After coffee last week, Andy and I were wanting to go for a ride. Without a plan or a route in mind, we couldn't decide which way to go. Fortunately, Andy is a walking GPS and off the top of his head linked together several short stints of backroads to make for a great afternoon of riding. I was quite happy to follow along, singing a song, and not having to plan a route. It's not that I don't have any sense of direction, I just don't know which way to go and can easily end up riding around in circles.
We stopped at Salmon Falls Park and walked down to the falls. I'd never been out there before, and it had been several years since Andy had been camping up the creek nearby.
Plenty of nice swimming holes to jump into, and pools to relax, I'm sure it's crowded in the summer
|Andy posing for the new Klim catalogue|
We rode a little further up to where the pavement ends, but with the grey skies and recent rain the road was a wee bit muddy and we weren't up for picking up our bikes. So we turned around, headed into town and ended up at a motorcycle dealership to peruse their wares. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the highly acclaimed KTM 790 Adventure R... no luck. They did have a few KTM 790 Dukes that tempted Geoff James into tomfoolery and shenanigans.
We hummed and hawed, sat on a few bikes and made vroom vroom noises...
|2018 Kawasaki Z900RS|
Not to say I don't have my own temptress, and seriously considered this pavement princess.
Andy finally figured out the secret to starting a BRP Can-Am Ryker... by reading the directions.
It was a great afternoon and a great ride, but something had been bothering me for a while. Because I didn't have to plan this route, I was able to follow along mindlessly and it gave me all afternoon to ponder other things.
Our bikes had been sitting for the winter and Lucy's front tire kept going flat, I just recently put her up on her center-stand ready to find out why. Evidently I had mounted the new tire in haste and failed to thoroughly clean the rim causing a leak around the bead.
As I was spraying the tire with soapy water, I would swing the tire back and forth to check both sides and discovered the steering would self center. That can't be good, that means new steering head bearings. Meh, I'll add it to the list.
During the ride, the clunking noise from the front counter sprocket was nagging me, Andy and I looked into it last summer dismissing it as needing a new chain. However, I started pondering and vaguely remembered replacing the chain and both sprockets about 10,000 miles ago. It shouldn't be making that much or that type of noise that soon.
So on Sunday I went after it, cleaning and oiling the chain. Nope, not it. Out came the grinder and off came the chain, definitely not the chain. Hopefully the nut on the counter sprocket is loose. Out comes the breaker bar and cheater pipe.
Nope, it's not the nut...
So do I tear into it and replace the bearings? Once I'm in there, will I find something else? Worse case scenario is I get it all apart and like most of the projects on my to do list, they rarely get done.
I find it somewhat ironic that in my last post I shared photos of my bike in a cemetery.
Fortunately, there's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead.
What to do? What to do?
Well, you do what any foolish minded motorcyclist would do.
Simply compound the problem by adding yet another bike to the fleet.
For some reason this tree at Muddy Creek Charter School has been the go to place for new bike pics. I don't know why, as it's not particularly pretty, and we're always fighting trash cans and caution tape in the background. But tradition is tradition, so we rode all the way down south of Corvallis to continue said tradition.
|Brandy sticking her tongue out at me|
So Lucy is currently sitting in the garage. I'll load her up on the trailer one day and take her into my mechanic to confirm my diagnosis, then list her for sale for someone else to love.
We had some great times together, thanks for the memories,
but I've got a new girl now... and she's a lot like you.
~ It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.