As many of you know, I ride in the rain A LOT. It has gotten to the point where weather forecasters call me in the mornings to see if I’m taking the bike in order to give out the day’s forecast. Apparently, I’m cheaper  and more accurate than a Doppler.

Seriously, if I’m on a bike, water will fall. That said, I don’t prevent something as petty as a Cat 5 Hurricane impede my two-wheeled enjoyment. I spent most of the summer of 2009 riding through the amazing east coast mountains. At one point, I had a storm system chase me from Massachusetts to Louisiana; it was also some of the most enjoyable riding I’ve ever done. Yes, when done properly, riding in wet conditions can be just as fun as riding in the dry.

Don’t believe me? These were taken in the rain:

Or hell,  just ask this guy:

Kiyonari

The first and most important thing while riding in the rain is to not be afraid. Seriously, don’t be scared, it’s just water. The main mistake I see people doing over and over again is that they tense up as soon as they hit the tiniest amount of moisture and seem to forget everything they’ve ever learned about riding. It’s like water transports riders to the first time they ever got on a bike, from deathgrip on the bars to locked elbows and jerky throttle control. The worst part is when riders don’t realize this when they crash and blame the accident on the conditions, which only makes them more nervous and accident prone next time they hit water. Don’t be afraid, it’s just a little water.

Preparation

Like any good boyscout knows, it pays to be prepared. It makes all the difference in the world. There is nothing quite as uncomfortable (this side of a proctologist’s office) as putting on wet gear. Specially putting on wet gloves, it’s about as pleasant as a surprise visit from the IRS. The whole point of having rain gear is not to keep you dry because water impedes your riding, it keeps you dry for the sole purpose of keeping you comfortable so you can enjoy your riding.

You might have the bad habit of leaving your peripherals in your pockets when you’re riding (like me), but you really need to make sure to put them away in a weatherproof container (Ie: baggie) whilst enjoying a moisture filled ride. Having to worry about weather or not your iphone is being turned into a shiny paperweight while hitting an apex is quite counterproductive, so do yourself a favour and put it in a bag. Wet bills suck too, so put your wallet with it while you’re at it.

Treating your helmet’s visor with an anti fog or rain repellent is invaluable, being able to see where you’re going is usually a positive thing. Just make sure that whatever product you’re using wont damage the visor. The visor that came stock with my Suomy is actually really impressive at repelling fog. But there are a myriad of product out there for your enjoyment.

And now we arrive at tyres. Tyres are just about the single most important external factor when riding in the rain. Make sure they’re properly inflated and not overly worn. My favourite rain tyre is the Pilot Road 2. It’s awesome. It makes wet pavement feel like dry sandpaper. Supreme stiction, grip galore, faithful friction! It’s everything the snake oil vendor promised you and more. If you haven’t noticed by now, I love those tyres. Just make sure you have a good tyre with plenty of tread left so it can displace water. If you’re going out with worn tyres in the rain you might as well just beat up your bike in the garage and shoot yourself in the shoulder. It might be cheaper and less painful that way.
Riding
And now for the actual riding. Like I said before, the most important part is to not be afraid, STAY LOOSE! Tensing up will only end in tears. I know it might be hard to do, but you really need to will yourself to relax, your natural instinct will be to grab the bars harder in an attempt to have more control, but just the opposite would be the effect. Smooth really is the name of the game when you’re in a reduced friction environment. You really need to make sure to be gentle but assertive with all your inputs, from shifts to braking. No jerky or overtly harsh input, so guys, not like dating in high school.

Throttle Control

Let me stress this again, SMOOTH, like Fonzi. Unless you want to engage in super happy lowside funtimes, don’t ham fist the throttle, open linearly, close linearly. That doesn’t mean that you can’t drive out of corners, just do it a little more carefully than you usually would.

You rear-end is gonna slide and step out, that’s normal. When this happens, decrease the throttle SLIGHTLY until you get it back in line and then hit it again. Do not, under any circumstances, chop the throttle entirely; you will loose a lot of control over the bike if you do.

By keeping on the throttle, you can control when and how the rear end comes back into place  You can help the rear of the bike get in place with your hips but you don’t have to, by keeping positive throttle the bike will eventually right itself. Having your rear tyre spinning is not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just different. It’s actually kinda fun once you get the hang of it. I really recommend most riders to go out on a dirt bike to get used to the feeling of the rear stepping out.

Throttle control is one of the reasons why it’s so important to stay loose on the bike. If you’re tense, you wont be able to be smooth, and you’ll be prone to losing traction at the most inopportune moments. So always remember, hold the bars like a twinkie.

Body Position

Most people make the mistake of hanging off less in the rain when it’s actually counterproductive to do so. Hanging off less will reduce your contact patch, which in turn reduces available grip. Reduced grip in a reduced friction environment spells s-u-f-f-e-r-i-n-g.
You just have to be really careful with your transitions as you really can’t muscle the bike around like you can when it’s dry. Be sure to be properly positioned before tipping in and try not to adjust your position mid-lean.  And make sure you have good footing , slipping off pegs is not an enjoyable experience.
It’s important to be light on the seat, when the bike loses grip for a fraction of a second, it will want to buckle to right itself. Keep your weight on the pegs and let the bike do it’s thing under you. By keeping your weight down, the movement will affect you a whole lot less and you’ll have much more control over the bike if you lose traction.

As you can see in the pictures, i don’t really do anything different when I’m riding in the rain, it’s all just mental.

Braking

I don’t like to use my rear brake at all when I’m riding on wet pavement, unless it’s at parking lot speeds. The rear is just too easy to lock up and loose control over. Unless you’ve got Haga-like braking skills and control, I’d advise you to stay away from the right pedal as well.  Or if you’re insane, like Kiyonari on the video above, you can slam on the rear and back it into corners like a motard.
Obviously, your brakes will be a lot less effective in the wet, so plan accordingly and brake well before you usually would. The most important thing here is to be progressive and smooth. Don’t slam on the brakes, don’t grab a handful. If you brake too hard too soon, you probably wont recover from a front end slide; whereas if it happens during progressive braking you can recognize the point at which you lose traction and recover.

Shifting

I like to use a lot of engine braking, regardless of surface conditions. It’s always a good practice to rev match when downshifting, the only problem is that if you don’t do it properly, the rear will want to step out. When you’re on a wet pavement, the probability of that happening goes up exponentially. If you haven’t mastered it in the dry don’t use tons of engine braking in the wet, please, Darwin might claim you. But if you do have good mastery of rev matching, engine braking can be a very valuable tool to help you slow down the bike. Just be prepared for the rear to want to go sideways.
As for upshifting, I would actually recommend short shifting a bit to soften the torque curve, it really helps to avoid driving out a little too hard and ending up as a hood ornament.

Line Selection

I always try to ride inside of one of the “grooves” carved out by the cars or bikes that went in front of me. That pavement will be dryer than the less traveled middle of the road and offer better traction. I try to stay on the outside line as dirt and debris will tend to collect in the middle, and cleaner pavement leads to happier tyres, which in my experience leads to less road rash.

Always remember, keep the shiny side up and have fun!

Follow these tips at your own peril; any comments, additions, or scathing criticisms are welcome.

Basic Track Day Checklist

•   Key

•   Helmet with spare shield
•   Leathers
•   Boots
•   Gloves
•   Back Protector
•   Earplugs

•   Tools
•   Tire pressure gauge
•   Duct Tape and zipties
•   Chain lube/WD40
•   Spray polish to clean vison and/or bike.  I use Plexus.
•   Rags & paper towels
•   Bike pump or small compressor (something to add air to tires).  Or you can overinflate them at the gas station.
•   Notebook or something.  To write down notes of things you forgot to bring, suspension settings, notes about the track, etc.

•   Canopy (or some form of shade)
•   Chair(s)
•   Bike stand(s)
•   Tie-downs
•   Bike ramp
•   Gas can (some tracks have gas at the track)
•   Tire warmers (if applicable)
•   Portable generator (if applicable)
•   Extension cord & power strip (if you’re running a generator and warmers)

•   Change of clothes
•   Plenty of fluids, snacks and lunch.  Beer for after.   
•   Cooler with ice
•   Sunscreen & Lip Balm
•   First Aid kit/asprin/ibuprofen

•   Health insurance info/emergency contact info
•   Camera
•   Wallet

NOTE: Do not forget your key or your gear.  Before you leave, tape your key in your ignition or tape it somewhere where you won’t forget it (like onto your forehead).  There is nothing worse than getting to the trackday and finding that you’re “that guy” who forgot his key.  I also make a habit of laying out ALL my gear the night before, and then packing it away piece by piece.  Before I drive off, I double check to make sure that I have every piece, including my helmet.  Forgetting your helmet and/or boots is very common.  Try not to be “that guy” either.

I ride spiritedly. I also ride with Desmolu a lot, and even though she has her own monster and is a pretty accomplished rider herself, we often find ourselves riding 2up. We could perfectly just take it easy and relax, but that would be no fun now would it?

Here is what I’ve learned about aggressive 2up riding through several thousand miles of twisties.

Disclaimer: I do not condone acting like an idiot on public roads, even if I do so myself at times. You must exercise extreme caution whilst riding with a passenger, your cargo is a hell of a lot more important than you are.

So you wan’t to have a spirited ride with your lady; the first thing you need to know is that you’re literally riding a completely different bike, and you need to make concessions for that. Take a very good few miles to relearn how to ride your bike, the main things you need to become accustomed to are the new geometry, brakes, suspension travel, throttle control. All these things change when riding with a pillion.

Geometry:

Since you now have a 100+ pounds over the rear wheel that you didn’t have before, unless you completely respring your bike, your trail will change, making it larger. This means that the bike will be much more sluggish tipping into the corners, and surprisingly, more planted as well (usually). It’s not uncommon to run wide the first times you ride with a pillion, so make sure to keep this in mind when picking your lines.

Braking:

It goes without saying that since you have so much added weight, your brakes are now much longer than before, so be careful when bombing into a corner, it’s harder to shed speed. On the other hand, you now have a working rear brake! All that weight over the rear wheel means that you can now slam on your rear without worrying (too much) about locking it up. Of course you still have to be careful, it’s not like you can jam your foot down with impunity, but it really does help slow you down.

Suspension Travel:

Your suspension will again be affected. The rear suspension will lose some travel, while amount of weight shifted will make the front want to dive like an Italian soccer player in the penalty area. These factors will affect you mostly by making you run wide both coming into the corner, and after the apex, so be careful!

Throttle control:

Now for the good part. Riding with a pillion actually makes it easier to be smoother on the throttle. Well not really smoother on the throttle, but the extra weight will dampen your inputs, making for a more forgiving ride.

Once you become accustomed to these changes, you can actually start riding aggressively and having fun out there.

The most important thing when riding 2up is actually not your input. Yeah, you read that right. Your pillion will have just about as much control over where the bike goes as you do, so any unexpected movements can be a nasty surprise. You need to have absolute trust in your pillion and vice versa if you want to have an enjoyable time.

Your pillion will have to move. The sack of potatoes approach does not work here; the passenger will move just as much as the rider, and all the same rules apply. She/he has to ride on the balls of his/her feet. They need to look through the corner. They need to shift their weight when braking. And most importantly, they need to hang off. Yes, Hang Off!

I’ll walk you through a corner.

(Note: in these pictures I’m wearing boots two sizes too large for my feet, I wear size 11 and these are 13 and a half. It might look like poor foot positioning, but I really do have the balls of my feet on the pegs. I know, I know, sounds like an excuse.)

You approach your corner of choice, say it’s a right hander, moderately tight. You brake hard. When you brake you usually move your weight as backwards as you can. With a pillion, you don’t have to be as aggressive with your weight shift, but you need to engage your core a lot more to keep your passenger from sliding forward. Taking the weight on your arms spells disaster. As for your passenger, she needs to put her arms around you and onto the tank, and push back to avoid smashing into you. Trust me, your bits will thank me for it.

You can see in this pic where I’m holding myself up with my core, elbows slightly bent and Desmolu behind me has her arms around me pushing off.

Before you start setting up and looking through the turn, you must have finished 90% of your braking. You can trail brake if you want, but I mostly use trailbraking as a tool to correct a line if I have to. You both start setting up and looking towards where you want to go, while starting to position your bodies. It is extremely important that your pillion is looking towards where you’re going. She should move with your back with her head slightly below your shoulder.

You continue setting up for the turn and make sure to look where you’re headed. This picture might be a little exaggerated but you can tell we’re both starting to hang off and lean. Also, you start tipping the bike in. When you’re riding with a pillion, you’ll be surprised to know that if you’re hanging off right, you can actually go faster through a corner without having to lean the bike quite as much. This happens because of the added weight you have to throw into the inside of the corner.

You both try to get your heads as far down as possible. You need to hold yourself up with your legs and core, not your arms. If you look closely, my arm is relaxed, draped across the tank and I’m using the inside of my thigh to hold myself up. I could actually have better form and have my leg a little tighter against the tank. Desmolu is doing the same thing. You pillion needs to hold herself up with her legs and core and use only the hand on the outside of the tank as a guide. You can see how relaxed her arm is.

This pic really shows your pillion’s ideal body positioning. As we approach the apex, Desmolu is completely holding herself up with her legs, her upper body is leaned towards the inside of the corner and is mirroring mine. I bet she could raise her arms and nothing would happen. We still haven’t finished leaning, and If you see closely, you can see the forks are compressing a bit from me adjusting the line through trailbraking.

Basically same as before, You can see I’m done trailbraking and am about to hit the apex.

The photographer missed us hitting the apex, but this is a great shot of right afterwards. you can really see Desmolu’s body positioning. One of the beautiful things about riding with a pillion is that you have so much weight over the rear that you can really hammer it after the apex without having to worry so much about the rear slipping out. That thing stays so planted it’s beautiful. If you’re really going at it you can drive the whole bike out of the corner on one wheel. You can tell by the chain  and rear suspension that I’m driving out a nice clip.

Now on this one I’m starting to transition for the next corner.I’m starting to stand the bike up and Desmolu is getting ready to follow me, but she doesn’t move until I start doing it. You have to be really adamant about the fact that your pillion moves with you and not before you. It can turn really if he/she moves before you and you end up overshooting.

Note: Except for the first one, the pictures were all taken on the same corner by two photographers with slightly different vantage points.

And that’s about it. Not much to it, really.

Have fun!

I had the new bike fever and decided to take the 996. Desmolu as always was on her ubiquitous 620.

The bikes:

The original plan was to go to the river in New Braunsfelds and camp out in the darkness. We went and picked up a couple of sleeping bags and by the time we had everything ready, it was already 4 o’clock and the traffic on I10 would have been killer. Considering I was riding the WORST BIKE IN THE WORLD TO BE IN TRAFFIC IN, we decided to revise our original planning. This is where the red lights first started flashing.

We got to Desmolu’s to pick up the 996 and  rendezvous at my house. Once I  started the bike and got moving, I realized something. I had no freaking front brake. SHIT! My monster isn’t running so that put a big damper on the  whole thing. I think this was god’s way of telling me that I shouldn’t go. I really should pay more attention to signs.

We got to the home base and researched closer alternatives we could go to, which didn’t require the use of much front brake. after some quick google action, we decided upon lake Sommerville. Just outside Brenham, it was the perfect spot to  go see the meteor shower, dark, isolated, and with plenty of campsites, what could go wrong? We checked the forecast on weather.com, it said that there would be no rain or clouds all night. perfect!

We decided to head out around 7:30 so we wouldn’t be caught in traffic and ended up hitting the road around 8. the ride up 45 was pretty uneventful until we reached Brenham, where we decided to stop to pick up some smore stuff. Well, this has got to be the most ghetto HEB I’ve ever been to, and keep in mind that I used to work in south Houston, crack ho central. I checked about three times to see if no one had stolen the bikes the whole 5 minutes we were inside the store. I’m such a Ducati snob 

Well Desmolu had said she knew how to get to the lake so I didn’t bother with directions. FAIL. It was probably around 10  pm at this point and it got really really dark, and considering that the lights form the 996 are useless, I had about a 10 yard sight span.

We started going on some country roads at Desmolu’s guidance, and all of a sudden I see some shapes in the darkness. By the time enough light had shined on it to make me realize that it was three huge freaking deer just chillin in the middle of the road, They were at about 8 yards from me. I slam on the brakes, what little I had, and I honk on the horn instinctively. I saw my short twenty years of life flash by my eyes, and all I could think of was, NOT MY NEW BIKE! AAARGH!!! I HATE DEER!!!  all of a sudden Bambi hears the horn and jumps to the right, i swerve as little as I can to the left and I miss him by less than 6 inches. Needless to say, I went 55 the whole way on from there.

We finally roll into Sommerville and ask directions to the lake. half an hour and some serious getting lost later, we found a place that looked like the main gate. Of course by this time, it was around 1130pm and the park was closed. No matter, we’ll just  sneak in. Let me tell you, sneaking in is not easy when you have full race Termis and an open dry clutch.

We go in as quietly as we can, but of course a huge 300 pound hick comes waddling towards us screaming: HOW  IN TARNATION DID Y’ALL GIT IN MY PARK.  I try to reason with Jabba, but he keeps shouting that he’s calling the “Shirriff” so we decide it’s in our best interest to get the fuck outta dodge.

We go back to the entrance of the park and park our bikes behind a rig that was overnighting there and hike towards a camping spot were we could sleep. We find the right place about a mile and a half from the entrance and set up camp. AHHH, relaxation at last. we set up the sleeping bag and proceed to eat some chips, have some wine, a good cigar, and wait for the skies to clear up a bit. HUH, this is wierd, weather.com said there wouldn’t be any clouds. half an hour later, as we taking shelter inside the sweltering heat of our sleeping bag, getting bitten by all sorts of bugs it was more like, HUH, this is wierd, weather.com said there wouldn’t be any torrential fucking rain. Maybe we should have brought a tent. To add insult to injury, rain = no fire = no smores

We proceeded to try and not get completely soaked. This went on the entire fucking night. finally, around 6 AM it decides to stop. We try to get a little sleep, but by 8 AM we gave up and started to pack up and try to forget the horrible night.

This was the sight we woke up to: (check out my look of happiness)

Then we look at the sky and see what’s coming:

My reaction:

Of course our gear and things were entirely soaked, so we pick pack up as best we can and start hiking back to where our bike were. We hadn’t taken more than 5 steps when the storm of the century broke out. I kept looking around to see if there were any old men shepherding different animals into a huge ark. I probably missed him because the rain was so hard I couldn’t see my hands in front of my face.

We finally reach the bikes, excited about the prospect of riding in the great weather:

We say goodbye to the lake that loved us so:

We had planned to stop in Brenham to have breakfast at a diner called Must be Heaven. The ride out there was uneventful, except for the fact that my nerves were shot because I had only slept 2 hours and was riding a bike with almost no front brakes in the worst downpour imaginable. We get there and park in a parking spot with a slight incline. This will come into play later.

We had a really good breakfast and the rain let off a little bit. Things were starting to look up a bit, maybe nothing catastrophic was gonna happen. FAIL.

I straddled the bike and started to move out of the space, it was an incline so I had to put some effort into it. a couple of steps into it, my foot hits one of the painted lines for the parking spot covered in water and slipped, the bike fell over. FUCK SHIT SHIT GOD DAMN!!!! MY NEW BIKE! AAARRGH I HATE THE WORLD!!!! 

Picked the bike up and the brake lever was broken off at the pivot point. AAAARGGGHHH I didn’t even have a little stub to use. It was bad enough when I didn’t have much front brake, now I had none, and it started to rain again.

We decided to get on the road and take it easy, which is what happened, a really uneventful ride back through the rain.

I’m sure one day I’ll look back and laugh about it, but for now, That day really really sucked 

The one thing I can say is that I learned something from all this. The guys at weather.com are fucking dicks.

It was with very heavy hearts that we got inside the truck and headed back home. As the miles passed under our tyres and we recanted the stories we all knew by heart, we realized that even though this one was wrapping up there was no way of avoiding another trip. We might have been tired and weary, we might have developed a permanent case of monkey butt, we might have been sore to the bone, but the experiences we shared will last us forever and we couldn’t wait to do it again.

That ride up and down 550 was amazing. There is a set of curves coming into Ouray that are some of the most glorious turns I have ever ridden. My version of heaven includes those curves attached to the dragon and riding them all day long. My little solo adventure took me about a half hour. I had not really ridden the S2R1K without a pillion, so everything was amplified. The bike was amazing, it felt so good. I wasn’t going insanely fast, just a comfortable pace, but damn that bike is fun, even with the 30% power loss up at the mountains. Sadly, I had to head back because it was going dark, fast. I headed back into town and we went out for dinner at a small english pub and good conversation with people from all over the country that came to attend the event.

We awoke in the morning better rested than we had been in over a week. If you’ve never been to Ouray it’ll be hard for you to understand the utter epic-ness of the place. It truly is as though god had reached down from the skies, pointed his finger at it and commanded: “Thou Shalt Be Awesome”. Truly.

The mornings are incredibly cold. In August, the temperature at 9 in the morning was around 50 degrees. That is, until the sun rises over the mountain. When this happens, you feel every single ray of light hit you and warm your body. It is an almost religious experience.  While I was off having an epiphany, the rest of the crew got suited up and left for the gas station. We quickly did the same and found that the rest of the group had already left. All of them except for a couple of stragglers.

So the four of us it was and we took a very nice, calmed ride through some spectacular scenery. The only problem was that I had been riding a very nice calmed pace on a new bike for over a week, so I was itching to really let her out. Nevertheless, I wasn’t about to leave them behind, especially not with DesmoLu riding with them as well. (Whenever I ride with her, I go into protective mode.) So we continued this ride through some awesome canyons and twisties for a couple of hours, planning to intercept the main group at their stop.

At one point we got on a road where we wouldn’t have to turn off from for about 50 miles. This road was like riding through the grand canyon with the most inviting sweepers I have ever been on. I couldn’t resist. I took off and behind me Lucrece followed. Due to some sprocketing errors, one of the bikes was limited to about 85 mph, so they started falling behind a bit. The road was glorious, but I kept it in check for Desmolu. I was taking the curves at a respectable pace, which was hard enough; the scenery was so beautiful and otherwordly that it was hard not to stare at the lines of the canyon all and run off the road.

We pressed on and about 10 minutes later we stumbled upon the rest of the group in Gateway having lunch. We stopped and had some well deserved refreshments as well.

On the way back we got separated again, a part of the group went to do another ride and the other was going back to Ouray. I really wanted to ride with some of the people going back to Ouray so we headed the way we came. The group was taking a nice leisurely pace when all of a sudden a rider blows past us. Another follows suit. My right wrist twitches in anticipation. I tell it to calm down. I haven’t finished trying to tell myself that I don’t need to go faster when my friend takes off after them. Damn. I look back and motion Lu to follow the leader. I give in to the Dark side. Those  sweepers on the way over double in speed on the way back. I’m having to pin the throttle completely to keep up with my friend’s 1098s. This was the first time that I really felt the effects of the altitude on the horsepower; but I didn’t care I was having a blast. That back to Ouray was the most fun I’d had since the dragon. When we finally stopped I couldn’t wipe the  grin off my face. All too quickly we reached Ouray, but we were consoled by promises of hot tubs and cigars with good friends.

Desmolu

We began our last night in Ouray the way we begin most great nights – with some delicious local brew and a Cuban. The hot springs was a bit crowded with families and kids so we decided to invent a new rule for our hot tub – “Sorry, kids, but you have to be at least 16 or have your parents present. Those are the rules.” After some hot tubbing and gorging on bbq, the group gathers around the fire to share stories. Although Matador and I have hung out with the NM people a few times, this was our first time meeting the Colorado folk and we were, as is so often the case when meeting people from the board, amazed at how close we felt to the group after only a day’s ride.

The Colorado people had decided to make the awesome move to give t-shirt awards out for “special” people. Matador and I were then “forced” to tell our story, the one we have told throughout these pages, to everyone sitting around the fire. It was story time at camp all over again. Except with more cursing…and with motorcycles…and cops. Ok, so slightly different from your average campfire story. Always delighted to have an audience, we told our story in detail to the unruly crowd that both mocked us and showed true appreciation. Yes, we even told the part about the pads. At the end, we were presented with two t-shirts marked with the “Farthest Traveled” award. Someday, these will hang on the walls of our garage!

After the t-shirts were awarded, Kingbaby followed up with a stack of blue prize ribbons. The group decided to award us with a “Best Efforts” ribbon. Many of the ribbons given out were sincere, and many were not, including a few people who may have woken up to find “I’m Special” ribbons fixed to their triple clamps…

Shortly after midnight the hotel turned off our fire and it looked like we were being sent to our rooms for the night. We said goodnight and set off to dream of the next day’s roads. Unfortunately, those roads were not to be. Just before bed, Swampduc received a phone call that would change our plans. Due to this unexpected unfolding of events, we decided it would be best to leave Ouray and return home first thing in the morning.

Here are the bikes, loaded up and looking sad:

The next afternoon we woke to our friend Swampduc picking us and the bikes up in his truck, he had been driving from Louisiana to DITR (Ducati In The Rockies). We loaded the bikes up on the trailer and proceeded to drive the long, boring road that took us from TX to NM where spend the night with some family.

Bright and early the next morning we meet a posse of Ducati riders coming from Albuquerque at a *very* local joint for breakfast on the road to Colorado. The site of over a dozen Ducs rolling into this small town hole in the wall gets everyone off their seat. I am almost certain that they have posted a picture of our group on their wall at this point. The highlight of the meal is that the menu differentiates burritos between “handheld” and “smothered” (as in chili). As you can imagine, the “handheld sausage” jokes were endless. When we arrive in Durango we are still making “bet you are still full of that handheld sausage from earlier, eh? was it spicy?” jokes.

Matador has made the incredibly generous offer to drive the truck and trailer so that Swampduc and I can ride up with the rest of the crew. As we pull out of Durango and the road starts to look like this:

he is regretting that decision.

Pictures don’t do the road justice. For anyone who hasn’t ridden the Million Dollar Highway, DO IT NOW. Stop everything. Your kids don’t need a babysitter. Your boss doesn’t need to approve. Just drop everything and go ride this road.

When you do ride it though, make sure that your clutch isn’t being finicky. Pulling out of the Silverton fuel stop, I had nothing but play in my clutch. After fiddling with it for a few, it seemed ok and since the entire group was gone, I just said screw it and tailed off after them. Now, clutchless downshifting isn’t really something I had learned to do. I’m still a bit of a newb with less than 10K/2 years under my belt, no track time, and no elevation changes aside from 4 or 5 awesome hill country trips a year. Needless to say, an 8,000 ft descent of switchbacks into Ouray with a playful clutch was one hell of a rush.

When we finally pull into the lodge in Ouray everyone is admiring the view and getting to know one another. Everyone except for Matador. He doesn’t say a word, just jumps out of the truck, unloads the S2R and gets up the 550 pass as soon as he can!

Now from the moment we left the Dragon, we basically just had a looong, boring, straight ride to Dallas. Since it was to be the hardest part of the trip, we had originally planned to break it up in three days. He-man’s oil leak and delays in getting the bike had delayed our schedule a full day. This left us with a little over 900 miles to do in a day and a half.

It was about 8:30pm when we finally got on the  worst highway in America: I-40. The only way I can accurately describe I-40 is basically playing frogger at 90 mph between strung out Semi’s that are ALL RUNNING RE-TREADS. Every few hundred yards you would see the carcass of a blown out tyre. Seriously, 95% of the traffic on that highway is composed of Semi’s. At one point I thought I was trapped in some greek legend; I-40 was my Hydra and every time that I would pass a Semi, two more would spring in its place.

We had already been riding all day. The physical and psychological toll of riding the Dragon several times was pretty apparent. Also the knowledge that we had to make it to Dallas by the next day was beating on me like a hammer. When you add crazy semis and blowout paranoia, you get the recipe for a killer headache.

I suffer from migraines, but this one was one of the worst I have ever experienced. I made it as far as Nashville before the migraine was inhibiting my eyesight so much that I couldn’t go on. Lucrece thought I falling asleep, but when I pulled into the parking lot of the cheapest motel I could find and collapsed on the floor, she knew something was wrong. I had to spend about 20 minutes lying on the asphalt of the parking lot before the pain was bearable enough to where I could walk to the front desk and check in.

I had picked a really classy joint. The place was called Knight’s Inn, and was 30 dollars a night for the room. I could barely speak, so I just nodded while the receptionist took my ID and Credit Card to process. The whole lobby smelled of stale cigarettes and acetone, and the receptionists nasal tone of voice was forcing a jackhammer through my eye socket. Worse still was the rhythmic smacking of the bubblegum it was chewing, it smiled at me with cigarette stained teeth and fuchsia painted eyes that failed to convey an aura of youth it no longer had. All I could do was stare blankly at it. To it, I’m sure I looked like the rest of the crackheads that stay there for drug induced binges. I contemplated putting it out of it’s misery, but the migraine was still going strong, and I didn’t feel up to do it.

I somehow crawled to the room she assigned us and promptly went into a comatose state, the last thought in my head before it all went black was that it was still 750 miles to Dallas.

The next morning, we woke up to a frightening thought. We had 750 miles to cover and a day to do it. We were mentally exhausted even before we started. We put on our earplugs and took off. I usually like to listen to Led or Muse when I’m riding, but I needed something that would take me on a long haul, so I decided that some classical was in order. A Beethoven’s 5th pandora station later, we were on the move.

The route we took basically said one thing, take I 40 until you reach Little Rock, then turn left. That’s exactly what we did. That was the only turn the entire time. It was terrible.

We had a quick stop in Memphis to eat, we had some pretty good BBQ and kept on going, from now on it would be no stops until Forth Worth and our friend’s place. I40 is the single patch of asphalt that I hate the most on this planet it goes on FOREVER, and there is not a single turn in the entire thing.

Mile after mile after mile after mile afer mile afder mioler aftrmile afmile asfmeirlsmafouashfiun.

That was the process of my brain’s basic functions shutting off in order to be able to endure it. Everything became a thing of repetition: Stop, lift gas cap, put in gas, close gas cap, thumb starter, turn right wrist, get on highway, go 150 miles, repeat. It really was that simple. Have you ever had insomnia? I usually don’t sleep. When I get to about the 3rd day without sleeping everything turn a little surreal. Chuck Palahniuk explains it best in his book: Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy. That is exactly the way this felt. It was scary to think of how much my brain was turned off.

At some point we entered Arkansas, but I’m not really sure when or where it was. There was a point where Lucrece was getting really tired behind me, at a gas station I offered to zip tie her to me so she could sleep. It was getting to where really stupid ideas started to sound good.

Somewhere in Arkansas I pull over for some gas. Right behind me a pulls in a cop with his lights on. He immediately gets out and comes over.

Cop: Son, did you not see me with the lights behind you?

El Matador: Uh… No….

C: License  and Insurance.

EM(As I hand over my license): We just got this thing and the insurance as well, but we don’t have a hard copy of the insurance papers. I can get an electronic one on my Iphone if you wish.

C(As he walks to his car): Go ahead and do that.

1  minute later the Police officer comes up with a very concerned look on his face: Son, where did you get that license plate?

(I need to make a quick intervention here. Do you guys remember how Lucrece never got the plates from the mechanic? Well, we never got around to shipping them to NYC either. When getting ready to leave He-man’s place, I jokingly asked if he had any others. He came out with three of ‘em and told me to pick one and don’t ask questions. Better than riding without a plate I thought at the time…. )

EM: Eeeerm, it came with the bike?

C: I’m gonna need to see the bill of sale.

Em: Baby?

Desmolu: OH SHIT! It must have stayed with the luggage that we shipped to our friend.

C: What about that insurance?

DL: Im sorry, but I’m trying to pull up the document and it’s not working; rural AR doesn’t have 3G

C: So let me get this straight, you guys are riding a bike with no bill of sale, no proof of insurance, and a fake plate? What do you expect me to do?

EM: Eeerm (Visions of butt-pounding federal prisons in my head.)

C: do you know where the VIN is?

(I show him and he goes to his cruiser to check it out)

Officer comes back from cruiser with a steel-eyed gaze, looks me straight in the eyes and says: Ok the VIN checks out, I’m not gonna write you for the speeding, but I will have to write you for the no proof of insurance. Since you say you have it and I don’t doubt you do, all you have to do is mail it here and we’ll take it off. Oh, and I’ll have to confiscate that plate of yours. Consider it a gift. You’d be in jail if it was any other officer. Have a good night and ride safe.

EM: Huh?….. thanks….good night…

Damn that was a close one.

Pumped full of adrenaline, we ride the five or so remaining hours to Dallas pretty wired. Our friend receives us at around 2 AM, with a big smile and says we’re insane. I have never seen a more welcoming sight. I get off the bike but remain bowlegged. We had been riding for 17 hours.

Monday, August 3. It is the moment we have been anticipating. These will be the last enjoyable roads for us before we have to endure 800 miles of slab across TN, AK and TX in one single day. It better make it worth while. It better not be over-hyped, over-crowded, teeming with gravel or cops. It better be 316 turns in 11 miles:

This morning we prepare ourselves for the Dragon. We fuel up on poptarts and the leftovers of a deep fried sandwich I’d ordered the night before. The entrance is only an hour away from our hotel but the anticipation combined with a tight road destroyed by endless RVs and boat trailers makes this ride seem to go on forever. We stop to ask for directions at a local dairy barn where we meet an awesome family: Daddy on an old school bmw with mommy on the back and a little girl in the side car. They confirm that the Dragon is only a few more miles away.

At the moto resort in the entrance we stop to ask a few responsible looking riders about road conditions. They tell us the coast is clear for cops and the pavement smooth. It is a Monday afternoon and not too crowded either…by Dragon standards at least. I admit, I was skeptical about whether or not this road could live up to the hype. All of those pictures of cruisers and upright squids on the website. I was wrong. The road is everything we wanted it to be and more.

Our first pass through we take it easy so Matador can learn the road. I say one thing to him before we ride out:
“I love you and remember, no dragging a knee or a girlfriend.” Neither of us have gear with knee sliders on for this trip. This pass is a bit cluttered and we have to pass a lot of cruisers and cars, nevertheless, every single turn seems to be hand picked from the best racetracks in the world.

We stop after the first run at the overlook where everyone turns around.

The other riders had informed us that the cops only come in from the TN side since the NC clip is so short, so if you don’t see any cops on a run headed into TN, you can pretty much rest assured there will be no cops on your pass back through. Ok then, so here’s where the real fun begins:

We discuss taking turns for each of us to take a spin on the bike alone but decide to stick together. After all, we can go much faster with both of us hanging off, not having knee sliders and all. And for me, I can go much faster in general.

The ride is smooth and a complete blast. I only had one small scare when, because my gloves are two sizes two big for me (really little hands), I go to hang off and the extra finger of glove attached to my hand bends in and gets caught causing me to slam my knuckles into the tank as we turn in hard to enter the corner. Matador is all about the late apex entry and he turns in hard. The jam catches me off guard, hurts terribly, and I near slip off the bike during the lean. The strength of my left leg hugging the bike from the outside is all that caught me. Matador is a bit startled but I give him a thumbs up and we’re back on!

We ended up making the front page at Killboy.
It’s nearing sunset and we realize that we have to leave this most wonderful place and get some miles into TN if we are to make our deadline. The time for our last run through the Dragon has arrived. We discuss that we’ll take the last run nice and easy since we’ve pushed our luck enough for the day. We said goodbye to the glorious twisties and prepared ourselves for the long, hard road before us.