Around the world on a GS850G for a cause

[shirazdrum]

They provide 24/7 customer service which is top-notch with no Indian accent like other hosts.


We are all aware of the cliché of western corporations and the offshore enterprises they run that exploit poor hungry people. The ones that profit from poverty and hope it never goes away.

I am sure you like Indian people and appreciate that there are so many of them hungry who work at call centres to earn their daily bread.

Hope you find your parts.

I’m by no means prejudice towards Indian people. How they make their money is not the issue here, the issue is the giant American corporations shipping out American jobs oversees with no regards for the American or the host country. If the Indians got paid $15 an hour for their work, I had no problem listening to Indian accent when I called the said company. The problem is that they don’t. With that, their quality of life is not improving, my customer service experience goes down the toilet and the only benefit out of this ordeal is that some rich coc****ker gets richer by screwing both nations.

India actually is in a crisis because of its industrial boom, and the western companies trying to absorb its workforce. Many who have worked the traditional trades and agriculture are simply leaving their villages for a better life (The illusion of it of course) and end up in big cities with no job, no place to stay, and nothing to eat. Then the western saviors come in and offer them jobs when they are desperate, and they get shoved by thousands in sweat shops to make a Polo shirt that sells for $75 in the states and costs less than $3 to make. Is their life better? I beg to differ.

[shirazdrum]

THE HUNGER GAMES

Cartagena, and in general the Caribbean coast region of Colombia, historically has the highest rate of malnutrition in the country. The problem lies rooted in the severely uneducated and rural life in this region which has many refugees of the internal war between the FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia) and the federal government which has raged on for many years. The number of displaced refugees is not precisely clear but a short visit out of the touristy town of Cartagena to its surrounding neighborhoods changes anyone’s perception.

To get more acquainted with the problem, we visited a well known local institution, founded by a rich Colombian couple to battle malnutrition and focus on family control education. I can’t personally vouch for this organization as I have my doubts about its administration. It’s not their mission that troubles me; it’s their extravagant administrative expenditures which made me think twice. For example, the new building that they are constructing is a multi-million dollar project, which looks more like the “Mall of America” in Minnesota rather than a humble clinic. I might be overly paranoid, but the fact that tons of cocaine goes through the ports of Cartagena to be shipped to North America every week is enough to justify any profligate show to cover the drug movement. It’s a technique that many organized crimes utilize to smooth out their smuggling efforts. We stayed wary of giving any financial support to this particular foundation, but on the mission level it was eye-opening.

As I walked in one of the classrooms, I was shocked to see many girls in their early teens breast feeding babies. Many ranged from 12 to 15 years old, and their petrified innocent looks were telltale signs of abuse and abandonment by the society. These girls were barely old enough to hang up their nonexistence Barbie dolls, yet they had one or more kids already and were expecting more. They didn’t know any better. Nor had the luxury of finding out how.
To reach them in their “natural habitat,” a short 30 minutes ride out of the touristy Cartagena was enough to enter the heart of the slums that no tourist will ever see and even many locals would not dare to go. No paved roads, no running water, dirt floors, shacks with no roofs and the supermarkets in the area were guarded like jailhouses with bars to prevent the hungry population from raiding them.

These families lived on 40 cents a day a person, which itself was a fortune for them. A full day of work only provided them with handful of beans and some rice to feed five or six mouths, and many went hungry day and night. Catalina (not her real name) was a one of the many. Mother of one young one already and with another one in the oven, she was responsible for her seriously ill husband while taking care of her younger brother and sister at the same time. The dingy door-less shack they lived in was nothing more than a few metal sidings and a tarp overhead, with two beds separating the muddy floor from their bodies. Five people slept on two beds at night, cooked whatever they acquired outside, and the females in the constant fear of being raped bathed behind the shack in the open. The torrential rainwater seeped in from every corner and in the dim rays of sunlight sneaking in; it felt more like a ghost house rather than inhabitable living quarters.

It is hard to accept tea from people who have absolutely nothing, but not accepting is harder on their pride. Sometimes when I pack the bike, I stare at all the stuff I carry with me (which is extremely minimalistic by any American standards), and it troubles me to know that I have more things than many have in their entire house. It sickens me to think of all the money the European and American tourists spend in many countries without the slightest regard or even knowledge of the quality of life just a few miles away from their comfortable hotels.

The cost of one meal in a touristy restaurant in Cartagena could realistically feed an entire family in this village for over a week, but no one seems to notice or care. We are too occupied with our own egos, our own comfort and well-beings that we forget that there are souls just a few miles away taking their last breath because they didn’t have what we take for granted day after day: food. We travel with our damn mosquito nets, malaria medication, our specialized money belts and safe wire-mesh backpacks to deter the hungry thieves, yet we’re ignorant of the cause of it.

Cynthia passed some money through the jail-like bars of the supermarket which yielded in two 50lb bags of rice, few bags of beans and other provisions to keep five people alive for a little longer. Catalina had tears in her eyes when she heard that she could feed her family that night as they hadn’t had a bite to eat that day because literally they had nothing to eat. Tears kept coming down her face. It was hard to say what feelings they relayed, but whatever feelings they were; it was very alien to me.

Catalina’s family wasn’t the only one we fed in that village. It was unbearable to be in the position of making the call of who gets to eat and who goes hungry, when you can’t feed everyone. We left Cartagena with heavy hearts.
Don’t forget these people. Help us so we can help them. I hope you were thankful for your blessings on this Thanksgiving Day. I am.

[kparrott]

The hunger games

I can only imagine how hard that is to see all those people who have nothing. I've been extremely fortunate and never had to worry about not eating or having proper living conditions. Thank you for opening my eyes to this.

A donation is coming your way. Being a poor college student it won't be much. But I hope that it can help feed someone you meet along your travels.

[Cynthia]

Kparrott, Thank you for allowing your eyes to be opened and we thank you for your support which is invaluable!

[Cynthia]

UPDATE! The motor blew up on the GS850, and Chris is having the bike shipped. He'll get it in 2 days. The parts for the bike are non-existent down here so if he needs to enlarge the cylinder and fit oversize pistons in them-he will need some help with info as to what size pistons are available. He will be out of contact for now but I will relay all messages to him. It's certain that at least one cylinder has a very bad blow-by and oil is going everywhere with clouds of smoke and leaking outside of the engine badly. It may be a possibility of cracked head or block. He's safe and sound and will post when able. Please keep him in your prayers!

[four_shot]

Crap! Wish I could help but I don't even have spares for mine.

[Dogma]

Yikes! Things are not going smoothly down there!

I've never heard of a cracked head or cylinder block on one of these, but anything is possible. Broken rings I've heard of, or a leaned-out cylinder melting a piston, but not that.

I have an unused '83 850 from a parts bike I could tear into. But I've never even turned it over, so I don't know what condition it's in. Once we have a clear diagnosis of what happened and what's broken, we can set about sourcing good parts. Definitely the hive mind of the tech section should be consulted to make sure to get the diagnosis right on the first try.

[Skateguy50]

I was unsure what "shipping the bike" meant, but got an pre release of the next update via email. I might just post the entire thing here to keep it simple. Anyways he is shipping the bike in country down there to a safe place he can work on it with some guys he met while riding.

[shirazdrum]

While on the road, I tried to catch up with the blogs but the road life didn’t allow that and I feel that it’s best to get up-to-date, rather than posting old stories from two months ago. I will skip the rest of Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Chile and will get to right now. I will post all those blogs shortly so you won’t miss anything. That’s a promise.

Escape from Patagonia

I felt as if my right foot was on fire, but I blamed it on the wind. When the wind blows from the side, it pushes the heat of the engine sideways, hence the all familiar warm sensation, but this time my foot was actually burning. I looked down and found my right boot covered in hot oil and saw a cloud of smoke coming from the right tail pipe. The engine started to sound like a Chinese washing machine with a roll of quarters in it, and before I knew it, it lost compression all together. The tachometer needle dropped slowly from 6000 rpm to nothing, and I had to stop. I was broken down in Northern Patagonia, with 230 kilometers to the closest city, in temperatures as hot as Texas in July....


You have to read this one on my website, it's too long and has too many pictures to post here. I tried to cut it up to 3 posts but it still won't let me.

Just see at www.motorcyclememoir.com

[Skateguy50]

I dont know what is more unbelievable, you being dragged behind the semi on a tow strap or that you got it in the back without ramps.

[jeff.saunders]

Let us know what you find when you open the engine up.

[shirazdrum]

This is from the blog that was too long to post here:

"The bike needed some seals and gaskets to stop the oil leaks here and there, and since there were no parts available for this bike in South America, I contacted the Z1 Enterprise, a company that specializes in old Japanese motorcycles. I had a positive experience from my previous purchases from them and I knew if there was one place that could locate all the parts I needed it was them. With only one email (I had no phone access to call them directly), Jeff Saunders of the Z1 Enterprise answered my pleas and the Z1 Enterprise officially became our parts sponsor. I sent a long list of items to Jeff, and he started pulling parts off the shelves and direct ordering the rest from Suzuki. With that out of the way, Cynthia and I started the 600km journey back to Rio Gallegos in light snow."


Thanks to Z1 Enterprise and specially Jeff again for saving my rear end.

Three out four pistons have holes on top. I'm dropping the oil pan today to look for the metal chunks from the pistons.

What could have caused this? Too lean certainly but why?

[Skateguy50]

Well you have traveled in all sorts of humidity, and altitude, and temps. All of that requires carb adjustments well beyond my understanding to keep it running at the right rich/lean balance. Perhaps it was just a matter of time...

But yea, 3 of 4 pistons with holes in them could be an issue

[jeff.saunders]

I would start at the petcock. I suspect the filter on the petcock may be clogged with crud from particles in the fuel.

You may need to check the carbs as well.

Have you been running inline fuel filters?

One additional thing to check - the filler cap itself. There's a breather vent in the cap. If that is clogged or partially blocked fuel will not flow effectively out of the tank.

[Dogma]

The vicious winds that day may have had an influence on the mix.