James Burleigh
Well-known member
Four guys. Three bikes. No. 1 son on the back of mine (same one we just deposited at U. Minn.), along with Kurt on the Sporty and James on the BMW K1200RS. Kurt and James are high school buddies, all now living in the Bay Area. Kurt picked up his Sporty after he rode mine when I first got it (before I got the FJR).
Took two days, Sun-Mon. Rode up in the AM, spent the night in Yosemite, then came home via Murphys in Calaveras County.
My son and me miked up for conversation and satellite radio. Even with an extra 185 pounds the FJR still has plenty of giddy-up. This is how we commuted for months to Berkeley each morning ('cept me in my 'stitch):
Stopped for lunch on Highway 49. The last few miles to this point James (on the bumbleebee BMW) had gone on ahead and opened it up to three digits. A moment after this shot was taken (below), his bike just pitched over with that sickening crash of metal and plastic. Sure, James parked it badly. But what sent it over was that the back tire was flat. He had picked up a shard of metal. The faring got f**ked along with the auxilliary light. He got all bummed, figuring his ride was over, but I was sanguine, knowing I had a complete tire repair kit and pump:
My bike moved next to James's to power the air pump:
The tire plugged and being filled with air. It held for the next two weeks till he took it to get the tire replaced:
Got into Yosemite and were confronted by this "controlled burn."
No. 1 son is a shutterbug. (Nice pics in this post are his.)
Yosemite Deer Sanctuary, the little *******s:
The fire cast an eerie glow over everything (El Cap):
Our cabin for the night in Curry Village:
Next morning on the way out:
Had lunch in Murphys before heading home to the Bay Area:
Took two days, Sun-Mon. Rode up in the AM, spent the night in Yosemite, then came home via Murphys in Calaveras County.
My son and me miked up for conversation and satellite radio. Even with an extra 185 pounds the FJR still has plenty of giddy-up. This is how we commuted for months to Berkeley each morning ('cept me in my 'stitch):
Stopped for lunch on Highway 49. The last few miles to this point James (on the bumbleebee BMW) had gone on ahead and opened it up to three digits. A moment after this shot was taken (below), his bike just pitched over with that sickening crash of metal and plastic. Sure, James parked it badly. But what sent it over was that the back tire was flat. He had picked up a shard of metal. The faring got f**ked along with the auxilliary light. He got all bummed, figuring his ride was over, but I was sanguine, knowing I had a complete tire repair kit and pump:
My bike moved next to James's to power the air pump:
The tire plugged and being filled with air. It held for the next two weeks till he took it to get the tire replaced:
Got into Yosemite and were confronted by this "controlled burn."
No. 1 son is a shutterbug. (Nice pics in this post are his.)
Yosemite Deer Sanctuary, the little *******s:
The fire cast an eerie glow over everything (El Cap):
Our cabin for the night in Curry Village:
Next morning on the way out:
Had lunch in Murphys before heading home to the Bay Area:
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