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My bike is a hardened commuter... an '83 GS850G, doing 105 mile days, rain or shine, back and forth to work in Madison, WI. About half of this daily ritual is spent circumnavigating the isthmus on 'the Beltline' (US 12/18 from I90 to points west). Traffic can be cutthroat at times, but is generally not that bad since I work second shift.
Around midnight last night, I nearly bought the farm with all it's implements...There was a deer carcass hiding in the shadows across my lane. I schmucked it. Things got wiggly after that. I futily tried to counter-steer out of the ensuing tank slapper. I went down at 60 mph--not even time for cursing.
8O
The right side of my bike was grinding down the tarmac, and I was still all mixed up in it. My crash bars started shooting off a spectacular geyser of sparks and my leg started heating up. I just let the bike go and watched it slide into the abyss. I remember thinking,' This is pretty fast! --My bum is getting warm!? I stopped a few meters after that. My bike was only a few more meters down the pike.
I gave myself the once-over and everything was in place and functioning. I jumped to my feet, ran over to my bike, picked the old girl up, and dragged her off the highway. I thought, 'Here I am 35 miles from home and now I'm screwed.' Great.
I gave the bike a quick check-- tires, head light, blinkers, no obviously bent forks, no oil puddles, not even a ding on the gas tank.... Might as well see if it runs. She fired right up and dropped into the familiar clanking idle of a GS. No rattles, hiccups, or wheezes...
I rode the old girl home with no complaints...not even a shimmy. My only scuff is a scrape my daughter classified as an 'owie' (something marginally Band-Aid-worthy).
There is no way I can ever get rid of my bike --It's the Phoenix. It's now been through two deer (the first one I stayed up) and risen from the ashes of a cooked intake valve (always run OEM plugs). The old girl can take a punch.
Here are my commuting tips for southern Wisconsin:
Be Captain Safety--wear full gear (Cordura saved my bacon) and a helmet.
Be super careful on that deer-choked gauntlet called 'the Beltline'.
Good Luck Everyone!
Tim
Around midnight last night, I nearly bought the farm with all it's implements...There was a deer carcass hiding in the shadows across my lane. I schmucked it. Things got wiggly after that. I futily tried to counter-steer out of the ensuing tank slapper. I went down at 60 mph--not even time for cursing.
8O
The right side of my bike was grinding down the tarmac, and I was still all mixed up in it. My crash bars started shooting off a spectacular geyser of sparks and my leg started heating up. I just let the bike go and watched it slide into the abyss. I remember thinking,' This is pretty fast! --My bum is getting warm!? I stopped a few meters after that. My bike was only a few more meters down the pike.
I gave myself the once-over and everything was in place and functioning. I jumped to my feet, ran over to my bike, picked the old girl up, and dragged her off the highway. I thought, 'Here I am 35 miles from home and now I'm screwed.' Great.
I gave the bike a quick check-- tires, head light, blinkers, no obviously bent forks, no oil puddles, not even a ding on the gas tank.... Might as well see if it runs. She fired right up and dropped into the familiar clanking idle of a GS. No rattles, hiccups, or wheezes...
I rode the old girl home with no complaints...not even a shimmy. My only scuff is a scrape my daughter classified as an 'owie' (something marginally Band-Aid-worthy).
There is no way I can ever get rid of my bike --It's the Phoenix. It's now been through two deer (the first one I stayed up) and risen from the ashes of a cooked intake valve (always run OEM plugs). The old girl can take a punch.
Here are my commuting tips for southern Wisconsin:
Be Captain Safety--wear full gear (Cordura saved my bacon) and a helmet.
Be super careful on that deer-choked gauntlet called 'the Beltline'.
Good Luck Everyone!
Tim
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