TeamBoxer - News

One from the archives

2009-06-26T17:00:00.000-04:00

Back in the day, when men were men and nearly all leather jackets sported mandarin collars, road warriors roamed the countryside on bare-naked 550s and 650s.

They traveled far and wide on those used machines. Occasionally, said bikes would go treads up because of engine-room disasters.

You're looking at one. This pristine, lime-green Suzuki GT550 died on M-50, just short of Monroe after a trip to Road America in Elkhart Lake, Wisconsin. The left wrist-pin bearing gave up its life.

That's a Yamaha 650 rider eyeballing the soon-to-be trailer queen in disgust.

That bike started life new as an old man's mount. It wound up under young man's butt for the princely sum of $725.

Before the Internet and online motorcycle junkyards, you had to physically travel to junk yards and hope your year bike, with the right part, was somewhere out there in the dirt.

Several different junkyards had GT550s. Those were two-stroke, Ram-air-cooled triples.

All had their left jugs missing — indicating that wrist-pin failure in the left jug must have been common.

Unthrottled body

2009-06-25T21:07:00.003-04:00

Home again, home again, jiggedy-jig — The Ulysses is back in the Man Cave after a four week hiatus at Great Lakes Harley-Davidson!

A bad throttle body and slow shipping from H-D were to blame. The butterfly on the throttle body was sticking, badly. Apparently a bushing or bearing was bad, or out of alignment. It did not move smoothly, but would stick, then slam shut with no prompting.

I must say, she was frisky before, but now she's downright ... wicked. Different exhaust sound too, because the exhaust actuator is working correctly.

Upside: Borrowing Jim's R1100RT resulting in my wife demanding another RT, which we are going to get in Boise, Idaho.

Downside: Borrowing Jim's RT resulted in someone apparently bumping the saddlebag and breaking the hangar hook, a $156 ding for the new "inner" part of the saddlebag.

More further down the road on both bikes.

Degrees of familiarity

2009-05-13T07:30:00.003-04:00

On an evening run to Sylvania to pick up a Ninja 250 (more on that in another post), I stopped to fill up my unnamed relative's Chrysler 300. Leaving the gas station, biker instinct kicked in and I punched the tripmeter button.

It said the exact same number as the odometer. It had never been reset.

So I asked. Some people are funny about that. Bikers reset their tripmeters, because often it's the only "gas gauge" they have. Some car drivers never do, as some kind of hinky badge of honor.

Oh, go ahead, my unnamed relative said. I punched it to zero, then punched it again. The temperature popped up in the digital readout window.

"How did you do that!" my passenger nearly squealed.
"I pushed this button."
"We've been trying to find a way to display the temperature since we got this car!"

It pays to know your vehicle. I had run into a similar issue on the way to Sylvania. In this particular 300, all the cruise controls are on a stalk on the low right side of the steering column. On another 300 I just drove, they are all on a stalk on the high left side of the column.

No matter the vehicle, two- or four-wheeled, it pays to spend a few moments, in the driveway — before launch — getting familiar with the controls.

That was reinforced as I drove the Ninja home. I had eyeballed the tires. Bolted on a plate. Checked the oil. Listened to the engine. But the clutch lever was cocked too high. I hadn't checked the chain tension. (I did check for lube.) And the rear shock preload could have used another twist or two.

Strange vehicles have their strange ways. This spring, many of us are on strange, new bikes.

Get to know them, before they get a chance to rear up and bite ya.

"Let's be careful out there"

2009-05-04T07:24:00.005-04:00

Here's a scene you wouldn't want to roll up on during a dark night — a sinkhole in the middle or the road, marked by deadfall.

Apparently, a citizen stuck in the sticks, either as commentary, warning, or both. (No, it wasn't me.)

This is on Morseville Road, just north of Courtney Road, in southern Saginaw County. This gnarly piece of pavement connects some of the best (only?) curves between Flushing and Frankenmuth.

Typically, you have to take it easy through here, sometimes standing on your pegs. The water has been right up to the shoulders in this swale, so a washout is understandable.

But the sticks are pointed reminders that road conditions, especially in the spring, can go quickly from bad to worse. Especially for motorcyclists.

So, as the grizzled roll call sergeant Phil Esterhaus on Hill Street Blues used to say: "Let's be careful out there."

One slick kicker

2009-04-21T07:48:00.002-04:00

More from our man JJ in Fort Myers: This 1958 BMW, with sidehack.

He picked it up from a gent who drove it as a daily driver down in Naples. The paint is beat to death from the hot Florida sun, but everything is there.

JJ walked over to it cold, turned the key, tickled the choke, folded out the kick starter — and one kick brought forth that loverly pocketa-pocketa-pocketa BMW Boxer sound.

For sale? Nope.

JJ's gonna tear her down and completely restore her.

A Guatemalan grocery-getter

2009-04-18T08:00:00.001-04:00

Here's one that makes TeamMoto.us sit up and take notice: A Toyota minivan, with a stick shift, diesel — and a snorkel intake for water crossings.

There's a wet season in Guatemala, and the roads aren't the greatest. And fuel can be few and far between.

What better than the reliability of a Toyota, the payload of a minivan, the durability of a diesel, and the assurance that the water (or dust) could be over the windows, and the engine could still draw big gulps of fresh air?

This vehicle, parked in Monjas, Guatemala, is apparently sold globally as the Hiace, with a variety of small-displacement diesel options.

(Totally obscure movie reference: Do you suppose it was shipped through the Bungo Straight?)

Another fiesty Floridian

2009-04-16T20:26:00.005-04:00

Down to Fort Myers to pick up a friend's Ford Lighting (see post below), and I proffered exotic iron dealer JJ my personal.

The card touts this site, and has a pic of me in my faded Aerostich.

JJ nodded, said "A 'stich man? Me too." And promptly offered me a spin on this unique little bobber jobber.

That's a 2004 Triumph modern motor shoehorned into a hardtail frame, with straight, taped pipes. The seat is a slab of beveled-edge aluminum with a little flip to it, and styling springs.

Padding? Stickers with lots of rude and 'tude.

How's she run? Just dandy. Low to the ground, but very flickable.

How's she sound? As my momma once said about a certain Donzi on a river in Saginaw: "She's a throaty b----." :)

JJ recently took it out for a couple of hundred miles. Safety wire and blue Loctite are wonderful things, he said.

Long rider? Nope. Track carver? Fuggetaboutit. Sport tourer? Hardly.

Tight little town tooter?

You betcha.

Lightning SVT (Seibt Vehicle Transport)

2009-04-16T11:17:00.006-04:00

If you ever get a chance to ride the Lightning, take it.

A friend recently bought a pristine 2004 Ford F-150 Lightning SVT from a guy in Florida. Since I was already there on spring break, I offered to inspect it with my dad and drive it home.

Oh my.

If you didn't know, you'd think you were looking at an F-150, standard-cab stepside. But pop the hood, and there's a supercharged 5.4 liter Triton V-8 under there, pumping out 380 ponies. (SVT stands for Special Vehicle Team, Ford's internal hop-up shop.)

This is a serious grin-and-sin machine.

Supercharger kicks in anywhere, any speed, if you goose it. A vacuum gauge on the dash and a turbine-like noise tell you it's on the job.

At 120, the supercharger is at full howl ... and still pulling seamlessly. Speedo only goes to 140. She is rock-steady at all speeds. 93 octane only, please. Motivating right along, she returned 14.5 mpg. About 300 miles per tank of gas.

Rides very well — sport suspension is awesome in the corners, very smooth on the straights. Not like a truck at all; no crow-hopping or other nasty surprises.

Leather-wrapped steering wheel, cruise, all the amenities.

Exhaust sound is very deep, very rumbly. Dual side pipes, both sides. Makes the seats literally hum at high speed. Lighting badging gives the secret away, to those in the know.

Seriously, nothing street-legal can touch this thing. On a 15-hour, 70 mph average, overnight express run from Fort Myers Beach, Florida to Convington, Kentucky, Corvettes, Porsches, 5.0 Mustangs, other hotted-up trucks tried.

Tried.

In fact, the only thing that did catch me was a county-mounty in a skin-top Tahoe. He swooped up from behind as the SVT was doing 90, powered down the window and sternly mouthed the words "SLOW DOWN."

Sir, yes sir.

It's actually hard to break the super-wide tires loose on dry pavement, so everything turns into forward momentum.

This thing walks away from stuff like nothing else I've ever driven. It was apparently driven by an older gentleman, who kept it in a climate-controlled area. The undercarriage looks the same as the day it was rolled off the factory floor.

She is mint. She is fast. She is lovely.

Mmm-mmm-mmm.

For more details, a good review is here.

Motorcycles of Guatemala

2009-04-04T21:44:00.006-04:00

During a recent spring break mission trip to Guatemala with a team of U.S. Air Force Academy cadets (a tale unto itself) one of TeamMoto's members had a chance to see how motorcycles are used and abused in GUA.

Much more so than the U.S., motorcycles in Guatemala tend to be all-around workhorses, and primary modes of transport.

But, there are many ironies, subtleties and paradoxes involved. Harold, interpreter for the team, and a biker himself, wryly encompassed all of that dichotomy with the phrase "Welcome to Guatemala."

For example, what we think of as a middleweight here in the States — a 500 or 650cc mount — is a heavyweight in Central America. A lightweight — typically, a 125cc single — rules the roost.

In fact, if you see a GSXR600 or CBR600, you are likely looking at a drug-dealer's saddle. Bigger, say a Honda Fireblade? Usually, a come-on in the city for a dealership. Very, very few are spotted in the wild.

Why? Well, the average speed on most Guatemalan roads is never much above 50, and usually around 30-40. Fuel is expensive. Road surfaces vary from boulevard/freeway to sloppy macadam to dirt with tennis-ball-sized rocks. (Emphasis on sloppy macadam.)

And if you see what you would assume to be a perfect middling mount in a country with cobbled roads— a DR650, for example — it's probably from a government stable. As in Policia, etc.

What really flips your lid are the cruisers. They look like big, American cruisers, with their fenders and wide handlebars, etc. But look under the fat tank ... and there's an itty bitty motor, at least by American standards.

More? Sure. In Guatemala, there are a plethora of laws. But law enforcement tends be, uh, shall we say, sporadic? Moody? Personalized? ("Welcome to Guatemala.")

For example, helmet laws. They tend to be written by municipalities, and they are on the books. But a casual gringo passing-through cyclist survey indicated about 50 percent of male riders don't have a brain bucket shading their ears.

Blame the macho culture. Technically, the police cannot stop a moving vehicle. ("Welcome to Guatemala.") But they do if they want to, or set up road blocks. ("Welcome to ..." you get the picture.)

While nearly all female passengers had helmets on, many did not when they were piloting scooters themselves. (It looked like it was a style issue.)

Speed limits? Hmmmm. A mix. In situations where this gringo would have been flying by, motorcycles were happy to ride second or third banana in a row of cars.

That may be self-preservation kicking in. Riding in that traffic position keeps you from being the initial point of impact in the casual, but established, passing techniques used in the country. On blind curves and elsewhere.

And that piddler engine doesn't give you the passing power of a 800cc or 1,200cc rig to turbo-boost yourself out of trouble.

One interesting thing? Even the smallest thumper — dressed as a cafe racer, dual purpose or standard — was typically polished within an inch of its life. Think of the typical Harley rider's fetish for polish, and you've got an idea.

Ironically, most bikes didn't seem to have large rear racks, tank bags, etc. Frequently, however, the seats were exotically decorated.

And there were delivery bikes — mostly old Yams with the ram air heads — with huge boxes on the back. Even McDonald's delivers, in Guatemala.

Bottom line? America's over-infatuation with horsepower, size and freeway flying probably gets in the way of cultural immersion, out there in the good old US of A.

But that doesn't mean our erstwhile correspondent is ready to give up his Buell Ulysses.

In fact, on the road from Guatemala City to Monjas, the old Buell would be the perfect high-speed mule.

Bike in the house

2009-03-29T15:00:00.000-04:00

By Tammie Stimpfel

Problem: Molly, my '97 f650 funduro needs a little work done to get her road worthy before it gets warm. Her taillight was MIA after my last ride in October. She also needed heated grips so I could ride early this year. We had the parts but no place warm to work on her.

Hmmmmm...

Solution: Wheel her up the ramp and into the house. A nice cozy workplace and a warm spot for her to spend the night before my birthday ride the next day. Yes, the kids think we are crazy.

In Michigan ya gotta do whatcha gotta do

2009-01-23T21:49:00.000-05:00

Whatcha gonna do when your wife runs her fingers through your hair, looks into your eyes and says, "Please honey... won't you take me for a ride." But instead of running upstairs, she points me to the garage.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe which motorcycle gets to go. No batteries in any of them. So the "easiest" option was kick starting the the Honda XR 250.

Right.

After what seemed like the 100th kick I gave up.

It's not easy being a motorcyclist in Michigan but ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

We've been trying to get out at least once every month. Last winter we didn't miss a single month. But this year it's been a little bit harder. We managed to get out in November and December, but January has been a little cold. Plus all the white stuff sure makes it hard to ride vehicles with only two wheels.

So today it was supposed to be a balmy 34° out.

Next victim on the list was the KTM. So I yanked the 950 Adventure out from underneath it's cover. I pulled the battery off of the trickle charger and slapped it into the bike. Tammie was already suited up.

You could almost hear the big bike groan, "You gotta be kidding me. I ain't going nowhere in 27°." But a couple of seconds on the starter and she reluctantly came to life.

I suited up while Tammie paced back and forth like a caged tiger.

The bike was purring almost as loud as Tammie. She plugged in her heated vest and off we went, heading south on M-15. Dark clouds drifted overhead. Temps were only in the upper 20s. The brisk wind was blowing snow across the wet highway. Ahhh, not good. Wet roads + winds + cold = ice.

I opted to get away from the open fields and head down M-13 along the Saginaw River. That was a little bit better. If we could get to the Zilwaukee Bridge, I figured that should qualify for a decent January ride.

I'm not sure what is more dangerous, riding a motorcycle in January or taking pictures underneath the crumbling Z-Bridge. So a couple of quick shots and back aboard the 950.

We blasted back up to Bay City. The 950 just begged to be opened up. Cracking the throttle lightened up the front end as we roared along the river. A quick photo at James Clements Airport and then off to warm up.

We headed to the nearest diner for lunch. Walking into Rudy Js, the waitress demanded, "Are you die hards or aren't you from around here?"

Our helmets, glasses, and camera fogged up like we were in a Swedish sauna. The moisture on the front of the camera made for some "cool" shots of Tammie drinking her coffee/hot chocolate.

After splitting a gut bomb burrito we stumbled back out to the bike for the short jaunt home.

It never did get above 30°.

Here's hoping to a warmer February.

Getting a fix at the 2009 Cycle World's International Motorcycle Show

2009-01-03T12:47:00.000-05:00

By Michael Robb • Teammoto.us

When it's the middle of winter and you're a motorcyclist there are very few options to occupy your two-wheel fix. The exception is when the International Motorcycle Show comes to town. So each year we sojourn south to the outskirts of Detroit to help ease some of our pain.

During the ride down to Novi we tried to think what new bikes had captured our attention this year.

On the top of my list was the new XR1200 from Harley Davidson. I had read a few reviews for this European only bike. Words like "best handling Harley" and "I would buy one if they sold it in America" really piqued my interest.

H-D changed its position on selling the bike in the states. For 2009 they decided to release 700 bikes here. I wondered if this would this be the one bike from H-D that I would consider buying.

I had ridden a slew of Buells this year. Everything from the new 1125CR to Firebolts and even the Ulysses. I really like the concepts and styling that Eric Buell brings to H-D's two cylinder power plants. So in the back of my mind I was expecting to see some of that Buell finesse applied to the XR1200.

But, truly, "the devil is in the details." The XR1200 looks great in pictures. Coming around a curve and shot with a long lens this bike just screams "buy me." Up close is when some of the luster fades. First, the pipes on this bike just look massive. The nickel plating seems out of place and they are not tucked in nice and neat to the bike. They just seem to hang out there.

The pegs are quite a ways back, sport-bike fashion. But the bike feels much more like a standard, which would dictate moving the pegs forward. Then there's the fender on the back of the bike. It is just huge. It seems oversized.

Last but not least: the tank. If you are a motorcycle designer and you really want to capture the essence of a classic motorcycle, get the tank right. The tank on the XR1200 seems out of proportion. H-D is not alone in this problem. The 50th Anniversary Triumph Bonneville tank is just an abomination, capturing none of the original tank's features and flavor.

......

A lot of this is nitpicking. But with so many options in the market, everything should be just right. Of course, a lot of a bike's visual problems might go away once you fire up the engine. Here's hoping.

What surprised a few of us was how much we really like H-D's Nightster. This is one bike that just works.

....

Overall, the show was a lot smaller this year. BMW, Aprilla and Moto Guzzi were missing. That's too bad because I believe that anytime you have people paying money to see your bikes you shouldn't be absent.

Kawasaki was there in full force. They had mpg stickers on most of their bikes. The Versys was presented in a brand new flake Kawasaki green. We heard tons of comments on the color. It was love or hate, none in between.

Another very interesting bike was the Kawasaki ER-6n. With a price tag of $6,399, this is a great value for someone wanting an all-around sport standard. The front is a little robo cop, but overall we really liked what this bike has to offer.

The only thing missing from bikes like the Versys and the ER-6n is ABS. Again, the Europeans have had this feature on the Versys for a couple of years. It sure would give beginning and intermediate riders much more confidence when riding in iffy conditions.

KTM was there with a bigger booth than last year. The RC8 just looks wicked. The 990 Adventure seems to be losing some of its dirt heritage. Overall the bike is much lower and with the low seat on it, it seems more like a street bike than a dirt-oriented one.

Quick hits:

• Yamaha's V-Max is over the top.

• Ducati had a nice booth. It was great to finally see the Street Fighter up close.

• The ball of death, where two motorcyclists ride inside of a caged ball, was gone this year. It was replaced by a trials bike demonstration. Don't miss this. Very impressive!

...

• One of the coolist things this year was a display featuring cafe-styled customs. One custom featured a Honda XR400 motor. Nice creativity.

• We saw some of the ugliest mufflers on bikes this year. Some are so huge they dominate the bike. Buell gets it when it comes to mufflers. Tuck them under and be done with it.

• If you are a Buell owner going to the shows, don't forget to bring your key to get a free t-shirt from Buell.

• There were some deals to be had, if you scope out the vendors. Tammie scored a two-piece Teknic Venom suit for $100.

Crazy Michigan weather

2008-12-29T21:11:00.000-05:00

By Tammie Stimpfel •

Teammoto.us

Teammoto always knew that Tammie could walk on water.

We went from a dumper of a snowstorm the weekend before Christmas, to another one on Christmas Eve, to rain, near 60°F temps and dense fog on Saturday. This was followed up by 60 mph winds gusts yesterday, to today ... today, a perfect day for an end-of-year ride. So, yes, we took the opportunity.

The temp gauge reads 40°F, the wind chill is 28°F. It is blustery. We don our cold-weather riding gear for a two-up jaunt on the KTM 950 Adventure. This is an adventure bike. Passengers see a lot of the rider's shoulders, and the back seat leaves a lot to be desired. However, in lieu of getting her own bike dirty, this pillion did not complain but simply stated, "Let's go! We don't have a December ride in yet."

We head to the gas station to fuel up, getting many looks from cagers. From a few came a pleasant "well alrighty" nod, from most a turn of head which meant only one thing, the lack of understanding of why anyone would even dream of riding on such a cold winter day. But you all would understand.

The sun is beaming down. Saturday's rain had washed all traces of salt away. The road is dry. The air is clean and crisp, and we have two wheels carrying us under the bright blue sky dappled with clouds, settling in from the west. This tall, but light 90 hp V-twin brought back all of summer and then some.

A twist of the throttle lightened the front forks enough to call to mind the wheelie monster this beast can be. A lean into a simple curve conjures memories of long, twisty roads through the Rocky Mountains. A quick jaunt down a mud-slick road recalls off-roading down two tracks in the U.P. A hard wind wicking across the flat farm fields pitches this billboard-like bike into a heavy lean is reminiscent of storms weathered, and my first experience riding through a squall. In the hum and vibration of this machine, is every sensation on every bike ridden this year.

We head east, out of town, and stop to take a few pictures. There, it was done, December's ride and the photos to document it. We turn and weave backstreets into town. At a stoplight Michael lifts his shield and asks, "Are you ready to go home or you want to go around some more?" "I'm just fine back here," I say. So we loop toward Saginaw to check out how high the river was at flood stage from the recent rains and heavy snowmelt. It may be a cold, winter December day for our year-end ride, but it's Summer 2008 in my head.

Sex on a sidestand?

2008-12-06T07:00:00.000-05:00

Breezing through Great Lakes Harley-Davidson Buell in Bay City recently, and saw her.

In red. With bits of black strapping things in here and there. Low and taut. Built to handle. Amazing curves, barely held in. Just the right amount of bling peeking out in tucked-away places.

No, not the lovely blondes and brunettes threading through the Harleys. (Although they were nice, too.)

We're talking the Buell 1125CR.

Yes, we've reported on the CR before, but until you clap your eyes on the real deal, you won't understand what we're talking about. Even the H-D supplied picture shown here doesn't do it justice.

Here's the funny part: About half of TeamMoto.us thinks this bike is coyote ugly.

But the other half is in love.

How's she ride? Well, TeamMoto knows people. And knows people who have ridden it. And those sources, who swore us to double-pinkie-twist secrecy, have this to say:

• For the track, the gearing is better than the R
• Once used to a slipper clutch, it's hard, if not dangerous, to go back
• Nice clean air flows over the front of the bike
• Power is very smooth and predictable
• Power everywhere, especially exiting turns, with pegs scraping
• The R and the CR are the uptown members of the Buell family
• The Harley twins are the hooligan, redneck backwoods cousins
• The CR just stays unflappable, even doing the impossible
• Other adjectives: "License burner." "Go directly to jail card." "Honey, I need a ride home from the impound yard" motorcycle.

Yes, the R might be the better all-around sporting mount, with it's killer-deluxe sport fairing that creates an awesome quiet zone behind the handlebars. And it might be prettier, in some eyes.

But for pure two-wheeled visual American sin, the CR has the R beat.

Don't believe it? Grab a gander. And decide for yourself.

Ahh those old Harley's

2008-12-05T08:55:00.000-05:00

Click comic for larger view.

Jef Mallett used to work with members of TeamBoxer in another life, and realized a life-long dream of creating his own syndicated comic strip, Frazz. Check out more from Jef

here

.

He also happens to be a dedicated triathlete, road-going bicyclist, and does some illustration work for VeloNews.

Apparently, he knows motorcycles too — or at least certain vintages of Harley-Davidson!

Combining passions

2008-12-04T08:07:00.001-05:00

By Michael Robb • Teammoto.us

One of the nicest things that can happen is when you can combine doing the things you love. I've been passionate ever since I was a kid about two things; motorcycles and photography.

This year Todd created the Mid-Michigan Motorcycle Biker Breakfast Club or MMMBBC. It's an informal group that gets together on Saturday mornings for a good old cup of joe, a little bit of breakfast and tall tales of motorcycling. We even do a little bit of riding.

It's a pretty diverse group of guys. One Saturday we met at the Harvest House in Frankenmuth. Great place. One of the gentlemen we have gotten to know over the summer asked to have a couple of photos done of his 1967 Matchless motorcycle. I'm not sure how Stuart managed to get his bike there without a spec of dust on it but those Brits are pretty finicky about their motorcycles.

He needed the photos to send to the AJS & Matchless Owners Club in England for their annual calendar. About an hour and a 100 photos later we were done. The Harvest House is located in an old mill so the back drop was perfect.

Later I sent Stuart the photos and promptly forgot about it. The club must have thought the photos turned out alright since they used one photo on the cover and another one inside for July. The hardest thing about shooting the bike was just making sure your reflection didn't show up in the chrome. You can even order a copy from the club's site.

We also made Tammie throw a leg over the bike and tossed her in the background for a couple of the shots. The red sweater really brings out the blue in the bike.

Another one in the stable

2008-11-25T19:59:00.000-05:00

Oh no! Michael did it again.

Yup ...

Took a step back in time.

Nothing can put the smile on your face a quickly as riding an old vintage bike.

But this isn't just any old bike. This is a 1974 Yamaha 175 DT. And, as you can see with Mr. Keenihan's deft control, she has plenty of life left in her.

She also had plenty of power when I wheelied down Front Street in Traverse City at the tender age of 15. I didn't have a smile on my face that night sitting in the back of the police cruiser trying to explain why neither the bike nor I were licensed.

However, that was a rare moment when the 175 didn't put a smile on my face. I rode the snot out of it in the hills surrounding Traverse City. I remember vividly how far I could make it fly, the feeling of freedom and how cracking open the throttle would bring the world in sharp relief.

This one was found in the hills of Leelanau County in northern Michigan. She needs a little bit of cleanup but is pretty complete. No dents in the tank. Fires up on the first kick. Only 2100 miles on the clock. Hard to believe she is 34 years-old and qualifies for a vintage plate.

Where oh where has the time gone.

Do hooligans answer questionnaires?

2008-11-07T07:44:00.005-05:00

Buell sent a nice note, asking for Ulysses input via an online survey. They even threw in a spiffy sticker.

But some of the questions were a bit rude:

• How many stoppies do you do?
• How often do you wheelie?
• How often do you scrape the pegs?

But here was the most interesting question: They wanted to know the absolute worst road the bike is taken on, and exactly where it is, complete with nearby town and crossroads.

As Col. Clink used to say: "Interesting. Very interesting."

So, here's my open invite to Erik Buell: Come on over the big water, big guy. We'll have some chili in the man cave, and I'll take you up on Morseville Road.

That nasty stretch just before we get to the really fun stuff north of Birch Run Road.

Bring your posse, E.

Mine'll be here.

An independent vote

2008-11-04T19:22:00.007-05:00

Tim was busy.
Fred was working on his van.
Michael was up against a deadline.
Jim was eyeball-deep in meetings.
Sandy said "some of us have to work."

So, it was an independent roll after the polls for this TeamBoxer cowboy.

A county-by-county recap of a sunny, 70-degree day:

• Vote in Flushing Township, Genesee County. At 0630, lucky No. 13 into the polls. By 0700, it was about 100 people deep.

• Breakfast in Bay County, with Michael.

• Stop by Great Lakes Harley-Davidson. Chat with Jay and Tyler and a Midland guy with another Uly. Find out from Louie the parts guy that the "I voted" sticker is good for 15 percent off. Stock up on oil, trans oil, filters, stickers, a poster. Bounce up and down on a sexy, fire-red Buell CR and the wicked-fast black R.

• Call friends in Huron County. Roll past the beautiful harvested fields, the wind towers, the countless roadkill deer, the V's of geese.

• Lunch with Peggy, John and Tyler. Cherry pie with ice cream on top.

• Roll for home, criss-crossing the sun-dappled Cass River along the way.

• Flying into Kingston, crack her down at the townline. Slow, stop for turn. Kingston cop turns the corner. (Smile.)

• Busting down M-46. Spot the red and blue lights of the county mounties miles ahead, with someone pulled over going the same way. Crack her down to the limit. (Smile.)

• 10 miles westward, repeat. (Smile.)

• Get home on the favorite backroads. Go for a hard and fast bicycle ride as the bright orange sun sets, with Dire Straits on the earbuds. Slurp a pair of Creamy Dark Leinies in the man cave to rehydrate. Step out for some authentic Mexican in a rivertown downtown, all the pretty Harleys in a row under a sliver of moon and a single bright star.

• Live in a country where you can vote without guns or soldiers around, travel freely, meet with awesome friends in different cities, enjoy the many advantages of the 1st and 2nd amendments and the rest of the Bill of Rights, and see a bountiful, Buelltiful land all about?

Priceless, baby, priceless.

God bless America.

Paid for by the Committee to Make 20w-50 the National Motorcycle Oil.

The new Motor-voter act

2008-11-03T14:23:00.005-05:00

Sure, tomorrow is an epic event in U.S. political history.

But it's also supposed to be a rare and O'Balmy day in Michigan, where soon the McPain of winter will descend.

As a result, TeamBoxer teammate Fred and I have agreed to vote and motor, meeting at Tony's in Birch Run for a fast breakfast after our personal balloting.

(Tim might also come along, but he's a new retiree, and you know how busy they are.)

Our "Riding Plan for Michigan" blueprint is to backroad it up the center of the rolling east side, then slide down the Huron lakeside to return home.

Early returns are expected Tuesday night. But polling today indicates a great day ahead, as long as we don't see any red or blue lights in our mirrors. (The margin for error in the poll is plus or minus 100 percent if cop-magnet Jim comes along.)

By the by, this fits in nicely with Andy Goldfine's "Vote to Ride" plan for motorcyclists tomorrow. Andy, of Aerostich fame, urges bikers to make ourselves known by riding to the polls, and wearing their gear inside to make a strong political statement.

So, my fellow (and female) riders:

Vote early and motor often!

Paid for by the TeamBoxer for Transportation Czar Political Action Committee.

Bill of sail

2008-11-01T22:34:00.002-04:00

Bill chimes in in comments:

Hey,

Seems to me that your winter bike should be the venerable R80RT with all its great faring. I can ride my R100RT down to 20 degrees with no electric stuff.

Bill

Bill, you're right — the Uly, even with the big Calsci shield, is not the best winter warrior.

But the sleek RT Beemer, with that lovely spinnaker sail of a fairing, is on the lift, awaiting a transmission rebuild!

:(

A chip on the old shoulder

2008-10-31T17:41:00.006-04:00

Ah, fall. The turning leaves. The crisp air.

The blankety-blank mud and gravel surprises on the roads!

Yes, it's that time of year, when Road Commission workers rear back from a summer of leaning on their shovels, and fire up the road graders. (Getting chilly in the Carhartt's, boys?)

They run a road grader down a perfectly good shoulder, spewing dirt, gravel, rocks and broken bits of automobiles into the paths of motorcyclists.

A few days later, they might — might, mind you — come back with a roller sweeper to clean up the mess.

But not usually.

And farmers are out and about in their fields, gathering the sheaves. Good for them. Hard-working bunch.

But they sure leave a lot of sheave on the road!

If Joe the Plumber dumped a 55-gallon drum of soupy mud or lumpy dirt on a paved road, he'd probably be expected to clean it up.

Not a farmer, nosiree. Just drive away in the old John Deere. Mama Nature will clean up that mess.

Or how about a football-sized, rock-hard rim-bender, otherwise known as a sugar beet?

Pop one of those with your front tire and you won't be muttering sweet nothings, pardner.

So, fall is a great time of the year.

To avoid a fall.

Degrees of insanity

2008-10-30T16:46:00.004-04:00

The Montrose State Bank sign had my number this morning:

23.

That was the reported temp as I rolled out before sunup. The chart says that translates to -6 to -21 degrees. (Good news: Over 40 mph, there's no appreciable decrease in temp.)

Already knew it was pretty chilly, since the armor in the Aerostich was stiff as a board. And because I couldn't feel the Uly's grips, even on high, for the first 10 miles.

The stars were bright, and so were the Uly's lights. No frost on the pavement, which helps in the pucker-factor department.

Even so, the trip had me Web-crawling the Gerbing's electric gear site, and taking another look at an Aerostich Kanetsu AirVantage Windstopper electric liner.

My Kanetsu vest with zip-on, unheated sleeves just doesn't cut it under 32 degrees without the big BMW RT fairing to break wind.

Both outfits are back-ordering their gear, by the by. Seems like everyone wants a liner, these days.

The various gloves at Gerbings looked enticing, but my KISS factor kicked in — too many wires, too many extra pieces. My BMW buddy Bernie swears by his Gerbing liner, which just got him home warm and happy from Texas.

So, which hot one-liner did I fall for?

Plug in later for a full report.

That's snot funny

2008-10-07T21:16:00.005-04:00

0600 launch, 39 degrees, 2.5 hours flight time ahead.

Heated grips on, Aerostich electric vest plugged in, big Calsci windshield on the Uly. Longjohns under the one-piece 'Stich.

Zoom-zoom-zoom.

Northbound from Flushing, MI to Mio, MI, the temperature dropped almost continuously, even as dawn crawled out of bed over the horizon. (Mio bank sign: 31 degrees.)

sniff/sniff/sniff

The Uly's heated grips, on high, normally cook the digits. This morning, they are barely noticeable.

sniff/sniff/sniff

At times, the Calsci would completely fog over as it cut through hollows in the road, hitting colder temperatures.

sniff/sniff/sniff

At some point, small droplets began appearing on the faceshield.

Condensation? Rain sprinkles? Fog consolidation? Rain-X failure? Brake fluid?

Weird. And hard to tell where it was coming from in the dark.

sniff/sniff/sniff

Wipe the shield with the little rubber squeegee blade on the cold weather gloves.

Hmm. Not on the outside.

sniff/sniff/sniff

Not ... on ... the ... outside.

The droplets were coming from ... me.

Off the end of my nose.

And blowing up, ever so gently, into a three inch parabolic arc, right before my eyes, before splashing down and parking on the inside of the faceshield.

Ewwwwwwwww.

Yup. It ain't easy.

Being sneezy.

Auxiliary headlights on a 2008 Buell Ulysses

2008-08-04T15:31:00.000-04:00

When it comes to night flighting, TeamBoxer likes lights. Lots and lots of bright, lovely lights.

A pair of Hella FF50s have been on my shelf for more than a year, waiting for the right app. They were cheap, they are sturdy, and they come with a rat's nest of wiring and a relay to make mounting easy.

Check out the full install in the Tools We Use section.