Motorcycle Quote of the Day

[Biggles]

I plan on returning to Europe to take part in a few veteran motorcycle events, and last, but not least, to ride coast to coast across the USA. A tall order I know, but I'm confident that once the restoration is completed Effie will be as good as new and able to rise to the occasion.
My journey was a test of endurance for man and machine. And I admit it's not a challenge that would suit everyone. Despite experiencing several close calls, I rarely felt unsafe. Luck, karma, call it what you will, does, I believe, play a large part in any bold undertaking. For me, it isn't dying that is scary. It's doing nothing.
I love the saying by James Rohn, 'If you are not willing to risk the unusual, you will have to settle for the ordinary.'
No Room For Watermelons  Ron Fellowes  p225

[Biggles]

For one reason or another, Tony had to delay working on the Wing until the fifteenth of June. I was getting a little anxious. I wanted to be with him to learn as much as possible, in case I had trouble along the way. I was most interested in how to get the fairings off. Once the fairings are removed, it is straightforward mechanic work. We found our problem in the brake master cylinder. The location of the master cylinder is not one of Mr. Honda's better ideas. To get at the brake master cylinder all the lower fairings must come off, the battery, battery box, left-hand baggage compartment, exhaust pipes, and several other bits and pieces. It's a big job just to get at the damn thing. Luckily, all that was needed was a rebuild kit. However, when you take apart the exhaust system, there are some gaskets that need to be replaced along with some other minor parts. Having to order these and then wait for their arrival took some time. Since the tear down was so extensive, I asked Tony about doing the timing belts. Honda recommends they be replaced at about ninety thousand miles. That's just about what the odometer was showing. I told Tony we might as well do it now while we are all torn apart. Tony agreed. I finally got the Wing back home in one piece on Monday, June 23rd 2008. With the exception of an oil change, I felt the Wing was ready to travel.
Winging It Again!  Marguerite and William Spicer  p7

[Biggles]

The first motel we come to is a Best Western. The motel parking lot is a sea of Harleys. The desk clerk provides a room for a mere $198.00 and that was after lowering the price $100.00 because there were only three rooms left and she wanted to fill up and turn on the "No Vacancy" sign. Some people paid $298.00 for the same room.
There is some urgency as we unload and cover the Wing for the night. There are some impressive lightning flashes and heavy claps of thunder. Fifteen minutes later, the heavens open up and it rains and hails (dime size) for almost an hour. There is about a foot of water flowing down the small street in front of the hotel. It's both scary and impressive watching the water rage down the middle of the narrow main street.
We make our way to the motel restaurant and bar, get some great seats by the window, and watch the storm while having our dinner.
We are both extremely tired after such a long day and are asleep by eight o'clock that evening, after a gruelling 466 mile day.
I don't know how long the storm lasted last night because we both fell asleep as soon as we got back to our room. We awake to clear skies and cool temperatures, fifty-eight degrees. For the first time since leaving home our big jackets will be required for riding. The rain last night has soaked everything and it takes a while to wipe down and dry off, even though we had a bike cover. The Wing is the only motorcycle at this motel to have a cover. The Harley guys were looking longingly at our equipment. I get a couple nice offers for the Wing cover but decline.
Winging It Again!  Marguerite and William Spicer  p20

[Biggles]

While unloading the Wing, I was concerned about the crowd that was gathering on the sidewalk. Most were indigenous fellows that piled out of a bar next to the hotel. I was becoming quite worried about the overnight safety of the Wing. I went inside and talked to the desk clerk about the situation. She told me this was the "Yukon". I couldn't argue with that and this was a very tough looking crowd. When I went back outside, these guys were even closer to the Wing. I got the impression they were wondering what might be of value. I kept a smile on my face and continued putting the cover on the Wing. One guy wanted to sell me a slightly used GPS and another native wanted to know if that was a CB radio on the left side of the Wing. I knew if I didn't come up with a plan there was gonna be trouble of some kind, for sure. By now, the crowd of natives had grown to at least a dozen. I was definitely outnumbered and most likely outgunned. I could tell they were feeling strength in numbers and might just decide to take whatever they wanted. Suddenly, I had a brainstorm. I announced in a very loud Marine-like voice, "Marguerite, break out your camera and start taking pictures of every one of these guys. Take every damn one of their pictures. That way, if anything happens to our motorcycle anything else, we can show the police exactly who was here." Marguerite caught on before I finished talking and by the time she'd snapped the third or fourth picture, the natives were scattering. By the time I finished securing the cover on the Wing, there wasn't a soul in sight. I went inside the hotel and watched the Wing through the lobby window for about fifteen minutes. No one even came back to the bar next door, so I felt our tactic had pretty well made the Wing safe for the evening.
Winging It Again!  Marguerite and William Spicer  p39-40

[Biggles]

We think our only option is to return to Fairbanks before it gets too late. She calls the Bridgewater Hotel, the one we stayed in last night. Suddenly, the rate has gone from $90.00 to $150.00. We take a pass.
We haven't eaten all morning. It's noon; we are very cold and getting hungry. A couple of guys who look like locals tell us there might be a restaurant and some place to stay in Cantwell, but it's off the main road a couple of miles. They give us directions. I say we give try, but only for two miles. Sure enough, there is the place. It's closed. There is a sign on the window that reads, "No Food, No Booze, No Rooms, No Nothing. We Are Closed. The Woman's Crazy and She Has a Gun!" There is a railroad track right near the place and there are some workers. We see a worker walking near the track and stop to talk to him. We ask if he knows anything about the road closing. He does. The road is closed for ten miles in either direction from the wreck site. They are evacuating anyone within that circle. The railroad guy says they have to evacuate some ot their personnel as we speak. As for the sign on the place across the road, the guy says it's all true. There is nothing here at all.
Winging It Again!  Marguerite and William Spicer  p46

[Biggles]

The tailgate on the truck was down. Kenny had placed a couple of homemade loading ramps between the tailgate and the edge of the ditch. This had lessened the angle considerably but still gave me cause to wonder. The ramps weren't solid; they were more like ladders because the rungs were almost a foot apart. They were probably perfect for loading a quad runner with large tires but I wasn't so sure about a near 1000 pound Wing. We discussed this for a moment but Kenny seemed confident the whole thing would work. All I had to do was ride the Wing up about a 10-degree incline, using a wet metal ramp, with enough speed to get up the ramp but then stop the whole thing in the 8 foot bed of the pickup truck. I couldn't put my feet down until I was in the bed of the truck, so if I tipped to one side or the other it would be a long fall. To add just another small element of difficulty to the manoeuvre, the Wing was coughing and spitting, making it difficult to apply a smooth throttle application.
Marguerite had decided to remain in the warm, dry motel room and not come capture this evolution on film. I was glad. If this went all wrong, I really didn't want her to see any of this process.
I decided to approach this much like a carrier launch in a Harrier. A lot of things are going to happen very quickly in a very short distance. If you don't get the sequence right you could get wet, injured, dead, or even worse, look bad. I ran through the sequence in my head and let out on the clutch. I was amazed that it all worked, a little shocked at how quickly I was into the bed of the truck and how short and slick the bed actually was. Kenny was nonplussed during the whole process. As soon as I shut the engine off, he was right there to start tying the Wing down. Within a couple of minutes, the whole thing was over and he said he would see us at eight the next morning.
Winging It Again!  Marguerite and William Spicer  p62

[Biggles]

We rode the Wing into Haines to sightsee and check its performance, it ran so rough; I didn't think it would make the two miles into town. Our son, Rob, had been keeping close tabs on us via the internet and cell phone. When I told him about our problem he did some research and came up with the name of a fuel additive that was supposed to work wonders for water in fuel, bad carbs, etc. I located the one and only NAPA store and purchased a can of "Sea Foam". I got the only can they had left in stock. There was about a half tank of fuel still in the Wing. After reading the instructions very carefully, I guestimated the amount I needed to add and after carefully pouring it into the tank, I closed the tank and shook the Wing from side to side. I hoped it would mix up pretty well before trying to start the Wing. The Wing managed to start but was running rough. I held my breath as I pulled away from the store. It was a miracle. I hadn't ridden two hundred yards and the Wing's engine suddenly smoothed out. It had been running rough for so many days that I almost didn't know how to act. This stuff was living up to all the claims on the can. I didn't know what the hell was in it, or why they called it "Sea Foam", but I knew I would replenish my supply as soon as I could and keep this stuff handy for the remainder of our trip.
Winging It Again!  Marguerite and William Spicer  p67

[Biggles]

We had a few glimpses of the "Rock", Alcatraz, and the Golden Gate Bridge but now I could take as much time as possible going across without holding up traffic or getting run over. I had sailed beneath liie bridge several times in my life, bound for some exotic places. I had driven across a couple times in a car, but on a Wing it was just a great experience. We were both shocked when we had to pay the $6.00 toll. I guess they have to pay for that red paint somehow. All too quickly, we were across and I could see the dome of the Presidio. We got off the 101 and were now on Lombard Street. We hoped to find a reasonably priced place within walking distance of Fisherman's Wharf. This area of Lombard Street would put us within five or six blocks. After three or four tries at some very small out of the way motels, Marguerite managed to get us a room in a Travel Lodge. It was the closest walk to the Wharf and the most reasonable price. Even with the hassle of the traffic, it was exciting to be in such an interesting city again. We settled into the motel and decided to save the Wharf until tomorrow. We were both joking about how chilly it was and the same yellow jackets we wore daily in Alaska sure felt good here. We remembered the old Mark Twain saying, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco."
Winging It Again!  Marguerite and William Spicer  p82

[Biggles]

I have no particular memories of motorcycles as a child except for an occasional story about my father having one as a young man. In the early years of my marriage to Brenda we bought a 1967 Triumph Bonneville which was the hot bike for its day. As anybody who owned a 60's Triumph knows, you couldn't go far from home without a tool kit. The longest ride I can remember taking was about 50 miles round trip, but every ride seemed fun. When Brenda became pregnant, the bike was sold.
After receiving tenure I decided it was time to seek balance in my life. I began to think of that 1967 Triumph Bonneville and the enjoyment that it had brought to Brenda and me. Each Spring the thoughts would occur. It was not until Spring 2000 that I decided to take action. One day I called Brenda from work and said, "I'm going to buy a motorcycle."
"You are?" Brenda replied. "Okay."
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p13

[Biggles]

There was an unexpected consequence from buying the Goldwing. My motorcycling friends were primarily those I had met electronically (not in person) on the Shadow Riders' Forum. Now that I no longer had a Shadow, it seemed that I did not have as much to share. I suggested that there needed to be a forum for all kinds of bikes, focused on touring. One of the members agreed and said, "Why don't you start one?"
I didn't know much about how to go about starting a forum, but managed to get one set up, calling it the Motorcycle Tourer's Forum (MTF). I didn't really expect it to grow but the next thing I knew, a couple of people showed up to post messages.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p17

[Biggles]

The Dusty Butt 1000 is 1,000 miles in 24 hours on gravel, and is a ride developed by Will and Jen Mender, and Dan and Beth Huber. I tried the Dusty Butt and that is my only true DNF (Did Not Finish). I was officially considered a DNF in the Iron Butt Rally, but I got to the finish line - so to me, it is a DNQ (Did Not Quit). During the Dusty Butt I lost my eyesight in one eye before four in the morning. We were riding cow paths. When riding a Dusty Butt, you can't get on pavement except to get to the next dirt. So it was a total of 1,060 miles. The 60 miles were just to get you to filling stations. They don't have filling stations on dirt roads.
The route had about seven questions we had to answer, such as writing down a certain name at a graveyard, to make sure we didn't cut across or cheat. Other than gas stops, we were in remote areas with wildlife and cows everywhere. It was free range so we had to be very careful.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p34-5

[Biggles]

Terry Hammond was a hugely popular figure in the motorcycling community, having established the Moonshine Lunch Run. In November 2010, he died of a heart attack at age 53. It was a shock to everybody, but Terry's death hit Tim and me especially hard. Every day of our ride Tim wore a Moonshine sweatshirt with Terry's picture on the back and left his passenger pegs down, a sign that there was an invisible passenger riding.
I started to think about how many of my friends had to stop serious long-distance riding in their late 60's and early 70's. I also thought that, at age 68, this might be Tim's last big ride and, given my health issues, mine as well.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p44

[Biggles]

We had decided that we were also going to try to complete the Iron Butt Association's USA South-West Challenge (Key West, Florida to Homer, Alaska in 14 days) as part of our ride. With a starting time of May 15, 2011, 10:21 a.m. EDT, we would have to arrive in Homer no later than May 29, 10:21 a.m. EDT. We would not be taking a direct route. Our 35 Bay by Bay Adventure route required us to ride along the southern coast to San Diego before heading north, turning a 5,448 mile ride into a 7,629 mile ride. However, our planned schedule said that we should arrive in Homer on Day 10 so it appeared as though we had plenty of time for the USA South-West Challenge.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p69

[Biggles]

Ray had waited alongside the road for over half an hour just to show his support. After a few minutes of chatting, we went down the road to Fanning Springs to get gas at the "Tackle Box" on U.S. 19 and chat a bit more. Ray understood Tim and I were on a mission and that we needed to go on, so we soon parted ways.
It is hard to explain to the average person why friends would to such extremes just to share a few minutes with another rider who is doing a big ride, it is also hard to explain how much it means to the rider that is doing the ride. We had spent no more than 10 minutes with Ray and we were so excited that he made the effort and couldn't believe he had waited alongside the road for a half an hour. Ray was going to get some lunch and head back home, likely feeling me same elation.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p77

[Biggles]

You probably noticed that I have not said much about stopping to eat. This is primarily because we really didn't eat that much. If we ate breakfast, we would typically not eat lunch. If we didn't eat breakfast, we would sometimes eat lunch. If we stopped at night and there was anything open and we were not too tired to eat we might eat dinner. Both Tim and I lost about 20 pounds on this trip. Our staple was energy bars for me and jerky and trail mix for Tim.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p101

[Biggles]

While we were eating, Tim got a call from a friend.
Friend: "Where are you at?" Tim: "I'm not sure. We stopped at a small town in Canada to get some lunch."
Friend: "It looks like you are in Lillooet."
Tim: "I think that is it."
Friend: "It looks like you are sitting on Main Street in front of Dim's restaurant."
Tim's friend had been following our satellite tracker and by looking at the map in Google Earth, knew our location better than we did.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p119-20

[Biggles]

However, this Haul road is different than any other road:
- The road crews use heavy amounts of water with calcium chloride which makes the road very slick and difficult to navigate.
- The road is constantly under construction.
- The road has many textures and surfaces: Pavement, hardpack, loose gravel, pea gravel, base rock, dirt, and occasionally sand.
When riding the Haul Road it is critical that you not over-ride what you can see. The surface can change from pavement to deep pea gravel at the top of a rise. It is also important that you watch for textural or colour changes and slow down until you figure out the road conditions. The people who crash on this road are usually the ones who get overzealous. The road is constantly changing, and one should not assume their return trip will be the same as the trip they just made up to Prudhoe Bay.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p137

[Biggles]

The ride on the Top of the World Highway was definitely a experience that I will not soon forget and one that I hope to repeat. Ordinarily, when you cross mountains you travel through the valleys between the mountains and then have a steep ascent and descent over a high pass. On the Top of the World Highway, you wind along the top of the mountains, which provides amazing vistas of the mountains and the valleys below.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p161

[Biggles]

Then he told me that he had crashed between the Mackenzie and Peel ferries. This section of the road had a narrow tire track and loose gravel. Harry was running street tires on his BMW GS Adventure and had gotten out of a track, causing his front wheel to wash out and resulting in a low side crash. He came off the bike, but was just a little banged up. His bike had slid all the way off the road and several feet down the bank, lodging itself upright in the willows lining the road. Fortunately for Harry, a passing truck and two other riders stopped to help.
One of the riders was Australian, while Harry is British. During the 18th and 19th centuries the British sent many convicts to Australian penal colonies. The connection between the British and Australians is undeniable, and is sometimes the source of some good-natured ethnic humour. The Aussie rider said, "I have to get a picture of an Aussie helping a Brit get his bike out of the ditch. Wait until I post this on Adventure Rider!"
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p184

[Biggles]

After breakfast, we backtracked the 18 miles south along the paved road to the 64-mile-long Eastman access road. At the start, the access road was in good shape even though the gravel was 2-4" deep. The deep gravel was difficult but negotiable because it had a hard base. After about 10 miles, the access road turned to "crap" - the gravel was still deep but on a very soft sand base. This made riding extremely difficult, even when standing on the pegs. Tim and I fought these extreme conditions for about five miles and both of us had moments where we thought we were going to crash. We had no idea what the condition of the road was going to be for the remaining 50 miles to Eastman, but we knew that if it was like the last five miles, one or both of us were likely to be picking ourselves and our bikes up off the ground. We decided to return to KM381 and evaluate our options. Our morning adventure had resulted in a 69 mile detour.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p217-8

[Biggles]

As we rode, we enjoyed beautiful vistas with the ocean on our right and green mountains to our left. But with the on-again-off-again rain, we were not enjoying the ride like we had hoped. Around lunch-time we spotted a small restaurant serving moose burgers. We were the only two guests and took our time studying the menu of unique items: moose steaks, capelin (a smelt-like fish), seal, and seal flipper pie. Tim was interested in the capelin and I was interested in the seal. I asked the lady about the seal and she said, "I don't eat it. My mom wouldn't cook it. It smells." Both Tim and I decided to go the safe route and ordered a moose burger, which was very good.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p234

[Biggles]

The question we have been asked the most since completing the ride is, "Would you do the ride again?" My initial response is that it's hard to believe that I even did it at all! Had my core values not driven me, I'm sure it would have never happened. And even then, I don't think I really understood the magnitude of the ride until getting to Prudhoe Bay and realizing that we were less than 40% done.
The short answer is no. Harry Farthing, when telling us about the various mountains he had successfully peaked, commented that "Once it was done, it was done." I feel the same way about long-distance rides. I don't have a desire to repeat rides that I have already completed.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p267

[Biggles]

I also confirmed that, at heart, I am a loner. I think this is why I've never had the successful family life that I desire. And why mild disagreements with Tim were blown out of proportion in my mind. It is odd how I can enjoy the company of others yet at the same time not fully appreciate it.
Joseph Juran in his autobiography, written at age 98, noted that he was not often liked by his peers. He realized, at that late age, that it was due to the circumstances of his youth and he could have corrected it by his actions, but chose not to do so. I'm only 60, and I acknowledge that I need to be much better appreciating others. But I have difficulty being consistent at it. I hope it is something I will learn before leaving this earth.
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p269

[Biggles]

When Tim and I were standing by the ocean taking in the view of the elephant seals, we definitely felt small. When we looked at the mountains in the distance we proceeded with joy. When there was an opportunity to give up on our trip, we did not yield to the path of least resistance. Many feel that motorcycling is dangerous, particularly long distance riding, and would view that Tim and I were "takin chances," but they were worth taking.
When you look back on the years, don't wonder where the years have gone!
This was an amazing experience and one that I hope will be duplicated by many other riders in the future. If not the whole ride, then the components of the ride as we have developed them.
Ordinary people can do extraordinary things, if they only dream, believe, and strive to achieve!
Passion In The Wind   Alan Leduc  p271

[Biggles]

Then a booming French voice startled us all. We turned around to find a tall, immaculately dressed elderly gentleman, complete with overcoat, hat and walking cane, who put his a round my shoulder in a protective manner and roared at the Tunisian men, waving his cane at them until they backed ray hissing and muttering. I was steered back to the ticket window by my saviour.
"Merci monsieur, merci beaucoup," I said gratefully.
"De rien! You travel by motorcycle?" he asked, pointing at my crash helmet.
I nodded.
"And where do you go after Tunisia?"
"I am riding to South Africa."
"Non! Mon Dieu! On a moto, all alone?"
The rest of the punters, who had witnessed my dramatic rescue, were listening to every word and gave a collective "Oooh!" As soon as I got my ticket, the old man swept me out from the crowd, twirled me round on the ticket office floor, grasped my shoulders and planted a continental kiss on each cheek.
"Bonne chance, ma cherie, bonne chance!" he bellowed, to the delight of the other customers, who began clapping and cheering. He gave me a giant bear hug, and with that, he was gone. I wished he was coming to Cape Town with me.
Red Tape And White Knuckles  Lois Pryce  p19