- Joined
- Oct 19, 2005
- Messages
- 18,978
Wes's '71, my '72 and Rich Stone's SVstrom 650 - because his usual '75 clutch was too much yet for recent L wrist fracture. Rich left Nebraska about 7 am to arrive at Wes's after 5 pm yesterday but he knows full well a mere interstate marathon ain't the endurance fun test of a day spent in the Ozarks.
Rich is into fancy digital photography so asked Wes to take us to the crookedest section he knew to get some shot of Commando leaning by. Devils Den road chopped out by Conservation Corps by hand and small ancient bull dozers. Jeeze Louise I was freaking out to follow them into and around these twisted loading dock ramps with lumps bumps and grit all over. We mostly rode but he did try some shots so will see what turns up later.
Trixie had too soft tires for road work so aired up to 30 rear 28 front which surprisingly eliminated another level of sense of engine getting through, but make too harsh on the choppy stuff so let some out but got too much out the front which spoiled road holding with front to rear tire oscillation. That was not the way to feel fun trying to break into 10 and 15 corkscrews. Thank goodness I'd dealt with brake pads a couple days prior. Wes said it was all he could do to slow up in time with his poor ole drum brake. We were not racing just trying not to crash while going with some purpose. Sloppy ole commando's worked us up a sweat in the rising record heat of the day. Did the Devils Den back and forth in and out so much I got confused on which way was out. Got some eye fulls of girl skin around the pool and the rugged rock dam built in 1933 the hard labor way. Had beans and corn bread and tea, then lit back out.
To get there way kind of interesting as we took a road not shown on map nor labled that turned into THE Gravel for a dozen miles but spit us out on a hwy we hoped it might. Gas stations in time was always a bit pensive making choices on next direction to take.
Diddled my tire pressure on hard k81 for 2 lb lower than rear and Trixie behaved better so could pick up the pace but still not trusting handling to keep up with Wes and Rich in the tighetst places, them being used to their rides for years now. I creeped up on Trixie's limits on the Pig Trail and then the rater better laid out Hyw 215 that goes nowhere but 15 miles to a cafe/station open since 1890. We gassed up, sat in shade and had a cold drink, watching HD group we passed idle by, with Wes saying there ain't nothing but THE beyond here, they'll be back, and were to enjoy viewing out old steeds.
Durrng fuel stops, d/t HyRyder and Roadster wimpy range comped to 5.7 gal of the SVstrom, I'd wondered why I'd need more gas than Wes. Well found out here as noticed constant drip of gas to find LH float bowl loose and missing a screw.
Stole one from the LH switch gear but was course thread so stole another from the carb top and stopped the drainage. I got restless before they did so kicked up heels on way out on Hwy215, which is narrow 2 lane, rock wall or guard rail on river drop off side and shear rock cliff face on other side but not crazy sharp turns like Pig Trail or Devils Den. Got to feeling a bit more confident finally.
Twisted and turned and flowed and swooped a mile ahead of them up to 80 till passed a cool pic nic area to see a Ural and pulled off and swung around to take a gander. Turns on the fella said he has an 850 and was heads up long before we passed hearing their unique sound before we got there. Wes told the fella they were catching their wind on this leg - after me following them way back all day long.
Got back to Kingston and invited to a meal with them but I was so wind/sun blasted I could not face Wes's drive way, which he mentioned concern that Rich could do it with bum wrist, but the head size rock knobs is incentive to adrenalize the last drop of skill out of ya. Good hot day in Dixieland to burn up almost 300 miles. Photo's when they share any with me.
Rich is into fancy digital photography so asked Wes to take us to the crookedest section he knew to get some shot of Commando leaning by. Devils Den road chopped out by Conservation Corps by hand and small ancient bull dozers. Jeeze Louise I was freaking out to follow them into and around these twisted loading dock ramps with lumps bumps and grit all over. We mostly rode but he did try some shots so will see what turns up later.
Trixie had too soft tires for road work so aired up to 30 rear 28 front which surprisingly eliminated another level of sense of engine getting through, but make too harsh on the choppy stuff so let some out but got too much out the front which spoiled road holding with front to rear tire oscillation. That was not the way to feel fun trying to break into 10 and 15 corkscrews. Thank goodness I'd dealt with brake pads a couple days prior. Wes said it was all he could do to slow up in time with his poor ole drum brake. We were not racing just trying not to crash while going with some purpose. Sloppy ole commando's worked us up a sweat in the rising record heat of the day. Did the Devils Den back and forth in and out so much I got confused on which way was out. Got some eye fulls of girl skin around the pool and the rugged rock dam built in 1933 the hard labor way. Had beans and corn bread and tea, then lit back out.
To get there way kind of interesting as we took a road not shown on map nor labled that turned into THE Gravel for a dozen miles but spit us out on a hwy we hoped it might. Gas stations in time was always a bit pensive making choices on next direction to take.
Diddled my tire pressure on hard k81 for 2 lb lower than rear and Trixie behaved better so could pick up the pace but still not trusting handling to keep up with Wes and Rich in the tighetst places, them being used to their rides for years now. I creeped up on Trixie's limits on the Pig Trail and then the rater better laid out Hyw 215 that goes nowhere but 15 miles to a cafe/station open since 1890. We gassed up, sat in shade and had a cold drink, watching HD group we passed idle by, with Wes saying there ain't nothing but THE beyond here, they'll be back, and were to enjoy viewing out old steeds.
Durrng fuel stops, d/t HyRyder and Roadster wimpy range comped to 5.7 gal of the SVstrom, I'd wondered why I'd need more gas than Wes. Well found out here as noticed constant drip of gas to find LH float bowl loose and missing a screw.
Stole one from the LH switch gear but was course thread so stole another from the carb top and stopped the drainage. I got restless before they did so kicked up heels on way out on Hwy215, which is narrow 2 lane, rock wall or guard rail on river drop off side and shear rock cliff face on other side but not crazy sharp turns like Pig Trail or Devils Den. Got to feeling a bit more confident finally.
Twisted and turned and flowed and swooped a mile ahead of them up to 80 till passed a cool pic nic area to see a Ural and pulled off and swung around to take a gander. Turns on the fella said he has an 850 and was heads up long before we passed hearing their unique sound before we got there. Wes told the fella they were catching their wind on this leg - after me following them way back all day long.
Got back to Kingston and invited to a meal with them but I was so wind/sun blasted I could not face Wes's drive way, which he mentioned concern that Rich could do it with bum wrist, but the head size rock knobs is incentive to adrenalize the last drop of skill out of ya. Good hot day in Dixieland to burn up almost 300 miles. Photo's when they share any with me.
