.png "Powered by vBulletin")
There are very few things that have given me so much back for so little invested as my 1100. I remember my father coming home after being gone for a couple of hours telling me we needed to check out this motorcycle at a distant dealership. We drove down there to find the dealership had just closed and yet my father walked up to the door as if they might just let him have a quick look. To my surprise the dealer let him in led him to the back and he pulled out an envelope with papers needed to complete the deal. He had just bought me a brand New 82 GS1100EZ. It had a Kerker pipe ( dealer dumped the bike on set up ride and replaced with 4 into 1) which was fine with me. Later I discovered that the 83's were only $150 more than the $2995 I paid with the 140 speedo and the black engine and red paint. So here I am never ridden an 1100 before and knew that this ride would be the very best I will ever have on this bike. So I pulled out on the street to the caution of the salesperson and my father. They watched as I drove straight ahead and pulled the front wheel rite up and drove it down the street. I had wheelie?d dirt bikes and struggled with my 80 Suzuki GS750 to get the wheel up but this machine was powerful and wheelie-ing was a dream. All the way home every chance I got, that wheel went up. Later I discovered that the front forks where the worst at handling stress and would have a chronic leaking problem. I must have done the seal replacement every summer. Couldn?t figure out why it was so bad I think it was because of the anti dive units? I did fare better with the seal after replacing the front forks with a set from an 83 Katana.
Just so you don't think I am spoiled my father said that I could pay off the bike over the next three summers ($1000 per summer). I had a scholarship to Washington State University for Football. He ended up forgiving me the last thousand as I made my spending money during the summer and when it ran out I came to him for more money anyway. The last thousand was a reward for the scholarship and my being relatively self sufficient.
That summer on the way to the gym I ran over a 4x4" post on the freeway. My front end bounced in the air and I managed to keep it upright as I gassed it and accelerated to about 70mph. I discovered afterwards I had a big dent in the rim that I tried to straighten with a blow torch and a sledge hammer. Of course it didn't work and I eventually bought a used rim.
My first trip back to WSU I showed my team mates how I could wheelie and I drove through an empty parking lot across from the Gym. I pulled a great wheelie with my team mates watching to discover a parked police car with two very surprised police men sitting inside. ( They were sitting on the opposite side of a landscaping feature and I hadn't noticed them) While I contemplated the reckless ticket and being pulled over in front of all my team mates and the humiliation of having a ticket within an hour of my arrival, the police just sat there and let me go?
I used to wheelie the thing all around campus to the disdain of my coaches. They even had me wheelie on TV on my featured player excerpt.
I did manage to get 3 tickets within one year and had to get the SR22 insurance. I think the state should sponsor the cost of that bike as I and many of my friends paid some hefty fines over the years. Over the years my friends would get bikes and we would swap and I had the unfortunate opportunity to watch them get a ticket on my bike. The GS1100 is just not real good at going the speed limit.
I buddy of mine had a fight with a baseball player over a girl. The baseball player almost ran me over barely stopping in time and honked at me. I reached into the window not knowing who or what had happened (fight) and slapped him in the face. I didn't discover till later that my friend had pummeled his face not more than 10 minutes earlier.
Later that night I returned home to find my motorcycle had had 2 baseball players work the gas tank over with a baseball bat. luckily my neighbors had heard it and identified the car. Surprisingly for me I just made the player pay for a new used tank ($300). One month later I replaced the tank I loaned the bike for the weekend to my brother who was going to UW at the time and it came back with a big dent. He said a neighboring bike had fallen on it and dented the side. I still have that dent today.
For students looking to go from Seattle to Pullman there is one road with only one lane each direction. Since most students were all returning to school on the same day the cars would line up in trains as long as about 40 +long. Since only the front cars had a chance at passing most would just sit in line and go with the speed of the group. There were long straight away some 3 or 4 mile or so. The difficulty is there was the occasional farm truck coming in the oncoming lane. I would hunt these packs and wait for the rite opportunity. You had to make it to the front because if you were going 120+ and the cars were going 60 MPH with only a car length in between it was very difficult to panic, slow down and pull in between. I would scream by the vehicles trying to imagine what it must have seemed like to them, being cautious to make it to the front with the unsuspecting cars in the front looking to pass. Several times I had to go pass the passing car since they never thought to look to the rear before passing.
I would love the open roads and the freedom, to scream in my helmet and contemplate my life and the issues I had with relationships. I would use a tape player and listen to Bob Segar and the Eagles and could really relate to the take it easy song. To hear Bob Segar sing ?roll me away? or sing ?turn the page? just gets my dreams started and puts me back riding my bike at 22 years old.
My room mates and I used to ride on weekends to the old Lewiston Idaho grade road. It?s a windy road that follows winding buttes. Since they put a big highway the old road was unused except by local farmers or the 2 or 3 residents on the 6 or so miles of twisty roads. The winding road allowed use of both lanes with the exception of just a few curves. We would race to the bottom and then let everyone catch up and then start the best part of the ride the ascent. I loved to climb the hill it made the power seem so useful and the brakes worked all the better with gravity as your friend. The main advantage going down is you could see a police man coming miles before you would be in risk of being radared. We would spend a couple hours riding go into town get a burger, play pool share a pitcher or two of beer and as evening approached take the warm evening ride home. Even though that would be enough for me now we still went out and tore up the town as if we had slept all day.
At the end of the next summer I was leaving school and had to attend a friends wedding in Lewiston Idaho and then return home the next day. Before leaving town I noticed my battery was dead and I had to push start it. I tried to find a battery in a small town and managed to hit a gas station just as a battery truck pulled up. He had the battery and I swapped the battery with borrowed tools after adding the acid. I had been doing a rash of burnouts as I had a new tire waiting at home and thought I would have fun with this one before I left school. The tire was not just bald but it was showing cord in a number of places. I would hope it would last the trip as there were not many tire options along the journey. I went to my buddies wedding and spent the entire night having a huge party with my friends. I was one of the only single guys at this wedding and the brides entire sorority as well as all here high school friends were there. I was greatly out numbered and new this was the chance of a lifetime. I was a steak among 30 or so hungry lioness.
I went on the dance floor and danced with groups of girls. It was an early theme for the show the Bachelor. Needless to say the party went on all night long, a great moment in a young guys life. So the next day, kissing my new friend good bye, no sleep (Being young and in the rite company), a terrible taste in my mouth, and a world class hangover or the drunk wearing off and the hangover just beginning I climbed on the bike.
I had forgotten about the battery figuring I had that problem fixed only to discover that my battery was dead again. The 90 minute hard ride had not charged my new battery because it was not the battery but my alternator that was the problem. I had a girl I was dating in near Pasco WA I was supposed to see that day and meet her family, it would have been fine if I felt better and my bike could handle the 60 mile detour. Well I knew it was going to be a miracle if I could make the 350 mile trip on a bald tire and a failing electrical system. I managed to push start the bike and as long as I kept the RPM high it ran OK. If I slowed the RPM it literally started to die. It barely had enough power to power the engine. I eyed the turnoff to the girls home and looked at my dim gauges and thought about my failing tire and pushed for home. I was not used to feeling so insecure on my GS1100 it had always been incredibly reliable and strong. Each minute on the all day ride was precarious. The miles went on and I almost didn?t get it running again after I stopped for gas in Ellensburg. I wish I could have undid the gas cap without turning the bike off. Well here I was night time 35 miles from home and pop my rear tire blew out. I had anticipated it the whole time and now just by North Bend on I-90 my tire finally blew. I had never had a tire blow on me and wasn?t exactly sure what it would be like at 70 mph but it was OK and I slowly decelerated and pulled over to the shoulder of the freeway. I jumped off the bike and grabbed my rope tied clothing bag and helmet and began walking for the next exit several miles ahead. To my surprise a guy pulled over within 200yards from the bike and offered me a ride. He gave me a ride to my freeway exit and I walked to a gas station to call my parents. My dad came to collect me and we took his Toyota van and collected the motorcycle that night. With the precarious journey and the late arrival I had completely forgotten about calling the girl. She had her mother make a big meal and they had eagerly anticipated my arrival. I called her the next morning to feel like I was going over Snoqualmie pass at 6:00AM dressed fro a summer ride. To say I had a cold reception was an understatement I had let her down and embarrassed her with her parents and she had every rite to be mad. To try and explain the tire and alternator was futile and the night spent at the wedding it was another situation I would need to sort out on a future long ride.
I scheduled another visit to the girl (that I had diss?d earlier) that was spending the weekend in Pasco on the bike and followed the road along the Columbia River. It is flat and dry ( basalt rock and desert ) except for the orchards that used the water for irrigation. I was driving hard, (about 125mph or so) when in the distance I see a person about a mile away walking into the middle of the road waving his arms. As I get closer I see that a police officer has pulled over a truck and is now looking to pull me over. I look up in the air to see if there is an airplane but nothing in sight. So I pull over and he say's that he could hear me coming and knew that I was at least twice the speed limit. He let me go with a verbal warning and a lecture. I waited till I was well out of range and took it rite back to 120+. When I arrived in Pasco and slowed down to do normal speeds something wasn't rite. My bike wasn't sounding rite, I discovered one of my header bolts had broken off and the header was leaking causing a loud sound. That weekend I struggled with borrowed tools and searched to find a replacement bolt. I made a real mess attempting to use an easy out and drills. I ended up driving home with this loud bike with a big header leak. Eventually I really botched the job and had to remove the head and have it aluminum welded to fill in this big hole and Heli coiled.
Over the years the bike served as a mirror, if I had issues I needed to address it was my time alone. You can?t run from yourself in a tight helmet, you have to sit there and work things through. One strange thing I always liked to drive on long trips with a hangover. When you had a hangover all you wanted to do was sit there and take it easy, which cruising on the freeway over mountain passes usually entailed. The second was it gave the trip momentum the longer you rode the better you would feel. Nothing felt better than getting a good lunch and starting to really enjoy the day of riding and beautiful scenery covered that day. As your mind would wander I would often decide what issue was important to me and what relationship I held in higher regard than others. It was the feeling of freedom me alone on the bike with the big open stretches, little restrictions on my time and the sole responsibility to myself.
I had a philosophy about riding and tickets. You only got tickets when you slowed down. What I mean by that is several times I drove so fast that it was only after I pulled over to park or to check directions that I discovered I had a policeman in tow. Since I was so far ahead I never got a ticket because while they knew I was going well over the speed limit they didn?t have me close enough to pace or radar.
I had 2 trips where I decided I had had enough of cold weather. One trip my buddy Tom and I were making the long trip to Pullman from Seattle and it got extremely cold and I grew progressively sick of following these cars doing the speed limit growing increasingly colder. I signaled to my buddy on a Kawasaki Z1 that I was passing and heading home. I waved and took the speed up not caring at that point if I did get a ticket.
I raced home leaving my buddy behind as didn?t make the pass in time several passes later. Raced into my apartment to get warm and waited for Tom to return. It seemed like and hour before tom made it in. Puzzled I asked what took him so long and he said he got pulled over and he had to ask the Officer if he could warm his hands on the patrolman?s car hood to try and warm his numb fingers enough to sign the ticket.
On another ride back from Pullman I had my girlfriend following me in her 70 Mustang. I gave her the same signal 35 miles from my house that I was cold and I am going to fly home. I waved goodbye and raced home at 100 mph and the same thing happened to her she ended up getting a ticket from a policeman I never even saw.
In the summer I had a farming job and had to be there at 6:00 AM. It was usually cold in the morning and I was going out of town against traffic. They have a long straight away on I-90 east before Issaquah and every morning I would accelerate over 100 mph as a wake up ritual. One day I was wearing a Nylon jacket they gave to freshmen athletes. It was flapping violently in the wind when out of no where a great pop and my jacket exploded into a bad wig. The jacket turned into a red and white mass of fibers. On my first couple of trips to the farm I ran in to a motorcycle police officer coming the other way. I panicked the first time and yanked on the brakes, he didn?t give me a ticket just kept riding. The next day same place he saw me again. I was riding a little slower remembering the meeting the day before. Then it became quite the pattern. We actually would wave to each other as we met going the opposite directions. Turns out he was leaving for work every morning.
To be continued??
Just so you don't think I am spoiled my father said that I could pay off the bike over the next three summers ($1000 per summer). I had a scholarship to Washington State University for Football. He ended up forgiving me the last thousand as I made my spending money during the summer and when it ran out I came to him for more money anyway. The last thousand was a reward for the scholarship and my being relatively self sufficient.
That summer on the way to the gym I ran over a 4x4" post on the freeway. My front end bounced in the air and I managed to keep it upright as I gassed it and accelerated to about 70mph. I discovered afterwards I had a big dent in the rim that I tried to straighten with a blow torch and a sledge hammer. Of course it didn't work and I eventually bought a used rim.
My first trip back to WSU I showed my team mates how I could wheelie and I drove through an empty parking lot across from the Gym. I pulled a great wheelie with my team mates watching to discover a parked police car with two very surprised police men sitting inside. ( They were sitting on the opposite side of a landscaping feature and I hadn't noticed them) While I contemplated the reckless ticket and being pulled over in front of all my team mates and the humiliation of having a ticket within an hour of my arrival, the police just sat there and let me go?
I used to wheelie the thing all around campus to the disdain of my coaches. They even had me wheelie on TV on my featured player excerpt.
I did manage to get 3 tickets within one year and had to get the SR22 insurance. I think the state should sponsor the cost of that bike as I and many of my friends paid some hefty fines over the years. Over the years my friends would get bikes and we would swap and I had the unfortunate opportunity to watch them get a ticket on my bike. The GS1100 is just not real good at going the speed limit.
I buddy of mine had a fight with a baseball player over a girl. The baseball player almost ran me over barely stopping in time and honked at me. I reached into the window not knowing who or what had happened (fight) and slapped him in the face. I didn't discover till later that my friend had pummeled his face not more than 10 minutes earlier.
Later that night I returned home to find my motorcycle had had 2 baseball players work the gas tank over with a baseball bat. luckily my neighbors had heard it and identified the car. Surprisingly for me I just made the player pay for a new used tank ($300). One month later I replaced the tank I loaned the bike for the weekend to my brother who was going to UW at the time and it came back with a big dent. He said a neighboring bike had fallen on it and dented the side. I still have that dent today.
For students looking to go from Seattle to Pullman there is one road with only one lane each direction. Since most students were all returning to school on the same day the cars would line up in trains as long as about 40 +long. Since only the front cars had a chance at passing most would just sit in line and go with the speed of the group. There were long straight away some 3 or 4 mile or so. The difficulty is there was the occasional farm truck coming in the oncoming lane. I would hunt these packs and wait for the rite opportunity. You had to make it to the front because if you were going 120+ and the cars were going 60 MPH with only a car length in between it was very difficult to panic, slow down and pull in between. I would scream by the vehicles trying to imagine what it must have seemed like to them, being cautious to make it to the front with the unsuspecting cars in the front looking to pass. Several times I had to go pass the passing car since they never thought to look to the rear before passing.
I would love the open roads and the freedom, to scream in my helmet and contemplate my life and the issues I had with relationships. I would use a tape player and listen to Bob Segar and the Eagles and could really relate to the take it easy song. To hear Bob Segar sing ?roll me away? or sing ?turn the page? just gets my dreams started and puts me back riding my bike at 22 years old.
My room mates and I used to ride on weekends to the old Lewiston Idaho grade road. It?s a windy road that follows winding buttes. Since they put a big highway the old road was unused except by local farmers or the 2 or 3 residents on the 6 or so miles of twisty roads. The winding road allowed use of both lanes with the exception of just a few curves. We would race to the bottom and then let everyone catch up and then start the best part of the ride the ascent. I loved to climb the hill it made the power seem so useful and the brakes worked all the better with gravity as your friend. The main advantage going down is you could see a police man coming miles before you would be in risk of being radared. We would spend a couple hours riding go into town get a burger, play pool share a pitcher or two of beer and as evening approached take the warm evening ride home. Even though that would be enough for me now we still went out and tore up the town as if we had slept all day.
At the end of the next summer I was leaving school and had to attend a friends wedding in Lewiston Idaho and then return home the next day. Before leaving town I noticed my battery was dead and I had to push start it. I tried to find a battery in a small town and managed to hit a gas station just as a battery truck pulled up. He had the battery and I swapped the battery with borrowed tools after adding the acid. I had been doing a rash of burnouts as I had a new tire waiting at home and thought I would have fun with this one before I left school. The tire was not just bald but it was showing cord in a number of places. I would hope it would last the trip as there were not many tire options along the journey. I went to my buddies wedding and spent the entire night having a huge party with my friends. I was one of the only single guys at this wedding and the brides entire sorority as well as all here high school friends were there. I was greatly out numbered and new this was the chance of a lifetime. I was a steak among 30 or so hungry lioness.
I went on the dance floor and danced with groups of girls. It was an early theme for the show the Bachelor. Needless to say the party went on all night long, a great moment in a young guys life. So the next day, kissing my new friend good bye, no sleep (Being young and in the rite company), a terrible taste in my mouth, and a world class hangover or the drunk wearing off and the hangover just beginning I climbed on the bike.
I had forgotten about the battery figuring I had that problem fixed only to discover that my battery was dead again. The 90 minute hard ride had not charged my new battery because it was not the battery but my alternator that was the problem. I had a girl I was dating in near Pasco WA I was supposed to see that day and meet her family, it would have been fine if I felt better and my bike could handle the 60 mile detour. Well I knew it was going to be a miracle if I could make the 350 mile trip on a bald tire and a failing electrical system. I managed to push start the bike and as long as I kept the RPM high it ran OK. If I slowed the RPM it literally started to die. It barely had enough power to power the engine. I eyed the turnoff to the girls home and looked at my dim gauges and thought about my failing tire and pushed for home. I was not used to feeling so insecure on my GS1100 it had always been incredibly reliable and strong. Each minute on the all day ride was precarious. The miles went on and I almost didn?t get it running again after I stopped for gas in Ellensburg. I wish I could have undid the gas cap without turning the bike off. Well here I was night time 35 miles from home and pop my rear tire blew out. I had anticipated it the whole time and now just by North Bend on I-90 my tire finally blew. I had never had a tire blow on me and wasn?t exactly sure what it would be like at 70 mph but it was OK and I slowly decelerated and pulled over to the shoulder of the freeway. I jumped off the bike and grabbed my rope tied clothing bag and helmet and began walking for the next exit several miles ahead. To my surprise a guy pulled over within 200yards from the bike and offered me a ride. He gave me a ride to my freeway exit and I walked to a gas station to call my parents. My dad came to collect me and we took his Toyota van and collected the motorcycle that night. With the precarious journey and the late arrival I had completely forgotten about calling the girl. She had her mother make a big meal and they had eagerly anticipated my arrival. I called her the next morning to feel like I was going over Snoqualmie pass at 6:00AM dressed fro a summer ride. To say I had a cold reception was an understatement I had let her down and embarrassed her with her parents and she had every rite to be mad. To try and explain the tire and alternator was futile and the night spent at the wedding it was another situation I would need to sort out on a future long ride.
I scheduled another visit to the girl (that I had diss?d earlier) that was spending the weekend in Pasco on the bike and followed the road along the Columbia River. It is flat and dry ( basalt rock and desert ) except for the orchards that used the water for irrigation. I was driving hard, (about 125mph or so) when in the distance I see a person about a mile away walking into the middle of the road waving his arms. As I get closer I see that a police officer has pulled over a truck and is now looking to pull me over. I look up in the air to see if there is an airplane but nothing in sight. So I pull over and he say's that he could hear me coming and knew that I was at least twice the speed limit. He let me go with a verbal warning and a lecture. I waited till I was well out of range and took it rite back to 120+. When I arrived in Pasco and slowed down to do normal speeds something wasn't rite. My bike wasn't sounding rite, I discovered one of my header bolts had broken off and the header was leaking causing a loud sound. That weekend I struggled with borrowed tools and searched to find a replacement bolt. I made a real mess attempting to use an easy out and drills. I ended up driving home with this loud bike with a big header leak. Eventually I really botched the job and had to remove the head and have it aluminum welded to fill in this big hole and Heli coiled.
Over the years the bike served as a mirror, if I had issues I needed to address it was my time alone. You can?t run from yourself in a tight helmet, you have to sit there and work things through. One strange thing I always liked to drive on long trips with a hangover. When you had a hangover all you wanted to do was sit there and take it easy, which cruising on the freeway over mountain passes usually entailed. The second was it gave the trip momentum the longer you rode the better you would feel. Nothing felt better than getting a good lunch and starting to really enjoy the day of riding and beautiful scenery covered that day. As your mind would wander I would often decide what issue was important to me and what relationship I held in higher regard than others. It was the feeling of freedom me alone on the bike with the big open stretches, little restrictions on my time and the sole responsibility to myself.
I had a philosophy about riding and tickets. You only got tickets when you slowed down. What I mean by that is several times I drove so fast that it was only after I pulled over to park or to check directions that I discovered I had a policeman in tow. Since I was so far ahead I never got a ticket because while they knew I was going well over the speed limit they didn?t have me close enough to pace or radar.
I had 2 trips where I decided I had had enough of cold weather. One trip my buddy Tom and I were making the long trip to Pullman from Seattle and it got extremely cold and I grew progressively sick of following these cars doing the speed limit growing increasingly colder. I signaled to my buddy on a Kawasaki Z1 that I was passing and heading home. I waved and took the speed up not caring at that point if I did get a ticket.
I raced home leaving my buddy behind as didn?t make the pass in time several passes later. Raced into my apartment to get warm and waited for Tom to return. It seemed like and hour before tom made it in. Puzzled I asked what took him so long and he said he got pulled over and he had to ask the Officer if he could warm his hands on the patrolman?s car hood to try and warm his numb fingers enough to sign the ticket.
On another ride back from Pullman I had my girlfriend following me in her 70 Mustang. I gave her the same signal 35 miles from my house that I was cold and I am going to fly home. I waved goodbye and raced home at 100 mph and the same thing happened to her she ended up getting a ticket from a policeman I never even saw.
In the summer I had a farming job and had to be there at 6:00 AM. It was usually cold in the morning and I was going out of town against traffic. They have a long straight away on I-90 east before Issaquah and every morning I would accelerate over 100 mph as a wake up ritual. One day I was wearing a Nylon jacket they gave to freshmen athletes. It was flapping violently in the wind when out of no where a great pop and my jacket exploded into a bad wig. The jacket turned into a red and white mass of fibers. On my first couple of trips to the farm I ran in to a motorcycle police officer coming the other way. I panicked the first time and yanked on the brakes, he didn?t give me a ticket just kept riding. The next day same place he saw me again. I was riding a little slower remembering the meeting the day before. Then it became quite the pattern. We actually would wave to each other as we met going the opposite directions. Turns out he was leaving for work every morning.
To be continued??