Riding With the General

Black Diamond, No Skis

2012-06-03T14:10:00.000-07:00

It all started out innocently enough. It was a typical Saturday morning, all the street riders sitting around the breakfast table in the local Cracker Barrel, waiting for everyone to show up for the ride. I kinda nonchalantly said that I would like to go to Arkansas tomorrow and ride the mountain dirt trails for a few days, and wondered out loud if anyone could go. My riding buddy, Kim, never missed a bite or raised his head as he said in a monotone voice, “I’ll go.” And so the adventure began.

The next day, with hardly any planning at all, we loaded his CRF450 and my KLX450 into the back of my truck. And off to Arkansas we went. We arrived at Mena that afternoon, and since it was already 3pm, we decided to go and ride mountain fire roads. A great warm-up for the next day. The Arkansas mountains are just full of these fire roads that can be ridden on the big adventure bikes as well.

We got up the next morning to tackle the trails. After a BIG breakfast, we asked the waitress if she could make us each a sack lunch. Sack lunches in hand, we drove to Wolf Pen Gap to start the day’s ride. It's one of those places that can be enjoyed by ATV's, adventure bikes, or dirt bikes.


Black Diamond Trail

Six hours later, concluding another great day of outdoor fun, and no bloodshed, we loaded our bikes up and headed to Ozark, AR for the night.

The next morning we drove 20 miles north to the Mill Creek trailhead, quite a different story. I have been riding Arkansas for a many a year and had never been to Mill Creek before. WOW, what a neat place to ride, but not for the inexperienced for sure. Mill Creek is one place you do NOT want to take the big adventure bikes. Light and agile dirt bikes are the weapons of choice in this location. I waited until we were half-way down one trail before I asked Kim if he had seen the sign that said Most Difficult, with a black diamond symbol. Uh, no.

Miles and miles of trails with one gotcha. We would be zinging along the twisty trail, through the creeks and over dales, when suddenly there would be a 1000-foot-long rock garden just to add spice to the day. Long, uphill, rock-covered climbs were the norm. Once, at the top of a mountain, Kim, in his non-excited way, said “It has been my experience that after any ascension there has to be a descent." So, down the other side of the mountain we went, rock garden after rock garden.


Up and Locked

If you study the pic of me and my KLX stuck in the trees, you will also notice that this happened on a smooth and wide part of a trail….in aviation we have a term called UP AND LOCKED, referring to the landing gear, but as the pic shows, UP AND LOCKED applied to me with a different meaning. You get the point, don’t you?

Overall, this spur-of-the-moment adventure was worth every mile, dollar and the pain involved. Thanks for dropping by.

The Little General

Ten Hours of Therapy

2012-05-17T07:20:00.000-07:00

The first thing one of my scooter trash buddies said was “10 hours isn’t enough, you will need more”…HEY I have feelings too.

I got up early this morning with an agenda to do an exploration ride on the KLR to see if I could find some good Dualsport roads to add to my repertoire. The plan was to work all the dirt roads to the Southwest of Glenrose, Texas, for about 100 miles. 10 hours and 325 miles later, I’m back home with a smile and some new roads to share with my scooter trash friends.

My riding bud, Steve Plunkett, who was going to help me, called yesterday to see if he needed to wear his waterproof boots or not – no, I replied, I’m not. Seven miles into the ride, Steve is laying on his side in the middle of a river crossing, wet up to his neck. How’s your waterproof underwear working for you, Steve? I spent the rest of the day hearing about how his wet underwear was chapping his butt. Seems a lot of riders who ride with me go home chapped one way or the other. We spent the next 10 hours working the roads and found some jewels. We found dirt roads that twisted and turned for mile after mile.

As we rounded a corner on one of the many roads, we saw a sign that said ROAD CLOSED AHEAD. Being the type of guy who obeys all signs, I turned around and started out the way we came in. NOT! Let me see the hands of all you Dualsport bikers out there who would turn around. That’s what I thought, NONE of you, outlaws all of you…remind me to never go riding with ya’ll. My curiosity was really starting to build, wondering what was ahead.

As we proceeded down the road, it got more overgrown on the sides, and then the road got narrower, and then there were weeds starting to grow up in the road. This is a good sign, I thought to myself. Then, there it was, the most beautiful bridge you have ever seen. Standing there in the outback of Texas, old but proud of the years of service that it had provided for the many tractors and model A’s and T’s that had crossed her. The rusted metal and rotten boards did not take away from her years of service and beauty. As I approached her, I could see where some of the boards had fallen some 50 feet to the river below due to rot. Steve and I both got off our bikes and looked at each other with big smiles on our faces.


Steve stuck in the cedars...said he was chasing a bear...

As we started to walk across the old bridge, she creaked and shuttered with delight to be back in service, if for only a little while. As we walked along her worn out and rotten wood slats, we could see all the way to the river between our feet. On the other side, the road continued on through the woods, inviting us. As Steve and I looked at each other, no words were said, but it was clear—I will if you will! We mounted up our bikes, and as we started across, the boards under our wheels popped and moved. Safely on the other side, I took one last look at the grand old lady as we rode off into the woods. I was thinking about bringing my riding buddies back here to see this. Enjoy the pictures. REL #54

LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW

2009-07-04T17:06:00.000-07:00

I just love the big-ole State of Texas. We have some of the best winter riding in the United States, and a wide selection of roads to ride. We have 100-mile stretches out across the Big Bend area that have no turns or side roads at all if you are inclined to check out the top speed of your bike. In our hill country, we have twisties that will put a smile on the face of any hard core canyon craver. Maybe your thing is dirt roads, way too many to cover in a lifetime. But there is one more thing that we have---HEAT. WOW, can it get hot in this state!

Today 10 of us went for a frolic in the outback on our street bikes. We started the ride off with and finished it off with tree-covered twisty country roads and in between these we rode some amazing high-speed sweepers that kept us on our toes.

You might remember my blog titled CLUTCHED IN THE JAWS OF WINTER, where I described what I wear in the winter. But the thing that I want to share with you now is how I and my buds stay alert and comfortable in this 102 degree Texas heat. I start off by leaving my Alpine Stars on the shelf – fabulous boot but way too hot for summer. I instead wear my Red Wings that have a steel toe, steel shank, no liner and they breathe. I wear mesh pants and jacket from FirstGear. Under the pants just my whitey tightys—can I say that here?—sure I can, it’s my blog. Under the jacket I wear a mesh athletic shirt. Just before I depart for the ride, I soak two CoolMax wet vests and put each in a one-gallon zip lock bag, throw them in the saddle bag, and use them just after lunch one at a time. This really works, and here is another little trick you need to try. Call me crazy, and plenty have, but each time the group stops for gas or rest I look around and nearly always find a garden hose on the building. Take the hose and soak your mesh pants and jackets completely, this is a great way to have air-conditioning for about another hour as the wind and heat dries them out.

Ride safe and ride often—but remember, riding safe also eliminates a lot of options.

Can You Hear the Banjos?

2009-05-06T11:16:00.000-07:00

Well, my friends, it's been awhile since we spoke, but the two wheels have still been turning. One of the many highlights of the year for me is the Hillbilly Dualsport in Arkansas each April. This ride is put on by my friends in Kansas, David Hemphill and Larry McGillivary. These guys are a great asset to the Dualsport community.

This year's ride was, as in the past, one heck of a blast, with fellowship, deep water, rocky trails, magnificent scenery, and the best bologna sandwich at Turner's Bend. One great time in the mountains of Arkansas!

The official ride is on Friday and Saturday, but as usual, we arrived a day early to do a little pre-ride warmup. On Friday, we had a turnout of about 70 riders. David and Larry held a riders meeting, then the riders joined groups according to ride level and pace: Picture Takers, Medium Pace, and my group, which is fondly referred to as the Over-Caffeinated Bunch (O.C.B.). :)

Friday was a wonderful day, with mild temperatures and sunshine. At 8:00 a.m., the groups started to roll out for a tour of the Arkansas mountains on the forestry roads and backroads. The night before, there was a large amount of rain, so the creeks were a real challenge at points. Fifteen miles into the ride, we encountered a creek that couldn't have been crossed in a john-boat. Where else can you have an adventure in every mile except on a motorcycle? I just love it.

Thank goodness for GPS. Using the GPS, I was able to lead the O.C.B. 5 miles to the east, then back on track on the other side of the swollen creek. As the day progressed, we encountered a number of challenges and adventures. I had a newbie in my group this year, and I always enjoy sharing in their excitement. About 150 miles into our 200-mile ride, I had a flat on the rear. As I parked my KLR and stepped off my bike, the newbie ran up to me, and with a concerned look on his face, asked, "What are we going to do now?!" With a smile, I said, "Watch this." Twenty-two minutes later, we drove off with a new tube installed. I just loved his response: "Man, I need to get some more tools!" You know, that might be a good blog -- what to carry into the mountains and outback.

Well, to wrap up, all I can say is, 450 miles in two days left us all with a feeling of peace and accomplishment, and plenty of stories to talk about as we drove back to the great State of Texas. Enjoy the pictures. Be sure to look at the slideshow to the right, and double click for larger pictures. Thanks, Brad, for the great pics.

A Day In The Life of a 10%er

2009-03-07T04:21:00.000-08:00

WOW_WOW_WOW what a day! I got up early that morning and just had a feeling it was going to be a special day in the life of a motorcyclist—me. That week I sold my Vulcan and ST1100, so for the ride that day I’d take my KLR. (My new ST1300 would not be ready for pickup till 3pm.) I rode into town and met up with 6 of my scooter trash friends for a wonderful down-south type of breakfast: fried eggs, bacon and pancakes. Now that’s the way to start a ride day. So after breakfast 7 of us rode over to the place where we would meet up with the TWT group (Two Wheel Texans). Now, what I’m about to tell you is a story about a whole bunch of events coming together to make one weird day.

When we arrived at the meet-up, (1st) I saw a Aprilla motorcycle and realized that was the bike of Ryan, a fellow rider who had broken his leg and ankle a few months before. He had hit drillers mud in a corner that had been dropped by one of the many trucks that use our backroads going between drill sites. It sure was good to see Ryan out riding again.

Now there were 11 of us ready to ride—(2nd) as we started to leave the parking lot, one rider ran into another and they both went down softly. Next on the list, (3rd) one of the bikes stopped running, so the rider pulled off the road and put the kickstand down. I stopped to assist, and as I was parking, I watched as one of our big Texas winds blew the bike off its stand, over into a ditch. That’s bike 3 down. He called his wife to hook up the trailer and come get him. We left him and continued the ride. (4th) As we entered a section of tight country roads, the pack got split up at an unmarked turn. I was in the lost group, and since I live by the rule that as long as I’m riding I’m having fun, I was just temporarily displaced. As we rode along, enjoying the great roads we found while trying to find the other group, my cell phone in my helmet rang ( if you haven’t checked these out yet, take a good look at the CARDO Q2 system. It installs into your helmet easily and gives you mp3, intercom for up to ¼ mile, FM radio and voice activated cell phone). Anyway, back to the story—the cell call from the other group led us to a rendezvous.

So, after a great hamburger at Burgundy Pasture Beef, we launched off for the completion of the ride, which would be about 30 miles of backroads. I had positioned myself in about the middle of the pack so as to cruise on to the end. (5th) As we were making a 45 degree left turn on one of Texas great backroads, at a speed of only about 45mph, I asked myself—“why is the rider in front of me locking up his front brake and starting the process of a high side crash?” I watched as the events unfolded in front of me and I asked myself, “do I hit him, the bike or go to the ditch?” (I talk to myself a lot.) The ditch had a nice clean roll to it so I took option three. As I exited the ditch on the other side of the downed rider, I came to a stop, got off my bike, and ran back to see how he was. I reached down and removed his sunglasses so I could see his eyes and asked him how he felt. He said he was OK but hurt all over from the fall. Now you’ve got to understand that I really am a caring person, but my rule is if you’re not bleeding too bad—GET THE CAMERA—and start shooting. After a while the rider was able to get up and we as a team got him and his bike home. It’s rather ironic that at breakfast I was saying to a couple of riders that you should always DRESS TO SLIDE, THEN GO ENJOY THE RIDE......this guy was really happy he was dressed properly.

So in conclusion, I have to say as I did in my last post called 10%, motorcycles just stir my emotions all up and down the spectrum. I must go now and get ready for the next ride. Below you will find the way I feel. LET’S RIDE!

Little General

I LOVE TO RIDE
By Robert E Lee

The feel of the engine between my feet
The wind in my face
The smells of the road and countryside
The sensation of speed as the asphalt glides by
The sight of my fellow riders leaning into the turns
The sense of danger, either perceived or real
The fellowship shared with other riders
The envious look from the mini-van driver as I pull up next to him
The solitude
The responsibility

Motorcycling is a very personal thing; it stirs the soul in a multitude of ways. I have been lucky to have the opportunity to have so many of my emotions stirred by this beast called a bike, a scooter, a motorcycle.

It has exercised the emotions of:
EXCITEMENT—each time I ride off
PHYSICAL PAIN—each time I fall off
MENTAL PAIN—each time I see a rider down (and some never got up again)
FEAR—for that deer or car just barely missed
SOLITUDE—each time I see nothing but highway in front of me
JOY—as we gather around the table to tell our stories
DISAPPOINTMENT—if for some reason the bike doesn’t start

10 Percent

2009-02-04T06:39:00.000-08:00

Hey fellow riders,
On this, my 49th year of motorcycling, I sit pondering upon the large list of motorcycling friends that I have all over the USA. I truly believe that each and every one of you are SCOOTER TRASH, and oh, how I love scooter trash. ST are a special breed of people who see life in a completely different way. But I have also noticed that about 10% of the ST are what I’d call hard-core ST. I think that I probably fall into the 10% and believe that the following poem permeates to the core of the 10%---my feelings on paper.

I LOVE TO RIDE By Robert E Lee
The feel of the engine between my feet
The wind in my face
The smells of the road and countryside
The sensation of speed as the asphalt glides by
The sight of my fellow riders leaning into the turns
The sense of danger, either perceived or real
The fellowship shared with other riders
The envious look from the mini-van driver as I pull up next to him
The solitude
The responsibility

As I prepared to depart on a trip, my non-rider friend asked, “How can you go when the temp is 56 and light rain?” I pondered this question as I cruised down the highway in the rain, and thought, how could I not go? This is the most relaxed that I’ve been in days, I thought—just me, the Lord, and my bike rumbling below me.
Motorcycling is a very personal thing, it stirs the soul in a multitude of ways. I have been so lucky to have the opportunity to have so many of my emotions stirred by this beast called a bike, a scooter, a motorcycle. It has exercised the emotions of:

EXCITEMENT—each time I ride off
PHYSICAL PAIN—each time I fall off
MENTAL PAIN—each time I see a rider down (and some never got up again)
FEAR—for that deer or car just barely missed
SOLITUDE—each time I see nothing but highway in front of me
JOY—as we gather around the table to tell our stories
DISAPPOINTMENT—if for some reason the bike doesn’t start

In a two-part interview done by Cycle News 38 years ago, I told the reporter: “Every time that I get on a motorcycle I grin inside. When I get depressed or sick, all I want to do is get on a motorcycle, because it will make me feel better. I’ve been that way since I was 11 years old.”

To this day when I’m feeling low and full of the blues, my precious wife packs me a sack lunch, puts me on my bike, and says “take a long ride.” Nothing has changed, and I hope it doesn’t---as I sit here writing this little note, I’m also thinking about our next ride. I can’t wait.

Little General

My Favorite T-Shirts

2009-02-03T07:30:00.000-08:00

Hey riders, I know how we like our T-Shirts and I wanted to share with you a great place to get some of the best T’s I’ve seen. Don Miller at Metro Racing has high quality retro T’s that are made by Hanes. These shirts are pre-shrunk 100% cotton. And of course they look extra good on the professional underwear model that we used for the pic. :)

Give Don a call at Metro racing (1-877-74 metro) or go to his link at http://www.metroracing.com/. Tell Don I said Hi.

Little General

A Texas Legend

2009-01-24T11:32:00.000-08:00

How often in life do you get the chance to share part of your life with a real legend? I was thoroughly blessed by having one of the greatest men Texas had to offer be a part of my life, Johnny Allen. Johnny was quite a man, with gunfighter eyes and absolute nerves of steel.

<---Click on article to make it large enough to read.

When Johnny hooked up with two other legends by the name of Pete Dalio and Jack Wilson, he won 38 dirt track races in his first season. (I could go on forever about Dalio, Wilson, and also Stormy Mangham, but this is about a kind, good man named Johnny Allen.)

Johnny is best known for piloting Stormy Mangham's Texas Cigar. It was tuned by Jack Wilson to a speed of 214 mph at Bonneville Salt Flats on September 6th, 1956. His fame was such that in November of the same year, he toured Europe to tell of this great achievement.

Besides this kind of fame, Johnny was involved in the motorcycle community at every level. He was the Triumph dealer in Ft. Worth, Texas, and added Suzuki to his store later on. The Trailblazers Motorcycle Club met in his store and they still are meeting in Ft. Worth to this day.

As a young racer, Johnny supplied me with a Triumph Roadracer for our Texas races, and later on a Suzuki 500cc Twin, so as to promote his new brand. Not only was he generous and kind, he was tough as a boot. I will never forget the time back in 1966 when I was racing in the Wooley Bugger Enduro and John was on an X6 Hustler, the TC250 high pipe model. Not much of an enduro bike, and I couldn't believe he was riding it.

We were flying across one of the Trinity River levies when the trail all of a sudden veered off and down the sides. Johnny fell for what seemed like forever. I stopped and ran back to help him up, and as I approached him, I could see that he was bleeding down both arms and knees, and he still had that short cigar in his mouth as he jumped up and started the X6 and left me standing there wondering how an old man could do that. After all, he was 36 years old, and to me that was really old.

When John passed away on February 7, 1995, his wife Reva gave me some of his keepsakes and I wanted to share a couple of them with you. The picture of the streamliner was taken in Smithfield, TX, at Stormy's airport -- Mangham Field. In the picture from left to right are Stormy Mangham, Jack Wilson, and Johnny Allen. The dirt track picture is of Johnny after one of his many wins on Texas half-mile tracks.

I would ride my motorcycle out to the airport and just stand next to the streamliner and try to imagine the feeling that he must have had piloting that rocket at 214 mph. I'm sure that he was a lot cooler than I would have been.

Oh, yes, one more thing. We are all so familiar with the legendary Triumph Bonneville. FACT - three years after Johnny's 214 mph run, Triumph named that bike the Bonneville in honor of what a 26-year-old from Texas did.

Thanks for listening to my ramblings!

Little General

No Whining!!--Just riding

2009-01-15T07:13:00.000-08:00

WOW--Take a look at these pictures that Kim H. sent me a link to. These guys knew how to have fun, and they aren't exactly riding dirt bikes are they? I just love pictures like these, they draw me back to a time when things seemed to be much simpler, long before we spent so much time polishing our bikes and spent more time in the saddle. Click below and enjoy the link.

Click here: Superheroes of Old for link to a really cool site.

A Day in the Life

2009-01-14T08:29:00.001-08:00

Saturday was to be a big day of motorcycles and Scooter Trash, riding dualsport and going to Dallas with the ST people. I started my Saturday off in a strange way. I was going to meet the other riders for our dualsport ride at 8:00 a.m. for breakfast, so with great excitement I jumped out of bed at 7:00 a.m., put on all the winter riding gear (it was 30 degrees outside), went to the shop, pulled out the KLR, fired it up so as to be warmed up and ready to ride by 7:40 a.m. I threw my leg across my trusty steed, plugged in my Gerbings, and, just as I started to put it in gear, I stopped and looked around -- "Hey, it seems to be awfully dark out here for 7:40." I reached down to my GPS and flipped to the time page -- it was 6:40 a.m.! In all the excitement of a new adventure, I misread the clock. Oh, well, that just meant I got 1 more hour in a great day.

After breakfast, we departed for our adventure. We were only going to ride until 2:00 p.m. because at 4:12 we needed to be on the train heading for Dallas. I had sent out an email inviting both dirt and street Scooter Trash to join Debi and I at the train station for a field trip. Sixteen people showed up for the ride to Dallas on the big iron horse. When we arrived at Dallas, we all went to the Cadillac Bar and Grill for a wonderful time of Mexican food and fellowship.

After dinner we walked to the arena for FMX Freestyle Motocross. Oh, those young men and their flying machines, what a great time was had by all. By the time we arrived back home, it was midnight and I had myself an 18-hour motorcycle day. I still say that Scooter Trash are the best people. I fell asleep with a smile on my face, instead of egg as usual. I thank God for America and the great state of Texas.

Clutched in the Jaws of Winter

2009-01-07T15:48:00.000-08:00

Well, here we are, January 2009, and the Southern cruisers had their annual Polar Bear Ride on New Year’s Day. The turnout was pretty good at 50, and it was made up of different chapters and riding groups. It’s real hard to say Polar Bear Ride when the high temp of the day was 80. You’ve just got to love thisTexas weather, 80 on the 1st and then the electricity at my home was out for 16 hours on the 5th due to ice. Oh well, they say that variety is the spice of life.

Since we do ride all year round here in Texas, and sometimes the weather is quite cold, I wanted to tell you how I survive comfortably on these cold days. ELECTRIC GEAR--I have used the electrics with a great deal of success. I use them for both street and dual sport riding. There are a large number of brands to choose from, about ten if you count what you can get out of Canada. Out of the ten, eight are priced about the same. I personally have used two different brands and my friend Mark uses a third. The one that most of us use is Gerbing, which has kept a big wuss like me very comfortable on all my cold rides. I have a multitude of jackets and with the Gerbing jacket liner I was able to remove all the liners and store them away and use just the Gerbing liner. It also doubles as a light jacket for kicking around in after the ride. It is also washable and has a life time guarantee on it. With the liner you don’t have to fool around with extra wire,s as it has the wires for the gloves built into the sleeve, unlike the heated vest where you run wires down your jacket sleeve.

GLOVES—I also use Gerbing gloves because they are so supple. I prefer the classic model with the gauntlet for extra warmth and wind protection at the sleeve area.

This is what I have learned about fit. The liner needs to be of a snug fit so as to transfer the heat to the core of the body, but use caution with the gloves so as to not get them too tight. The gloves need to be just a little looser then your other gloves. I find that the next size up works for my buddies and me. When you pull or squeeze on the handlebars, your gloves pull up tight to your fingers and hand. I suggest that you need a little extra room from the heating elements and your fingers so as not to have any hot spots or feel the wires.

TEST—A test that I have tried a multitude of times to prove how important it is to keep the body core warm: While out riding in temperatures of 25 to 32, I will be comfortable all the way down to my feet. I just turn off the electric heat and within a short few minutes my feet and legs start to get cold, and next my hands and arms get cold. I turn the heat back on and the whole body starts to warm back up by pumping warm blood from the heated core to my extremities.

So here is how I dress for those cold rides:

· Warm socks that wick moisture away from my feet and Alpine Star boots.
· Long underwear with the Joe Rocket Ballistic overpant.
· Long-sleeved shirt made of cotton under my heated Gerbing Jacket liner, topped off by the jacket choice of the day.
· A full face helmet,
· then my electric gloves and I’m ready for all weather including rain since all the outerwear including the boots are waterproof.

One other thing is that when you are warm, dry and comfortable, you are a more alert and a safer rider. Remember: dress to slide and enjoy the ride.

Sore Butt, not Iron Butt

2008-12-31T12:12:00.000-08:00

Well, here we are post-Love Story and recovering from the knots on my head.

This week I wanted to share a story from a friend of mine, Larry Preston. I had marveled at this story that Larry shared with me -- not so much for the trip, but for what they were riding. In this day of long distance motorcycle touring, we have at our disposal--ST's, Goldwings, BMWs and all sorts of high-performance bikes to choose from to make the long journey quite easy. But 3500 miles on a Seca 400 or XT600 single! My butt started hurting just listening to him tell the story.

Enjoy, and we'll talk next Wednesday about electric gear for your winter comfort.

Here's Larry's story:

My buddy Greg and I left out of Weatherford, Tx on a Friday afternoon in mid-August 1989, our sights set for Yellowstone National Park. Our weapons at hand for this ride, my 1982 Seca 400 twin and Greg’s 1985 Yamaha XT600 dual sport single.

We passed through west Texas on what must be the flattest, straightest (read boring ) roads in the world. Due to our late start, we fell short of leaving Texas day 1, and landed in Muleshoe, Tx.

We got started day 2 and cut across a corner of New Mexico and headed for Colorado, where we stopped for photo ops at Royal Gorge and Great Sand Dunes Monument.

We then began climbing into the Rockies. As you would expect, climbing up and over 10,000ft + passes on our small bikes went something like this, “I think I can, I think I can, whew, made it, WEEEEEEE”. The next couple of days blurred together into chilly mornings, beautiful days with scenic winding roads. We caught a rain shower here and there and the most heinous storms rolled in each evening. These storms left us scurrying for a motel and forgetting the tents and sleeping bags we were hauling. We did camp one night just to prove we could, and I woke up in a rain puddle.

We next passed through Grand Tetons National Park, where we watched the mountains slowly materialize through the clouds. Then headed on to our target of Yellowstone.

Although still recovering from the fires of ’88, Yellowstone park was magnificent. We had a day of seeing incredible hot spring, geysers and ‘moose jams‘. There aren’t that many animals seen from the road so if a moose or other animal pokes its head out, people just stomp the brakes, stop wherever the skid mark ends and reach for the camera. It keeps your skills sharp.

After our day in Yellowstone, we touched the lower edge of Montana and headed East for Mt. Rushmore. We got there on our fifth day, spent a little time with the big heads, then pointed our wheels towards home.

By now we were getting a little saddle sore, averaging about 500 miles per day. Feet on the pegs, feet on buddy pegs, feet on the turn signals front and back, we tried it all. The last couple of days were all about enduring the ride home, since we didn’t find much to look at through Nebraska and Kansas, except someone's reproduction of Stonehenge in junk cars.

We got home 1 week and about 3500 miles later. Or little bikes just ran and ran, asking nothing more than chain lube. Just goes to show that there’s fun and adventure in all sorts of packages.

Larry Preston

A Love Story

2008-12-25T07:17:00.000-08:00

Well here it is, just as promised. A love story---now try really hard to keep your mind focused on the fact that this is about the motorcycles.

A Love Story, Part 1

It was like any other summer night for a boy and his BSA, or so I thought. I had just gotten off work pumping gas at Wayne’s full service Esso where I made 75 cents an hour. Doesn’t sound like much, but gas was 31 cents a gallon and a burger and malt were 40 cents. You could get a brand new BSA Lightning at Carlton’s BSA for $1500. The sun had just gone down as I entered the parking lot of Connie’s Uptown Drive-in. This was the spot where all the kids cruise in and out all night, or sit and drink Cherry Cokes served by the carhops under the car canopy. As so many times in the past, I would rev the engine of my Lightning and the sound of the megaphones would echo through the night. This was a siren call to some teenage girl to come running up and ask for a ride – worked every time.

But, just before I revved it up, my eye caught the sight of something different tonight. Sitting under the canopy was a beautiful, totally black 1963 Harley-Davidson Sportster with the neon lights of Connie’s reflecting off the well-polished steed. OH, NO – unexpected competition. As I pulled in next to the Sportster on my candy apple red BSA, I noticed that the rider was a beautiful woman wearing black Bates leather pants and jacket, and her shoulder-length black hair was hanging out the back of her black half-shell Buco helmet. This was a sight – just like an ad out of Cycle Magazine. Trying to be cool, I looked her bike over from front to rear, then looked her in the eyes and said, “Nice bike – what brings you here to Connie’s tonight?” She said, “Just looking for someone to ride with. My name is Raven, what’s yours?” Trying hard to cover up the fact that I couldn’t remember my name, I blurted out, “I’m called The General.” She said, “Alright, are you up for a good ride tonight?"

With all the strength and composure that I could muster and with a shaky voice I said “OK”. Raven said “Good, how about we ride out to Grapevine Lake?” Unlike today, it was way out in the country back then. So, off to the lake we go, leaning in and out of every corner I was captivated by the beauty and ease in which Raven took the corners and accelerated out of each, with the sound of the HD’s pipes exciting every motorcycle sense that I had. As we crossed the dam, I could feel the cool breeze coming off the lake. I motioned for her to pull over as we exited the dam, and asked her if she had ever ridden up to the top of the spillway. “No, but I’m game for anything tonight,” she replied.

Come back tomorrow for...the rest of the story....

Love Story, Part II

2008-12-25T00:01:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you've all been waiting with great anticipation *smirk*, so here it is -- Part 2.

As we pulled off next to the spillway, I said to her, “It’s really tall, are you sure?” And before I could finish, Raven had opened the throttle on her Sportster. The pipes were screaming, the rear tire squirting dirt, and it’s headlight bouncing up and down on the side of the spillway as it made it’s way to the top.

I was totally overcome by what I had just seen, and my adrenaline was flowing like never before. I, too, opened up the throttle – with my megs screaming, I had to stand up on the pegs and lean forward to keep the front wheel down as the BSA clawed at the dirt. As I topped the spillway, I locked my brakes and slid up next to the HD with my BSA. With both engines now silent in the cool night, we both looked down at the bottom from whence we had come. “ WOW that was some climb, huh, Raven?”. “Sure was” she replied. Then we looked across the moonlit lake, and back at the bikes. I noticed that I had stopped at just the point where the end of our handlebars was touching. As the moonlight glowed over the curve of the bars, it made a shadow of a heart on the ground – was that a sign? In the quiet of the moment with the moon shining on Raven’s face, she said – “Let’s ride.”

We mounted up and sped into the small town of Grapevine. In town we were stopped by a traffic light, and the sound of our powerful bikes was spoiling the peace of the little town. Just then I saw a red light come on as a local sheriff did a u-turn. Raven turned her head so fast to look behind us that her long black hair flew across her shoulder. One quick look, then she looked at me with those big brown eyes full of excitement, she said, “Let’s show him what we can do.” As the rear tire of the Sportster started to smoke, I took one last look at the quickly-approaching police car and got all caught up in the moment. That’s what will happen when riding with a woman like Raven.

The next thing I knew, the BSA was on its rear wheel. As we both accelerated to the speed of 100, we leaned forward to get out of the wind. We headed down Highway 121 for Hurst. It seemed that the old Plymouth the sheriff was driving could not catch us. We turned off 121 and sped down Glade Road, which was very dark and twisty. It was all this young man could do to keep up with the HD. As we came to a T in the road, and in all the excitement and confusion I went right and Raven went left. Thank goodness the law followed me and not her, and I was able to lose him. From past experience, I did not ride the BSA to my house, but parked it at a friend’s house about a mile from home and walked home. As I walked alone in the night air, I looked at my watch. It was midnight and the start of a new day. I wondered if I would ever see Raven again. To this day, every time I hear the sound of a HD, I spin my head around and hope to see a beautiful 1963 black Sportster. I sure did love that night way back then, and all the memories the BSA carried me through. I sure miss it. Oh, by the way, there were as usual two cop cars sitting in the dark, just waiting for me and the BSA. As I climbed over the backyard fence, and started in the back door, I stopped, looked around, and took in a deep breath of night air. I smiled and said, “Life’s good”.

P.S. My wife of 35 years just shook me and said, “Wake up and go take your meds.”

Robert E. Lee and The Yankee

2008-12-17T15:46:00.001-08:00

Whoa ….as your new president says, “Let us come together.” Well, that’s what happened when I had the chance to work on a little project called the Yankee Half-Miler. There are probably very few of you who even remember the short life of the Yankee (1969 – 1972). It originally was sold as what we call today a Dualsport – street legal trail bike. The bike was kind of different from the start since it was a 500cc twin cylinder 2 stroke, and ugly as a newborn.

Now what prompted this little stroll down memory lane was when Bob M. dropped me an email and invited me to go with him just north of town to his friend Ed’s shop. Ed is a very interesting motorcycle enthusiast. Ed has a huge workshop in his back yard which has at least 200 motorcycles from the past. Can you say BSA, CZ, Hodaka, Bultaco, and oh yes, Yankee? As I stumbled around like a blind dog in a meathouse looking at all the neat bikes, I came across the weathered 500cc Yankee. Man, did the stories and BS start to fly.

I remember when the ugly beast arrived back in 1971, and all the measuring, cutting, welding, and fabricating started. This was going to be a labor of love. We worked everyday all day long for about a month before we came up with something looking like a half-miler. The test proved that this would work, much to our surprise. This monster had tons of horsepower and a wide power band. It was winter and the pro half-mile races didn’t start until spring, so we made a fateful decision to convert the half-miler into a TT Scrambler since the Astrodome TT National was just 6 weeks away. We installed front brakes and moved one of the two expansion chambers from the right side to the left and voila – a TT Scrambler. NOT. As it turned out, with all our half-mile mods, the thing just didn’t work as planned on the tight left and right turns inside the Dome. Come spring, the Yankee was loaded up and taken east for the opening of the half-mile season.

I was able to race this bike most of a season before Yankee stopped production and fell victim to slow production and newer designs that were much lighter. Oh well, as Sgt. Joe Friday would say, “Just another story of a million in the big city.” I’ve included some pictures of the only Yankee half-miler ever to run. Note that I’m leading the XR750 HD in one of the pics. And the beautiful red, white and blue Yankee Motor Company leathers. Thanks for listening to my ramblings!

Stay tuned for next Wednesday’s post….A Love Story. I’m not kidding.

The Bridges of Madison County or...A Bridge Too Far?

2008-12-10T07:28:00.000-08:00

NOT! Would you believe a few bridges in Johnson County? Last week, I sent out an email to see if there were any brave souls who wanted to help me explore for some additional dirt roads to add to the Dualsport ride that I have put together over the last 4 years. I now have the DS ride up to 275 miles, and it takes about 12 hours to complete, including meals. All of this is just south of the Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex.

I set out with the help of my GPS, the Roads of Texas Maps Atlas, and two ride buddies (Larry & Jerry). It's hard to gather a crowd of riders when the ride starts in 33 degree weather...can you say "GERBING"? I know I can. :) We met for breakfast, made our plans and struck off for the outback of Texas.

This time of year in Texas is perfect for Dualsport riding, with the cool temps, the falling leaves. The colors and the smells just make you feel so alive as you cruise in and out of the sunlight on our beautiful backroads. We continued our exploring, which also entailed a few turnarounds and back-the-other-ways. On a ride like this, you never know what will be around the next corner: a deer, a pig....a cowboy in his pickup....

It was kind of interesting to have a big buck deer jump out in front of us and start running down the dirt road in front of us rather than just crossing the road. Well, that's just what happened. I followed the deer at a speed of about 30 mph, and he just stayed on the road. I have these brain farts where something shorts out between the ears and I come up with these great ideas. I decided that if the deer was going the same way or place as we were, I should race him to see just how fast he could run. I kicked the KLR down one gear and caught up with the deer. Now, here we are at 50 mph running with a wild deer down a narrow dirt road. Sanity started to creep back into my brain, and I thought, "What if the deer decides to turn right?", which was where I was at. As I backed out of the throttle, the deer made a sharp left, jumped the fence and ran to tell his friends how he strapped it on a KLR, which really isn't saying much. If I had my helmet cam on, this could have turned into an episode of "Motorcycle Jackass".

Oh well, all in all this was a good day. Wait a minute -- any day on a motorcycle is a good day! Take a look at the slide show on the right, then wipe the drool from your mouth.

Tune in next week for a story titled "Robert E. Lee and the Yankee". I'm sure Allen Jackson will appreciate this one.

Ride safe & ride often! (But riding safe does eliminate a lot of options.) Click on the Dualsport slideshow on the right side of this page for more pictures of our adventure.

The Little General

Wow, what a ride!

2008-11-29T15:49:00.000-08:00

Oh, how great it is to live in Texas, where the riding goes on forever -- year round. Being the brave soul I am, or not too bright, I'm not sure which one, I decided to send out a call to arms for a Saturday ride. Not able to decide if I wanted to ride with the dualsport riders or the street riders, and not wanting to flip a coin, I just bit the bullet and sent out an invite to both lists. I stated in the email that we would have a ride that would be good for both. You see, in Texas we have a wide variety of roads to choose from. This ride turned out to be a great time for all.

Today we were able to mix 11 different bikes for 197 miles of slow twisty, fast twisty, and fast sweepers. We rode through miles of tight twisty roads that were tree covered with fall leaves coming down and covering the roads for a beautiful fall, or in this case, winter ride. We would break out of the 45 mph tight stuff - which seemed fast -- into 60 and 70 mph sweepers. This was repeated all day, only interrupted by two great meals. We had burgers like you can only get in Texas at the Loco Coyote. As for the mix of bikes, I rode my KLR instead of the ST or Vulcan and can truly say that was the right choice for such a mixture of roads.

Thanks to: Ricky - KLR, Jerry - KLR, Brad - KLR, Phil - BMW, Kim - Harley, Ed - ST1300, Mark - Honda Shadow, Lynn - Yamaha Star, Daniel - Suzuki Bandit, Rene - Honda Valkarie, for a great and interesting day.

Oh how I love scooter trash!

Let's Ride!

The Little General

CT90 - Honda's Original Dualsport 1964-1979

2008-11-26T07:34:00.000-08:00

Oh, how we all look back to our youth and wish we could still have that old car or motorcycle we made so many memories with, both good and bad. I have fond memories of the little step-through Hondas of the 60s and 70s. So many of us rode our Honda 50cc and 90cc bikes all over town. What fun we had! Many years ago, I was looking through the motorcycle ads when one particular ad caught my eye:

Moving to Florida

Must sell 3 m/c $250

It was a very cold and rainy night when I called. An older gentleman answered the phone and the first question I asked was "Is that $250 each?" And he said, "No, for the 3." My interest peaked. My next question was, "What are the motorcycles you're selling?" Much to my surprise, he said he didn't know. Can anyone say "pig in a poke"? Now, my mind was racing with anticipation like a kid on Christmas morning waiting to open his gifts. I ask for directions to his house and the older gentleman said - "It's too cold and wet to go out to the old dark barn, so come by tomorrow." Well, I knew in my heart that someone else would get there before me, and I thought, why not roll the dice? I told the man that I would take the bikes, sight unseen, and I would be there in 30 minutes to give him the cash.

My son Austin was 9 years old at the time, and he rode with me into the cold night. When we arrived at our destination, I gave Austin the $250 cash and told him to go to the door and give the man the money and say we will be back first thing in the morning. Gee, I do ramble on...

The next morning, as we pulled into the driveway, we saw a Honda SL175 all covered in dust and dirt. I thought, if this is one of the 3, I'm home free on my $250 investment. Happily, it was! The next bike out of the barn brings us back to our story - a 1978 CT90 with 2500 miles on it. I took the little CT90 and did all the standard things one must do to a motorcycle that has set up for years and, voila, my wife now had a trail bike. Debi never took to the dirt, so a few years later, I sold it to a man who lived out in the country. End of story, or so I thought.

Thirteen years later (August 2008), I was riding in the outback and happened by the house of the man I sold the CT90 to. I stopped and talked for a while, then asked the question, "What did you ever do with that old CT90?" "Oh, it's all apart laying in the barn, do you want to buy it back?" *SMILE* After a lot of love and care, it doesn't look so bad, does it? *MORE SMILES*

9th Annual Assault on Mount Scott

2008-11-24T10:23:00.000-08:00

Hi, everybody - welcome to my first ever blog post! Well, we succeeded in our 9th attempt at the summit, so that makes 8 completions out of 9 attempts. It was a small group this year of only six bikes and 7 riders. Three of us departed home at 6:30am so as to be at the IHOP on the North side of town by 7 so we could meet up with the rest of the explorers for breakfast. The ride got underway a little late as we didn’t depart till 8:06 -these people I ride with are so rigid! :) We were able to make up all this lost time by keeping a good steady pace till we reached our first gas stop in Wichita Falls. Apparently some of us have small bladders as well as small tanks. At breakfast each rider gave Dixie the toll money for the ride up and back, which she put into two envelopes. As we approached the toll booth, Kim and Dixie took the lead and paid for all of us, which works out really well since none of us have to take our gloves off and dig around for our money. The weather was wonderful and the riders all had a great time, not to mention the hamburgers at Meers after the summit. We ended up with a total mileage of 467 and were back in Fort Worth by 5:30, just before dark. What a wonderful Saturday it was. I have included pictures; take a look at the beautiful blue sky and the brilliant colors of all the foliage. Thanks again to Dixie for being the expedition photographer. For all of you who wish that you had gone—the 10th annual ASSAULT ON MT SCOTT will be the first Saturday before Thanksgiving 2009. Hmm, 10th annual—sounds like a good time to make up t-shirts for the event. For more pictures, see the slideshow in the bar to the right of the page.

Welcome to My New Blog!

2008-11-24T00:01:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone,

I am Robert E. Lee, and from as far back as I can remember, I've been called "The Little General". Go figure. I have started this blog so that you and I can share our motorcycle experiences.

About Me - It all started at a very young age, this love of two wheels. When I was 7, my sister Linda came home with a 78 rpm record that was about a motorcyclist. The song was sung by Vaughn Monroe, called The Terror of Highway 101. As I sat and listened to the song over and over again, I started to develop a mental image of what it would be like to race off down the highway with the wind in my face and the sounds of the pipes. As the image took hold of me, I started to drool over every motorcycle that I saw.

That same year, I was standing in our front yard when I heard the pipes of a motorcycle coming up our country road. I ran to the edge of the road, and started waving at the oncoming rider. As he passed by, he took both hands off the handlebars and made both hands into finger guns and pointed at me. That was way too cool! And 3 years later, I soloed on my first motorcycle, a 125 cc HD Hummer. That was 49 years ago, and I haven't stopped riding since.

I went on to:
Work in a bike shop after school...start racing...turn pro...win a pro national short track...own dealerships...and on and on. From all that, I can truthfully say that motorcycle people are some of the best people I've met in all my travels. "Scooter Trash", as I so fondly call my riding buddies, are generally good people. I hope you enjoy the blog! Please feel free to post comments on any article - I would love to hear your feedback.

The Little General