An Introduction To Bikes
I have always had an interest in motorcycles, but I didn't get into riding seriously until later in life. In my teens I did stupid enough stuff with cars that I knew I would kill myself on a bike, so I told myself I would wait until I was in my 20's... then I got married. Somehow half a decade flew by and I still hadn't got around to getting a bike. You will have to excuse some of the gaps in my memory, I am recalling much of this many years later.
Out of the blue one day Darren, a friend of mine for many years, said he wanted to go motorcycle shopping. He was looking to get into motorcycles and was shopping for a brand new bike. I had been tossing around the idea of getting a bike again, but it was the idea of having people to ride with that really turned it into a mission. While at the dealership I knew if I were to get one, I was going to get something used and worth less than $4000 as statistically most people wreck their first bikes. Darren on the other hand wanted something shiny and new.
I have always had an interest in motorcycles, but I didn't get into riding seriously until later in life. In my teens I did stupid enough stuff with cars that I knew I would kill myself on a bike, so I told myself I would wait until I was in my 20's... then I got married. Somehow half a decade flew by and I still hadn't got around to getting a bike. You will have to excuse some of the gaps in my memory, I am recalling much of this many years later.
Out of the blue one day Darren, a friend of mine for many years, said he wanted to go motorcycle shopping. He was looking to get into motorcycles and was shopping for a brand new bike. I had been tossing around the idea of getting a bike again, but it was the idea of having people to ride with that really turned it into a mission. While at the dealership I knew if I were to get one, I was going to get something used and worth less than $4000 as statistically most people wreck their first bikes. Darren on the other hand wanted something shiny and new.
In Oregon you have to have your motorcycle endorsement before you can ride and to get your endorsement you must take a motorcycle rider safety course, but you don't have to have any of that just to buy the motorcycle. Darren had already completed his class, but the fact I hadn't didn't stop me from shopping.
Darren and I headed down to a dealership we had heard good things about, Power Yamaha. They specialize in Kawasaki, Yamaha, KTM, and a few others as well as having a large used inventory. I was interested in browsing the trade ins, Darren was looking at the big incentives on the Ninja 650Rs they had in stock, specifically a black on black one he had seen online. Neither of us were totally set on buying a bike that trip, but we wanted to get an idea of what our tastes were and what the prices were looking like. |
When we arrived at the dealership we set to looking at the bikes and gear. It didn't take long for Darren to decide he liked the 650Rs even more after seeing them in person, he had been researching them for weeks in advance. I was less specific, I was looking at a little of everything. I liked the look and feel of an Aprilia Tuono, but it was pricey and Italian, not the best for a first bike. After looking around for over an hour, looking through the gear, and pricing out what it would really cost to get into bikes, we sat down to talk to a sales rep.
Right off the bat he was helpful. He helped narrow down our goals, explained how they handled the new bikes, the used bikes, the various warranties, and gear. After some discussion and working out that if we wanted to buy a bike from them, we could buy gear at cost, Darren was hooked. He had never really stopped looking at the bright green Ninja 650R sitting by the door since we had walked in and with incentives, it was down just over $4700 and Darren haggeling. So into financing discussions he went, looking to see if he could roll all the purchases, gear and all, into the bike, and back to shopping I went. At the end of the day Darren had a bike and I had an idea of what I wanted.
Right off the bat he was helpful. He helped narrow down our goals, explained how they handled the new bikes, the used bikes, the various warranties, and gear. After some discussion and working out that if we wanted to buy a bike from them, we could buy gear at cost, Darren was hooked. He had never really stopped looking at the bright green Ninja 650R sitting by the door since we had walked in and with incentives, it was down just over $4700 and Darren haggeling. So into financing discussions he went, looking to see if he could roll all the purchases, gear and all, into the bike, and back to shopping I went. At the end of the day Darren had a bike and I had an idea of what I wanted.
Darren now had a bike and I knew I was going to get something, but just not what. In Oregon the safety class you have to take is the Team Oregon class, which is a two day or so class that starts from the very basics of walking a bike around up to working with intersections, looking through corners, and emergency braking/maneuvers. It really is a great class. Even if it were not required, I believe everyone should take something similar. We had people in the class that had been riding for years that barely passed due to bad habits and a general lack of real control of their bikes.
Since Darren had already wrapped up his class, I was on my own. I found a local class and got on the list. |
The class was a lot of fun. We basically played with the bikes for a day and sat in a classroom for a day. It was really an eye opener to see some of the students who had ridden motorcycles to the class, failing miserably at executing basic maneuvers. One of the students who was an "expert" could not do an emergency stop to save their life (literally). After getting into the swing of things again (having ridden nothing but a few dirt bikes as a kid) I was having tons of fun and narrowing down my bike choices.
I had decided that I wanted a more upright bike I could ride 365 days a year. I knew I was going to dive headfirst into riding and if I was going to spend that many hours on something I wanted it to be reliable, reasonable to maintain, and comfortable enough for hours on end of riding. On one of my random trips to the dealership to browse through their used inventory, I found the bike.
I had decided that I wanted a more upright bike I could ride 365 days a year. I knew I was going to dive headfirst into riding and if I was going to spend that many hours on something I wanted it to be reliable, reasonable to maintain, and comfortable enough for hours on end of riding. On one of my random trips to the dealership to browse through their used inventory, I found the bike.
It was a 2006 Kawasaki Z750S, a fairly uncommon bike in the US, but very popular in the rest of the world. The bike was a very interesting composite of ideas and parts. The engine was a 750cc they made by sleeving down 1000cc, so it was oddly torquey while also revving quite high for the geometry. It had a nice upright body position, and was mostly stock. The only real modification the bike had was heated grips, which would teach me one thing... I love heated grips.
To top it all off the bike was my favorite color, black, and well within the price cap I had instituted. It had about 8,000 miles on it, but didn't show wear and tear hardly at all. After standing in the dealership for 4 hours researching the bike, deliberating options, and triple checking all my information, I bought it and all the gear I needed. |
From the point I had my endorsement, I rode my bike as my commuter vehicle every day. After the first three weeks, Darren and I had decided to do a long distance road trip. We gave our selves another two months to get more comfortable with our bikes and get our bikes, gear, and selves sorted out, then take a long trip somewhere.
Diving Into the Deep End
The perfect opportunity reared it's head when I had to go to Las Vegas for a business trip. Rather than take a plane like a sane person, we decided we should do it on our bikes. As you can imagine, this was quite the learning experience, but we wouldn't have traded it for anything. After this trip, we were full blown motorcycle addicts.
Diving Into the Deep End
The perfect opportunity reared it's head when I had to go to Las Vegas for a business trip. Rather than take a plane like a sane person, we decided we should do it on our bikes. As you can imagine, this was quite the learning experience, but we wouldn't have traded it for anything. After this trip, we were full blown motorcycle addicts.
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We would set out from Salem as early as possible, and right straight to Reno for the night. Then early the next morning we would take off from Reno and head to Las Vegas. Once we reached Vegas, my business trip would start and we would be living it up at the Planet Hollywood for four days, then continue to Lake Havasu for a couple days before starting home. This would take us through some icy mountain passes, cold high desert, and hot lower desert areas.
I opted to bring a backpack, two saddle bags, and a tank bag. This gave me room for options, but still was amazingly little space for two weeks of riding. We both had decent helmets and gloves, but nothing over the top pricey. At this point we hadn't invested in gortex gear or anything other than my Alpine Stars boots that were more than my helmet. I also splurged on Scala communicators so that we would be less bored out of our minds while traversing the Nevada wastes. |
In preparation for our trip we did several day trips to test out the gear, make sure everything was performing as we expected, and give us a chance in general to change our minds on what we were willing to carry for 30+ hours of riding. In the end, we decided most of our gear would have a place somewhere along the road.
This trip also gave us an interesting look into the differences of similar bikes. While my bike did have 100c more displacement, the biggest difference was the number of cylinders and layout. The Ninja 650R was a parallel twin making around 65 HP and 45 lb-ft TQ from it's two big cylinders. My Z750S on the other hand had two more small cylinders, but made 107 HP and 55 lb-ft TQ. They were very different animals at different RPMs. Another difference that would make it's self oddly apparent during the first leg of our trip was the fact the 650R has it's muffler entirely tucked underneath the bike inside plastics while the Z750S has it high and proud hanging off the side of the rear tire. This was not the difference we expected to be talking about the most.
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Passing through the first mountain passes in sub freezing temperatures, my heated grips and readily available warm exhaust kept me much more comfortable than Darren, who, often was seen huddling far closer to my bike than seemed appropriate. He developed almost a fetish for it's tail pipe during the cold parts of the trip.
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By the time we were coming out of the mountains we were thoroughly frozen. The roads looked clear, but were covered in freezing fog and frost. The freezing fog had been accumulating on our gear the whole way and even with my heated grips, my hands were numb most of the descent and as shown in the pictures, whenever I flexed my hand almost invisible ice would break up and flake off. The cold was draining us fast and the stress made us ride faster and faster, contrary to good sense. We knew we had to pull off and reset as soon as possible.
The first place we found was a restaurant in Chiloquin. If you don't know where that is, you are not alone. It had been hours of riding on virtually no food so that we could avoid having to make bathroom breaks. Obviously, food, restrooms, and warmth sounded pretty appealing, and safer than trying out run the cold. |
The place we found was called Melita's, a Motel & Cafe combination, and more or less the only place we could see. We were far too excited to get off the bikes and get warm to be picky. It was a nice little place, but for some reason their heat was turned down as low as it could go.
As it turned out, the manager of the restaurant was the only person with keys to control the heat. Of course, they were not in that day. Everyone was huddling around coffee trying to stay warm. So we did the same and smothered our food in Tabasco sauce to at least pretend we were warm.
Eventually we admitted to ourselves that we had to get back on the road and it wasn't getting any warmer. We shuffled our frozen selves back to our bikes and plugged along for many more hours of riding. Passing through Klamath Falls and into California. Occasionally we would stop along side the road to snap a few pictures so we had evidence we were actually on the trip, but otherwise we maintained a very fast pace. We were both not looking forward to more time riding than we had to, knowing we were facing about a day and a half of straight riding time already. |
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The massive changes in elevation and temperature were interesting to experience as a new rider. The road surface changes, the gear selection changes, and how it all impacted our attitudes. If we could stay warm and in good spirits, we could be safer and more efficient. The distractions of the cold and discomfort had an obvious negative impact on our riding.
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Arriving in Reno ahead of schedule gave us a much needed recharge time. Fortunately, the place we chose allowed us to park our bikes right in front of the concierge desk so that they could keep an eye on them over night. We found that more often than not, people were very accommodating of motorcycles... at least until we reached Las Vegas.
After the first leg we were feeling pretty good. It was nice to have chosen to stay at hotels rather than camp for a trip this long as we didn't have to carry all the additional camping equipment. Without a comfortable bed, facing a 7+ hour followup ride the next day would have been far more daunting and extremely so had we known the level of absolute nothing leading to Tonopah. |
Leaving Reno we were refreshed and ready for the trip. For those who have never made this drive will realize how quickly the desert can change this perception. Within in two hours of seeing nothing but desert our sanity began to slip and was only really held together by our ability to talk over our communicators... or at least have a shared delusion.
Cooking through the desert at, adequately high speeds, we were making good time, but struggling to keep ourselves focused. Eventually we started calling out passes on vehicles as if we were fighter pilots executing maneuvers, making a game of the basic chore of maintaining pace. Every now and then one of us would mention the unmentionable, cops. We knew there had to be Sheriff or State cars out there patrolling and they probably wouldn't appreciate our efficiency with which we were covering ground, but the difference of 20% efficiency was the difference of getting in after 7 hours vs a little over 5.5 hours. On one particular straight stretch (let's be real, it's almost all straight and completely empty) we saw a car coming up behind us. This was alarming for several reasons, not the least of which was our current speed. Whoever they were, they were climbing on us hard, at speeds most economy cars simply can't go. The only logical conclusion was that it was a police officer coming to tax us for being too efficient, so we pulled to the slow lane to wait for them (we are mostly polite, law abiding(ish) citizens).
Cooking through the desert at, adequately high speeds, we were making good time, but struggling to keep ourselves focused. Eventually we started calling out passes on vehicles as if we were fighter pilots executing maneuvers, making a game of the basic chore of maintaining pace. Every now and then one of us would mention the unmentionable, cops. We knew there had to be Sheriff or State cars out there patrolling and they probably wouldn't appreciate our efficiency with which we were covering ground, but the difference of 20% efficiency was the difference of getting in after 7 hours vs a little over 5.5 hours. On one particular straight stretch (let's be real, it's almost all straight and completely empty) we saw a car coming up behind us. This was alarming for several reasons, not the least of which was our current speed. Whoever they were, they were climbing on us hard, at speeds most economy cars simply can't go. The only logical conclusion was that it was a police officer coming to tax us for being too efficient, so we pulled to the slow lane to wait for them (we are mostly polite, law abiding(ish) citizens).
As the car got closer we realized they weren't slowing down. A streak of silver flew past us on the left and the chase was on. I couldn't make out the badges, but it was some kind of Cadillac and I could have sworn there wasn't a driver in the seat. Somewhere mid way through the first set of triple digits of speed, we caught up next to the car and were able to see this speed demon up close.
Barely able to see over the dash, looking between the outer ring and dash pad, was a tiny blue haired lady on a mission. She glanced over at us, but seemed completely unconcerned that we were covering over three and a half feet per second. If anything, she seemed piterbed that we were able to catch up at all. We decided to ease off and let her blaze her way to the next casino unbothered by us. |
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Other than signs warning not to hit donkeys, she was one of the most interesting things we saw for this stretch. We didn't even bother stopping for pictures anywhere. We saw a few places we wouldn't have minded exploring, but most of them came several hours into the ride and we just didn't feel like spending more time wandering the desert than necessary. Especially facing the nightmare that is Las Vegas traffic at the end of it.
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The rough halfway mark, and first real place to stop, refuel, and eat on this stretch is Tonopah. The town that marks the downhill slide to the finish line and has the great meeting place of travelers, the fabled Chevron with Burger King and Subway. When we arrived and grabbed some food, we happened to sit down with a couple Australians who had made the same ride. We commiserated about the trip, and they told us about riding most of the way around Australia and how much of it is similar. Due to the fact I am terrible with names, I forgot theirs within ten seconds of speaking, but I remember the Ducatis they rode.
It is in an interesting little town, but we have never had much time to explore it. A few sandwiches, fuel, and conversation later, we hit the road again. One of my trips I'm going to try to set aside more time to explore places like this. If this is something of interest to people, let me know. Back to the never ending story. |
We were doing well most of the last leg of the trip. That was, until Darren needed to stop at a restroom and realized not only there were none until Vegas, but there also was no shoulder to the road. The shoulder of the road was nothing but soft gravel piled up several feet to an elevated road surface. Pulling over along this area would absolutely involve one of us getting our bikes stuck and someone having to cannibalize the other to survive. This prompted him to keep stepping up the pace, and lose patience with all the "slow" traffic we encountered.
The closer we got to the end, the more sloppy our riding got. Not only did the riding get worse, but the traffic got worse, and it wasn't long before we found our selves sitting in stop and go traffic. Sitting in traffic sucks. Sitting in traffic after riding over 6 hours, is awful. As soon as we saw an exit we took it, and I may have done so a little too exuberantly.
Over the communicator I heard Darren yell and I saw him swerving in my mirror. When he caught up I was informed that my bottle of water, which had spent the vast majority of our trip comfortably snuggled into my backpack, had been launched like a missile at him. The accuracy was limited, so it struck the road far enough ahead of him that he dodged most of it and was only splattered by the spray. Of course I had to ask why he didn't catch it and give it back. |
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After playing a lot of roulette and gorging ourselves on PF Chang's with the winnings for four days... oh and doing a work conference thing... we hit the road for Lake Havasu, AZ.
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In order to get to Lake Havasu you really have two options: Cut East and go through Kingman, AZ or cut back West through the corner of California. We opted to cut back into California.
If there's one thing to know about California, it's that their roads are terrible in every imaginable way. There are too many cars, too many pot holes, and huge rolling waves to the road that can hide entire semi trucks in passing zones. As you leave Nevada HWY 95 is smooth, wide, and flat, but as you enter Arizona it becomes two lanes of opposing traffic with terrible visibility, huge ruts, and cracks/pot holes that will rattle your fillings out of your teeth. We struggled to find anywhere to place our tires that didn't seem like a bad idea. We basically had to stand on the pegs and ride as if on dirt or rutted gravel roads for most of the way to HWY 40. Once we hit 40 and Needles, we were at the Arizona border and things got better again. |
Most people think of Lake Havasu, AZ as a party place, just another big Spring Break destination, but that is only true on a few select holidays. The rest of the year, Lake Havasu is a relaxing place to stop and recharge on your way to Southern Arizona or on your way back North. The town is mostly comprised of "Snow Birds", retired people who flee both hot and cold, only existing anywhere during ideal weather. This makes Lake Havasu virtually empty much of the year.
I opted to try out the Heat Hotel for this stop over. Lake Havasu only has a few good places to stay that are right in town, and the Heat might have the best location of all. It's location directly beside the London Bridge (yes, they have the London Bridge in the middle of the Arizona desert) makes everything a reasonable walk from the hotel and provides for some great views.
Being right next to the water, the hotel obviously caters to the party people coming into town to play on the lake it's self. We were far too tired to have much interest in going out on the water, but we did enjoy their check-in desk, which doubles as a bar. Just checking in earned us our first drinks of the day. As it is the first place to stop after being in Las Vegas, the last thing you want to do is let your liver mistakenly believe you have a new found affinity for its well being. |
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While resting and relaxing in Lake Havasu, Ben (a friend of ours that you will see in future videos and vehicle features) drove up from Phoenix to visit. We mostly just visited the water, the nice cafe across the street, and the bar of the hotel. Since Ben lives about 1,300 miles from us, we don't get to see him or his projects often and this provided a good chance to catch up and convince each other to take on more absurd vehicle projects.
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We left Lake Havasu around 3:00 AM the following morning on a mission to try to make it back in two days. Leaving Arizona it was around 35 F and dark which spurred us to move quickly and try to get out of the canyons before the sun came up.
Our biggest challenge was figuring out where we were and where we wanted to be. The route we took should have taken about 11.5 hours of straight driving, but because of our frequent stops for fuel and getting lost in some of the most questionable areas of California looking for said fuel, it was much longer. One such trip being lost near Barstow resulted in us being convinced we had arrived in a horror movie. Running low on fuel we got off the freeway and began searching. |
Most towns along the trip we stopped for fuel in had multiple signs indicating direction, and the service stations themselves were bustling we traffic. That was not the case here. The only thing we found when we got off this exit was a great sense of uncertainty. The entire place looked like it would fit perfectly in the set of Mad Max. Everything looked post apocalyptic, with dust and junk laying around and no people for as far as the eye can see. At this point it was still fairly early in the morning, approximately 6:00 AM, but where as other places along our travels where you would see people getting started with their work days, preparing their shops for business, or starting their travels for the day, this place had nothing happening. Nothing.
We choose the first service station we came to and pulled in. The pumps had been vandalized to the point they didn't appear to work, a good sign. We moved down the street to the next set of pumps we saw and tried again. This time we were able to get fuel flowing. As we were sitting and talking about the amazing amount of patina on pretty much everything in the town, we watched a few plastic bags blow through like tumble weeds. The constant theme of our conversation was how uncomfortable it was to see an entire city appearing as though it was abandoned. As we were finishing up, we finally saw a few people, probably.
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Walking in the middle of the street there were a few partially dressed people, staggering or bobbing from side to side. Somewhat like zombies. We decided we were good and took off for the freeway, we don't need to know why they were acting odd or why their town looked like a Michael Bay film had been shot there.
Our next stops in California weren't as bad, but weren't good by any stretch of the imagination. We just did our best to keep pace and avoid letting the occasional random weirdos get too close. Eventually we made it past Sacramento and were on the home stretch. With the delays and fuel stops, our 11.5 hour trip had become a 13.5 hour marathon, which is an incredibly long trip to be on a motorcycle for.
Our next stops in California weren't as bad, but weren't good by any stretch of the imagination. We just did our best to keep pace and avoid letting the occasional random weirdos get too close. Eventually we made it past Sacramento and were on the home stretch. With the delays and fuel stops, our 11.5 hour trip had become a 13.5 hour marathon, which is an incredibly long trip to be on a motorcycle for.
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By the time we were approaching Redding, my concentration was suffering. Making it this far with only minor mistakes on a bike with no traction control and no ABS was pretty good. Leaving our last gas stop, we knew we didn't have much left in our personal tanks.
Merging onto the freeway again we were really trying to save any time we could now and that's usually when mistakes happen. As we were coming up on a truck in the right lane I glanced in my mirror and then over my should to check for where Darren was as I signaled, the common process of changing lanes on a bike. Except, being as how I was totally exhausted everything was being done in slow motion. Just as I looked forward again to finish changing lanes I realized the truck was now only a few feet ahead of me and I was moving MUCH faster than I thought and forcing a very sketchy dodge. |
After nearly smashing into a truck at high speed we doubled our efforts to stay awake and focused. We made it into Redding with just enough gas to get to the service station across from a random hotel, and chose that as the stopping point for the night. I'm pretty sure we just stumbled up to check-in and threw a wadded pile of money on the counter. The whole thing was a blur. We were barely able to get our bikes over near the room and drag our gear inside before we passed out.
The next day we were stiff and sore, and weren't moving very fast, but we managed to get our gear loaded up and get headed out reasonably early. Knowing we only had about a 6 hour ride before the trip was over spurred us on. We blitzed through Northern California and into Oregon where we hit the absurdly low speed limits and general non-sense that comprises the Oregon highway system.
Other than the absurdity of the speed limits and general terrible drivers, we made it back to Salem reasonably smoothly. By the time I arrived in my garage, my legs barely worked, and my Michelin Pilot Power tire on the rear of my motorcycle was completely flat in the middle. The trip taught us a lot about our bikes and our selves and I only covered a fraction of what we did and experienced here.
The next day we were stiff and sore, and weren't moving very fast, but we managed to get our gear loaded up and get headed out reasonably early. Knowing we only had about a 6 hour ride before the trip was over spurred us on. We blitzed through Northern California and into Oregon where we hit the absurdly low speed limits and general non-sense that comprises the Oregon highway system.
Other than the absurdity of the speed limits and general terrible drivers, we made it back to Salem reasonably smoothly. By the time I arrived in my garage, my legs barely worked, and my Michelin Pilot Power tire on the rear of my motorcycle was completely flat in the middle. The trip taught us a lot about our bikes and our selves and I only covered a fraction of what we did and experienced here.