John OoSTerhuis
Life Is Good!
[originally poSTed to the STOC LiSTserv... an oldie but goldie(?)]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have enjoyed reading the "bloopers" so will come clean and add one of mine.
Excerpts from Chapter 2, "35 miles of BAD road" or, "Can a 700lb touring bike 'do the dirt'?" -- from my "Adventures in the Great White North (GWN)."
[Highly edited and embellished for the ST1100 Mailing LiST -- but a true story!]:
Having somehow survived 35 miles of the worst muddy road I could have ever imagined, WITHOUT going down [that is another story!], I finally arrived at the Boy Scout Canoe Base on the other side of Bissett, Manitoba, at 5:45PM, the 19th of May. The plan was for the others to also arrive around supper time and we would open the base for the season. After two hours of waiting, my stomach was chewing on my backbone and they hadn't arrived yet.
[As it happened, they didn't get there until 1:30AM and I had to jury-rig a tent out of the bike cover to sleep in, AND to protect myself from the infamous black flies of the Canadian Shield! I didn't have the base keys. But I digress...]
It was too far to walk to town and too slippery to risk riding on that road again, but I could see a restaurant sign next to a fairly dry road leading away from the main(?) road just across from the base. Soooo, I cranked up The Grey GhOOST again. She was still covered and packed with slowly drying mud, as was I; and after all I had put her through a few hours ago, I wouldn't have been surprised if she had just said NO. But she fired up without complaint, and we crossed the main(?) road slime to the little road, looking for some sustenance for me.
I missed a turn almost immediately and found myself on a quickly deteriorating-to-double-track, "north woods trail" with no place to turn around! As I am leg length challenged, I did the only thing I could before the situation got even worse -- stopped to turn the bike around on foot in the narrow two-track with muddy ditches on either side. I got the heavily laden, still running GhOOST backed up and 90? to the two ruts when it happened.
Instead of putting her in gear and walking her around the rest of the way, I slung my leg over her and immediately found only air on the other side. Over we went, despite my valiant attempt to keep us upright, in an ignominious heap to the right! I rolled away in my best parachute landing fall (PLF) mode. And the GhOOST gave up the ghost -- the tip-over switch worked! Immediately looking around for observers (don't we always..?), all I heard was the bark of a rather large sounding dog, seemingly not far off. "They let them run loose up here don't they, particularly the northwoods recluses that probably live down this little track!" quickly crossed my mind.... I often talk to myself in this manner during times of stress you see.
Examining the GhOOST revealed only a small crack in the popped off right mirror cover and a folded mirror -- the tip-over wing had landed in a rut. Whew, it could have been worse. I wondered if I received an insurance discount for these wonderful wings...? [Nope]
"OK," I told myself, "quit shaking and let's get this little mishap behind us and get some food!" Having studied the Official Gold Wing School of Single-Handedly Uprighting Large Touring Bikes Manual some time ago, I knew just what to do. After extending the side stand, I backed up to the right side and grabbed the right handlebar grip with my left hand, while squeezing the brake lever to keep the front tire from rolling once (if) I got her up. I then turned the bar in towards the bike. With my right hand I grabbed the pillion handle, and squatting down to use my legs instead of my back, I slowly stood up while shuffling backwards, the poor GhOOST inched off the ground and away from her undignified position of "ignominious recumbence" [swiped from Steve Lambert]. It was hard but she was upright again! I was sure my loud grunts helped a lot, but then the dog's barks turned to growls; and sounded closer...
Huffing from the effort, and the cumulative effects of the days' long ride which included the Torture of The Great White North -- the now infamous Bissett Road -- I noticed that I was standing BELOW the bike's level on sloping ground, and that the GhOOST, while fully upright, wouldn't go beyond that! She was precariously balanced and still required that I hold her so that she didn't fall back on me. She had to go further before she could be released to assume the now urgently desired state of "restfully parked!" My now slightly oxygen-deprived brain finally deduced that the side stand was sitting on a hump of ground, preventing the bike from going any further.
No problem I thought, rationally considering the situation -- just lean her back a little, roll her forward some, and find a new spot of ground a little lower for the side stand. As I'd left the GhOOST in neutral, this shouldn't be a problem, my line of thought continued. Besides, I couldn't reach the left bar from this slope and still hold her up anyway! With considerable effort I took the bike's weight again, inched forward and slowly let her lean past vertical towards the left in hope of finding a better purchase. At least the ground was hard enough here to keep the side stand from sinking in. She held, oh glory be! The side stand took the full weight and The Grey GhOOST had her dignity back!
I looked around again to see if anyone had noticed this singular faux pas by an experienced STeed rider and distinguished holder of STOC # 1058, but was relieved to confirm there were no witnesses! We could keep this minor lapse of motorcycling prowess to ourselves. I let go of the right grip and walked around the rear of the bike, eager to "get out of Dodge." As I passed her rear, gently touching her haunches piled high with top box and pillion pack, admiring her fine lines as I always do, the GhOOST almost imperceptibly eased forward, the side stand gradually folding up as she went, and I watched in a slow motion trance as she came gently to rest on her left side!
As I stood there in bewildered shock, it slowly dawned on me what had happened. While moving her forward, the side stand had been bumped slightly back to the centering cusp of locking down or snapping up and remained there, abetted by the mud caked upon and impregnated in it. Initially the GhOOST had held her position upon being released by her exhausted loyal companion to once again stand proudly. And then the forces of gravity -- acting in concert with an ever so slight slope, a transmission in neutral, and perhaps my unwitting gentle touch -- conspired to drop her on her other side! DOWN TWICE in one day, and BACK-TO-BACK to boot; how would she ever forgive me....? How could I forgive myself? Oh what abuse I had heaped upon her today. And why am I sweating in my Stich, it's 45°F....?!
---- end of Part 1 ----
John OoSTerhuis STOC 1058
STGhOOST@aol.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have enjoyed reading the "bloopers" so will come clean and add one of mine.
Excerpts from Chapter 2, "35 miles of BAD road" or, "Can a 700lb touring bike 'do the dirt'?" -- from my "Adventures in the Great White North (GWN)."
[Highly edited and embellished for the ST1100 Mailing LiST -- but a true story!]:
Having somehow survived 35 miles of the worst muddy road I could have ever imagined, WITHOUT going down [that is another story!], I finally arrived at the Boy Scout Canoe Base on the other side of Bissett, Manitoba, at 5:45PM, the 19th of May. The plan was for the others to also arrive around supper time and we would open the base for the season. After two hours of waiting, my stomach was chewing on my backbone and they hadn't arrived yet.
[As it happened, they didn't get there until 1:30AM and I had to jury-rig a tent out of the bike cover to sleep in, AND to protect myself from the infamous black flies of the Canadian Shield! I didn't have the base keys. But I digress...]
It was too far to walk to town and too slippery to risk riding on that road again, but I could see a restaurant sign next to a fairly dry road leading away from the main(?) road just across from the base. Soooo, I cranked up The Grey GhOOST again. She was still covered and packed with slowly drying mud, as was I; and after all I had put her through a few hours ago, I wouldn't have been surprised if she had just said NO. But she fired up without complaint, and we crossed the main(?) road slime to the little road, looking for some sustenance for me.
I missed a turn almost immediately and found myself on a quickly deteriorating-to-double-track, "north woods trail" with no place to turn around! As I am leg length challenged, I did the only thing I could before the situation got even worse -- stopped to turn the bike around on foot in the narrow two-track with muddy ditches on either side. I got the heavily laden, still running GhOOST backed up and 90? to the two ruts when it happened.
Instead of putting her in gear and walking her around the rest of the way, I slung my leg over her and immediately found only air on the other side. Over we went, despite my valiant attempt to keep us upright, in an ignominious heap to the right! I rolled away in my best parachute landing fall (PLF) mode. And the GhOOST gave up the ghost -- the tip-over switch worked! Immediately looking around for observers (don't we always..?), all I heard was the bark of a rather large sounding dog, seemingly not far off. "They let them run loose up here don't they, particularly the northwoods recluses that probably live down this little track!" quickly crossed my mind.... I often talk to myself in this manner during times of stress you see.
Examining the GhOOST revealed only a small crack in the popped off right mirror cover and a folded mirror -- the tip-over wing had landed in a rut. Whew, it could have been worse. I wondered if I received an insurance discount for these wonderful wings...? [Nope]
"OK," I told myself, "quit shaking and let's get this little mishap behind us and get some food!" Having studied the Official Gold Wing School of Single-Handedly Uprighting Large Touring Bikes Manual some time ago, I knew just what to do. After extending the side stand, I backed up to the right side and grabbed the right handlebar grip with my left hand, while squeezing the brake lever to keep the front tire from rolling once (if) I got her up. I then turned the bar in towards the bike. With my right hand I grabbed the pillion handle, and squatting down to use my legs instead of my back, I slowly stood up while shuffling backwards, the poor GhOOST inched off the ground and away from her undignified position of "ignominious recumbence" [swiped from Steve Lambert]. It was hard but she was upright again! I was sure my loud grunts helped a lot, but then the dog's barks turned to growls; and sounded closer...
Huffing from the effort, and the cumulative effects of the days' long ride which included the Torture of The Great White North -- the now infamous Bissett Road -- I noticed that I was standing BELOW the bike's level on sloping ground, and that the GhOOST, while fully upright, wouldn't go beyond that! She was precariously balanced and still required that I hold her so that she didn't fall back on me. She had to go further before she could be released to assume the now urgently desired state of "restfully parked!" My now slightly oxygen-deprived brain finally deduced that the side stand was sitting on a hump of ground, preventing the bike from going any further.
No problem I thought, rationally considering the situation -- just lean her back a little, roll her forward some, and find a new spot of ground a little lower for the side stand. As I'd left the GhOOST in neutral, this shouldn't be a problem, my line of thought continued. Besides, I couldn't reach the left bar from this slope and still hold her up anyway! With considerable effort I took the bike's weight again, inched forward and slowly let her lean past vertical towards the left in hope of finding a better purchase. At least the ground was hard enough here to keep the side stand from sinking in. She held, oh glory be! The side stand took the full weight and The Grey GhOOST had her dignity back!
I looked around again to see if anyone had noticed this singular faux pas by an experienced STeed rider and distinguished holder of STOC # 1058, but was relieved to confirm there were no witnesses! We could keep this minor lapse of motorcycling prowess to ourselves. I let go of the right grip and walked around the rear of the bike, eager to "get out of Dodge." As I passed her rear, gently touching her haunches piled high with top box and pillion pack, admiring her fine lines as I always do, the GhOOST almost imperceptibly eased forward, the side stand gradually folding up as she went, and I watched in a slow motion trance as she came gently to rest on her left side!
As I stood there in bewildered shock, it slowly dawned on me what had happened. While moving her forward, the side stand had been bumped slightly back to the centering cusp of locking down or snapping up and remained there, abetted by the mud caked upon and impregnated in it. Initially the GhOOST had held her position upon being released by her exhausted loyal companion to once again stand proudly. And then the forces of gravity -- acting in concert with an ever so slight slope, a transmission in neutral, and perhaps my unwitting gentle touch -- conspired to drop her on her other side! DOWN TWICE in one day, and BACK-TO-BACK to boot; how would she ever forgive me....? How could I forgive myself? Oh what abuse I had heaped upon her today. And why am I sweating in my Stich, it's 45°F....?!
---- end of Part 1 ----
John OoSTerhuis STOC 1058
STGhOOST@aol.com
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