SwollenRaccoon
Well-known member
Well, let's get this over with first. On the last full day of our 2012 Arkansas trip, on the last loop we were riding before returning to the motel, I fell down. It was on Arkansas 123, on a 10 mph downhill left-hand switchback. If you've been on that road, you know exactly what I'm describing. I was paying particular attention to lane position, not wanting to crowd the centerline on a blind corner. I wasn't out at the white line, but I was in the middle of the lane. As I came out of the corner, slowly (you can't take these corners any other way), I was in the outside tire track, probably 18 to 22 inches from the white line.
Wham! What the hell is happening? Ouch! Hey, what am I doing on the ground? No warning, no "Oh, sh*t" moment. The front tire had washed out, and I hit the ground before I even knew what happened. I hit the ground with my hands on the grips and feet on the pegs. The bike slid on its' left side, with the tires facing downhill, an 11% grade. As it slowed, it tipped downhill enough for the tires to touch the road, so it flipped on to its' right side, just to even out the damage. Both mirrors toast, both saddlebags scraped up, a slightly bent footpeg, left engine case badly ground down, and both upper fairing pieces scratched up. And yes, the fairing stay is bent. (New parts start arriving today). Walking back to where it fell, just at the corner exit, I found the scuff mark where the front tire had slid. It looked exactly the same as the pavement around it, but when I dragged my foot over the pavement, much of the chip seal stone was loose. We had ridden that stretch of road three times in the last three days, and never had an indication that it was loose.
My riding gear had done its' job. A tiny, half-inch long, shallow scrape on my Shoei helmet, a scuff on the outer shoulder pad of my Cortech jacket, scuffs on the top/side of my left Daytona boot, which had been under the bike and on the peg when I hit, and my Tourmaster pant leg worn through the fabric, to the knee pad, on the left knee. Not a mark on me. The only pain is in my left shoulder, which I had already scheduled surgery for the first week of June. It now hurt more than before. We'll never know, but maybe without the previous considerable damage to my shoulder, maybe I wouldn't have hurt that at all. Any way, both motorcycle and pilot were fine to continue. Not as pretty or proud as previously, but we made it back to Minnesota just fine.
Here's a picture of the left pant leg.
Now that we got done with that nonsense, let's concentrate on the rest of the trip, from the start, which was fabulous. We left Saturday morning, about 7AM, from Jason's place in Kasson. Jason has an 08 FJR like mine, and is a world-class rider, on pavement or off. He's been riding since he was pulled off his mother's chest. We have done several track days together, and literally tens of thousands of miles together on the road. I trust his riding instincts implicitly, and he rides at a perfect pace for the Swollen Raccoon Racing Team®. The other rider on this trip (as in 2011), was John, or JJ. He rides a 2003 (or 2004? I forget) V-Strom 1000, and he rides it better and harder than any V-Strom on the continent. I will stand by that opinion until I see it disproven, or until someone buys me a cold adult beverage to sway my opinion. However, about five years ago, he had to have a hip replaced, so is incapable of sitting in the saddle for a 675-mile day. He towed his bike down on a trailer to Harrison, and had cold bevvies waiting for us when Jason and I pulled into the motel parking lot. A wonderful guy. I work with both of these guys, (JJ is a master machinist/toolmaker, and young Jason is a master degreed mechanical engineer), and riding with them is an honor of which I am unworthy. Nevertheless, they let me tag along.
Here's Jason, on our first stop in Ames. He looks as sharp as a fuzzy new tennis ball.
On the way down, we once again had to stop for lunch at Arthur Bryant's, in Kansas City. Jason got the burnt ends and sausage, and I got the turkey and sausage. Amazingly good. The line was 12 or 15 people out the door, a 40 minute wait.
The grub.
JJ in the Harrison Days Inn parking lot, inspecting the machinery.
Sunday, late morning, we headed down to Jasper, and on to 123, one of my all-time favorite roads. Don't tell Petey. I told him I wouldn't divulge his favorite roads, but it's pretty hard to hide, with these pictures. Even Bust would figure it out, given enough time.
Jason.
JJ.
At the now-closed Hankin Country Store.
And at the one-lane bridge on 123.
Jason at the scenic overlook on 103, south of Oark.
JJ, same spot.
And one more doofus.
The Oark Store, in downtown Oark.
Jason, contemplating intake options, at the Oark Store.
The Texas burger; big slab of beef, provelone cheese, and barbecue sauce. A winner.
Due to previous threats from Petey, I won't divulge all the roads we took, but almost every one was fantastic. As most of you know, 341, Push Mountain Road, is a thing of almost mystical sensuality, twisting, curving, flowing just right. Perfection in pavement. We ran it up and back, then headed over to Melbourne for lunch. I should clarify.....this was on Monday. We had lunch at American Burger Center. Fabulous, and I highly recommend it. Sorry, no pictures, but we all noted that we need to eat there again.
Monday night, we stayed at The Cliff House, south of Jasper on 7. Mike and Becky are great hosts, and we enjoyed our stay there, as we did last year.
Here's Jason and JJ outside our room (The Suite) at the Cliff House. It's in a dry county, but due to expert preparation, this particular corner of the county was NOT dry.
The view from the deck.
The mighty steed, several hours before cosmetic alterations.
One last photo. I don't recall where this was taken, but I'm sure one or more of you know, and will educate me accordingly.
JJ had to head home a day early, due to the V-Strom acting up. We first thought it was bad gas, but ruled that out after a couple refills. It's gotta be something electrical. Very intermittent, and runs good for a while, then pops and surges like a rodeo bull.
Jason and I headed back home Wednesday morning. We stopped for lunch in Kansas City again, this time at Oklahoma Joe's Barbecue. Oh-oh, we may have a new favorite. Oh my. I got the Z-Man brisket sandwich, which had pepperjack cheese and two delicious onion rings on it. Fabulous. Jason was smart enough (until we got back on the bikes, with 450 miles yet to go), to get a full rack of ribs. He gave me a couple. Boioioinnnngggg. Best ribs I've ever had. I know most of you have probably had more ribs in more places than I have, but these are amazing, in my limited experience. Smoked and cooked dry, with no sauce added, which is how I like them. Containers of sauce at each table, so you can mix/add as you see fit. But really, these ribs didn't even need any. Thick, meaty, tender, not too crusty. My goodness. Anthony Bourdain, the chef from the Travel Channel, is quoted as saying this is one of the thirteen places in the world you have to eat before you die. I'm not a world traveler, but he is. I believe him. Hope I don't die before I get another chance to go there.
Arrived home after just a hair under 12 hours, with 677 miles for the day. About 2,350 miles for the five days. A trip worth remembering, and one I hope to repeat. Well, except for the 15 mph impact with the pavement. I hate stopping for pictures when I'm out riding, so the content is lacking, but northwest Arkansas is a very beautiful part of the country. Thanks for reading my average, pedestrian, mediocre ride report. Let the ripping begin....
Wham! What the hell is happening? Ouch! Hey, what am I doing on the ground? No warning, no "Oh, sh*t" moment. The front tire had washed out, and I hit the ground before I even knew what happened. I hit the ground with my hands on the grips and feet on the pegs. The bike slid on its' left side, with the tires facing downhill, an 11% grade. As it slowed, it tipped downhill enough for the tires to touch the road, so it flipped on to its' right side, just to even out the damage. Both mirrors toast, both saddlebags scraped up, a slightly bent footpeg, left engine case badly ground down, and both upper fairing pieces scratched up. And yes, the fairing stay is bent. (New parts start arriving today). Walking back to where it fell, just at the corner exit, I found the scuff mark where the front tire had slid. It looked exactly the same as the pavement around it, but when I dragged my foot over the pavement, much of the chip seal stone was loose. We had ridden that stretch of road three times in the last three days, and never had an indication that it was loose.
My riding gear had done its' job. A tiny, half-inch long, shallow scrape on my Shoei helmet, a scuff on the outer shoulder pad of my Cortech jacket, scuffs on the top/side of my left Daytona boot, which had been under the bike and on the peg when I hit, and my Tourmaster pant leg worn through the fabric, to the knee pad, on the left knee. Not a mark on me. The only pain is in my left shoulder, which I had already scheduled surgery for the first week of June. It now hurt more than before. We'll never know, but maybe without the previous considerable damage to my shoulder, maybe I wouldn't have hurt that at all. Any way, both motorcycle and pilot were fine to continue. Not as pretty or proud as previously, but we made it back to Minnesota just fine.
Here's a picture of the left pant leg.
Now that we got done with that nonsense, let's concentrate on the rest of the trip, from the start, which was fabulous. We left Saturday morning, about 7AM, from Jason's place in Kasson. Jason has an 08 FJR like mine, and is a world-class rider, on pavement or off. He's been riding since he was pulled off his mother's chest. We have done several track days together, and literally tens of thousands of miles together on the road. I trust his riding instincts implicitly, and he rides at a perfect pace for the Swollen Raccoon Racing Team®. The other rider on this trip (as in 2011), was John, or JJ. He rides a 2003 (or 2004? I forget) V-Strom 1000, and he rides it better and harder than any V-Strom on the continent. I will stand by that opinion until I see it disproven, or until someone buys me a cold adult beverage to sway my opinion. However, about five years ago, he had to have a hip replaced, so is incapable of sitting in the saddle for a 675-mile day. He towed his bike down on a trailer to Harrison, and had cold bevvies waiting for us when Jason and I pulled into the motel parking lot. A wonderful guy. I work with both of these guys, (JJ is a master machinist/toolmaker, and young Jason is a master degreed mechanical engineer), and riding with them is an honor of which I am unworthy. Nevertheless, they let me tag along.
Here's Jason, on our first stop in Ames. He looks as sharp as a fuzzy new tennis ball.
On the way down, we once again had to stop for lunch at Arthur Bryant's, in Kansas City. Jason got the burnt ends and sausage, and I got the turkey and sausage. Amazingly good. The line was 12 or 15 people out the door, a 40 minute wait.
The grub.
JJ in the Harrison Days Inn parking lot, inspecting the machinery.
Sunday, late morning, we headed down to Jasper, and on to 123, one of my all-time favorite roads. Don't tell Petey. I told him I wouldn't divulge his favorite roads, but it's pretty hard to hide, with these pictures. Even Bust would figure it out, given enough time.
Jason.
JJ.
At the now-closed Hankin Country Store.
And at the one-lane bridge on 123.
Jason at the scenic overlook on 103, south of Oark.
JJ, same spot.
And one more doofus.
The Oark Store, in downtown Oark.
Jason, contemplating intake options, at the Oark Store.
The Texas burger; big slab of beef, provelone cheese, and barbecue sauce. A winner.
Due to previous threats from Petey, I won't divulge all the roads we took, but almost every one was fantastic. As most of you know, 341, Push Mountain Road, is a thing of almost mystical sensuality, twisting, curving, flowing just right. Perfection in pavement. We ran it up and back, then headed over to Melbourne for lunch. I should clarify.....this was on Monday. We had lunch at American Burger Center. Fabulous, and I highly recommend it. Sorry, no pictures, but we all noted that we need to eat there again.
Monday night, we stayed at The Cliff House, south of Jasper on 7. Mike and Becky are great hosts, and we enjoyed our stay there, as we did last year.
Here's Jason and JJ outside our room (The Suite) at the Cliff House. It's in a dry county, but due to expert preparation, this particular corner of the county was NOT dry.
The view from the deck.
The mighty steed, several hours before cosmetic alterations.
One last photo. I don't recall where this was taken, but I'm sure one or more of you know, and will educate me accordingly.
JJ had to head home a day early, due to the V-Strom acting up. We first thought it was bad gas, but ruled that out after a couple refills. It's gotta be something electrical. Very intermittent, and runs good for a while, then pops and surges like a rodeo bull.
Jason and I headed back home Wednesday morning. We stopped for lunch in Kansas City again, this time at Oklahoma Joe's Barbecue. Oh-oh, we may have a new favorite. Oh my. I got the Z-Man brisket sandwich, which had pepperjack cheese and two delicious onion rings on it. Fabulous. Jason was smart enough (until we got back on the bikes, with 450 miles yet to go), to get a full rack of ribs. He gave me a couple. Boioioinnnngggg. Best ribs I've ever had. I know most of you have probably had more ribs in more places than I have, but these are amazing, in my limited experience. Smoked and cooked dry, with no sauce added, which is how I like them. Containers of sauce at each table, so you can mix/add as you see fit. But really, these ribs didn't even need any. Thick, meaty, tender, not too crusty. My goodness. Anthony Bourdain, the chef from the Travel Channel, is quoted as saying this is one of the thirteen places in the world you have to eat before you die. I'm not a world traveler, but he is. I believe him. Hope I don't die before I get another chance to go there.
Arrived home after just a hair under 12 hours, with 677 miles for the day. About 2,350 miles for the five days. A trip worth remembering, and one I hope to repeat. Well, except for the 15 mph impact with the pavement. I hate stopping for pictures when I'm out riding, so the content is lacking, but northwest Arkansas is a very beautiful part of the country. Thanks for reading my average, pedestrian, mediocre ride report. Let the ripping begin....
but very glad you're ok and able to continue with your trip. :dance: 
