Predicaments

[DIGGER]

What was the worst predicament you ever found yourself in while riding a motorcycle?

Mine was once in the mid 1970s Me and 2 buddies were on a motorcycle trip touring Colorado.  I was riding a 1971 750 BMW boxer twin.  It was in the morning on a staight Interstate coming into Colorado Springs  and I was in the lead.    It had been cool that morning and was starting to warm up and I had on a light windbreaker.    I decided to slip it off while going down the road and in the process I got my hands tied up behind my back.  I was struggling with it while trying to use body weight and movement to keep the bike going straight.  My buddies saw what was happening and came up to try to help but there was nothing they could do.  I had my throttle lock on so the bike was maintaining around 70 mph.  I probably went a mile or so like this and finally got my hands free.    I was in sheer panic....terrible feeling.  Had to be a Guardian Angel watching over me.   Thank you Lord for the help.

What are some of yalls experiences?

[DirtyDan]

 . With or without jail ? 

Dan

[Jess from VA]

Riding my HOG home with a busted clutch cable.  Clutchless shifting, trying to never come to a complete stop, and having to fire it up in first gear when I did.

Being coerced to take my mother in law for a ride.

[Psychotic Bovine]

Heavy snowstorm at last year's Inzane crossing Beartooth Pass.
2 hours of terror.

[John Schmidt]

Getting caught in a hail storm. Was doing about 60 down a country road somewhere in Iowa, cloudy day with small showers all around me which I had been able to skirt for the most part. Suddenly....bam! I'm in the middle of it, near marble size, and hurt something fierce. It was out in the middle of nowhere so I had no place to hide. I ducked down behind my home made windscreen and kept going, turned out to only be about 100 yds. wide but the next morning I looked like a leopard from the bruises.

[flsix]

Riding a Suzuki dual sport bike about 25 years ago by myself, on a dike top along a canal. I'd been riding all day was tired and looking for a short cut to the closest road. It was heading the right direction sooo, why not. After about a mile the canal dried up and narrowed up to the size of a large ditch. So I rode down into the bottom of the ditch to play in the mud. ( Everyone does that, right? )
After a while the ditch narrowed to the point that the pegs were dragging the sides and the angle of the slope out of the ditch increased.
The mud is now more like a clay/gumbo texture in the bottom and I'm getting stuck once in a while.

Brain is telling me to turn around but I was still having fun, and that road can't be much further can it?

Well the bike is now buried in the bottom of a ditch that's too steep to clime out of, I tried more than once, and too narrow to turn the bike around.

It's about 3:30 in SW FL. in the middle of nowhere in the summer. We have ravenous mosquitoes around that time of year. Heck, any time of year. It also rains pretty much every day about that time and this day was no different.
Being in the bottom of a ditch with a thunder storm bearing down on you will give you a pucker when you see how fast those ditches fill up .
Luck would have it that there was an old fence line near the ditch and I was able to pull up one of the less deteriorated posts and levered that bike out of the ditch. She would only move about 4" at a time.
I was completely spent after about a 14' climb and just layed down in the rain and let it wash some of the mud from me and the bike.
The road was only a half a mile away but still I had to lay the bike down and slide it under another fence to get to it.
 I've never so tired from a days ride before or after that one.
I was more cautious when by myself after that.

[DIGGER]

Riding a Suzuki dual sport bike about 25 years ago by myself, on a dike top along a canal. I'd been riding all day was tired and looking for a short cut to the closest road. It was heading the right direction sooo, why not. After about a mile the canal dried up and narrowed up to the size of a large ditch. So I rode down into the bottom of the ditch to play in the mud. ( Everyone does that, right? )
After a while the ditch narrowed to the point that the pegs were dragging the sides and the angle of the slope out of the ditch increased.
The mud is now more like a clay/gumbo texture in the bottom and I'm getting stuck once in a while.

Brain is telling me to turn around but I was still having fun, and that road can't be much further can it?

Well the bike is now buried in the bottom of a ditch that's too steep to clime out of, I tried more than once, and too narrow to turn the bike around.

It's about 3:30 in SW FL. in the middle of nowhere in the summer. We have ravenous mosquitoes around that time of year. Heck, any time of year. It also rains pretty much every day about that time and this day was no different.
Being in the bottom of a ditch with a thunder storm bearing down on you will give you a pucker when you see how fast those ditches fill up .
Luck would have it that there was an old fence line near the ditch and I was able to pull up one of the less deteriorated posts and levered that bike out of the ditch. She would only move about 4" at a time.
I was completely spent after about a 14' climb and just layed down in the rain and let it wash some of the mud from me and the bike.
The road was only a half a mile away but still I had to lay the bike down and slide it under another fence to get to it.
 I've never so tired from a days ride before or after that one.
I was more cautious when by myself after that.

Now that's a predicament...ha

[DIGGER]

Getting caught in a hail storm. Was doing about 60 down a country road somewhere in Iowa, cloudy day with small showers all around me which I had been able to skirt for the most part. Suddenly....bam! I'm in the middle of it, near marble size, and hurt something fierce. It was out in the middle of nowhere so I had no place to hide. I ducked down behind my home made windscreen and kept going, turned out to only be about 100 yds. wide but the next morning I looked like a leopard from the bruises.

That would be a bad one     Lucky the hail wasn't bigger

[MAD6Gun]

Heavy snowstorm at last year's Inzane crossing Beartooth Pass.
2 hours of terror.

 Yea what my brother said. That sucked big time.

[The emperor has no clothes]

This was probably the worst predicament that I got myself into. There have been many more that I had no control over though. Some not ending up so well.

http://www.valkyrieforum.com/bbs/index.php/topic,62675.0.html

[hubcapsc]

I got fixated on by a Harley rider coming the other direction on a curvy
road outside of Maggie Valley. It was tense there for a while (these things
only last micro seconds) and then he passed me on my right. I was proud
of the Valkyrie's brakes, I got slowed way down with no out-of-controlness
and my plan was to do something at the last second when it became
apparent what direction I should go... I went no direction at all...

-Mike "freezing because you have heated gear but didn't bring it is kind of a predicament too, I guess..."

[Hook#3287]

This one was short and not sweet.

My buddy and I and our riders were trying to get back to his pub before the sky opened up.  Off to the west and coming our way was some seriously dark storm clouds.

A check of the radar showed we would be close.

Of course, we underestimated the speed of the storms and they caught us just shy of our destination.

It started pouring just as we rode up on a old farm and we were able to pull into the wagon/tractor shed located 10 ft off the road, to wait it out.

As we waited, some other bikers rode by, in the rain that had slowed almost completely and one said "Really" when he saw we were hiding.

We figured it was time to go, so we did.

Not more than a mile down the road, a lightning bolt hit so close, it seems to suck the air out of the area and light everything up in a erie glow.  The thunderclap was instantaneous. I could feel it in my body.

It almost literally scared the crap out of us, my rider has never grabbed my ribs harder than she did that day.
 
Only good thing was mister "Really" and his fellow bikers and riders were off on the side of the road, huddling under some trees.

I couldn't help it and yelled "Really".

[..]

One of a few over the years.

March 2015

Sometimes I'm such a dumbass.

The northerly ride up Nimblewill Gap was much longer than I thought it would be. After a couple of miles I anticipated seeing the top of the mountain around every bend. It took about another mile before I did reach the forest road summit.

Please remember that I'm a gentleman putterer so my top speed coming up the road was about 20 mph and generally was about 10mph so that I could minimize the chance of getting a flat, KLR's run tubed tires.

There's a plaque at the summit of the road commemorating an aircraft crash that happened in 1968.

There's also a view of the downhill section of the forest road leading northwards. We've had a lot of rain recently in north Georgia and it seemed that most of the run off was going down the north side of the mountain, the direction I'm headed. As soon as the descent started the forest road showed signs of water erosion so I walked down to take a look at the lie of the land.

Hmmmm if I keep right to start with and then cross the very shallow gully in the middle I can then make my way down hugging the left side of the dirt road and keep away from the drop off down the side of the mountain.

KLR fired up I start threading my way downhill. Well that was easy, now I can press on and make my way to Two Wheels Only for lunch. Rounding the first downhill bend I see that the track is still washed out and now there are few rocks sticking through the dirt. Remember I  mentioned it had been raining, well rocks on the north side of a mountain tend to “grow” a slippery covering of a variety of lichens and moss. Here we had some fine examples that anyone studying lichenometry would be happy to see. However rubber tires and green slimy, slippery rocks are not happy bedfellows so with a mental girding of loins I start down the obstacle course slowly weaving my way around the green bulges.

Around the next corner I see that the erosion is even more severe and that the center of the track is not suitable for my level of off-road skills so I have to choose the right or left and I can only see about 20 yards before the track disappears around another bend. Well I'll keep to the left away from the drop off and I'll be safe.

Hah! As I round the bend the gully in the center of the track veers sharply left due to an outcrop of rock on the right. This leaves a strip of wet, clayey soil about 12 inches wide with mature young saplings to the left of that. These saplings have whippy leaf covered branches sticking out into the 12 inch safety zone. Now I know that on dry flat blacktop I can ride a 12 inch strip in a perfectly straight line with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back. But on this soil with thin branches whipping at my face and a rear wheel waiting to slide 3 feet down into the gully?

Oh, did I forget to mention that the water erosion was doing its best to make north Georgia's own version of the Grand Canyon. What had started out as a shallow depression in the center of the track was now a 3 feet deep gash zig zagging across the side of the mountain.

There's no room to put the bike on the side stand. There's no room to turn around and go back uphill.

Dismounting from a KLR involves hopping backwards on the right foot whilst sliding the left leg across the saddle until the left foot is clear. Hah! Hopping backwards into the abyss is what I don't want to do. Leaning the bike towards the trees I gingerly get off trying to make sure I don't slip into the waiting maw of the crevasse behind me.

Success. Now all I need to do is start the bike up and using gravity and a little engine power carefully make my way about 10 feet until the strip I'm stranded on widens out. I've decided that if I start to slip into the gully I will push the bike away from me into the trees because I don't want it falling on top of me as I lay in the bottom of the gully. Hopefully the bike wont bounce back off any pliant saplings and smoosh me into the red Georgia clay.

Phew, secure footing and I can get get back on board and prepare for the next obstacle.

Did I mention that we've had a lot of rain. The Forest Service buries 15 inch diameter corrugated pipes across the tracks to allow water run off a safe passage without washing away the track. Well the recent rains we've had have exposed the upper halves of these pipes. These pipes are slippery and you may remember that rubber tires and slippery don't like to go hand in hand. The gully is now on the left of the track which means I have to get over the large corrugated slippery pipes on the right side of the track. That's the side next to the steep downhill, falling off the mountain side part of the track. I hazard a guess that if I just roll over the pipe I will hit the bottom of the bike and possibly crack the engine case so I'm going to have to “hop” the rear wheel over. OK front wheel up and on top of the large slippery metal corrugated pipe. A quick handful of throttle and up and over I go. Bloody hell, I made it.

Now the rocks that are sticking out of the tracks surface are large enough that some kind soul has spray painted the jagged tips with white paint so that the unwary traveler doesn't impale themselves on one. The gully in the track has become fractured with many off shoots and the track now looks like a rock debris field rather than anything a motorized vehicle could traverse.

Once more I'm forced to ride on the drop off side of the track and I'm thankful for the many hours of slow riding practice I've done over the years because clutch, throttle and rear brake are being manipulated very, very carefully. Gravity helps me trickle oh so slowly downhill. Forward motion is good.

A mantra flows through my head, right foot, back brake, no front brake;  right foot, back brake, no front brake; right foot, back brake, no front brake.

Sweat is dripping down my back and oozing from the lining of my helmet – my spare helmet that has a removable liner.

Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.
Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.
Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.
Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.

This keeps me from falling off the side of the mountain which is good. Visions of me lying with broken limbs and possums sucking my eyes out at midnight flicker across my brain.

Another 15 yards and I'm back on a relatively smooth surface, one that looks like a rock quarry floor after the explosives have gone BOOM!

More blood, swear and tears and I arrive at the base of the mountain and on to a smooth gravel road.
On to http://www.twowheelsonly.com/ for lunch.

Arriving there I talk with two other dual sport riders and tell them of my morning adventure. One asks why the hell I was riding that side of Nimblewill Gap by myself.

I reply “Sometimes I'm such a dumbass.”.

[..]

On my first Valkyrie. May 2005

My route was to take me to the north side of Hayesville, NC just above the Georgia State line. To get there I was going to ride south on Wayah Bald Rd for a few miles and then head west on Junaluska Road to Big Choga to the dirt road. Now this dirt road I had already used to go up and over the mountain to get to Hayesville but looking at maps and Streets & Trips it seemed there was a better way to go which would get me back onto blacktop near to where I usually did.

After about a mile of dirt I turned left onto the section I had never ridden before. I’m not a stranger to taking the Valk off  blacktop http://www.northgeorgiamotorcycleclub.com/stories/jb001-cwa.pdf is a story written by a friend of mine I had persuaded to ride on dirt with me.

The dirt road I normally use is wide enough for 2 vehicles and only slightly washboarded on a couple of the bends along its 5-mile length.

Immediately the unknown dirt road is narrower and obviously not traveled as frequently. This I deduce by the few tufts of weed growing in the center of the single track. The track rises pretty sharply on bends tighter than those at Deals Gap. Oh well the sooner I go up the sooner I go down. Still rising the track is deteriorating slightly but forward motion keeps the Valk pretty steady. Up I ride with the weeds in the center getting more prolific.

After a couple of twisty miles the option would be to turn around and retrace my route. Easy to do if not riding a bike the length of the Valk. I reckon I would either have to have my front wheel up a slope or the back wheel getting close to the edge to be able to complete the 180-degree maneuver. I have gone too far (stubborn) to be able to back down so I press on. At last I reach the summit and start to gingerly descend on the worsening surface. Minimal maintenance has been done to the track and in sections it feels like I am riding on pool balls on top of marbles. The handlebars are wagging from side to side and the front wheel keeps trying to slide away. It’s a strange feeling knowing that to stop falling over when the wheel slides I have to release the rear brake to get more forward speed and hence more stability.

By now the blackberry bushes are starting to crowd the track and I have to close my visor to keep them from hitting my face. As I do this I realize I have trapped a small bug inside my helmet so quickly I lift the visor and try to blow it out whilst still keeping the Valk from steering itself towards the drop off on my left. If I go over there I’ll never be found. The bug escapes and the visor comes back down. Why didn’t I stop to do this? I just knew if I stopped whilst going down the steep “slippery” slope I ran the risk of the bike falling over.

I’m now at the bottom of the slope and there is room to turn around and go back but after 3 ½ miles I know the end must be just around the corner. In fact just around the corner is a shallow stream I have to ford. This is done easily with both feet up on the pegs. A hiss of steam and the track starts to rise again.

Now the surface is not only covered in loose rocks and stones but also slick with water and moss. This section is in perpetual shade and my headlight modulator sensor ceases to work the light is so dim. The front wheel is wagging so much it feels like I have a flat.

This dimly lit section lasts for a short time and I start to break into sunlight once more after having to ford a deeper, wider stream. Only have to dab once with my left foot to keep the bike straight on course.

Up the track rises again and now it’s so rough I have to keep a firm grip on the handlebars which are wagging faster than a dogs tail. My grip on the gas tank with my thighs is getting tighter and tighter and I’m moving forward at about 4 miles an hour. So far I’ve gone 5 1/2 miles. Up and up and up. Rounding a bend there’s a small clearing to my right occupied by four horses and their on foot riders. I chug slowly by under the incredulous stare of all four. I raise my left hand for a quick wave and one rider bemusedly raises his in return. Going down a slope and rounding a very sharp hairpin bend I see why they stared. The track is now completely broken up with water channels running at a very gradual diagonal. These try to capture both front and rear wheels to make me ride off the edge into the trees alongside and below. For the first time I have to stop and use both legs whilst I paddle walk the Valk up and over these ruts. This continues for about 100 yards. Great for trail riding on a horse. I guess that’s why the riders were out. They knew there was no chance of a motorized vehicle coming along!

Down the track goes again and levels out with yet another stream to ford, the biggest so far. I’m able to put the Valk onto its sidestand and test the depth of the water with a stick. The stream bottom is made up of small stones with a good solid rock surface underneath. About 9 inches deep in the center and 6 feet wide the edges slope gradually and I make it across with minimal water in each boot.

7 miles traversed and I must be getting to the end of the dirt road soon. There are a couple of old wooden shacks covered in weeds off to the side and I hear the faint echoes of a banjo playing in the back of my mind. Scenes from Deliverance, X-Files and Wrong Turn flash through my head and my right hand forces a tad more gas into the engine causing the back wheel to slide away. My thighs are aching and sweat is dripping off my nose. Who knew going so slowly could be such hard work. Constantly changing from first to second and back has meant I have only had to use the rear brake for the past 1-½ hours. 15 more minutes and here is the blacktop.

I know if I stop straight away there’s a chance that my legs will cramp up and I’ll drop the bike. So I decide to ride for about a couple of hundred yards and then stop to give my legs a chance to relax.

Rounding a bend my jaw drops. There are about 100 Harley Davidson’s of all shapes and sizes parked all over the road and verges. Customs with rear wheels the width of a cows butt. Choppers with extended forks, full dressers and people walking in the road. I hit my Fiamm horns a couple of times to open a path through them. All the pedestrians freeze. They must know it’s a dirt road just around the bend so WHERE THE HELL HAVE I COME FROM? I thread my way through them with the dust accumulated from THE 8-mile dirt road rising from the Valk and I like talcum powder from a Whigs wig..

One rider with WOLVERINE printed on the back of his T-shirt wobbled his bike out in front of me and in response to a couple more blasts of my horn quickly rode onto the grass verge. Now I’m through the gaggle of bikes and riders and open up the Valk hoping to get more dust off me.

I look in my mirror and 15 or 20 bikes have pulled in behind me. I assume that they heard my horn and thought the group was on the move. OH well I don’t mind leading them a merry dance. There’s a couple of customs I can see and a couple of bikes with passengers. Now I’m on a road I’ve ridden 3 or 4 times before so I just ride at a good peg scraping speed around the bends slowing down a little on the short straights. The bends are only 30 to 45 mph. In my mirrors I can see riders crossing the centerline trying to keep up. This continues for about 5 miles when I see another large group of bikes parked on the right in front of a “General Store”. Five or six people step out in front of me waving their arms in a slow down motion. Now I’m sure these guys are friendly but I move over to the left and pass them by as the bikes behind me pull over and stop.

Into Hayesville and then southwards home.

No more dirt roads for me for quite a while.

[Oss]

After speeding out from under some hail and funnel (not all funnels hit the ground) clouds in Kansas I made it to Limon CO as thunderstorms moved in.  Foolishly thinking it was clear ahead I started toward Denver but I was wrong and the wind (microbursts) started. I found an overpass and moved to the extreme right side and stopped and put down the kickstand. Then while sitting on the bike under that overpass with my right hand firmly gripping the front brake the wind  pushes my bike a foot or so backward.  Green clouds are a clue.....

When I finally got to Denver I could not open my hands.

Riding into Gallup NM after surviving the 1st of many sandstorms on that trip the wind was in the 90 range  I could not control the bike and exited 40 and literally was hugging a gas pump  I stopped my trip that day at 2pm.  Winds were at 91 according to weather channel playing on the screen at check in counter of Americas Value hotel on route 66

Same trip mile marker 0 Texas NM sandstorms rolls in from my right
could not hardly see trucks passing me at 70+ and I had to just roll with it till next exit half an hour later.  No place to stop. Totally in the hands of the Lord

Ironically when I did go down on my first Valk I was not scared at all
But the wind sand and rain and lightning and tornado got my attention

[The emperor has no clothes]

This one was short and not sweet.

My buddy and I and our riders were trying to get back to his pub before the sky opened up.  Off to the west and coming our way was some seriously dark storm clouds.

A check of the radar showed we would be close.

Of course, we underestimated the speed of the storms and they caught us just shy of our destination.

It started pouring just as we rode up on a old farm and we were able to pull into the wagon/tractor shed located 10 ft off the road, to wait it out.

As we waited, some other bikers rode by, in the rain that had slowed almost completely and one said "Really" when he saw we were hiding.

We figured it was time to go, so we did.

Not more than a mile down the road, a lightning bolt hit so close, it seems to suck the air out of the area and light everything up in a erie glow.  The thunderclap was instantaneous. I could feel it in my body.

It almost literally scared the crap out of us, my rider has never grabbed my ribs harder than she did that day.
 
Only good thing was mister "Really" and his fellow bikers and riders were off on the side of the road, huddling under some trees.

I couldn't help it and yelled "Really".

Your story reminds me of a short ride home from work a few years back. I had a little Honda 400 Automatic that I bought at a garage sale. I used it to ride back and forth to work and putz around town. One day I had to go into work on my day off to do an order. It was in August when we get some monsoon storms come thru sometimes. Sad to admit, but at the time I would ride wearing shorts, t-shirt and no helmet a lot of the time. As I'm at work doing my order a huge thunderstorm comes rolling in. When I was done and ready to go it was coming down in buckets and thundering non stop. I only had 5 miles home and didn't want to wait it out. Off I go into the hinterland. Thunder and lightning felt like they were coming down right on top of me the whole way. But, it was invigorating ! Nothing makes you feel more alive than cheating death.
  Was it wise ? Hell no ! Would I do it again ? Hell no ! But on that day I was invincible.

[0leman]

Back in the early '70's, I was riding east out Salt River Canyon on Hwy 60 in AZ.  They had been working on the road, no shoulders.  Well sort of shoulders, made up of 5" diameter size rocks about a half a foot down from payment.  I was on a 71 Honda 450 trying to make up time due to delays near the bottom.  As I was going up, a semi hauling more rocks decided he had to pass another truck also hauling more rocks.  Probably lost his brakes.  All three of us passed at the same time.  They gave me about a foot and a half of road to enjoy.  Not sure what speed they  were going but I was doing about 70 and laying flat on the tank, no windshield.   Couldn't crap my pants as my A'Hole had grabbed a hold of my seat and wouldn't let go. 

[FryeVRCCDS0067]

 I was riding one of my favorite local roads a few years ago at the end of an all day ride. Due to the shade on this wooded road and riding glasses which were too dark I was unable to see the crushed acorns on a right hand corner. I was cornering hard and both tires washed out when I hit the debris.

I unthinkingly (old dirt bike rider) dropped my right foot to support the bike. The boot didn’t slide on the road, it stuck, and my foot went back under the bike and I felt my lower leg break. I was being dragged off the bike by this leg but before my hands were ripped from the bars the Valk got out of the debris, regained traction and was back up on her tires before I had even crossed the double yellow. This of course, released my leg.

So, I found myself tottering along at slow speed on a perfectly good motorcycle with a broken lower leg which was not yet back on the footpeg. Thankfully, only the smaller bone was broken, probably thanks to good boots. With a great deal of difficulty I was able to get my foot back on the peg by grabbing my pants above the knee and pulling the leg up. I couldn’t stop and get off the bike because I couldn’t hold it up with the right leg so I could put the stand down and I was still 26 miles from home anyway.

For a while I thought I was going to puke which would have been a disaster, then I got it together and continued my ride home in 2’nd gear, I couldn’t shift of course.

Thankfully, Mel was outside when I pulled in the driveway and motioned her over. I told her I had a broken leg and I needed her to put down my stand, help me off the bike and take me to the hospital. She thought I was pulling her leg at first since the bike wasn’t hurt and I wasn’t dirty but soon realized I was serious.

I wound up with a bone plate and 7 screws which had to be removed a couple of years later because the screws were backing out and pushing up against my skin. This turned into a medical misadventure which nearly cost my leg and left me on a "wound vac" for months.

Some days are like that I guess.

[The emperor has no clothes]

I was riding one of my favorite local roads a few years ago at the end of an all day ride. Due to the shade on this wooded road and riding glasses which were too dark I was unable to see the crushed acorns on a right hand corner. I was cornering hard and both tires washed out when I hit the debris.

I unthinkingly (old dirt bike rider) dropped my right foot to support the bike. The boot didn’t slide on the road, it stuck, and my foot went back under the bike and I felt my lower leg break. I was being dragged off the bike by this leg but before my hands were ripped from the bars the Valk got out of the debris, regained traction and was back up on her tires before I had even crossed the double yellow. This of course, released my leg.

So, I found myself tottering along at slow speed on a perfectly good motorcycle with a broken lower leg which was not yet back on the footpeg. Thankfully, only the smaller bone was broken, probably thanks to good boots. With a great deal of difficulty I was able to get my foot back on the peg by grabbing my pants above the knee and pulling the leg up. I couldn’t stop and get off the bike because I couldn’t hold it up with the right leg so I could put the stand down and I was still 26 miles from home anyway.

For a while I thought I was going to puke which would have been a disaster, then I got it together and continued my ride home in 2’nd gear, I couldn’t shift of course.

Thankfully, Mel was outside when I pulled in the driveway and motioned her over. I told her I had a broken leg and I needed her to put down my stand, help me off the bike and take me to the hospital. She thought I was pulling her leg at first since the bike wasn’t hurt and I wasn’t dirty but soon realized I was serious.

I wound up with a bone plate and 7 screws which had to be removed a couple of years later because the screws were backing out and pushing up against my skin. This turned into a medical misadventure which nearly cost my leg and left me on a "wound vac" for months.

Some days are like that I guess.

Whoa ! 

[Jess from VA]

No more dirt roads for me for quite a while.

I've had a few very similar rides on the Valk on dirt roads up here.  They start out OK, but after a while are not OK, and narrower and more deeply rutted with more rocks and mud and harder (or dang near impossible) to turn around.  And all on steep hills.  All while alone (because many of my riding buddies have GPS that tell them DON'T GO DOWN THAT ROAD, or they just flat won't go on them). 

And the other thing on these few forays into God knows where .... you pass the occasional buildings (shacks) that are not abandoned but still occupied, and they are not used to seeing anyone ever come by, and they don't look friendly or wave, and then..... I begin to hear the faint sound of dueling banjos, and that just adds to the butt tightening experience.

Thanks to these experiences (and your stories) I don't go down those unknown roads anymore.  If I had my old DT360 they would be OK, but not the Valk. 

[The emperor has no clothes]

No more dirt roads for me for quite a while.

I've had a few very similar rides on the Valk on dirt roads up here.  They start out OK, but after a while are not OK, and narrower and more deeply rutted with more rocks and mud and harder (or dang near impossible) to turn around.  And all on steep hills.  All while alone (because many of my riding buddies have GPS that tell them DON'T GO DOWN THAT ROAD, or they just flat won't go on them). 

And the other thing on these few forays into God knows where .... you pass the occasional buildings (shacks) that are not abandoned but still occupied, and they are not used to seeing anyone ever come by, and they don't look friendly or wave, and then..... I begin to hear the faint sound of dueling banjos, and that just adds to the butt tightening experience.

Thanks to these experiences (and your stories) I don't go down those unknown roads anymore.  If I had my old DT360 they would be OK, but not the Valk. 

I wish I’d have thought about playing the dueling banjos music while we were on Mark’s hillclimb ride. 

[Jess from VA]

Yeah, it would've been funny. 

But there's a much more secure feeling with 40 other nut-jobs bouncing along with you

[flsix]

Now that was the most fun I had at Inzane last year. Loved that hill.

[DIGGER]

One of a few over the years.

March 2015

Sometimes I'm such a dumbass.

The northerly ride up Nimblewill Gap was much longer than I thought it would be. After a couple of miles I anticipated seeing the top of the mountain around every bend. It took about another mile before I did reach the forest road summit.

Please remember that I'm a gentleman putterer so my top speed coming up the road was about 20 mph and generally was about 10mph so that I could minimize the chance of getting a flat, KLR's run tubed tires.

There's a plaque at the summit of the road commemorating an aircraft crash that happened in 1968.

There's also a view of the downhill section of the forest road leading northwards. We've had a lot of rain recently in north Georgia and it seemed that most of the run off was going down the north side of the mountain, the direction I'm headed. As soon as the descent started the forest road showed signs of water erosion so I walked down to take a look at the lie of the land.

Hmmmm if I keep right to start with and then cross the very shallow gully in the middle I can then make my way down hugging the left side of the dirt road and keep away from the drop off down the side of the mountain.

KLR fired up I start threading my way downhill. Well that was easy, now I can press on and make my way to Two Wheels Only for lunch. Rounding the first downhill bend I see that the track is still washed out and now there are few rocks sticking through the dirt. Remember I  mentioned it had been raining, well rocks on the north side of a mountain tend to “grow” a slippery covering of a variety of lichens and moss. Here we had some fine examples that anyone studying lichenometry would be happy to see. However rubber tires and green slimy, slippery rocks are not happy bedfellows so with a mental girding of loins I start down the obstacle course slowly weaving my way around the green bulges.

Around the next corner I see that the erosion is even more severe and that the center of the track is not suitable for my level of off-road skills so I have to choose the right or left and I can only see about 20 yards before the track disappears around another bend. Well I'll keep to the left away from the drop off and I'll be safe.

Hah! As I round the bend the gully in the center of the track veers sharply left due to an outcrop of rock on the right. This leaves a strip of wet, clayey soil about 12 inches wide with mature young saplings to the left of that. These saplings have whippy leaf covered branches sticking out into the 12 inch safety zone. Now I know that on dry flat blacktop I can ride a 12 inch strip in a perfectly straight line with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back. But on this soil with thin branches whipping at my face and a rear wheel waiting to slide 3 feet down into the gully?

Oh, did I forget to mention that the water erosion was doing its best to make north Georgia's own version of the Grand Canyon. What had started out as a shallow depression in the center of the track was now a 3 feet deep gash zig zagging across the side of the mountain.

There's no room to put the bike on the side stand. There's no room to turn around and go back uphill.

Dismounting from a KLR involves hopping backwards on the right foot whilst sliding the left leg across the saddle until the left foot is clear. Hah! Hopping backwards into the abyss is what I don't want to do. Leaning the bike towards the trees I gingerly get off trying to make sure I don't slip into the waiting maw of the crevasse behind me.

Success. Now all I need to do is start the bike up and using gravity and a little engine power carefully make my way about 10 feet until the strip I'm stranded on widens out. I've decided that if I start to slip into the gully I will push the bike away from me into the trees because I don't want it falling on top of me as I lay in the bottom of the gully. Hopefully the bike wont bounce back off any pliant saplings and smoosh me into the red Georgia clay.

Phew, secure footing and I can get get back on board and prepare for the next obstacle.

Did I mention that we've had a lot of rain. The Forest Service buries 15 inch diameter corrugated pipes across the tracks to allow water run off a safe passage without washing away the track. Well the recent rains we've had have exposed the upper halves of these pipes. These pipes are slippery and you may remember that rubber tires and slippery don't like to go hand in hand. The gully is now on the left of the track which means I have to get over the large corrugated slippery pipes on the right side of the track. That's the side next to the steep downhill, falling off the mountain side part of the track. I hazard a guess that if I just roll over the pipe I will hit the bottom of the bike and possibly crack the engine case so I'm going to have to “hop” the rear wheel over. OK front wheel up and on top of the large slippery metal corrugated pipe. A quick handful of throttle and up and over I go. Bloody hell, I made it.

Now the rocks that are sticking out of the tracks surface are large enough that some kind soul has spray painted the jagged tips with white paint so that the unwary traveler doesn't impale themselves on one. The gully in the track has become fractured with many off shoots and the track now looks like a rock debris field rather than anything a motorized vehicle could traverse.

Once more I'm forced to ride on the drop off side of the track and I'm thankful for the many hours of slow riding practice I've done over the years because clutch, throttle and rear brake are being manipulated very, very carefully. Gravity helps me trickle oh so slowly downhill. Forward motion is good.

A mantra flows through my head, right foot, back brake, no front brake;  right foot, back brake, no front brake; right foot, back brake, no front brake.

Sweat is dripping down my back and oozing from the lining of my helmet – my spare helmet that has a removable liner.

Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.
Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.
Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.
Don't look where you don't want to go. Look where you want to go.

This keeps me from falling off the side of the mountain which is good. Visions of me lying with broken limbs and possums sucking my eyes out at midnight flicker across my brain.

Another 15 yards and I'm back on a relatively smooth surface, one that looks like a rock quarry floor after the explosives have gone BOOM!

More blood, swear and tears and I arrive at the base of the mountain and on to a smooth gravel road.
On to http://www.twowheelsonly.com/ for lunch.

Arriving there I talk with two other dual sport riders and tell them of my morning adventure. One asks why the hell I was riding that side of Nimblewill Gap by myself.

I reply “Sometimes I'm such a dumbass.”.

Geez!

[DIGGER]

Another adventure I have endured was back in the early 1990s.   My riding buddy at the time had a Suzuki Intruder 750cc.  I was riding an old 1971BMW 750 boxer twin.  We rode from Houston to Galveston Tx (50 miles) and caught the Bolivar Ferry to Bolivar Island .  We rode down Bolivar Island to High Island along the coast line to where the road ended and the hyway turns left and goes to Winnie Tx.          We got the bright idea that instead of turning towards Winnie Tx that we would just drive on the beach about 30 miles to Port Arthur Tx.       Big mistake.    The beach got more and more loose sandy beach front and about halfway we are driving about 3 miles an hr with our feet out for balance.    Then once we got past that probably 10 miles from Port Arthur we got into a really bad washboard beach from water runoff.    We are going about 10 miles an hr and the washboard effect is beating our bikes to death.  Suddenly my BMW s frame mounted fairing made a loud pop and my windshield snapped right in half.   Geeeeeez.   Then about 5 miles from Port Arthur Tx my buddies Intruder goes dead.    We discover that the hot terminal of his battery has broken off the battery from the bouncing caused by the washboard effect of the beach.   We are in a fix.   My buddy found that by taking a small piece of driftwood and jamming it on top of the battery post it makes contact again.     We cripple the bikes on into Port Rthur and I told him " Man.....that ride kicked our ass...let's go home....." so we hit I-10 and came home.   Never again.

[The emperor has no clothes]

Now that was the most fun I had at Inzane last year. Loved that hill.

same here 

[Billinva]

Ran out of gas between Hanksville, Utah and Mexican Hat, Utah at 9:00 pm. It was 130 miles between gas stations. Nobody stopped to help. Eleven hours later, after a cold night, a guy gave me a gallon of gas.

Running out of gas might have saved my life. I was headed to a down hill run on the Moki Dugway at night. It was a tricky ride even in the daytime.

[Valkorado]

I had to dig for this old, embarrassing post.

Hate to admit this one. 

Riding back into Colorado from South Dakota on my trusty 99 Shadow Spirit in 2002, I came upon an inviting rest area.  I had been camping, and spent the prior night hunkering down from a downpour in my cramped bivouac.  I was bushed, and the manicured green lawn looked plenty inviting.  Knowing I was going to sack out for awhile, I did something I rarely ever did and haven't done since.  I locked the steering.  After taking a short nap and using the facilities and vending machines I was feeling good for, and apparently thinking about, the trip home.  I remember noticing some truckers watching me from their idling rigs as I fired up the bike, which I had conveniently parked facing the exit.  As I pulled out to turn slightly toward the slab, the bike reminded me the bars were locked by heading the other way.  I'm guessing it was the most idiotic looking 2 mph lowside ever.  It was a manly effort to keep that Shadow upright, but ya can't argue with physics and gravity even when you''re barely moving.  Soooo, I brushed off my pride and said, "darn it" -- or something to that effect.    I picked up my bruised ego and got up to inspect the damage.  Not much, thanks to my highway bar. The right side hard bag took a beating, and, oh NO -- the front brake lever was just a two inch nub. Oh, well, could have been worse.  At least I had that little nub.  Back on the interstate heading toward Denver, I started to relax a bit.  As the traffic started to tighten, I decided to test the nub to get a feel for it.  On the second or third squeeze, that little nub just broke right off in my hand. No front brake. Hmmm, this could get interesting.

And it was.

Let me suffice it to say that the exit ramp into the unfamiliar suburbs -- and dealing with each and every stop light and sign until I found the nearest lodging -- was enough to convince me that I wasn't going anywhere else until I found a new lever.

[Wizzard]

Riding down to Southern In a few years back and on a very busy road not thinking about what I was doing blew through and intersection with a 4 way stop going 70 mph. Realized what I did immediately but luckily those at the sign saw me coming and waited.

[Ice]

We were heading to GOTF in Texas a few years back via Natchez Trace PKWY. Weather reports for the ride were decent a few rainstorms may or may not happen.
We had just pulled into Jackson MS. to get gas, take a short break, etc. when I looked towards the south and saw a very large black cloud, a quick check of the radar on the “smart” phone showed a storm moving towards us at a fast pace and we should be able to shoot under it if we hurried. A quick change to rain gear and off we were.
As soon as we were back on the Trace, the storm hit, a lot harder than the weather had predicted. We were crossing a bridge over the I20 below when the tornado hit and the Valk was literally picked up and slammed back down about 9 feet to the right from where we were a second ago directly on the edge of the bridge (which BTW only had a small concrete wall as a guard from falling on the Interstate). No idea how we stayed on two wheels but we did, the only thought I had at that moment was the next gust will push us off the bridge 20 feet down into traffic. Well the gust never came and I shifted down about two gears and hammered the throttle like a mad man to get off the bridge, splitting traffic along the way.
After about a mile or so, my better half tapped me on the side and told me to slow down; I did not realize we had gotten off the bridge, as I was still death locked on the grips. The severe storm lasted for another 70 miles or so with downed trees along the Trace and no place to hide. If there was an overpass or a shelter of any sort, we missed it, as we could not see 10 feet ahead.
Once we got about 10 miles from Natchez it was sunshine and beautiful weather as if nothing had ever happened.
We survived it and have one hell of a story for it.

[The emperor has no clothes]

We were heading to GOTF in Texas a few years back via Natchez Trace PKWY. Weather reports for the ride were decent a few rainstorms may or may not happen.
We had just pulled into Jackson MS. to get gas, take a short break, etc. when I looked towards the south and saw a very large black cloud, a quick check of the radar on the “smart” phone showed a storm moving towards us at a fast pace and we should be able to shoot under it if we hurried. A quick change to rain gear and off we were.
As soon as we were back on the Trace, the storm hit, a lot harder than the weather had predicted. We were crossing a bridge over the I20 below when the tornado hit and the Valk was literally picked up and slammed back down about 9 feet to the right from where we were a second ago directly on the edge of the bridge (which BTW only had a small concrete wall as a guard from falling on the Interstate). No idea how we stayed on two wheels but we did, the only thought I had at that moment was the next gust will push us off the bridge 20 feet down into traffic. Well the gust never came and I shifted down about two gears and hammered the throttle like a mad man to get off the bridge, splitting traffic along the way.
After about a mile or so, my better half tapped me on the side and told me to slow down; I did not realize we had gotten off the bridge, as I was still death locked on the grips. The severe storm lasted for another 70 miles or so with downed trees along the Trace and no place to hide. If there was an overpass or a shelter of any sort, we missed it, as we could not see 10 feet ahead.
Once we got about 10 miles from Natchez it was sunshine and beautiful weather as if nothing had ever happened.
We survived it and have one hell of a story for it.

wow ! I think we have a winner. (I think I’d have had to get a new seat)

[Valkorado]

We were heading to GOTF in Texas a few years back via Natchez Trace PKWY. Weather reports for the ride were decent a few rainstorms may or may not happen.
We had just pulled into Jackson MS. to get gas, take a short break, etc. when I looked towards the south and saw a very large black cloud, a quick check of the radar on the “smart” phone showed a storm moving towards us at a fast pace and we should be able to shoot under it if we hurried. A quick change to rain gear and off we were.
As soon as we were back on the Trace, the storm hit, a lot harder than the weather had predicted. We were crossing a bridge over the I20 below when the tornado hit and the Valk was literally picked up and slammed back down about 9 feet to the right from where we were a second ago directly on the edge of the bridge (which BTW only had a small concrete wall as a guard from falling on the Interstate). No idea how we stayed on two wheels but we did, the only thought I had at that moment was the next gust will push us off the bridge 20 feet down into traffic. Well the gust never came and I shifted down about two gears and hammered the throttle like a mad man to get off the bridge, splitting traffic along the way.
After about a mile or so, my better half tapped me on the side and told me to slow down; I did not realize we had gotten off the bridge, as I was still death locked on the grips. The severe storm lasted for another 70 miles or so with downed trees along the Trace and no place to hide. If there was an overpass or a shelter of any sort, we missed it, as we could not see 10 feet ahead.
Once we got about 10 miles from Natchez it was sunshine and beautiful weather as if nothing had ever happened.
We survived it and have one hell of a story for it.

Wow,  that's Ridin' the Storm Out!   Glad you kept 'er grounded and out of Oz!

[Serk]

I accidentally rode my Valk into Mexico while I was armed... Did a quick u-turn, talked my way past immigration and have never been more happy to be back on free soil!

[Ice]

We were heading to GOTF in Texas a few years back via Natchez Trace PKWY. Weather reports for the ride were decent a few rainstorms may or may not happen.
We had just pulled into Jackson MS. to get gas, take a short break, etc. when I looked towards the south and saw a very large black cloud, a quick check of the radar on the “smart” phone showed a storm moving towards us at a fast pace and we should be able to shoot under it if we hurried. A quick change to rain gear and off we were.
As soon as we were back on the Trace, the storm hit, a lot harder than the weather had predicted. We were crossing a bridge over the I20 below when the tornado hit and the Valk was literally picked up and slammed back down about 9 feet to the right from where we were a second ago directly on the edge of the bridge (which BTW only had a small concrete wall as a guard from falling on the Interstate). No idea how we stayed on two wheels but we did, the only thought I had at that moment was the next gust will push us off the bridge 20 feet down into traffic. Well the gust never came and I shifted down about two gears and hammered the throttle like a mad man to get off the bridge, splitting traffic along the way.
After about a mile or so, my better half tapped me on the side and told me to slow down; I did not realize we had gotten off the bridge, as I was still death locked on the grips. The severe storm lasted for another 70 miles or so with downed trees along the Trace and no place to hide. If there was an overpass or a shelter of any sort, we missed it, as we could not see 10 feet ahead.
Once we got about 10 miles from Natchez it was sunshine and beautiful weather as if nothing had ever happened.
We survived it and have one hell of a story for it.

wow ! I think we have a winner. (I think I’d have had to get a new seat)

Yeah I needed a cork screw to get the seat out of my arse after that.

[/quote]Wow,  that's Ridin' the Storm Out!   Glad you kept 'er grounded and out of Oz![/quote]
We did not know how bad it really was until four days later on the way home, we saw all the destruction and trees broken in half. To this day I have no idea how we managed not to hit anything. The bad part was there was no place to hide on the Trace.....

[Gryphon Rider]

So far, this is the best thread we've had in as long as I can remember.

I've ridden in (and pulled over in) hail, heavy rain, and lightning. I have felt like I was about to be blown off of an overpass.  I have coasted down a hill into a gas station with an empty tank after miles and miles of nothing.  I have ridden with my left hand on the throttle because my right hand was so tired from long hours on a 400 twin at 6500 RPM.  I have ridden close behind semitrailers in thick foggy darkness with my hand over the brake in anticipation of brake lights in front of me, knowing that if the truck hit the ditch, so would I.  I have never been, however, in what I would call a predicament on a motorcycle, where I had no clue how, or if, I would make it through/out.  I do know the stomach-clenching feeling, however, from youthful misadventures hiking and skiing in the mountains.

I guess I don't have enough solo travel time and I'm too much of a planner/preparer to get myself into true predicaments.

[The emperor has no clothes]

So far, this is the best thread we've had in as long as I can remember.

I've ridden in (and pulled over in) hail, heavy rain, and lightning. I have felt like I was about to be blown off of an overpass.  I have coasted down a hill into a gas station with an empty tank after miles and miles of nothing.  I have ridden with my left hand on the throttle because my right hand was so tired from long hours on a 400 twin at 6500 RPM.  I have ridden close behind semitrailers in thick foggy darkness with my hand over the brake in anticipation of brake lights in front of me, knowing that if the truck hit the ditch, so would I.  I have never been, however, in what I would call a predicament on a motorcycle, where I had no clue how, or if, I would make it through/out.  I do know the stomach-clenching feeling, however, from youthful misadventures hiking and skiing in the mountains.

I guess I don't have enough solo travel time and I'm too much of a planner/preparer to get myself into true predicaments.

Or maybe you are just wiser than many of us.  (it is a good thread)

[DIGGER]

So far, this is the best thread we've had in as long as I can remember.

I've ridden in (and pulled over in) hail, heavy rain, and lightning. I have felt like I was about to be blown off of an overpass.  I have coasted down a hill into a gas station with an empty tank after miles and miles of nothing.  I have ridden with my left hand on the throttle because my right hand was so tired from long hours on a 400 twin at 6500 RPM.  I have ridden close behind semitrailers in thick foggy darkness with my hand over the brake in anticipation of brake lights in front of me, knowing that if the truck hit the ditch, so would I.  I have never been, however, in what I would call a predicament on a motorcycle, where I had no clue how, or if, I would make it through/out.  I do know the stomach-clenching feeling, however, from youthful misadventures hiking and skiing in the mountains.

I guess I don't have enough solo travel time and I'm too much of a planner/preparer to get myself into true predicaments.

In my older age I've become less brave, or willing to take a chance.  I plan more for rides also.   When I leave out on a ride , short or long, me and my motorcycle are ready for the task.  I ride bigger  motorcycles than I used to so you can't afford to get your motorcycle into tight predicaments that you have to man handle your vehicle to keep forward movement.    When I was a young man in the 60's and 70's and 80's and I was riding smaller cc bikes and my body was strong and more manuverable I led my motorcycles on many adventures with lots of memories.  I've crashed,  broken parts ,  ridden down forest trails not knowing where to come out, drug my bike under barb wire fences and pushed out of gas motorcycles long distances in my many adventures of long ago...ha.....each adventure a memory.  I just turned 68 last week and don't know how long in life I will be able ride but I hope to keep making memories as long as I can.....but they will have to be asphalt memories from here on out.

[DIGGER]

I accidentally rode my Valk into Mexico while I was armed... Did a quick u-turn, talked my way past immigration and have never been more happy to be back on free soil!

You were probably looking at some serious jail time if caught.


About a yr before 911 happened my older brother, a business man in a suit and in his 50s , and he has a coceal carry license,  forgot he had his 40 call coceal carry in his briefcase , got nailed in Houston Intercontinental airport at a metal detector station.    He has never been in any kind of trouble.  They took him into the back and he spent next two hrs being interviewed.  End result they allowed him to FedEx his weapon home and put him on the flight going to his destination.  They told him he would be receiving a fine in the mail.    Weeks later he got the fine in the mail.  $1,500 if he didn't contest it and $3,000 if he did fight it and lost.  He paid the $1,500.