Horny Toad

Here. This is the TCU Horned Frog emblem. This is just about the extent of my custom motorcycle modification skills.

Goodnight

The snow has melted and Amarillo recorded a record high of 78 degrees, so Bill, Ron & I set out for an afternoon cruise out to Armstrong County where we paid tribute to the real king of the cowboys, Charles Goodnight. At Charlie Goodnight's grave, it's apparently a local custom to leave a bandana. Some leave other trinkets, and even coins. I knew about the bandana thing though, so I made sure we all three travelled with one to leave at the site. While there, we enjoyed a saddlebag picnic of homemade pecan pralines and cookies thoughtfully provided by Jenny Q.

Some people might consider it strange to make a cemetery a destination. When you think about it though, it's the ultimate destination for all of us, so maybe it's a sneak peak into the future. Ron mentioned that it's odd how it can be comforting and pleasant to contemplate a graveyard. He's right, it is a strange sensation. I think it's like how listening to a sad song can often make you feel good.*

We stopped for coffee at the Dairy Queen in Claude and still made it home before the cold and dark set in. It was a great ride.














*That reminds me of a sad song. Souvenirs, by Steve Goodman:
"...I hate graveyards and old pawn shops,
For they always bring me tears.
I can't forgive the way they robbed me of my childhood souvenirs."

Snowed in

Winter finally showed up.




Bah.

Brothers

JT and Scott; Bill and Larry

Indian Summer

It's one of those beautiful West Texas Indian summer days that catch you unaware, because of the rarity of its occurring on a Sunday. So, without a map or a plan you throw on some layers, fire up the cycle and take to the back roads.

Sure enough, at 70 mph without a windscreen the reality of November bites your blue jeaned legs and the back of your neck. Even your gloved hands ache for better clothes. So, you slow to 60 and the wind noise subsides pleasantly, and before long the chilled extremities are forgotten. Now you can concentrate on the flocks of migrating ducks, geese and sandhill cranes that form dark shapes over the playa lakes. Way, way up high, far above the clattering, clucking migrations, a red-tail hawk circles, supervising. It's such a nice day now, that you think if only you could convince these birds to turn and go back north, maybe we could postpone winter for a little while longer.

Eventually at this reduced speed, you gain company in the rearview mirror. A large cattle truck, probably on this lonely two lane back road on the sly in an effort to conceal his weight, status, or other impropriety from the troopers on the interstate, is coming up fast trying to make up his lost time. The idea of his stinking (and probably moist) slipstream encourages the extremities to brace themselves for the wind chill, and you roll on the throttle, on past 70, up to 85 where you notice that the road, though straight and smooth, now appears much narrower, and the brush more likely to loose a deer or antelope into your path. The truck is disappearing into the mirror now, so you relax the throttle a bit and keep a close eye on the road, looking for a turn off where you can stop, rub your hands and let the misguided trucker migrate on his way.

Instead, you find another road up ahead, branching off to the left. You had forgotten this road, an old farm road which though it doesn't connect any farms anymore, is paved none the less and is even less traveled than the other one. Now the sun is higher and is in front of you and all the coldness is forgotten. With the warming sun and enormous cobalt sky, your spirit begins to soar and you revel at the sound of the exhaust and the feel of the road beneath you. Wow, you've gone sixty miles already, and not a single bug splat. Hurray for November!

Now you're getting into the canyon country, where the featureless plain starts to show signs of breaking up into crevices and gullies. You and your bike dance through the curves at the bottom of the occasional draw or creek bed and you thrill to the sound of the engine as it torques happily each climb back onto the plain. Soon you're on the final expanse of wide open plains and you marvel at the enormity of the pool table flatness of this country.

Then suddenly, without warning, the bottom falls out and you find yourself a thousand feet above the world. The blue hills and purple valleys below in stark contrast to the pale yellow plain behind you. You are on the edge of the Caprock Escarpment overlooking the Palo Duro Canyon.

The sky has given up some of its grandeur to the vast expanse of vistas opening up below. You can see 30 miles in the distant canyons, and can just make out the road and landmarks ahead and below you. Now you understand how the hawk feels as he surveys his next meal. Never mind that your own next meal is a Subway sandwich stuffed in your saddlebag, your talons clamp the controls and you manuever the machine quickly and gracefully through the winding road past breathtaking scenery down into the canyon where ultimately you light upon a picnic
table perched near a rocky canyon wall.

The motorcycle is quiet now. Its noise is replaced by the rustling of the few remaining cottonwood leaves and the murmur of the nearby stream. You take off your jacket, unruffle your feathers, and enjoy quite possibly the best sandwich you have ever eaten.

Frame painting and GPS

Yesterday we shot the first coat on the CT70 Mini-Trail bikes. Mine is blue, Ron has the green one. While the paint dried, we installed the new GPS on Ron's BMW. The GPS is very cool, but I have decided not to install one on my CT70. At least, not until this money thing loosens up.

Fastest growing motorcycle gang in Texas

Membership is up 25% over the past 2 days. Our good buddy Bill has acquired this virtually new silver and white Suzuki Volusia. This beautiful bike is nearly identical to my silver and gray C-50 Boulevard. I got to ride it and now I'm in the market for a windshield.

New tires

The red Passport gets new tires. Ron rigged up a handy hoist system with an electric winch.

Straighten up and fly right

I reversed the saddle bags on my Honda. Now the wings are correctly oriented.

Me and Chuck

Ron & I were looking for somewhere to ride our new bikes, so we drove out to visit the Galloways. They always treat me well. Here's me and Chuck admiring my new toy.

What makes an old man smile?

Rodney has a big smile on his face since he picked up his new Suzuki 2006 Boulevard C50 Cruiser. As the fall season sets in, it will be a long cold winter while the new metric cruiser awaits to hit the open highway of the Texas Panhandle.

On the trailer

I went to Wichita Falls to pick up my newly purchased (eBay) motorcyle today. I was a little unsure of my tie-down job, so I was constantly checking my rearview mirror to see if the straps were still tight. This allowed me to develop an emotional bond with the bike on the way home, because it was like being followed home by a big chrome-steel-and-leather cyclops puppy.

Pannier bags

I made some pannier bags (saddle bags) out of a pair of musette bags (official Army designation: M-1936, so named because they resemble a small French bagpipe called a musette) from an army surplus store. I got the idea from an internet article.

I went the extra step and made a Honda emblem stencil, and then took a double extra step and made a reverse image so that the wing would appear to be going forward on both sides of the bike. Then I took the whole apparatus and incorrectly installed them backwards so as to negate all my extra steps. However, the whole assembly will be very functional and convenient for carrying small loads and should visually appear logical so long as I am rolling backwards.

Paradigm Shift

Ron & Linda went to Santa Fe and brought back this beautiful, brand new BMW R1200RT. It is a magnificent machine.

Lineup

Sandblasting

This is me using Joe's new sandblasting setup. It cleaned up the frame of the CT-70 really well.

Suzuki Burgman

Today at a carwash in Wichita Falls, I met a really nice guy who had an '06 Suzuki Burgman 650 Scooter. This old guy is an ex-Harley rider who has bad knees and cannot easily hold up a bike so this one is equipped with a pair of outrigger wheels so that it looks like a trike, even though it still has the original rear wheel in place. It also had a trailer hitch installed on the scooter. He still wore his biker do-rag bandana and his denim jacket with colors & etc. He said that this scooter will do over 110 mph, and that he rides all day at 80 mph. He's had it 6 months, and has put 11,000 miles on it. (I guess he's retired). He takes it to all the veterans rallys and he took it to Sturgis for the big rally there. He says the Harley guys give him shit, but he just laughs it off. Said he was tired of having to work on a bike all day, & would rather ride one.

The Burgman is Suzuki's answer to the Honda Silver Wing. I've been reading up on both, and people ride these things everywhere. They are not just an urban commuter bike, but are a true touring machine. It does seem like most people on them are pretty old though. (Yes, I know what you are thinking. Go to hell.)

-Fuel injected, water-cooled 650cc v-twin engine
-The engine is tuned for emphasis on torque at the low and middle portion of the rpm scale
-Suzuki Electronically Controlled Variable Transmission (SECVT).

The Holy Grail

Since I was in Jr. High, I've always wanted a Honda CB77 Super Hawk 305 motorcycle like the one Steve McQueen is on in this picture. These things are getting scarce and expensive. Well, it turns out there is one on the roof of Skooterz Biker Bar. When we were there, they let us stack some tables and climb up on the roof and look at it.

We need to figure out a way to talk them out of the bike, but so far the owner isn't returning our calls.

Biker Bar Trip

Ron and I took the C70's to town and stopped at a couple of biker bars on Sixth Street. We were pretty well received by the Harley guys. Had a burger at Moose's, and the folks at Skooterz bought us a beer and looked over our bikes.

This was the first time to take these little bikes into town. It was really fun, I enjoyed the ride through Thompson Park, North Heights, and Sixth Street.

CT70's disassembled

We took apart the CT70 Trail Bikes. Ron's is the red one, mine is the yellow one. There are not as many good parts as I thought.

Honda C70's

It turns out that after we got the blue C70 running, it was the most fun to ride (compared to the ST-90 and the CT-70). So, Ron finds this red one on EBay and we make another road trip to Tulsa, Oklahoma and pick it up. Then he finds the yellow one locally in the Thrifty Nickel. So now, between us, we are in charge of a fleet of motorbikes. Soon to become an empire.

All three of these bikes are 1981 Honda C-70 Passports. They have a 72cc 4-stroke engine, 3 speed transmission with an automatic clutch, and a 6 volt electrical system. They are part of the Honda "CUB" family which are the most popular form of motorized transportation on the planet. They are rather rare in the U.S. though. Honda stopped importing them in '84, to make room for the US appetite for bigger & faster bikes.

CT70's

We've come up with a couple of basketcase CT70's. We're not sure, but think they can be rebuilt. The frames are straight and most of the parts are there. We'll probably spend more than they are worth to get them running, but what the hell. It's a good excuse to turn some wrenches.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Ron is a master at figuring out how things work. While I struggle with tools, study the repair manual and fight with the parts, Ron calmly repairs my carburetor WITH HIS MIND.

Ron's new shop

Ron has built this great shop behind his house and there's lots of room for motorbikes, scooters, cycles and other junk. It's like a great big blank canvas, just waiting to be filled with crap.

My first project was to get my little blue Honda C70 Passport running. My wife Barbara bought this bike at a garage sale about 15 years ago and apart from occasional mistreatment from my sons, has stood in storage, neglected for all those years.

The carburetor was full of varnish, and had to be disassembled and cleaned. After installing the carb and checking for spark, we still had trouble getting it started. Finally, Ron brings around a garden tractor and ties one end of a short rope to the tractor, and the other end to the handlebar column on the bike, and pulls me down the alley and into the street. I hammered the shifter into gear and about 1/2 a block later, she fired and bolted on me, very nearly ramming into the back of the tractor before I remembered how to slow it down.

After a lot of smoke, backfiring and laughter, the little bike finally leaned out and idled more or less. Next time we should use a longer rope. It was great to get the bike running again. I felt like a twelve year old with a new toy.

ST-90

Ron and I were talking one day about some little motorbikes to use while camping in our newly built teardrop trailers, and we got the idea to find us a couple of old Honda trail bikes. Ron found this one on EBay and we made a road trip to Poteau, Oklahoma where we picked it up. It's a Honda ST90.

While passing through Okfuskee County, we stopped at the old Morse Cemetery and paid respects to my dad, enjoyed a Natural Light in his memory, and tried to remember the lyrics to Merle Haggard's "Working Man Blues".