Brokeback FJR - A ride report told from 2 Perspectives

Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum

Help Support Yamaha FJR Motorcycle Forum:

This site may earn a commission from merchant affiliate links, including eBay, Amazon, and others.
Duane nailed it. We got to the shop at 9am, and were the only ones there. The conversation was like this:

"Do you have a set of overpriced tires to sell me?"

"Why yes, we can get you a rear tire at full MSRP and the same for the front. And another $140 to install them."

"Great, I'll take them now."

"We can't install them until Tuesday"

That meant I had to take it easy, and we had to bypass Oregon's version of Tail of the Dragon."

Leaving Ontario, there was a warning.

“Road Construction -Next 60 miles. Beware of gravel”

Shit.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
As the morning saw us nearing our favored roads, Hudson kept reminding me that if I wanted to pass and go play to do so. I wasn't about to leave him behind on a rapidly depleting set of tires. I'm loyal. I knew he was on questionable rubber (he was using questionable rubbers?!).

But then, ...the road beckoned. I was conflicted.

Then the KTM growled. The trees blurred. And Hudson was a dot in the rearview mirror. After a bit of playing about, we stopped at Austin for a gas up.


Hudson suggested I repeat the previous day's experience (Sumpter to Ukiah) while he would take the longer, less intense route via the 395. I stopped arguing. Have bike, will hooligan!

I'd say Hudson peeled out of the "gas station" (it's got a single pump and all the 87 octane you can handle...) but he had fractions of a millimeter of rubber left on his rear tire, so he accelerated at apace that would have pleased a tea-sipping school marm driving a Prius. Glacial about describes it.

I was then ready to add to my head count for the trip...

28321424391_9cb3a6132c_b.jpg


 
Here’s me:

“Duane, I really don’t mind you taking the KTM back up to Ukiah.

Here’s Duane:

Are you sure? I feel funny about leaving you behind if something happened with the tire.

Me:

Don’t worry, I’m on the main highway. It’s well traveled, and....Duane? Duane?

Duane:

ddcd201da806b6583d1304b08eb69135.jpg


 
Honestly, I knew I was the one taking the risk. Why else would Dave insist I take the SPOT? In case something happened to me on the less traveled route. Or...was it to make George, who was watching the SPOT online, think we rode the epic roads so Hudson could skate down the 395 unnoticed? We may never truly know...

For my part, I gassed up and urined down. While topping up the tank on the R, I met two other riders on nekkid bikes. I paid them no mind. I had a horsepower advantage and it was clear to me I was thus the superior motorcycling being in those parts. After getting settled and pointing the nose of the big KTM roughly straight ahead, I unleashed the staggering fury of 150 horsepower. Something flickered on the dash, I ignored it and we blasted a hole in time and space as Highway 7 once again was beaten into submission under the rear K60. Just before Hwy 7 gave way to 24, I was settling down to a nice highly entertaining (illegal??) pace on a straight stretch when the two crotchety rockets went by me. Like I was glued inside a diorama! And like the thoroughbred she was, the KTM was having none of it. Despite her steering damper, her head waggled just a bit as 4th gear introduced a drop-kick of toque through the rear wheel. The Earth held fast and bike and rider were flung forward instantly. Yes, it's good to have power. No, they can't be too much. Corruption, thy art my friend!


In mere seconds I reeled in the nekkid twins. The rear rider did a double take in his mirror when he spotted me on his tail. I smiled in my helmet knowing he was probably a bit stunned that something as large at that KTM could accelerate that fast.

But they had the last laugh. After passing the SUV we'd happened up behind, all I saw was two fat rear ties disappearing around the next turn. My front knobby would be no match in the twisties so I backed off, bidding my time for an opportunity to pass the cute ute. I managed a pass about a minute later, by which time the crotchers were so far gone ahead I only caught glimpses of them in the distance. I wished them a safe ride and hunkered down to enjoy my own ride.

And again hwy 52 did not disappoint. I landed in Ukiah 20 minutes ahead of Slowy McSlowface on the Slow Boat from Austin. I spent time getting into and out of a heated political discussion with the gas station dude, who was largely debating with himself. Hudson rolled in and we went down the road for lunch. Hudson raved about the last stretch on the 395, maybe 25 miles worth of the road, saying it was simply sublime. I couldn't stop grinning about running the same epic road on back to back days.

NOT the gas station dude I debated with...

28321424521_aa27e0b03e_b.jpg


After lunch was when we really started to notice the tire issue. See, we'd figured the front would be the issue. Being as cupped as it was, it really didn't inspire confidence in the turns, letting the bike drop in too much, suddenly. But it was the rear showing signs of giving up first. The center tread was rippling. Hudson decided he wanted to run the next 80 miles or so on the KTM to have some fun on that bike. Who was I to argue with the guy loaning me a nice bike? I'm Duane, that's who! After reminding him that he was putting me on the SS Danger for this part of the run, he shrugged and took off. Fine gent, right there. OK, guess I'll show him not to fear the Rubber Reaper then...

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Well that 8 second video was well worth it as it was followed by 201 seconds of this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqSzSk3H59U]NSFW video![/url]
Dang! +1
:yumm:

:slurp:

-------

OK, back to the narrative -

Something tells me another "Klong" may be in the future (foreshadowing and other such writers' devices). It's become less Klear which rider is due and which writer will Kronichle it, but we're narrowing the issue of which tire is involved. Entertaining story, boys.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
My bike. My rules.

And...you clearly ignored the instructions not to ride the FJR hard...

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Turns out Hutch (his name) was the map maker. He rides all the roads, makes the maps (printed 133,000 of them this year) and sells the advertising to all the businesses in the region. And he covers a bunch of regions. Hell of a nice guy After we'd finished packing, we blew out of town like a dragon's fart - hot and insistent.
I used those maps for my OR/WA trip a couple of years ago... they are a fantastic find and well worth the price... iirc, it was $5 plus shipping or something like that.

Carry on. B)

 
Best ride report evah! Very entertaining. You guys are the Abbott and Costello of road trippin'. Oops! Guess my age is showing
rolleyes.gif


How do I get my hands on one of those maps?

 
Hudson's sudden lowering of the ownership boom left me seated on an old friend. Hudson’s FRJ was a mirror of my own save for the color of the wheels. It was like slipping on an old pair of jeans. Except these jeans were all skanky with crappy tires doing their best to force you to make turns at 30 mph everywhere.

But we were having none of it. We hit the road and made for Condon OR. Beautiful areas, again, watching the crops being cut across vast open plains. One road in particular stood out in my mind. I don't know which one it was, though, as I was simply following Hudson, not watching my GPS. (OK, so I do know - it was Highway 206.)

But that road, it was why I started riding. At one point we waved at each other (hey, you see a bike coming the other way, you wave!). Hudson having gone around the switchback heading in the opposite direction of travel, about 150 feet lower in elevation. It was that portion of the road where I got into sync with the FJR. I started to trust the front end, leaning into turns at speed. It reminded me (almost) of the best rides on my own FJR years ago.

27820689783_27079e67b9_b.jpg


A more realistic interpretation of what was going on...*whistles* TIRES BE DAMNED!!! Please note, and be impressed by, the skill required to not only wheelie these bikes, but to wave WHILE wheelie-ing. Yes, you are truly the presence of greatness.
wink.png


28459321435_12ee43f1f0_b.jpg


 
Last edited by a moderator:
WooHoo Moment Number 3

We hit the crest you see above and all the way down you can see the road twisting and dropping. It’s like a mini-Stelvio Pass moment. No
one around for miles and I am audibly cheering in my helmet.

28355169602_bc6ba02799_c.jpg


28355170602_e085f59434_c.jpg


 
Last edited by a moderator:
As we entered town I passed Dave. And as we parked the bikes downtown, he said the back tire was showing cord. I looked and couldn't see it. Center standing the pig, we rotated the tire and sure enough - cord. Our plans officially changed.
28400507535_618eed1ebf_b.jpg

It was clear we wouldn't make Yakima that night with the FJR. Calls were made, expertise sought. Everything pointed to borrowed time and miles. I joked that we should check the tire shop across the street for motorcycle tires, but we didn't. Instead we agreed to recheck the tire at Bigg's Junction, about 40 miles North. We slowly made our way North, suffering the indignity of being passed by a Prius. A quick eyeballing at Biggs showed not much difference, so we opted to press on to Goldendale, WA.

When we pulled into the Chevron things were different. Now the Aramid cords were worn through. Things just got very real...

 
Forum Poll:

It's dusk. The cords are now showing through the rear tire.

28170695390_e5bd052d55_b.jpg


Between you and a warm bed 60 miles away lies a remote mountain pass where large trucks pass and fast cars crowd your bumper at 70 mph.

You:

1. Nurse the bike slowly on the pass, staying to the shoulder, and silently pray you don’t break down.
2. Grab a roll of duct tape, run it three times around the middle of the rear tire, and then do A, above.
3. Abandon the FJR at a gas station, pack all your gear onto the other working bike, and ride two-up the sixty miles to Yakima, trying hard not to crush your man bits because you scooched up halfway on the gas tank to make room for Horton hears A Who and his StayPuff marshmallow Motoport suit.
 
Last edited by a moderator:
You guessed it.

TWO FAT MEN ON A DUAL SPORT (built for 1).

We went from this:

80450552.jpg


To something vaguely resembling this:

05bdfd5cf9efde53f1f93cc14b5ac1b0.jpg


It could have possibly been far worse, but recall we had strategized for this possibility. Because....you know....the salads....

 
Last edited by a moderator:
If you had called and headed south instead I would have mounted a good tire supplied cold beer,lodging and a Reuben.

 
That was probably the best idea Ray, but it wasn't till Condon that we noticed how critical things were - until then I figured that slow and steady would solve the problem.

Oh, I should've mentioned - SportsGuy had a 3:45 pm return flight home. Add the travel time and TSA hassles, and it meant we had to be near Seattle by 2pm the following day. 200 miles from our house, this was in reach, but left few options to travel south and get back in time.

 
Last edited by a moderator:
Top