Well, I've had my time to unpack and unwind from the Scooter Cannonball Run 2008, and tomorrow it's back to the grind once again. I still haven't had time to go through my pictures and upload them, but I'll get to them soon. In the meantime, I have some thoughts to share about the Cannonball, in case anyone would be interested.
First of all, I'm doubly convinced that there's never enough preparation you can do in regard to navigation, and I still didn't do nearly enough for this Cannonball, which cost me quite a bit, especially on day two. Next time I'm definitely getting a GPS, I just hope that they'll make one by then that I actually like. Once again, I didn't use a GPS for this Cannonball, although my iPhone frequently did come in handy. For the most part though, I navigated using a paper scroll with the directions on it, which was mounted on my mirror post inside a plastic box which is used for enduro races. That way, I could see the directions and scroll through them as I worked my way through the route each day. However, I should have prepared my route sheets before the Cannonball started and had them all ready to go on day 1, it was a real pain to find printers along the route, when I had to make my route sheets as I went. A few times I had to re-write them by hand, which was harder to read while riding. I do like the setup though, so I may well use it for other rides.
Another subject is tires. The Heidenau K58 rear tire on my Vespa wore through within 2000 miles, which is 2 to 3 times faster than I had anticipated. I suspect that the compound of the tire is softer and designed for cold, wet conditions, so it's not as able to withstand the heat and friction of long distance, high speed, high temperature riding, such as through the Nevada and Utah deserts. Also, the large grooves in the tread pattern translated into a higher pressure per square inch where the tire met the road, which would have generated more friction and heat as a result, which contributed to wearing down the tire faster. And last but not least, the extra weight of carrying a spare tank also took a toll, especially because it was set so far back, behind the rear wheel, increasing the downward force on the rear tire. By the time I got to Fort Scott, KS, it was just about fully bald down the center of the tread, so I had to swap it out for my spare, but that one was well used and probably had only 1000 miles or so left on it, so it was unlikely that I'd be able to finish the Cannonball without buying yet another tire. Luckily, Vespa St. Louis had a Sava 130 in stock, so I mounted that one on my rear wheel - at least it wasn't a Cheng Shin! ;) It did fine for the rest of the trip, so that worked out well. What I should have done was mount a set of Heidenau K61 street tires, 130 front and 140 rear, as well as carry a backup set of a K58 140 rear and K66 130 front in the support truck, in case of rain. It's easier to change both wheels with tires already mounted, than it is to change a tire on just one rim, while on the road. Plus it's extra insurance, since it's feasible to run a 130 on both the front and rear, so the second spare could also serve as an additional backup for the rear, in case it may be needed.
The belt and variator are another subject that has been of concern to me. Next time, I'm definitely starting with a fresh belt and carrying an additional new spare belt with me, along with a variator tool and torque wrench. That way, I can be fully self-sufficient in case of a belt or variator failure on the road. It was definitely a good thing that I had my J. Costa variator with me as a spare this time, since my Polini had begun to self-destruct by the time I got to Garden City, KS, which was maybe 2000 miles since it had been installed. The rollers were totally flat as well, since they're made of a very soft material. This particular variator is apparently designated as "for race use only", and it certainly would appear that it isn't cut out for long, grueling road rides. The J. Costa is infinitely more durable and the slider weights are much more long-lived, so it's far better suited for a long-distance ride like the Cannonball.
The oil pan gasket was another common are of trouble during this Cannonball, at least four bikes had problems with them. This gasket is made out of a very flimsy, thin strip of paper, with a thin bead of silicone along the middle of the strip on either side. Theoretically, this should create a very good seal between the aluminum surfaces of the oil pan and the engine case. However, in real world practice, this gasket is very easily distorted and is prone to tearing. According to Rolf, those gaskets used to be made of a much thicker, sturdier gasket material, so that they would keep their original shape and maintain a good seal. I think I might write to Piaggio to share my thoughts on this one, in the hope that they might be willing to change the design to make it more reliable.
I was very happy with my Corbin seat, it did a great job of taking care of my backside, although I think I might add a thin layer of cushioning or possibly gel, to help soften it up a bit and keep the bumps in the road from being quite so jarring. The stock Vespa suspension just doesn't do that great of a job, and unfortunately Fournales does not make a set of air shocks for the GTS yet - I sure hope they have plans to produce them though, that would be a huge seller for them. The modified Fournales P200 front shock that Rolf installed on my bike performed terrifically, and I really wished I had a set for the back to match.
Let's see, what else is there... there were a couple of things that I really began to appreciate during the ride, which apparently are difficult to find outside of California: fresh spinach, toilet seat covers, smoke-free bars and restaurants, a distinct lack of rednecks, to name a few. I did miss having Internet connectivity some of the time, although I was usually too busy to worry about it. AT&T's service proved to be pretty consistently awful throughout the west, although it did get better from St. Louis eastward. One of the most glaring screw-ups was the fact that in at least two or three places we stayed, the AT&T towers provided a time signal in CDT, when we were still in PDT or MDT. How lame is that? I can't wait until the iPhone is available on other carriers in 2010, so I can drop AT&T and their pathetic excuse for a cell phone network.
Also, I was very impressed by how many of the roads, even in far out of the way places of the country, are maintained in such great condition compared to our roads here in California. We have some serious problems if we can't keep our roads in better shape than Massachusetts or New York, when we almost never have to deal with snow, salt or ice. Even worse, California has the highest gas taxes of just about any state in the nation, which are supposed to be used for road maintenance, yet these funds are continually diverted to the general fund or other pet projects that have nothing to do with transportation year after year, and the resulting road maintenance shortfall takes its toll on our tires, suspension and spines day after day. What do we have to do, to hold our government's feet to the fire, to ensure that this money is used for its intended purpose???
Well, I think that pretty well covers most of the thoughts I've had about the Cannonball, aside from the fact that it was am amazing, grueling and fantastic adventure, and such an amazing way to see this country, from one coast to another. I definitely plan to be there again in 2010, wherever the route may take us!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Cannonball day ten: Oakland, MD to Ocean City, MD
Well, if the previous day started off on the wrong foot for me, then the last day started off as a comedy of errors. I woke up just after 7:00 when Patrick called me to ask if I was awake, which I wasn't - apparently I had the volume turned way down on my cell phone so I didn't hear my alarm go off, and Kieran had left super early, and I went right back to sleep. Well, at least I was awake after Patrick called (thankfully!), although I had missed the riders' meeting by then. I had to forego a shower and quickly threw my things together, so that I could load my gear on the truck. Not only was I running late, but many people were leaving early, because the plan was to meet at the ferry across the Potomac by 11:00 am, including Rolf in the support truck, who wanted to hit the road by 7:30.
I went back to my room to gather the rest of my things, load up the bike, and get gas. However, I was famished and I had to have something to eat before heading out, so I decided to just stop at McDonald's for something quick. I wolfed down a Bacon Egg & Cheese Biscuit and an Egg McMuffin, while sucking down a Rockstar, then made a quick pitstop, before going on my way. I was actually on the road by 8:00 am for the first time in the trip, but by then everyone else had split, so I was still picking up the rear. It just seemed like that was bound to be my lot for the trip, but I still had just enough time to make it to the ferry in time, as long as I kept up a good pace.
In my haste to leave, I had left my jacket liner in my bag, which was on the support truck, and the early Maryland morning was filled with chilly foggy air, around 50 degrees, so the start of my ride was exceptionally uncomfortable. It stayed that way after I crossed over into the West Virginia panhandle and it just did not seem to want to warm up at all. Not wanting to lose time and risk missing the ferry, I kept riding with my lightweight gloves and kept putting my hands in front of the radiator grilles to warm them up, rather than stop and swap them out for my cold weather gloves which were under the seat. I figured if maybe I came to a stoplight, a construction zone, or some other roadblock, that might give me an opportunity to swap my gloves, so I pressed on. Along the way, I saw Rob broken down by the side of the road so I slowed down, but he gave me the thumbs up to keep going, so I did. His bike conked out with irreparable mechanical problems, which is so unfortunate, so close to the end of the Cannonball. Little did I know that my ride would come to a very abrupt halt very soon as well.
About 70 miles into the trip, roughly 10 miles before I was going to cross the Virginia state line, I felt something let go on my bike and the motor stopped unnervingly suddenly. My first thought was the memory of seizing my P200 on the last Cannonball, although I quickly recognized that this was a much less likely scenario with the water cooled 4-stroke motor of the GTS. I coasted to a stop at a conveniently located vacant driveway and tried to figure out what happened. When I hit the starter button, the motor wouldn't turn at all, and I only heard the clicking of the starter solenoid, so something was definitely wrong. I immediately called Rolf, but by that point he was nearly 100 miles ahead of me near Gaithersburg, MD and it was going to be a while before he would be able to make it all the way back to where I was, just west of Capon Bridge, WV. A dreadful sinking feeling began to set in, that my bike might not make it any further than that spot, and that my journey might have reached a premature end. To try to help alleviate my fears, I decided to check out the bike and looked inside the belt cover. I saw a whole bunch of ragged strands around the variator, and immediately I knew that the belt had shredded itself. This was actually a good sign, because I had a spare belt in Rolf's truck, from when my Polini variator had self-destructed earlier in the trip. It was used and worn, but hopefully it would be good enough to get me the rest of the way, so I could finish the last leg of the Cannonball on two wheels. I called Rolf back to let him know, and luckily he had a variator tool in the truck as well, so it was just a matter of time before I could get moving again.
While waiting for Rolf, I took off the belt cover to see what I could do in the meantime. Inside, I found a nasty snarl of shredded belt cords and rubber pieces, which had wrapped themselves around the variator. Thankfully it hadn't wedged itself between the clutch and the case, which would have locked up my rear wheel - that has happened to other people before and is equally as dangerous as a hard seize on a two-stroke. However, the resulting mess was quite a chore to clean up, several cords had gotten wrapped inside the clutch, which were very difficult to remove, although I was able to pull out most of the pieces, which allowed the clutch to move freely again. The variator, on the other hand, was locked up tight with the belt wedged between it and the case, so there was no way I could free it up and clean it out, without the tool to remove the variator altogether. I continued cleaning out bits and dust from the belt case as best I could, in order to make the best use of my time spend waiting for Rolf to arrive.
Eventually Rolf got there and we jumped into action, to make quick work of the repairs on my bike. I wasn't watching the clock, but I think we removed the variator, cleaned it out, reinstalled the variator and clutch with the new belt and got the cover bolted back on within about half an hour, and I was back on the road once again. Whew! I hadn't missed a mile of the trip so far, and I sure didn't want to break that streak on the last day. Everything moved along smoothly and Rolf and I got to the ferry just fine. We had quite a line of cars in front of us, so we had to wait for one ferry trip before we could catch a ride across the river, but thankfully it didn't take too long. The ferry ride was nice, although I was rather offended by the Confederate flag that was flying on the other side of the river. Didn't they lose that war almost 150 years ago? Last I checked there was still one United States of America, wasn't there? Anyway, after we crossed to the other side and continued down Whites Ferry Road, until we ran into some kind of art festival. This posed a problem, because the route I had plotted ran right through where the festival was going on, and the "detour" sign they put up only routed traffic away from the festival and didn't put us back on White's Ferry Road afterward. That was the last thing we needed, while trying to catch up to the rest of the group!
We meandered eastward and eventually wound up on River Road, which led us toward Washington DC. However, Rolf was getting really worn out, since he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, and I felt like I needed a break myself, so we stopped for a bite to eat at a "Chicken Out Rotisserie". The food was good, but the inattentiveness of the staff just made me really annoyed, by putting onions on my sandwich after I specifically told them no onions, then when they remade it, they apparently had run out of bacon, but didn't bother to even mention it to me. Whatever! I was just completely fed up at that point and just gave up about caring. We gassed up and decided that it was too late to meet up with everyone at Vespa Washington, so we opted to just take the beltway around DC, to pick up Highway 50 again and get in at a reasonable hour, rather than follow the official route, which would have taken us on a parade through the heart of Washington DC on a Saturday afternoon.
Aside from the obligatory jackasses on the road, we made it through the beltway ok and crossed over the Bay Bridge to the Maryland Eastern Shore, following Highway 50 to its eastern end in Ocean City. It was quite a relief, I finally felt like I was on the home stretch, even though there were still more than 100 miles left to go. However, shortly thereafter, Rolf got a call from Oz, who had broken down just east of there. We stopped and I agreed to press on while Rolf drove to meet Oz, since I felt pretty confident that my bike would be able to make it the rest of the way. I waved goodbye to Rolf as he turned left onto Highway 404, and I continued down Highway 50. Despite the fact that I was feeling fairly weary from the day's tribulations, the rest of the ride went smoothly. I took great pleasure in counting down the miles to Ocean City... 50... 36... 20... 10... I soon saw more and more signs of civilization and beach sprawl, which made my very excited. Making the left to leave Highway 50 for the last time and turn onto Highway 528 North got my adrenaline going and I hightailed it up Baltimore Ave, counting up the street numbers to the Days Inn at 22nd St. I whipped out my camera and snapped a picture as soon as I spotted it and I felt such a feeling of accomplishment and relief to have made it there. Although it hadn't felt like the Cannonball was nearly over just a day earlier, it sure felt that way once I got there. A lot can happen in one day of the Cannonball, and it wouldn't be the same if it didn't.
All in all, I had a great ride, but this year's Cannonball was overshadowed by Jim's spill in Utah, which left him more seriously injured than we had known. Thankfully, he is on the mend and and we've been keeping him in our thoughts to make a full and speedy recovery. I really wish he hadn't been hurt and that he could have ridden with us the whole way, I know he would have enjoyed it immensely. We missed you Jim and we all hope you'll be riding again soon!
Now that the Cannonball is over, I'll have some work to do, in order to pay off the bills from this adventure. I have a lot of stuff I need to list on eBay, plus a scooter to sell, or maybe even two, we'll see. Any donations would be gladly accepted too, of course! ;) In any event though, the Cannonball was an amazing, frightening, wonderful, awful, breathtaking, excruciating and eternally memorable event, which was quite the experience, quite unlike just about anything else. So, to answer the question, "why do you ride the Cannonball?", I'd say it's because it's something that can be done, although very few ever do it, so it's worth it to me, to be one of those few. This time I completed every single one of the 3400+ miles, through thick and thin, and it was worth it all. Call me crazy, but I'm looking forward to the next one already! :D
I went back to my room to gather the rest of my things, load up the bike, and get gas. However, I was famished and I had to have something to eat before heading out, so I decided to just stop at McDonald's for something quick. I wolfed down a Bacon Egg & Cheese Biscuit and an Egg McMuffin, while sucking down a Rockstar, then made a quick pitstop, before going on my way. I was actually on the road by 8:00 am for the first time in the trip, but by then everyone else had split, so I was still picking up the rear. It just seemed like that was bound to be my lot for the trip, but I still had just enough time to make it to the ferry in time, as long as I kept up a good pace.
In my haste to leave, I had left my jacket liner in my bag, which was on the support truck, and the early Maryland morning was filled with chilly foggy air, around 50 degrees, so the start of my ride was exceptionally uncomfortable. It stayed that way after I crossed over into the West Virginia panhandle and it just did not seem to want to warm up at all. Not wanting to lose time and risk missing the ferry, I kept riding with my lightweight gloves and kept putting my hands in front of the radiator grilles to warm them up, rather than stop and swap them out for my cold weather gloves which were under the seat. I figured if maybe I came to a stoplight, a construction zone, or some other roadblock, that might give me an opportunity to swap my gloves, so I pressed on. Along the way, I saw Rob broken down by the side of the road so I slowed down, but he gave me the thumbs up to keep going, so I did. His bike conked out with irreparable mechanical problems, which is so unfortunate, so close to the end of the Cannonball. Little did I know that my ride would come to a very abrupt halt very soon as well.
About 70 miles into the trip, roughly 10 miles before I was going to cross the Virginia state line, I felt something let go on my bike and the motor stopped unnervingly suddenly. My first thought was the memory of seizing my P200 on the last Cannonball, although I quickly recognized that this was a much less likely scenario with the water cooled 4-stroke motor of the GTS. I coasted to a stop at a conveniently located vacant driveway and tried to figure out what happened. When I hit the starter button, the motor wouldn't turn at all, and I only heard the clicking of the starter solenoid, so something was definitely wrong. I immediately called Rolf, but by that point he was nearly 100 miles ahead of me near Gaithersburg, MD and it was going to be a while before he would be able to make it all the way back to where I was, just west of Capon Bridge, WV. A dreadful sinking feeling began to set in, that my bike might not make it any further than that spot, and that my journey might have reached a premature end. To try to help alleviate my fears, I decided to check out the bike and looked inside the belt cover. I saw a whole bunch of ragged strands around the variator, and immediately I knew that the belt had shredded itself. This was actually a good sign, because I had a spare belt in Rolf's truck, from when my Polini variator had self-destructed earlier in the trip. It was used and worn, but hopefully it would be good enough to get me the rest of the way, so I could finish the last leg of the Cannonball on two wheels. I called Rolf back to let him know, and luckily he had a variator tool in the truck as well, so it was just a matter of time before I could get moving again.
While waiting for Rolf, I took off the belt cover to see what I could do in the meantime. Inside, I found a nasty snarl of shredded belt cords and rubber pieces, which had wrapped themselves around the variator. Thankfully it hadn't wedged itself between the clutch and the case, which would have locked up my rear wheel - that has happened to other people before and is equally as dangerous as a hard seize on a two-stroke. However, the resulting mess was quite a chore to clean up, several cords had gotten wrapped inside the clutch, which were very difficult to remove, although I was able to pull out most of the pieces, which allowed the clutch to move freely again. The variator, on the other hand, was locked up tight with the belt wedged between it and the case, so there was no way I could free it up and clean it out, without the tool to remove the variator altogether. I continued cleaning out bits and dust from the belt case as best I could, in order to make the best use of my time spend waiting for Rolf to arrive.
Eventually Rolf got there and we jumped into action, to make quick work of the repairs on my bike. I wasn't watching the clock, but I think we removed the variator, cleaned it out, reinstalled the variator and clutch with the new belt and got the cover bolted back on within about half an hour, and I was back on the road once again. Whew! I hadn't missed a mile of the trip so far, and I sure didn't want to break that streak on the last day. Everything moved along smoothly and Rolf and I got to the ferry just fine. We had quite a line of cars in front of us, so we had to wait for one ferry trip before we could catch a ride across the river, but thankfully it didn't take too long. The ferry ride was nice, although I was rather offended by the Confederate flag that was flying on the other side of the river. Didn't they lose that war almost 150 years ago? Last I checked there was still one United States of America, wasn't there? Anyway, after we crossed to the other side and continued down Whites Ferry Road, until we ran into some kind of art festival. This posed a problem, because the route I had plotted ran right through where the festival was going on, and the "detour" sign they put up only routed traffic away from the festival and didn't put us back on White's Ferry Road afterward. That was the last thing we needed, while trying to catch up to the rest of the group!
We meandered eastward and eventually wound up on River Road, which led us toward Washington DC. However, Rolf was getting really worn out, since he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, and I felt like I needed a break myself, so we stopped for a bite to eat at a "Chicken Out Rotisserie". The food was good, but the inattentiveness of the staff just made me really annoyed, by putting onions on my sandwich after I specifically told them no onions, then when they remade it, they apparently had run out of bacon, but didn't bother to even mention it to me. Whatever! I was just completely fed up at that point and just gave up about caring. We gassed up and decided that it was too late to meet up with everyone at Vespa Washington, so we opted to just take the beltway around DC, to pick up Highway 50 again and get in at a reasonable hour, rather than follow the official route, which would have taken us on a parade through the heart of Washington DC on a Saturday afternoon.
Aside from the obligatory jackasses on the road, we made it through the beltway ok and crossed over the Bay Bridge to the Maryland Eastern Shore, following Highway 50 to its eastern end in Ocean City. It was quite a relief, I finally felt like I was on the home stretch, even though there were still more than 100 miles left to go. However, shortly thereafter, Rolf got a call from Oz, who had broken down just east of there. We stopped and I agreed to press on while Rolf drove to meet Oz, since I felt pretty confident that my bike would be able to make it the rest of the way. I waved goodbye to Rolf as he turned left onto Highway 404, and I continued down Highway 50. Despite the fact that I was feeling fairly weary from the day's tribulations, the rest of the ride went smoothly. I took great pleasure in counting down the miles to Ocean City... 50... 36... 20... 10... I soon saw more and more signs of civilization and beach sprawl, which made my very excited. Making the left to leave Highway 50 for the last time and turn onto Highway 528 North got my adrenaline going and I hightailed it up Baltimore Ave, counting up the street numbers to the Days Inn at 22nd St. I whipped out my camera and snapped a picture as soon as I spotted it and I felt such a feeling of accomplishment and relief to have made it there. Although it hadn't felt like the Cannonball was nearly over just a day earlier, it sure felt that way once I got there. A lot can happen in one day of the Cannonball, and it wouldn't be the same if it didn't.
All in all, I had a great ride, but this year's Cannonball was overshadowed by Jim's spill in Utah, which left him more seriously injured than we had known. Thankfully, he is on the mend and and we've been keeping him in our thoughts to make a full and speedy recovery. I really wish he hadn't been hurt and that he could have ridden with us the whole way, I know he would have enjoyed it immensely. We missed you Jim and we all hope you'll be riding again soon!
Now that the Cannonball is over, I'll have some work to do, in order to pay off the bills from this adventure. I have a lot of stuff I need to list on eBay, plus a scooter to sell, or maybe even two, we'll see. Any donations would be gladly accepted too, of course! ;) In any event though, the Cannonball was an amazing, frightening, wonderful, awful, breathtaking, excruciating and eternally memorable event, which was quite the experience, quite unlike just about anything else. So, to answer the question, "why do you ride the Cannonball?", I'd say it's because it's something that can be done, although very few ever do it, so it's worth it to me, to be one of those few. This time I completed every single one of the 3400+ miles, through thick and thin, and it was worth it all. Call me crazy, but I'm looking forward to the next one already! :D
Cannonball day nine: Cincinnati, OH to Oakland, MD
Day nine started out uneventfully, but soon took an upsetting turn that really soured my mood for the first part of the day. After I awoke, I headed out to fill up my scoot and myself, but I had a hard tume finding a place to eat that was open at 6:15 in the morning, but thankfully I found a Perkins that was, and they did a fantastic job of fixing my dinner in a matter of minutes. After paying and leaving a generous tip, i hightailed it back to the hotel for the riders' meeting. After the details of the route had been discussed, I headed back to my hotel to clean up and get reasy to roll again. Now as tired as I was the night before, I didn't realize what an awful pit my hotel room was. The full horror became apparent when I went to take a shower. When I pulled back the shower curtain, I discovered black mold all around the shower, including a major colony all over the showerhead. That, plus a big black body hair on the shower wall told me that it hadn't been cleaned at all before I checked in, nor had the bathroom been cleaned properly in weeks, maybe months! There was more too - a fingernail clipping sitting on the dresser, a faint smell of urine coming from the air conditioner, and no washcloths were provided. I also hadn't been able to get their Internet connection to work on my computer the night before, and their pool was closed, which was the only reason why I reserved the room at that hotel instead of the main hotel where everyone else was across the street - those wouldn't have been so bad, but combined with the deplorable condition of the room simply added insult to injury. I lodged my complaint at the front desk when I checked out, but neither of the attendants at the front desk were willing to refund anything, since the room had already been charged the day before, even though the woman who had checked me in then said that I wouldn't be charged until I checked out. Of course the manager/owner was nowhere to be reached, so I had no choice left but to dispute the charge with my credit card and try to contact the manager the following week. I have every intention of lodging a formal complaint with Days Inn corporate as well, and send them pictures of the disgusting condition of the room they put me in. Hopefully they'll either put the hammer down on them or pull their franchise, so that no more customers have to suffer through the indignities that I did.
Thoroughly pissed off, I hit the road. I had a very hard time calming down after the awful experience, but eventually the road lulled me into a dull feeling of disgruntledness, from my previous incensed anger. The long straight stretches of central Ohio eventually gave way to more twisty curvy roads in the eastern part of the state, as the Appalachians grew closer. After crossing the Memorial Bridge to West Virginia, i took a detour off the Cannonball route to go see my good friends Kev and Julie from way back in the day. It was a real treat to see them and spend a little time catching up on the many days gone by with them over lunch. I arrived in town earlier than I expected, so unfortunately I didn't have a chance to see their kids, Andrew, Gabriella and Matty, who were in school at the time. All too soon, Kev and Julie had to get back to work, and I had to get on my way again. After a quick jaunt through Parkersburg, I was soon moving along the Robert C. Byrd Appalachian Highway System at a nice pace, enjoying the spectacular views of the hills in West Virginia. I passed Kieran again, for the second time that day, after he had pressed on while I had stopped to see Kev and Julie. After passing the next checkpoint, I opened it up all the way, to try and score some more points, after foregoing the previous section so I could stop to make my visit. I was making really good progress for a while, until I got into the twisties near the end of the ride. First, I got stuck behind a group of 20 or so slow-moving Harleys, for a good 25 miles or so. Thankfully their group pulled over eventually and I was finally able to pick up the pace again. However, before long, I caught up to two of our riders following their support truck at a very slow pace, about 35 mph in a 55 zone. It took a while before a passing zone opened up, after which I tried to make up some more time once again. However, my efforts were foiled once again when I got stuck behind a pair from Ohio, riding a motorcycle and a trike with a very narrow rear axle, which seemed somewhat unstable, who were riding at a lethargic 35 mph as well. By the time Iwas able to pass them, I was only a mile or two from our destination of Oakland, MD, where I then arrived, feeling rather tried and frustrated. However, a well earned beer soon took off the edge and I traded stories of the day with the other Cannonballers. We were soon treated to the arrival of Bobo, who had dropped out earlier in the trip, in order to return home to Baltimore, because of a family emergency. The immediate concerns having since been addressed, he decided to surprise us for our last evening on the road by riding the last day's route in reverse, which was a very welcome treat!
A large group of us ventures into town in search of dinner and we came upon a great little local restaurant, which we proceeded to take over with our group, more than a dozen strong. We had a delicious meal which more than filled us up, and received great service from the staff, even though we states past their closing time, so we left a superbly generous We staggered back toward our hotel feeling very stuffed, and a couple of us stopped off at CVS to stock up on things we needed. Then it was time to turn in before our last day of the trip. I checked and filled my tires and did a little bit of cleaning to prepare for the next day's ride. Keiran turned in early too, so that he could get a head start, in order to make the ferry across tge Potomac with everyone else at 11:00 am. It didn't seem like the ride was almost over and there was only one day left of the Cannonball. The last one seemed longer, even though it was nine days instead of ten. But then again, a lot can happen in one day on the Cannonball!
Thoroughly pissed off, I hit the road. I had a very hard time calming down after the awful experience, but eventually the road lulled me into a dull feeling of disgruntledness, from my previous incensed anger. The long straight stretches of central Ohio eventually gave way to more twisty curvy roads in the eastern part of the state, as the Appalachians grew closer. After crossing the Memorial Bridge to West Virginia, i took a detour off the Cannonball route to go see my good friends Kev and Julie from way back in the day. It was a real treat to see them and spend a little time catching up on the many days gone by with them over lunch. I arrived in town earlier than I expected, so unfortunately I didn't have a chance to see their kids, Andrew, Gabriella and Matty, who were in school at the time. All too soon, Kev and Julie had to get back to work, and I had to get on my way again. After a quick jaunt through Parkersburg, I was soon moving along the Robert C. Byrd Appalachian Highway System at a nice pace, enjoying the spectacular views of the hills in West Virginia. I passed Kieran again, for the second time that day, after he had pressed on while I had stopped to see Kev and Julie. After passing the next checkpoint, I opened it up all the way, to try and score some more points, after foregoing the previous section so I could stop to make my visit. I was making really good progress for a while, until I got into the twisties near the end of the ride. First, I got stuck behind a group of 20 or so slow-moving Harleys, for a good 25 miles or so. Thankfully their group pulled over eventually and I was finally able to pick up the pace again. However, before long, I caught up to two of our riders following their support truck at a very slow pace, about 35 mph in a 55 zone. It took a while before a passing zone opened up, after which I tried to make up some more time once again. However, my efforts were foiled once again when I got stuck behind a pair from Ohio, riding a motorcycle and a trike with a very narrow rear axle, which seemed somewhat unstable, who were riding at a lethargic 35 mph as well. By the time Iwas able to pass them, I was only a mile or two from our destination of Oakland, MD, where I then arrived, feeling rather tried and frustrated. However, a well earned beer soon took off the edge and I traded stories of the day with the other Cannonballers. We were soon treated to the arrival of Bobo, who had dropped out earlier in the trip, in order to return home to Baltimore, because of a family emergency. The immediate concerns having since been addressed, he decided to surprise us for our last evening on the road by riding the last day's route in reverse, which was a very welcome treat!
A large group of us ventures into town in search of dinner and we came upon a great little local restaurant, which we proceeded to take over with our group, more than a dozen strong. We had a delicious meal which more than filled us up, and received great service from the staff, even though we states past their closing time, so we left a superbly generous We staggered back toward our hotel feeling very stuffed, and a couple of us stopped off at CVS to stock up on things we needed. Then it was time to turn in before our last day of the trip. I checked and filled my tires and did a little bit of cleaning to prepare for the next day's ride. Keiran turned in early too, so that he could get a head start, in order to make the ferry across tge Potomac with everyone else at 11:00 am. It didn't seem like the ride was almost over and there was only one day left of the Cannonball. The last one seemed longer, even though it was nine days instead of ten. But then again, a lot can happen in one day on the Cannonball!
Cannonball day eight: St. Louis, MO to Cincinnati, OH
Despite being up relatively late the previous night, I managed to get up fairly early in the morning, which was a good thing because day eight was going to be a long day. However, I soon went into a state of panic when I couldn't find the key to my Vespa! I looked all through my pockets and all over the room, but found nothing. I ran outside, expecting to find an empty space where my scooter had been, since our hotel was in a somewhat dicey area of town. Thankfully, it was still there right where I left it, but the key was nowhere to be found, and I had neglected to bring a spare with me. My pants pocket had developed a hole and I feared that I might have put the key in that pocket the night before, and that it might have fallen out as I was walking around the hotel somewhere. A feeling of dread began to sink in, that my jouney might come to an abrupt halt that morning, after I had retraced all my steps from the night before but found nothing. I ran into Peet outside and asked if he might have seen my key anywhere, and he told me that Rich had it - apparently I left it in my bike the night before and didn't realize it, so Rich took it for safe keeping! What a relief, because not only did I get my key back, but if Rich hadn't seen it, my bike might not have been there in the morning. I felt like I had dodged a bullet.
I opted not to go out for breakfast and instead had a hard boiled egg and a bagel (yes, I do eat my own kind) at the hotel's complimentary continental breakfast. After the rider meeting, I got showered and dressed, then loaded up the truck and went to gas up. Soon, I was back on the road heading east. St. Louis has gotten pretty rough lately, so instead of heading out through town, our route put us on the freeway to go around the east side. We got a heavy dose of fog as we crossed the Mississippi River. I switched on my custom fenderlight foglamp, however it was already pretty bright out, so it really wasn't all that helpful - I'll have to go for a cruise down highway 9 some cool fall evening to really put it to the test.
The ride through southern Indiana was relatively uneventful, with more foggy spots here and there, rolling through picturesque rural farmland. However, the lack of a good, hearty breakfast caught up with me and I soon began to feel very fatigued. I pulled off at the next gas stop after passing the checkpoint at the Indiana line, filled up on gas and got a small sandwich and a soda. After a half hour break, I felt much better and said a quick hello to Oz, who was pulling in to fill up on gas, as I was heading out. I made good time as I moved on through more of the pastoral countryside. On a side note, judging by the McCain signs and bumper stickers, the attitudes from guys driving jacked up pickups, and all the "In God We Trust" license plated, southern Indiana seemed to have the highest concentration of rednecks I had encountered yet. I really feel sorry for the people who live in such isolated parts of the country, whose world view is shaped by the narrow views of their churches, Fox "news" and Rush Limbaugh. One can only hope that someday they'll find a way to learn the truth about what's really going on in the world and be able to make up their minds based on real facts and actual information, instead of the lies and twistes half truths they're spoon fed today.
Anyway, the day's long ride contnued on and eventually I crossed the border into Ohio. The damage from Hurricane Ike became more evident along highway 50 with uprooted trees, landslides, and debris along the riverbanks. On a more positive note, there were a number of charming old buildings and beautiful steel bridges, plus some surprisingly scenic views of the city, as I got closer to Cincinnati.
I was truly beat when I finally rolled into the Days Inn on the east side of town, and after checking in and unloading my gear, I went to the main hotel next door to meet up with the other riders and turn in my timesheet. I made very good time as it turned out, even with my half hour break. I told Rolf to give me a call when he was ready to go to dinner and went back to my room to take care of a few thing and unwind. I soon ended up taking a nap, figuring that I'd get up when Rolf would call to go to dinner. However, I woke up hungry about four hours later, and nobody had called. Since it was too latw to go out and get a decent meal, I ended up eating one of my salmon MRE's and a granola bar. I soon went back to bed, to get some more rest before continuing on the next morning.
I opted not to go out for breakfast and instead had a hard boiled egg and a bagel (yes, I do eat my own kind) at the hotel's complimentary continental breakfast. After the rider meeting, I got showered and dressed, then loaded up the truck and went to gas up. Soon, I was back on the road heading east. St. Louis has gotten pretty rough lately, so instead of heading out through town, our route put us on the freeway to go around the east side. We got a heavy dose of fog as we crossed the Mississippi River. I switched on my custom fenderlight foglamp, however it was already pretty bright out, so it really wasn't all that helpful - I'll have to go for a cruise down highway 9 some cool fall evening to really put it to the test.
The ride through southern Indiana was relatively uneventful, with more foggy spots here and there, rolling through picturesque rural farmland. However, the lack of a good, hearty breakfast caught up with me and I soon began to feel very fatigued. I pulled off at the next gas stop after passing the checkpoint at the Indiana line, filled up on gas and got a small sandwich and a soda. After a half hour break, I felt much better and said a quick hello to Oz, who was pulling in to fill up on gas, as I was heading out. I made good time as I moved on through more of the pastoral countryside. On a side note, judging by the McCain signs and bumper stickers, the attitudes from guys driving jacked up pickups, and all the "In God We Trust" license plated, southern Indiana seemed to have the highest concentration of rednecks I had encountered yet. I really feel sorry for the people who live in such isolated parts of the country, whose world view is shaped by the narrow views of their churches, Fox "news" and Rush Limbaugh. One can only hope that someday they'll find a way to learn the truth about what's really going on in the world and be able to make up their minds based on real facts and actual information, instead of the lies and twistes half truths they're spoon fed today.
Anyway, the day's long ride contnued on and eventually I crossed the border into Ohio. The damage from Hurricane Ike became more evident along highway 50 with uprooted trees, landslides, and debris along the riverbanks. On a more positive note, there were a number of charming old buildings and beautiful steel bridges, plus some surprisingly scenic views of the city, as I got closer to Cincinnati.
I was truly beat when I finally rolled into the Days Inn on the east side of town, and after checking in and unloading my gear, I went to the main hotel next door to meet up with the other riders and turn in my timesheet. I made very good time as it turned out, even with my half hour break. I told Rolf to give me a call when he was ready to go to dinner and went back to my room to take care of a few thing and unwind. I soon ended up taking a nap, figuring that I'd get up when Rolf would call to go to dinner. However, I woke up hungry about four hours later, and nobody had called. Since it was too latw to go out and get a decent meal, I ended up eating one of my salmon MRE's and a granola bar. I soon went back to bed, to get some more rest before continuing on the next morning.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Cannonball day seven: Fort Scott, KS to St. Louis, MO
I had such a great time the evening before, with the warm welcome we received in Fort Scott that I didn't have a chance to swap out my worn out rear tire for the spare I had brought, and the old one didn't have enough tread left to make it to St. Louis. I was also up late to prepare my route sheets for the last four days of the trip, since the Fort Scott in had both an Internet connection and a printer that I could use. So, I got to wrenching first thing in the morning, and swapped out my rear tire so that I could safely be on my way. However, this meant a very late start for me, two hours behind schedule after showering, packing and catching breakfast. Oh well, at least I could ride at my own pace and enjoy the day.
After gassing up, I took a quick tour of Fort Scott and took pictures of some of the beautiful old buildings in town. Within minutes, I was over the state line in Missouri, riding through rolling hills past lovely old farmhouses. The aftermath of Hurricane Ike was very visible though, in the swollen creeks and rivers, and in the flotsam that had been deposited at the high water mark, during the worst of the rain that pounded the state. This was a scene that would repeated over and over again, all the way to Ohio. Despite the signs of recent destruction, the hills and curves only got better the farther east I rode, and the small towns I passed through were adorably picturesque. Our route took us through historic Jefferson City, and I made a quick pit stop in Bland, MO, where I astounded a few of the local residents by telling them of my cross-country journey by Vespa. I might have even convinced one guy to buy a GTS too! ;)
Having started late, I rolled into the hotel after everyone else but Kieran, whom I had passed earlier in the day. I got there just in the nick of time too, the last group of riders were just about to leave for Vespa St. Louis, where they were throwing a welcome celebration for us, including closing the shop to let us have free run of it to make any necessary repairs. I tagged along and after dodging a nasty car wreck on the freeway and some thick traffic in town, we arrived safe and sound at the Vespa shop.
Many repairs were already underway by the time I pulled in, bringing back memories of Cleveland during the 2006 Cannonball, including a motor transplant from Joel's wrecked GTS into Bobo's GTV, which had a stripped exhaust stud. Not only did Joel hook up Bobo with a fresh GTS motor which had been very finely tuned, he also bought a brand new midnight blue GTS to replace his wrecked bike! Vespa St. Louis hooked him up with a great deal that he couldn't refuse, and he had a support truck to transport it, so why not? Peet tended to his exhaust, and several others installed new rear tires, myself included. I managed to change my own rear tire by hand, which actually was easier than I had expected. Once a lift was free, I put my bike up and started working on replacing the oil pan gasket, which had developed a nasty leak. After pulling the pan, I found that the old gasket was pretty badly mangled, making me wonder if it left the factory like that, or if someone had been in there and did a poor job of replacing it. Luckily, Vespa St. Louis had a spare, so I was able to get it back together with the right parts, rather than trying to either cut a new gasket by hand or trying to force one on that wouldn't fit. However, the Piaggio gasket is a rather bad design, made of flimsy paper with a thin silicone bead around it, which likes to squeeze out around the outside of the oil pan when the bolts are torqued down! However, I managed to get it to seat reasonably well and seal well enough with some Yamabond, although was rather apprehensive about whether it would hold... I was definitely keeping my fingers crossed!
Although it took a while, I was finally done and left the shop with Roy and Rocket as the only Cannonballers still wrenching, who were working with a couple local scooterists and the mechanics from the shop to get Roy's clutch to attach to the crankshaft. Once I got back to the hotel, I gave a call to Ivy, my friend Heidi's sister, who lives just down the road from our hotel. She came out to meet me for a beer and wings, thankfully she wasn't put off by my greasy, grubby, smelly condition! The wings at Helen Fitzgerald's were as good as she described, made with a mustard-based sauce, rather than the typical pepper-based hot sauce that is usually associates with hot wings. Yum! We had a great time chatting for a while, longer than we had planned, but it was nice to see a familiar face aside from the Cannonballers. After she headed home, I went straight to bed, in the hopes of making an early start the next morning.
After gassing up, I took a quick tour of Fort Scott and took pictures of some of the beautiful old buildings in town. Within minutes, I was over the state line in Missouri, riding through rolling hills past lovely old farmhouses. The aftermath of Hurricane Ike was very visible though, in the swollen creeks and rivers, and in the flotsam that had been deposited at the high water mark, during the worst of the rain that pounded the state. This was a scene that would repeated over and over again, all the way to Ohio. Despite the signs of recent destruction, the hills and curves only got better the farther east I rode, and the small towns I passed through were adorably picturesque. Our route took us through historic Jefferson City, and I made a quick pit stop in Bland, MO, where I astounded a few of the local residents by telling them of my cross-country journey by Vespa. I might have even convinced one guy to buy a GTS too! ;)
Having started late, I rolled into the hotel after everyone else but Kieran, whom I had passed earlier in the day. I got there just in the nick of time too, the last group of riders were just about to leave for Vespa St. Louis, where they were throwing a welcome celebration for us, including closing the shop to let us have free run of it to make any necessary repairs. I tagged along and after dodging a nasty car wreck on the freeway and some thick traffic in town, we arrived safe and sound at the Vespa shop.
Many repairs were already underway by the time I pulled in, bringing back memories of Cleveland during the 2006 Cannonball, including a motor transplant from Joel's wrecked GTS into Bobo's GTV, which had a stripped exhaust stud. Not only did Joel hook up Bobo with a fresh GTS motor which had been very finely tuned, he also bought a brand new midnight blue GTS to replace his wrecked bike! Vespa St. Louis hooked him up with a great deal that he couldn't refuse, and he had a support truck to transport it, so why not? Peet tended to his exhaust, and several others installed new rear tires, myself included. I managed to change my own rear tire by hand, which actually was easier than I had expected. Once a lift was free, I put my bike up and started working on replacing the oil pan gasket, which had developed a nasty leak. After pulling the pan, I found that the old gasket was pretty badly mangled, making me wonder if it left the factory like that, or if someone had been in there and did a poor job of replacing it. Luckily, Vespa St. Louis had a spare, so I was able to get it back together with the right parts, rather than trying to either cut a new gasket by hand or trying to force one on that wouldn't fit. However, the Piaggio gasket is a rather bad design, made of flimsy paper with a thin silicone bead around it, which likes to squeeze out around the outside of the oil pan when the bolts are torqued down! However, I managed to get it to seat reasonably well and seal well enough with some Yamabond, although was rather apprehensive about whether it would hold... I was definitely keeping my fingers crossed!
Although it took a while, I was finally done and left the shop with Roy and Rocket as the only Cannonballers still wrenching, who were working with a couple local scooterists and the mechanics from the shop to get Roy's clutch to attach to the crankshaft. Once I got back to the hotel, I gave a call to Ivy, my friend Heidi's sister, who lives just down the road from our hotel. She came out to meet me for a beer and wings, thankfully she wasn't put off by my greasy, grubby, smelly condition! The wings at Helen Fitzgerald's were as good as she described, made with a mustard-based sauce, rather than the typical pepper-based hot sauce that is usually associates with hot wings. Yum! We had a great time chatting for a while, longer than we had planned, but it was nice to see a familiar face aside from the Cannonballers. After she headed home, I went straight to bed, in the hopes of making an early start the next morning.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Cannonball day six: Garden City, KS to Fort Scott, KS
Having been up late wrenching the night before, I got a late start in the morning, surprise surprise. Not that there was a lot to look forward to on the ride, since day six was all Kansas, all day. This was the first time I had ever been to the state, and I have to say that it lived up to it's expectations - long and flat with lots of corn. Lots of corn, as we found out, means lots of corn moths, pretty little yellow bugs that love to fly in the path of moving vehicles. Scooters are no exception and our bikes saw the worst carnage yet of the trip. There were some interesting sites along the way though. I rode through Dodge City, so now I can officially say that I've gotten the f*** out of Dodge, as the saying goes. A few miles further, there was a major tractor trailer accident, with the rig lying on it's side off to the side of the road. There were also a couple of cool old classic cars parked by the side of the road throughout the day, which was a nice treat. There were also some neat little towns we passed through, plus one with the unusual name of "Gas". Aside from that, the ride was uneventful and I made good time.
The real fun began after we arrived in Fort Scott. Fort Scott is a gorgeous old town full of well preserved old buildings and even brick-paved streets. The chamber of commerce left gift packets for us at the hotel and the invited us to a welcome celebration at the Courtland Hotel, complete with a live bluegrass folk band, called Fuss and Feathers. After a delicious dinner at Rusty's, we headed over to the Courtland and took in the show. The three members of the band, along with a couple of guest singers, did a fantastic job of performing some of the most authentic, traditional bluegrass/folk music I've ever heard. They were a hoot and they left us grinning from ear to ear! I managed to capture several of the songs on video too. It was a real treat for us and was the best reception we had received yet. To top it off, one of the banks in town added a message to their scrolling sign welcoming us to Fort Scott - how cool is that?
Alhough my bike rode well that day, my rear tire was spent. I had expected to make the entire trip on it, but it barely lasted 2000 miles. Normally, one could expect a rear Heidenau K58 to last 4000 to 6000 miles, but the Cannonball has a way of taking normal expectations for wear and tear and throwing them right out the window. I brought a spare, but it was used and had maybe 1000 miles of life left - normal use miles, that is! I also noticed that the oil pan was developing an oil leak, and the oil was indeed a little low. Thankfully, St Louis was only a day away, where Vespa St Louis was ready to take good care of all our wrenching needs. However, since the hotel had both Internet access and a printer, I opted write up and print the rest of the route sheets for my "poor man's GPS", an enduro route holder. That had been a challenge for me, since I hadn't put them together beforehand, which caused problems for me to navigate properly. I was determined to finally get them done and thankfully I did, which was a big relief. The tire and oil would just have to wait until the next morning.
The real fun began after we arrived in Fort Scott. Fort Scott is a gorgeous old town full of well preserved old buildings and even brick-paved streets. The chamber of commerce left gift packets for us at the hotel and the invited us to a welcome celebration at the Courtland Hotel, complete with a live bluegrass folk band, called Fuss and Feathers. After a delicious dinner at Rusty's, we headed over to the Courtland and took in the show. The three members of the band, along with a couple of guest singers, did a fantastic job of performing some of the most authentic, traditional bluegrass/folk music I've ever heard. They were a hoot and they left us grinning from ear to ear! I managed to capture several of the songs on video too. It was a real treat for us and was the best reception we had received yet. To top it off, one of the banks in town added a message to their scrolling sign welcoming us to Fort Scott - how cool is that?
Alhough my bike rode well that day, my rear tire was spent. I had expected to make the entire trip on it, but it barely lasted 2000 miles. Normally, one could expect a rear Heidenau K58 to last 4000 to 6000 miles, but the Cannonball has a way of taking normal expectations for wear and tear and throwing them right out the window. I brought a spare, but it was used and had maybe 1000 miles of life left - normal use miles, that is! I also noticed that the oil pan was developing an oil leak, and the oil was indeed a little low. Thankfully, St Louis was only a day away, where Vespa St Louis was ready to take good care of all our wrenching needs. However, since the hotel had both Internet access and a printer, I opted write up and print the rest of the route sheets for my "poor man's GPS", an enduro route holder. That had been a challenge for me, since I hadn't put them together beforehand, which caused problems for me to navigate properly. I was determined to finally get them done and thankfully I did, which was a big relief. The tire and oil would just have to wait until the next morning.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Cannonball day five: Salida, CO to Garden City, KS
Day five started as the chilliest morning of our trip so far, which isn't too surprising for the Rockies in mid-September. We were also greeted by a gorgeous full moon setting over the Rocky Mountains. I set off behind most of the group as I have every day so far (no matter how I try, I just have a really hard time being an early morning person), although I wasn't the very last one. Patrick realized he left his torque wrench in his room after he was about 15 minutes down the road, and he pulled up at the hotel just as I was heading out. Rich was sidelined with a bad fuel injector, which quit right after he gassed up before the ride, and he couldn't get the bike started. Thankfully though, Joel allowed Rolf & Rich to scavenge the injector off his wrecked GTS, and after some roadside surgery, Rich was back on the road. One good turn deserves another, and when the drive belt shredded itself on Bobo's bike, which Joel was riding, Rich offered his spare to Joel. Karma's a great thing, isn't it? :)
I rode solo most of the way, evenually catching up to some of the slower riders. The first part of the trip was gorgeous, passing along steep rock cliffs and tree covered mountains in central Colorado. I was very tempted to check out some of the diversions to take in more of the scenery, like Skyline Drive and the Royal Gorge Bridge, but I really wanted to make good time since I got a late start, so I opted to pass on them. I wish I cold have though, Patrick said the wooden plank suspension bridge was absolutely breathtaking to ride across.
The eastern foothills of the Rockies eventually gave way to the high plains of eastern Colorado, which marked the end of the most scenic part of our trip, but there were still some interesting sites along the way. One of our checkpoints was Bent's Old Fort, just outside of Bent, CO, which is a small but well preserved fort from Colorado's frontier days. However, being under time pressure, I was only able to see it from afar, instead of taking the time to have a good look around. Hopefully someday I'll have a chance to go back and spend more time there. Another interesting sight was the small town called Wiley, which I passed through after fouling up the directions. The people there are friendly and pointed me in the right direction when I stopped to make sure I was going in the right direction. It seemed like a nice place, even though it's way out in the middle of nowhere.
Being in the middle of nowhere, I soon crossed the border into Kansas. The road was mostly straight and flat, with a couple of curves and hills thrown in once in a while. Most of all though, there were a lot of bugs and we got splattered pretty good. Several of us made good time and arrived in Garden City in the early afternoon, but we had to wait around a while before the support trucks arrived. Once they did, a bunch of us went out to dinner at the Golden Corral for a steak buffet dinner. Let's just say that there were many folks there who fit the stereotype of corn-fed middle America. The food was so-so, but we had fun taking over one whole side of the restaurant, and we kept both the waitresses and ourselves amused.
After returning from dinner, it was time to wrench, because my bike had been losing speed every day since day 3. I pulled off the belt cover to take a look, but the belt seemed ok. Rolf and I then pulled off the variator, and he knew something was wrong as soon as I pulled off the outer pulley. Sitting in between the pulleys, dangling from the output shaft was what appeared to be an oil seal of some kind. Rolf asked me who had worked on the variator and I told him that nobody had since he installed it just a week or so before we left. He said he didn't put it in there like that. We pulled off the back half of the pulley, and took a closer look. Aside from the roller weights having some very pronounced flat spots, we discovered that the bushing inside the pulley had worked itself loose and it had pushed out the grease seal from inside the center of the pulley! Apparently the Polini variator is designated as "for racing use only", and was never intended for long distance high speed riding, so it did not hold up to the beating that had been administered by the first five days of the Cannonball, and it was finished. Thankfully I had brought along my J Costa variator, so I installed it and replaced the belt with a good used spare I brought along. After taking it out for a test ride at 11:00pm once it was all back together, I was satisfied that it was able to get back up to full speed again, although it didn't have quite the same peaky power curve that the Polini had. At least I was ready to ride and I could feel confident in my bike again, so it was time to get some much needed rest, even if there weren't nearly as many hours left in the night as I would have wanted. So it goes on the Cannonball!
I rode solo most of the way, evenually catching up to some of the slower riders. The first part of the trip was gorgeous, passing along steep rock cliffs and tree covered mountains in central Colorado. I was very tempted to check out some of the diversions to take in more of the scenery, like Skyline Drive and the Royal Gorge Bridge, but I really wanted to make good time since I got a late start, so I opted to pass on them. I wish I cold have though, Patrick said the wooden plank suspension bridge was absolutely breathtaking to ride across.
The eastern foothills of the Rockies eventually gave way to the high plains of eastern Colorado, which marked the end of the most scenic part of our trip, but there were still some interesting sites along the way. One of our checkpoints was Bent's Old Fort, just outside of Bent, CO, which is a small but well preserved fort from Colorado's frontier days. However, being under time pressure, I was only able to see it from afar, instead of taking the time to have a good look around. Hopefully someday I'll have a chance to go back and spend more time there. Another interesting sight was the small town called Wiley, which I passed through after fouling up the directions. The people there are friendly and pointed me in the right direction when I stopped to make sure I was going in the right direction. It seemed like a nice place, even though it's way out in the middle of nowhere.
Being in the middle of nowhere, I soon crossed the border into Kansas. The road was mostly straight and flat, with a couple of curves and hills thrown in once in a while. Most of all though, there were a lot of bugs and we got splattered pretty good. Several of us made good time and arrived in Garden City in the early afternoon, but we had to wait around a while before the support trucks arrived. Once they did, a bunch of us went out to dinner at the Golden Corral for a steak buffet dinner. Let's just say that there were many folks there who fit the stereotype of corn-fed middle America. The food was so-so, but we had fun taking over one whole side of the restaurant, and we kept both the waitresses and ourselves amused.
After returning from dinner, it was time to wrench, because my bike had been losing speed every day since day 3. I pulled off the belt cover to take a look, but the belt seemed ok. Rolf and I then pulled off the variator, and he knew something was wrong as soon as I pulled off the outer pulley. Sitting in between the pulleys, dangling from the output shaft was what appeared to be an oil seal of some kind. Rolf asked me who had worked on the variator and I told him that nobody had since he installed it just a week or so before we left. He said he didn't put it in there like that. We pulled off the back half of the pulley, and took a closer look. Aside from the roller weights having some very pronounced flat spots, we discovered that the bushing inside the pulley had worked itself loose and it had pushed out the grease seal from inside the center of the pulley! Apparently the Polini variator is designated as "for racing use only", and was never intended for long distance high speed riding, so it did not hold up to the beating that had been administered by the first five days of the Cannonball, and it was finished. Thankfully I had brought along my J Costa variator, so I installed it and replaced the belt with a good used spare I brought along. After taking it out for a test ride at 11:00pm once it was all back together, I was satisfied that it was able to get back up to full speed again, although it didn't have quite the same peaky power curve that the Polini had. At least I was ready to ride and I could feel confident in my bike again, so it was time to get some much needed rest, even if there weren't nearly as many hours left in the night as I would have wanted. So it goes on the Cannonball!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
