OK, the truth? I should have stayed home. First off, no one was hurt. But it was "one of those days"... there are no pictures, so break out you're reading glasses ladies, and dust of those mad word understanding skillz!
We started bickering about start times earlier in the week, settling on a 9AM start out of Starbucks in Snoqualmie Ridge (Washington State, United States, North America, Planet Earth). I arrive dearly to see a few of the lads there, ordered my latte, and things went downhill from there. The latte was horrible, which is to say, about normal for Starbucks.
Once we're all assembled, we ride a lap around the lot to get lined up, our buddy Dave is in the lead and begins to pull out of the parking lot, with me behind. Or I thought he was pulling out. See, I thought he was turning right, accelerating and when I cleared left, I started to release my clutch and add power. As I look back, I see the shiny backside of his KTM 1190 suddenly WAY too close. Two fistfuls of clutch and brake net up a banged up pannier on his bike, a bent license plate, Dave hopping off the KTM and the KTM kissing asphalt.
Now, he did a mighty super-hero-esque dance as he evaded the sudden danger zone formerly known as "his bike". But, alas, the damage was done. I'd hit my friend's bike and bent up some farkles.
We ran to his place to ditch his panniers, then circled back to meet the group and restart the day, with me more than a little bit embarrassed by my foolish mistake.
During the ride to the I90, I notice that in addition to my shattered front fender, the windshield support bracket that holds the dash et all up on the Tenere is also shattered - still a bit intact, but broken. Later inspection in Rosalyn tells me the whole cowl is slightly skewed and twisted. Upon hitting my brakes at 3 mph, the front end dived down, so my cowl was what head-butted Dave's pannier.
In fairness to Yamaha, this could have been weakened by a get-off last summer in Gifford Pinchot, so there could have been a fracture in there just waiting to be pried on. Right now, a light visual inspection - without any tear down - sees me sitting at about $200 in plastic parts, assuming I don't repair/paint the big scratch on the cowl itself. Dave is looking at least a new pannier - he says he can pound it out, I'm pushing to replace the thing and get him back to closer to "BDDS" status. (before dumbass duane struck)
Now, back to the I90...
The front of our group pulls over on the ramp to wait for everyone else to catch up. And 7 cycles of lights later, they emerge...
Talking it through in Rosalyn (still in Washington state here...), we learn that another bike (riding two up) fell over. A jogger jumped across the intersection in front of them just as the rider was beginning to let out the clutch and add throttle. He saw here in the corner of his eye, grabbed two fists, the bike stopped and with the steering turned and bike already starting to lean over, gravity took over...timber! No damage, no injuries.
Sigh...I swear, I was ready to just turn around right then and there and go home, part out the bike and find a new hobby.
Instead, I found gear after gear until there were no more and the world was an 80 mph blur. Remarkably (or expectedly, depending on your POV & experience), the Tenere rode like a champ. Everything remained solid, no drama, just churned through the miles. Up at Snoqualmie Pass, there was scant snow in evidence, but a float plane was practicing touch & goes on the lake. It was fun to see he was only flying at about 74 MPH, matching our speed. Or we were flying at 74 MPH matching his speed. I dunno - we did slow for the Smokies, however...
Eventually we pulled off towards Rosalyn and noted it was a tad chilly (43 degrees) even with heated gear. A quick coffee later, we had a plan to hit Leavenworth for lunch. Little did I know this was to prove a bit dramatic for me, in my own mind...
I think it's 97 we blasted - and I mean blasted - across to head towards Leavenworth. Sidebar here...does anyone know the actual fuel economy of a Super Tenere with wide panniers "at speed"? Without going into detail of the "at speed" part, lemme just say this. Words such as "drinks", "guzzles" or "inhales" would not be far from the truth. Dave on his KTM (with his 150 hp) set an "elevated" pace. I gamely followed. Passing lanes were exploited with gusto and what's normally a 45-ish minute drive...wasn't.
Eventually a lone FJR began appearing in my mirrors and at the junction with highway 2 we rested to allow the group to form. I'd say the Tenere made a good account for itself, given it was the "weakest" bike on the tour yesterday. 100 hp, a fully upgraded suspension and knobbies. Just what's needed to strafe canyons, apparently...LOL
Now, I was, in my delusion, under the impression that "let's go to Leavenworth" and "we'll take the back way" meant we'd take a back road INTO Leavenworth. It should be noted I've been riding with this crew for over 5 years now, and have, apparently, yet to learn the lesson around seeking clarity. Because, had I, I would have opted to GO GET GAS right then and there. As it was, it wasn't until I realized our meanderings through denuded grape vines took us onto the Chumstick Highway that I realized I was going to need to do some basic math - stat.
Now, I couldn't exactly recall how much fuel a fully laden swallow could carry...er, sorry...mixing in my Monty Python there...that is to say, I couldn't recall the fuel capacity of my Tenere (It's 6.1 gallons, btw). Not recalling this yesterday, I settled on around 5.5 gallons. I'd LONG since been watching the reserve indicator merrily blinking at me, sealing my fate in...who the f**k knew how many miles, because as clever as these bikes are, they can't tell me RANGE TO EMPTY yet. They're really, really good, though, at telling you how far you've ridden AFTER they started telling you to get gas!
So what to do? At 10 miles into reserve, I wasn't worried. A 15, as we passed through a small community, I was scanning for a pump. None. At 20 I was starting to formulate a plan of filling time until gas found me. Then I saw it!
Redemption! Surely we'd turn here! the sign said Peshastin/Leavenworth, and we were going to Leavenworth, right?
Wrong...and so right then and there I decided that Sunday was a shitty day of riding.
Resigned to my fate, and waiting the tell-take lurch of a staggering fuel system, I began to slow my pace from "stately" to downright "matriarchal", encouraging the guys behind me to pass me. Dave Black, riding sweep, that clever old bugger - he knew. He was laughing at me - I could tell. I just knew it. Like a twin knows when the other twin stubs their toe, I knew my fellow rider was chuckling at me...
I was dead certain. I mean 100% sure I would never have enough fuel to make it back into Leavenworth, never mind Skykomish, for fuel.
The road was coming to an end ahead of us, and I began to wonder if I was starting to hallucinate? No, I'd drank enough water, had enough to eat. but damned if that didn't look like the yellow and red/orange of a Shell station I was seeing through the trees ahead!
F**K me! I'd totally forgotten about the station next to the 59'r Diner in the middle of exactly nowhere! Normally I'm not prone to discussion inside my helmet - inside my own head, yes, but inside the helmet with spoken words and sounds only I could hear - no, that's a sign of a pending breakdown...
After stopping to check traffic, I accelerated like a banshee across the intersection, fairly DARING the bike to run out of gas that that point. 4.89 gallons later, I swear the bike was smiling. I'd never been that far into reserve before, with "that far" being a mere 21.7 miles. Some basic math this morning proved to me I should have had another 20 - 30 miles to go before truly being on the verge of empty.
After lunch at the 59'r Diner (where in 2014, they served over 38,700 milkshakes!!!), the group split, with some heading back across 97 to their zip codes, and 4 of us making for the Sultan Bakery. To get there, however, we took the Reiter Road - and a more beautiful ride I haven't been on in a while! The area is fabulous, and if you can live with the green growth across much of the asphalt in the turns, the riding was superb! We even saw some guys rock climbing a few hundred feet up a sheer rock face. I immediately realized what a safe sport motorcycling is...perverse as THAT logic is...LOL
The stop at the Bakery was followed with a spirited romp and roll across Ben Howard, God bless him for laying down and spreading out as he does, across the hills, then a few minutes on the Old #2 saw me pealing off for home.
In the end, I was grateful I decided to finish the day's ride, instead of giving into my embarrassment and bailing earlier in the day. I'm still deeply regretful for damaging my friend's bike and for potentially placing him in harms way. Space. That's the lesson here. Space and distance. A thousand different things could have happened yesterday and that moment would have been different. Of the few in my control, keeping a greater distance would have turned that bump into a near miss. Thankfully, other than bent aluminum and broken plastic, no injuries were sustained. I'm grateful for that, and will remain more vigilant in the future.
duane
We started bickering about start times earlier in the week, settling on a 9AM start out of Starbucks in Snoqualmie Ridge (Washington State, United States, North America, Planet Earth). I arrive dearly to see a few of the lads there, ordered my latte, and things went downhill from there. The latte was horrible, which is to say, about normal for Starbucks.
Once we're all assembled, we ride a lap around the lot to get lined up, our buddy Dave is in the lead and begins to pull out of the parking lot, with me behind. Or I thought he was pulling out. See, I thought he was turning right, accelerating and when I cleared left, I started to release my clutch and add power. As I look back, I see the shiny backside of his KTM 1190 suddenly WAY too close. Two fistfuls of clutch and brake net up a banged up pannier on his bike, a bent license plate, Dave hopping off the KTM and the KTM kissing asphalt.
Now, he did a mighty super-hero-esque dance as he evaded the sudden danger zone formerly known as "his bike". But, alas, the damage was done. I'd hit my friend's bike and bent up some farkles.
We ran to his place to ditch his panniers, then circled back to meet the group and restart the day, with me more than a little bit embarrassed by my foolish mistake.During the ride to the I90, I notice that in addition to my shattered front fender, the windshield support bracket that holds the dash et all up on the Tenere is also shattered - still a bit intact, but broken. Later inspection in Rosalyn tells me the whole cowl is slightly skewed and twisted. Upon hitting my brakes at 3 mph, the front end dived down, so my cowl was what head-butted Dave's pannier.
In fairness to Yamaha, this could have been weakened by a get-off last summer in Gifford Pinchot, so there could have been a fracture in there just waiting to be pried on. Right now, a light visual inspection - without any tear down - sees me sitting at about $200 in plastic parts, assuming I don't repair/paint the big scratch on the cowl itself. Dave is looking at least a new pannier - he says he can pound it out, I'm pushing to replace the thing and get him back to closer to "BDDS" status. (before dumbass duane struck)
Now, back to the I90...
The front of our group pulls over on the ramp to wait for everyone else to catch up. And 7 cycles of lights later, they emerge...
Talking it through in Rosalyn (still in Washington state here...), we learn that another bike (riding two up) fell over. A jogger jumped across the intersection in front of them just as the rider was beginning to let out the clutch and add throttle. He saw here in the corner of his eye, grabbed two fists, the bike stopped and with the steering turned and bike already starting to lean over, gravity took over...timber! No damage, no injuries.
Sigh...I swear, I was ready to just turn around right then and there and go home, part out the bike and find a new hobby.
Instead, I found gear after gear until there were no more and the world was an 80 mph blur. Remarkably (or expectedly, depending on your POV & experience), the Tenere rode like a champ. Everything remained solid, no drama, just churned through the miles. Up at Snoqualmie Pass, there was scant snow in evidence, but a float plane was practicing touch & goes on the lake. It was fun to see he was only flying at about 74 MPH, matching our speed. Or we were flying at 74 MPH matching his speed. I dunno - we did slow for the Smokies, however...
Eventually we pulled off towards Rosalyn and noted it was a tad chilly (43 degrees) even with heated gear. A quick coffee later, we had a plan to hit Leavenworth for lunch. Little did I know this was to prove a bit dramatic for me, in my own mind...
I think it's 97 we blasted - and I mean blasted - across to head towards Leavenworth. Sidebar here...does anyone know the actual fuel economy of a Super Tenere with wide panniers "at speed"? Without going into detail of the "at speed" part, lemme just say this. Words such as "drinks", "guzzles" or "inhales" would not be far from the truth. Dave on his KTM (with his 150 hp) set an "elevated" pace. I gamely followed. Passing lanes were exploited with gusto and what's normally a 45-ish minute drive...wasn't.
Eventually a lone FJR began appearing in my mirrors and at the junction with highway 2 we rested to allow the group to form. I'd say the Tenere made a good account for itself, given it was the "weakest" bike on the tour yesterday.
100 hp, a fully upgraded suspension and knobbies. Just what's needed to strafe canyons, apparently...LOLNow, I was, in my delusion, under the impression that "let's go to Leavenworth" and "we'll take the back way" meant we'd take a back road INTO Leavenworth. It should be noted I've been riding with this crew for over 5 years now, and have, apparently, yet to learn the lesson around seeking clarity. Because, had I, I would have opted to GO GET GAS right then and there. As it was, it wasn't until I realized our meanderings through denuded grape vines took us onto the Chumstick Highway that I realized I was going to need to do some basic math - stat.
Now, I couldn't exactly recall how much fuel a fully laden swallow could carry...er, sorry...mixing in my Monty Python there...that is to say, I couldn't recall the fuel capacity of my Tenere (It's 6.1 gallons, btw). Not recalling this yesterday, I settled on around 5.5 gallons. I'd LONG since been watching the reserve indicator merrily blinking at me, sealing my fate in...who the f**k knew how many miles, because as clever as these bikes are, they can't tell me RANGE TO EMPTY yet. They're really, really good, though, at telling you how far you've ridden AFTER they started telling you to get gas!
So what to do? At 10 miles into reserve, I wasn't worried. A 15, as we passed through a small community, I was scanning for a pump. None. At 20 I was starting to formulate a plan of filling time until gas found me. Then I saw it!
Redemption! Surely we'd turn here! the sign said Peshastin/Leavenworth, and we were going to Leavenworth, right?
Wrong...and so right then and there I decided that Sunday was a shitty day of riding.
Resigned to my fate, and waiting the tell-take lurch of a staggering fuel system, I began to slow my pace from "stately" to downright "matriarchal", encouraging the guys behind me to pass me. Dave Black, riding sweep, that clever old bugger - he knew. He was laughing at me - I could tell. I just knew it. Like a twin knows when the other twin stubs their toe, I knew my fellow rider was chuckling at me...
I was dead certain. I mean 100% sure I would never have enough fuel to make it back into Leavenworth, never mind Skykomish, for fuel.
The road was coming to an end ahead of us, and I began to wonder if I was starting to hallucinate? No, I'd drank enough water, had enough to eat. but damned if that didn't look like the yellow and red/orange of a Shell station I was seeing through the trees ahead!
F**K me! I'd totally forgotten about the station next to the 59'r Diner in the middle of exactly nowhere! Normally I'm not prone to discussion inside my helmet - inside my own head, yes, but inside the helmet with spoken words and sounds only I could hear - no, that's a sign of a pending breakdown...
After stopping to check traffic, I accelerated like a banshee across the intersection, fairly DARING the bike to run out of gas that that point. 4.89 gallons later, I swear the bike was smiling. I'd never been that far into reserve before, with "that far" being a mere 21.7 miles. Some basic math this morning proved to me I should have had another 20 - 30 miles to go before truly being on the verge of empty.
After lunch at the 59'r Diner (where in 2014, they served over 38,700 milkshakes!!!), the group split, with some heading back across 97 to their zip codes, and 4 of us making for the Sultan Bakery. To get there, however, we took the Reiter Road - and a more beautiful ride I haven't been on in a while! The area is fabulous, and if you can live with the green growth across much of the asphalt in the turns, the riding was superb! We even saw some guys rock climbing a few hundred feet up a sheer rock face. I immediately realized what a safe sport motorcycling is...perverse as THAT logic is...LOL
The stop at the Bakery was followed with a spirited romp and roll across Ben Howard, God bless him for laying down and spreading out as he does, across the hills, then a few minutes on the Old #2 saw me pealing off for home.
In the end, I was grateful I decided to finish the day's ride, instead of giving into my embarrassment and bailing earlier in the day. I'm still deeply regretful for damaging my friend's bike and for potentially placing him in harms way. Space. That's the lesson here. Space and distance. A thousand different things could have happened yesterday and that moment would have been different. Of the few in my control, keeping a greater distance would have turned that bump into a near miss. Thankfully, other than bent aluminum and broken plastic, no injuries were sustained. I'm grateful for that, and will remain more vigilant in the future.
duane
