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Hanses25
| | Posted on Sunday, May 01, 2005 - 11:14 am: | 
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Rob I'm not really sure of the day we will hit the Billings area. We are leaving on the 16th from Kansas City, and depending on how fast, slow, and the stops we make on the way, will dictate when we arrive in God's Country. I would say probably the 17th sometime. You wanna hook up in Billings and ride to Glacier park with us?
JJ |
Rek
| | Posted on Sunday, May 01, 2005 - 01:32 pm: |
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JJ,
I'll definitely check my schedule. You coming up I-90? If so I could meet up in Glendive. I have some inspections to do out west and in Miles City area so I think I could work it into my plans if I get their paperwork in time (damn farmers never get their papers sent off in time).
Rob |
Hanses25
| | Posted on Monday, May 02, 2005 - 05:55 pm: |
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I hear ya brother.
About I90 we were thinking backroads but our A$$'$ may want interstate after a while. I'm going to say yes I-90. Pm me your phone number and I'll give ya a call.
JJ |
Rek
| | Posted on Friday, May 06, 2005 - 08:45 am: |
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The wildass spring weather of the last two weeks has finally moved on. Upper 70's here today and yesterday. Pretty frick'n awesome if you ask me. Got a new shock, new tires and a fancyass pair of leather britches. Man oh man I'm ready to ride.
Rob |
Rek
| | Posted on Thursday, May 12, 2005 - 05:51 am: |
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Brrrr. 30 is warm compared to what we've endured all winter, but after a few days of balmy weather it freezes your patootie off. Took a ride to the bar last night and nearly died of exposure.
Rob |
Rek
| | Posted on Saturday, May 14, 2005 - 09:13 am: |
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What a bizzare series of weather we're having here. Thursday ended w/ 8" of new snow on the ground. By noon Friday it had all melted and mud was axle deep in the lane. Now this morning it's bright and sunny w/ a forecast of 70 degrees, which is just perfect for my first ever "organized" MC event; the Lower Yellowstone ABATE annual bike show in Glendive. I joined ABATE last month as they are the only riders in the area and offer discounts (free for members)on MSF classes twice a year. Wish me luck.
Rob |
Rek
| | Posted on Monday, May 16, 2005 - 08:23 am: |
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ABATE annual bike show (been there done that) check out the pic's on storm front. Woohoo, finally met a couple other Buellers, both from Miles City (A 9 and an M2). After the show I took a little spin into Makoshika park and hit their twisties. Too much fun, had to go through them a couple times just to make sure. No more chicken-strips on the S3 and only one small scrape on the lower fairing that was purely accidental, I swear.
Rob |
Rek
| | Posted on Tuesday, May 24, 2005 - 08:27 am: |
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Been snorting around on the S3 so much lately that I haven't had time to post anything. Had a flat on the rear the other day, a rock puncture, and wound up fixing it myself (aren't CO2 cartridges and plugs cool?). Ordered a brand new tire yesterday. Grumble grumble grumble. Can't seem to get more than 3K miles out of my rear tire, no matter what brand I use.
Ride on! |
Rek
| | Posted on Tuesday, June 28, 2005 - 08:00 am: |
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Just returned from the marathon tour of SD. 16 days on the S3, rained every single night. Logged over 4,000 miles and wore out yet another rear tire. I'm thinking about switching to all-season mud and snow off the wire's Subaru just to get some mileage out of the darn things. LOL.
Rob |
Rek
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 26, 2005 - 07:33 am: |
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It's been a month and 6,000 miles since I last posted anything. Not that it matters. What a great year for riding and I still have several thousand miles to go before the inspection season is finished. Thus far I've gone through three rear tires, a set of intake gaskets and two turn-signal sending units (must be a short somewhere that I can't figure out) and a new shift lever.
I still haven't had the chance to meet anyone off this board, although almost connected w/ the brothers Hanses above. Almost.
Ride on, ride safe and for God's sake don't put SeaFoam in your gas,
Rob |
Rek
| | Posted on Tuesday, July 26, 2005 - 08:27 pm: |
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A "qualifier" before I begin my latest tale. You do know the difference between a Fairy Tale and a Biker story, don't you? A Fairy Tale begins, "once upon a time..." Oh nevermind, you'll see what I mean.
So the other day my buddy Pat gives me a call. I know it's him even before my wife hands over the phone. She's got that look. The look that says "it's your worthless no-good friend."
She doesn't think much of Pat. He's a divorced, forty-something single father who fancies himself something of a Casanova and rides an 1100cc Honda quasi-cruiser. Pat can be rather condensending to women, especially if he thinks he might get laid, and the vibes he sends off put my wife on full-alert.
Pat's like, "Dude, you gotta help me man. I'm in one helluva bind and you gotta come bail me out."
"What's going on?" I ask all innocent, even though I know just by the tone of his voice it can't be good.
Turns out Pat has cornered what he considers to be an absolute too-hot cutie down at the local watering hole. He's been plying and trying to convince this young lady that the best thing that could ever happpen would be for her to go for a ride with him on his fancy motorsickle. The only problem, she's got a friend and won't leave the bar without her. (insert explaination for the young, dumb and full of that substance produced by too much testosterone; single women always travel in pairs for their own protection)
Pat begs me to come down and give the friend a ride so that he can continue his pursuit of the other. I hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, mostly to agravate Pat, then finally consented. My wife rolled her eyes at the story and pointed out that if I wasn't back by nine there'd be a whole lot more trouble than just missing supper.
Meanwhile down at the bar, Pat's lubing his new sweetie for a booze'n cruise while I take the young lady assigned to my bike aside and show her how to roll a pair of ear plugs and fit the helmet correctly. Soon enough we're good to go and I ask Pat where he thinks this circus is headed. He suggests a bomber route that essentially provides a straight line shot to the next town and back again.
"Aint happening," I tell him. "You just hang on and follow me."
You've got to remember this is eastern Montana and curves in the road are about as common sneakers on a snake. I do however, have a couple of fun little rides up my sleeve, and one of them started just a few short miles away.
It's a series of 90 degree turns conected by short straight-a-ways that meander twenty-odd miles in a northwest oblique from the little town of Cartwright, ND to Williston. You won't find it on a map and only a few years ago it was gravel. Most of the locals don't even know it exist. It's called McKenzie County Road 16 and is a favorite of truckers doging the scale in Trenton. Keep that in mind.
Anyway we're cruising right along, really blasting through those ninties. I get to feeling a little froggy, maybe even showing off a bit for my passenger, and I bump the throttle up to 80 mph for a set of three connected corners I know pretty well. The exibition of speed appears to work as the young lady clutches me tighter and I can actually feel her suck in her breath on the second turn in the series.
All of a sudden there's a loaded grain truck coming around the third corner and his tag-axels are drifting a good foot across the center line. I lightly touch the brake and re-adjust mid-turn and we miss him by at least two or three feet and continue on as if life were good, which it was.
A couple miles down the road though I can still feel my pasenger shaking, and a little after that she begins to tap my shoulder in a frantic sort of way. I can't realy turn around and see what's going on with her, but in the mirror I see her eyes wide as saucers. So I pull off at the next approach, which happens to be a ranch access into some farmer's pasture.
Willa (for that's the young lady's name) hops before I've even shut off the motor and hobbles toward the wire gate like some kind of stick figure contortion. I'm thinking, "good Lord woman, riding a bike don't hurt that bad." Then I notice the large dark stain extending from her hip pockets all the way down to her knees and I realize she's gone and wet her pants.
Poor kid. I almost suffocated myself laughing before I could get my helmet pulled off, and by this time poor Willa's in tears. Not the quiet "I feel so sorry for myself" kind of tears either, but great big gulping sobs. She gathered quite an audience during the process, at least ten or fifteen Angus cows wandered over from the stocktank to have a look at what was going on.
By the time I'd gotten off the bike she'd settled down looked a little sheepish. We put our heads togather and decided the best option would be for her to climb on in the stocktank, jeans and all and rinse the offending urine out of her britches. So I held her shoes and sock and fended off the cows while Willa submerged herself in the lukewarm water.
The next thing I know Willa is handing me her sodden blue jeans and asking me to wring them out for her. Up to this point it's all fun and games and I'm actually getting a kick out of the whole situation. But if my wife gets wind of the fact that I'm out here cavorting with single young women in sopping wet underpants it's all over. And believe you me, in a town this small she'll probabley know before I get home.
Anyway, long story short, Willa decides she can't wear her wet jeans for whatever reason, and now I'm really starting to panic. If I show back up at the bar toting a young girl wearing nothing but a pair of panties I'm liable to wind up 6' under, cause my wife aint gonna put up with none of that nonsense.
I put the ol' brain into double over-time and finally hit a solution. Not a horribly good, one mind you, but you do with what you've got in the situation. I dug my old leather work chaps out of the saddle bag and stripped off my T-shirt and just wore my leather jacket. Willa wrapped the shirt around her like some kind'a funky hippy skirt and put the chaps on over that.
Right about then my buddy Pat cruises by doing a studly 40 mph and doesn't even see us. So we tie Willa's jeans on the back and take off after them.
Believe it or not I did tell my wife what happened, and all it did was reconfirm her belief that my buddy Pat is persona non grata in our houehold. Poor guy, no matter what I said she didn't beleive he had nothing to do with it.
So just remember, ride smart, ride safe and for God's sake always pack an extra set of leathers!
Rob
(Message edited by rek on July 26, 2005) |
Thansesxb9rs
| | Posted on Wednesday, August 24, 2005 - 08:12 pm: |
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Too funny!
So whey are you getting the Uly? |
Rek
| | Posted on Saturday, August 27, 2005 - 08:17 am: |
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I'm so excited. No it's not because I'm getting a new Uly (I wish), but rather because Lambert Mt now has a 2nd Buell rider. That's right, another Buell rider.
We just hired a new math teacher. A youngish fellow w/ plenty of experience in rural schools. Seems like a nice enough guy. Then I find out last night he owns an X1. Yee-frick'n-haw. I got me a Bueller buddy.
Rob |
Rek
| | Posted on Tuesday, October 04, 2005 - 08:38 am: |
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Well it looks as if the end of our riding season is upon us here in eastern MT. Cool and cloudy the last few days, which is uncomfortable but not impossible and I actually spent a couple days in the saddle. Now last night we get our first hint of snow. Bummer. There's still hope for an Indian summer, but I'm not holding my breath.
Rob |
Maddiemsu
| | Posted on Wednesday, June 07, 2006 - 06:22 pm: |
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Rek
I'm from MT and I ride a BUELL!........Sadly I'm in Las Vegas right now. When I get back there in a few years I'll ride with you. Lots more riding season in NV which is a plus but the scenery sucks. |
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