beyond? My research indicated that top speed is a tersh over 130 km/h. I don’t want a bike that can only handle side roads, the need to do motorways will come up from time to time. At 90 km/h I open the throttle, to my surprise the motor gives a happy little growl and in no time I’m flying down the road at 120. Now the Boulevard could manage 120 without breaking a sweat and it hardly felt like you were speeding, on the KLR you know it. The wind at that speed is difficult to handle and makes the bike a feel little unstable, but I can manage and I’m sure that the addition of a windshield would make a difference   By the time I get back there is a grin on my face from ear to ear, I know that I’ve found what I’ve been looking for, at least for this year and the next, then who knows – maybe there is still a BMW in my future, as it has been said, 'life is like a box of chocolates.'

It’s amazing, but there has been very few design changes on the KLR since introduced in the late nineties, I believe a bit of an upgrade in 2008 or thereabouts – but really essentially the same machine. The newer ones have a fancier set of instruments, mine has instruments that look like they were nicked from a 1962 Morris Minor, which I find oddly satisfying.

I’ve learned to live without a fuel gauge and honestly don’t miss it, it’s actually more re-assuring to use the trip meter. I have added a time piece ($10 watch from Shoppers Drugmart) and have decided to pimp my ride just a little bit. Because of the longevity of the design there is a lot of stuff out there, unbelievable what you can add onto these things. I came across a YouTube video of a guy that had added so much extras he could just as well have paid for a brand new 1200 cc BMW, now I like the KLR, but it really isn’t a match. Anyway there are three things I need to get – the windshield is a total must have, then there is the seat, the purple is a wee bit too much and even after 30 Km the ass starts to lose feeling, and I need bags. I know that the purists will not approve, but it’s mine so I’ll add these nerd items to make it more comfortable. Intense internet searching has resulted in these items on order, the only issue I have is with the seat, mine is a “C” version, which is a slightly more off-road version, with a smaller fuel tank and a different seat. These were sold only for a brief time in North America and no one will guarantee that their seat will fit, so I go for covering it myself and buying an Airhawk, cushion thingy.

Can go places I could not before   

My purchases have not yet arrived, but I have serviced the bike, well I did at least part of job, changed oil, spark plug, oil and air filters and did all the inspections, but thought it prudent to get a qualified mechanic to do some of the other things like drain and replace brake fluid, adjust the ‘doohicky’ (yes that’s what it is called by all who ride one).  I have of course done a few short rides, but wasn’t keen on going a long distances until the service was done, so now I am raring to take off on a few decent rides, the back roads and maybe a few light trails beckon. 

The After - Pimped my Ride

Death of a Boulevard

I guess it’s time to write about the bad week of smashing up the Boulevard, but have no fear, all is well that ends well. At least carries on well, as nothing has ended, even the Boulevard will go on in some form, rebuilt or chopped up for spare parts.

In truth there were two incidents, not linked other than they happened within the same week, if you count Sunday as the start of the week. I had just joined a motorcycling club, http://www.meetup.com/RollingThunderRiders, and my first ride with them was supposed to be the Cannonball 500, ride (http://www.cannonball500.ca). I set out at 6.20 a.m. on Sunday morning with every intention of doing the 800 km ride, in 12 hours, over some of the best motorcycling roads in the province and winning an ‘Iron Butt’ badge (way better than a Noddy badge). No sooner had I started out when it started to rain, very softly, but enough to make me stop at the gas station a few blocks from home and don the suit, the green rain gear outfit. I was planning to ride up the 400 motorway to the starting point for the group at Barrie Harley Davidson, so wasn’t keen to start off the day soggy and cold. I had barely travelled two blocks beyond the gas station when the Boulevard fishtailed, I could not have been doing more than 15 km/h, one moment I was riding, the next I was sliding on my ass on the tarmac with the motorcycle on top of me. It is said that the most dangerous time to ride is just after it starts to rain, there is just enough moisture to lift the oil and make the road as slippery as oyster snot, no shit Sherlock.

When all the motion came to an end my right leg was trapped between the engine and the road, fortunately it had not yet got very hot so I didn’t get burnt, but it still took me a few moments to wriggle free. It was then that I realized that I was not going to ride much further that day, the pain in the back of my leg (backside actually) was pretty excruciating, definitely a torn hamstring. A car stopped and a guy got out and helped me get the bike upright, more correctly he picked up the bike, the only useful thing I could do was to put down the kickstand, I couldn’t even assume the position to lift it. My Good Samaritan was a motorcycle rider himself so he knew how to do this job, which was a bit of luck – thanks sincerely whoever you are.  It took me another 5 minutes of teeth gritting pain to get my leg over the bike so that I could ride home. Getting off the bike was unpleasant, but nothing compared to the contortions and shooting pains that accompanied de-robing of the rain gear and boots.  It seems that I had taken the brunt of the fall and the Boulevard came off unscathed.

By Wednesday it still hurt when I did things like climb stairs, bend down or walk at any speed above a slow amble, but the pain level had subsided substantially and when I sat on the motorcycle, after a bit of fancy maneuvering,  I could hardly feel any pain at all. I felt strong enough to join the club’s Wednesday evening ride, the route that had been posted looked like a really nice ride, lots of lovely twisties through some gorgeous countryside. Most of the miles I have ridden, I have ridden solo so I was really looking forward to doing a group ride. We met-up at the pre-arranged place and there was general ‘hey fellow well met' stuff. Not all guys and a decent mix of bikes, the ubiquitous Harleys of course, but lots of other makes and types, adventure tourers, sports bikes, even a 250 cc dirt bike. By the time the 6.30 p.m. KSU (kickstands up) time rolled around, the group was about 18 or 19 strong.

Rolling Thunder Riders Meet-up - 'Hey fellow well met stuff' 

It felt marvelous to move out in such a large formation, no longer the lone ranger at the mercy of the cars, but now part of the cavalry and afforded respect and consideration. The group travelled at a fair clip…the slinky effect is a little tricky to deal with and I realized that although not entirely a novice rider, I was a rank beginner as far as riding in a large group is concerned. There are skills I had not yet developed, group riding has its own dynamics and I was wholly unused to it, still I felt reasonably confident I could pull it off. In any event it was a lovely evening, I was doing what I love most, in the company of others that love to ride and we were riding through what can only be described as a fairytale setting, hills and dales, neat little farms and rich forests. I was having the time of my life. We were riding west on Dufferin County road 17 a few clicks passed Mansfield, approaching a U bend at the bottom of a hill when one of the fairytale creatures came out of the forest and crossed in front of me. I did not swerve, it was not close enough to warrant that, but I took the corner too wide. I know I could have recovered from that, I just needed to lean hard and hit the gas with a small boast and I would have been through, but for reasons not revealed to me, that did not happen, instead I looked.  

Yes, damn my eyes, I looked. The most important lesson they taught us in motorbike school (Georgian College M1 Exist Weekend Course) was, ‘look where you want to go, do not look where you don’t’. It is if your eyeballs are steering the bike. This may seem like a load of BS for those who have not leaned to ride a motorcycle, but it is absolutely the truth. The one sure fire way to hit a pothole is to look at it, just as it is to hit a patch of gravel on the edge of the paved shoulder. I looked, I hit that patch, went rapidly from the vertical to the horizontal and the Boulevard’s front wheel struck an upright of the barrier. That is what saved me from serious injury, and the fact that I was properly dressed with mesh jacket, strong high boots, gloves, jeans and full face helmet. Apart from deep embarrassment, a reversal of the hamstring injury recovery and a funny, very sensitive lump on my right thumb, I walked away unscathed. Physically unscathed anyway.

I must admit to some emotionally scathing, my confidence took a serious knock. I even considered, well perhaps not entirely seriously considered, but the thought did cross my mind to quit the whole motorcycling business, you know the thing, it’s a sign, got off lightly this time, next time it won’t be quite so rosy. Then there are the ‘what ifs’, like what if the bike had missed the post and gone under the barrier and it was the soft polony meats of the not-so-easy-rider that whacked into the hard steel. Then I am reminded of one of my late father’s favorite sayings, ‘What if your aunt had balls? She would be your uncle!’ What if’s are just idle musings and as I have zero belief in angels, guardian or otherwise, or any gods or other mystical beings for that matter, reading a sign into any event is just a load of codswallop, whatever that may be. I know that riding a motorcycle is dangerous and that even the most experienced and cautious rider can end up in the morgue from a motor cycle accident, or worse, survive as a deeply disabled person, but the same fate could befall me right now as I type this very sentence. Risk of heart attack, stroke, cancer, kidney failure and the more exotic (Legionaries, Ebola, HIV and so on) purely health disasters that can strike are ever present especially at my age, not to mention all the other risks. I could die from something as banal as choking on a chicken bone, I think I’d rather hit that barrier.     

I often complain about the lack of quality in this blog, I must now talk about finding quality in this experience, and apart from the lack of quality in my own riding, there has been quality aplenty in everything else. From the group that abandoned the ride in order to stay with me until tow trucks and police arrived; to one guy (thank you Shawn) that ordered a tow on his own CAA membership; to a pair of female police officers, off-duty, that stopped and made sure that all was in order and nobody was hurt; to the Dufferin County cop that took my statement; to the tow truck driver that took me home at 2 a.m. and to State Farm Insurance that handled the claim expertly and generously. Honestly I can say that apart from ruining the Boulevard, personal pain and embarrassment and a terrifying few moments this has been a pretty positive experience... fucking weird isn’t it?    

Apologies for the dearth of pictures - the good stuff, pictures of wrecked Boulevard seem to have been erased from my phone, perhaps a good thing.