My Valkyrie and an old steam engine at Queen Wilhelmina State park.

Texarkana was a rail town, and the past is still evident in the many railroad tracks passing through the old downtown area. As I sit here at my desk thinking about my bike, I can hear train whistles echoing through the ancient buildings. I can also hear the sound of the cars on the tracks. In this canyon of aged bricks and mortar, the sounds echo from the sides of empty buildings that stare with empty eyes of broken glass. While loud, it’s an ethereal sound, seeming to come from another world or time. Somehow the feelings those sounds stir in my soul resonate with the thoughts of my motorcycle.
Those sounds make me want to mount my bike with my wife behind me, and follow the ghostly clacks and whistles to some other place. Riding is far more than simply getting from point A to B. At its best, riding takes you to the place that lonely train whistle comes from. It could be a moonlit desert with the lights of a small town in the distance. It might be a high pass, mists rising from the ditches as it carves its way through a mountain forest. It may be a passage through rolling plains, swept with waving grass as the winds kiss the earth.
It’s not a place you’ll ever actually get to. It’s more like a place you’ll pass through on the way to a dream. It’s a place the stress and troubles of the day have a hard time following you. It’s a place you have to be willing to accept on its own terms.
I enjoy meeting and talking with other motorcyclists. I enjoy going to motorcycle-related events. I’ll even take a short ride with a large group. But the longer I sit in the saddle, the more I find my greatest joy to be those times when it’s just my wife and me. Just the two of us, slowly exploring a lonely winding road. I’ve heard of men who used to ride the rails, not out of financial necessity, but out of spiritual necessity. Men who would take time off from work, hang up the suit and tie, then jump a boxcar. I can understand how that whistle would call to them. It’s an invitation to step out of time and explore the world and yourself. The motorcycle whispers the same siren song. “Let’s go,” it says enticingly. “Leave all of this stuff behind and find freedom and adventure somewhere out there. Or maybe just peace.”

－ Guy Wheatley

Amy Quinn Smith, of Hooks, Texas poses for a portrait outside Whisky
River Harley-Davidson in Texarkana. Local riders are raising money and
organizing a Pink Ride for Smith, a breast cancer survivor.

As a cancer survivor, my life has changed some. While I’m presently cancer free, the lingering, nagging question of “what caused it” is still with me. I now stop and think about things I used to take for granted. Sometimes I pause while in the past I would have charged ahead. I rarely worried about carcinogens or contaminates before. I was quick to touch chemicals and slow to grab a respirator. Not so any more.
And events that would have never registered with me before now catch my attention. The Pink Ride this coming weekend is a good example. Last year this breezed by under my radar, even as it raised $4,000 for a local breast cancer survivor. This year it caught my attention.
This is a local event organized by Diana Rains to help her friend Amy Quinn Smith. Whisky River Harley-Davidson, which sponsored the event last year, is sponsoring it again this year. There is a police-escorted ride from Whisky River to Dwight’s Bikers Dream in New Boston. The entry fee is $35 for the first rider and $15 for the second. After refreshments at Dwight’s, riders will return to Whisky River where there will be an auction to raise money with products donated from local businesses. There will be food, music, vendors and a breast cancer awareness booth.
One of the things that strike me so much about this event is it was started by a local person, sponsored by a local business and calls on locals to help a local. Diana says she knew just whom to go to for help. The motorcycle community loves to ride for a cause. And she’s right, but that only underscores the sense of family of the biking community. I may ride around on my piece of Jap-Crap while Diana putters around on her Hardley-Ableson, but if one of us needs help, we’re both riders.
Kudos to Diana for starting this, Whisky River for sponsoring it, the local businesses that donated items for the auction and the riders who participate. Because of people and events like this, the term “biker” carries a very different connotation now than it did a half century ago.

－ Guy Wheatley

Click here for Texarkana Gazette, Heath Beat article about Amy.

The Harley-Davidson bike that made an epic journey across the
Pacific Ocean. – Inset shows bike before the tsunami.

Epic journeys always stir the imagination. There was Lewis and Clark, Shackleton, Lindbergh, even Milo and Otis. Some journeys are planned, while others are unexpected. Most of these travels are taken by people, but some have involved animals. There will be a story in the news a couple of times every year about some dog or cat, who made their way back to a family after an unfortunate, and usually unexpected, separation. So far the principals of all of the tales I’ve read or heard about were biological creatures.
But now comes the news of a 4,000-mile journey from Japan to Graham Island, off the coast of British Columbia, taken by a Harley-Davidson motorcycle. The trek was taken over water, unusual for a motorcycle, and sans rider. The bike, owned by Japan’s IkuoYokoyam, was stored in a white container. It was washed out to sea during the March 11, 2011, tsunami. It was found on April 18, 2012, by Canadian Peter Mark. Apparently the bike, inside the container box, had ridden the ocean currents across the Pacific. No epic journey is ever leisurely, leaving the one undertaking it unscathed. And this one is no different. When found, the bike was covered in corrosion. It’s unclear whether it will be salvageable. But also, like all epic tales, this one ends with a trip home. The bike will be shipped back to Japan, and the shop that sold it to Mr. Yokoyama will help with the paperwork and storage. The faithful steed, after being ripped away from home, will return to its owner, somewhat worse for wear but undefeated.
There will be those who will snort and say that a piece of trash just washed up on a beach. Some will insist that this in an inanimate object and that imbuing it with the nobility of cause is nothing but anthropomorphizing.
“It’s a machine for crying out loud,” they’ll say. “It can’t have any affection for an owner.”
But those of us who’ve thrown leg over beloved machines know better. They can be cantankerous and pouty when left setting up too long. But they can bring joy and freedom of spirit too. They can share with you eldritch moments that only speak heart to heart. And when the chips are down they can hang in there for you, continuing to run even as they’re hurting to take you the last miles to home.
They don’t come from the factory like this. The soul of a bike comes from its rider. It absorbs, or maybe merely echoes, the emotions we experience as we ride. But eventually the bike will take on those characteristics, and its rider will feel and respond to them.
The reunion will be bittersweet. Mr. Yokoyama will feel joy at the reunion, and sadness for what his bike has suffered. Hopefully the wounds can be healed and they will share many more moments and miles.

－ Guy Wheatley

Corbin ridge-like seat.

A California man is suing BMW and third-party seat maker Corbin-Pacific, claiming that he suffered a 20- month erection as result of the combined products. Henry Wolf of California claims his issue began after a four-hour ride on his 1993 BMW motorcycle with a ridge like seat. He is seeking compensation for lost wages, medical expenses, and emotional distress.
Though I’m certainly not a urologist, I have heard of priapism. The condition is no laughing matter as it can results in the loss of the organ. WebMD lists several causes of the condition including trauma to the spinal cord or genital area. One supposes that is the basis of his claim, that the seat and motorcycle combination somehow caused the underlying trauma. Though there is apparently no other recorded case of this happening, it still would not give Mr. Wolf a winnable claim against the two companies named in his suit, if proven true. They would have to be proven negligent. As this condition seems to have never occurred before in recorded history, it’s hard to see how BMW and/or Corbin could be held negligent for not preventing it. Additionally, one might suppose that if an extensive amount of trauma was occurring over a four-hour period, Mr. Wolf might have decided to dismount the bike.
Many riders are familiar with the effects of long rides with uncomfortable or ill-fitting seats. Usually the problems make themselves known a little further back in the buttocks or lower back. But that much vibration in the crotch can have an effect. I have experienced, and heard other riders speak of, mild stimulation caused by the inevitable vibration of straddling a motorcycle. But the long-term result is usually numbness. I’m just not sure Mr. Wolf’s claim will stand up in court. As far as litigation goes, it won’t last very long if it goes to a jury of motorcycle riders. I’ve seen links to this posted on three different boards, and the reaction has been universally negative. I’ve yet to come across a rider who buys Mr. Wolf’s claim. Most of us don’t believe him, and would like to think our fellow riders are made of better ethical stuff. From what I’ve read, he’s going to have a hard time getting other bikers on his side. A lot of us have ridden a lot of miles, and nobody else has had this problem.
If it is somehow proven that BMW and/or Corbin are responsible for Mr Wolf’s condition, then I suggest dumping any stock you may have in the company that makes Viagra. And you can bet that BMW motorcycle you planned to buy with the Corbin seat will be on back-order for several years.

－ Guy Wheatley

Home page of the Texarkana Bike Night Forum.

I started a little Biker Board for a local group I used to hang out with. At its high point we had about 20 active members, and there would be several posts every day. Sometimes, we’d get into good discussions, and threads would get long or branch off into other topics. But as of this writing the most recent post, not counting my own, is 30 days old. The next most recent post is more than 30 days before that one. I show 23 members, but with no posts, I’m not sure I’d classify any of them as active.
But mine is not the only board fading. The first board I joined more than 10 years ago has a member list of more than 500. I joined it for the camaraderie of enthusiasts of a particular motorcycle, but also for information and help with maintenance. I’ve since joined other forums, usually focusing on a particular model of bike. I found them to be wellsprings of information and support. The format lends itself to the exchange of information. I can post a question on a maintenance thread, and get several responses. And as the thread is a specific question, the responses are usually on topic. The advice is vetted with an erroneous suggestion usually pointed out very quickly by other knowledgeable members. Social interests are also handled with separate threads for each topic. Every meeting, ride or annual gathering will have its own thread. Posts are easy to read and understand as they are threaded by topic and presented sequentially by date. It’s an efficient way to share information.
And, of course, there are those who believe it their purpose in life it to inform the rest of us about what our political or religious opinions should be, but they are relegated to other areas so members can easily avoid if they choose to do so. Moderators will maintain a level of decorum and environment appropriate to the venue. Occasionally a member who will not follow the rules will be removed.
I would find more posts each day than I could keep up with when I first joined. I usually selected only those topics that seemed to hold some interest for me. Now, I can go days at a time without seeing a new post. All of the boards I belong to have seen a decline in activity. So where have all the members gone?
Facebook must certainly account for some of them. I know several people who say they don’t use the boards much any more because they are on Facebook. And that is sad. Facebook has its place, but it did not bring the same ease of use to topics. If you have a lot of friends, topics will quickly scroll off the bottom before you see them. And there seem to be more chronic posters on Facebook than I ever saw on the boards. It seems no matter the topic, there will always be somebody posting every few minutes with some irrelevant or off topic reply. Facebook doesn’t lend itself to long posts on very specific subjects such as jetting the carbs on a third generation Honda Magna with associated photos, video and links to parts. Facebook may be free to join, but if its success comes at the expense of those wonderful old boards, then we’re paying a very high price indeed.

－ Guy Wheatley

A bad idea

A lot of bikers are putting larger gas tanks or auxiliary tanks on their bikes. Others just plan to carry extra gas in a container. Having discovered years ago that my gas tank has a greater range than my bladder, I never gave the idea much thought. I’m usually pulling into a convenience store with gas pumps to discharge some liquid long before I need to take on fuel.
There was one occasion when I was traveling with my son on a bike with a small tank and limited range. We were making the trip in the wee hours of the morning, and I was certain that none of the small towns we were traveling through would have pumps open. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so we bought the smallest gas can we could find, filled it with 2 gallons of gas and strapped it to his luggage rack. Even though the weather was cool and heat wasn’t causing the gas to expand, the jostling ride did. The plastic container quickly ballooned up and gas began to fizz past the cap. We stopped every few miles to transfer as much of the volatile liquid from the plastic can to the gas tank as it would hold. We only got 30 miles out of that 2 gallons. On his little bike, 2 gallons will take you 60 miles, but at least half of the fuel fizzed out past the cap.
I’ve listened as some riders caution others about the dangers of carrying gasoline in containers. Most of them understand that it is dangerous, but the expense and effort of installing either a larger tank or auxiliary tank drive some to consider stuffing extra gas in a container carried in saddle bags or strapped externally. Then the discussion turns to what sort of container to use.
Several people I know recommend several types of small fuel containers. These are made of aluminum and have screw in tops. They feel it is safe to carry gas in these “fuel” containers. Unfortunately, it is not. The specific containers I’ve seen suggested are camp fuel containers. Camp fuel is usually some variant of kerosene. Camp fuels have a relatively high boiling point. (175 degrees c to 325 degrees c for kerosene) A high boiling point means a lower vapor pressure. Thus the fuel doesn’t push as hard against the container walls. Gasoline has a relatively low boiling point (40 degrees c to 220 degrees c) and a high vapor pressure. As I discovered on the run with my son, it puts a lot of stress on the container it is stored in. Underwriters Laboratories tests gasoline containers to a minimum of 25 psi. And even then, gasoline containers are supposed to be vented. These are containers intended to sit stationary out of direct sunlight in a well vented area. They are not to be jostled, exposed to heat, or stored in an enclosed space. I have yet to see a safe, or approved, container for carrying gasoline in a saddle bag or trunk. Those fuel bottles will get weaker and weaker as the gas continues it’s relentless push to escape. Eventually the aluminum will give way. With luck, the only problem will be having the clothing, tools, or food in your saddle bag or trunk soaked in gas. But there is potential for much worse problems. In my estimation, it’s just not worth it.

－ Guy Wheatley

Leaking fork seal on my Valkyrie.

I finally got around to replacing the fork oil in my Magna. And while I was at it, I replaced the stock springs with progressives.
The bike sat in my carport for a week while I worked up the nerve to get started. I’ve only seen this done once before, and that required pulling the tubes out of the triple tree. Reading and researching, I discovered that I had lucked out on my model. On the Magna, there is an oil drain plug on the back of the tube. You don’t even have to remove the wheel. Just put the bike on a lift so that you can lift it, to decompress the tubes before opening the cap. Drain the old oil, reach right in and pull out the old springs, pour in the right amount of oil, put the new springs and spacers in, then replace the plugs and cap. Voila, you’re done.
You do have to cut the new spacers. The optimal length I need is 5.12 inches. The progressive kit included a single 10-inch piece of 1-inch schedule 40 pipe that you are supposed to cut to use as spacers. To keep each one from being a little more than a tenth of an inch short, I just popped down to the hardware store and bought another piece of pipe. Then, you have to add back the correct amount of oil. A little less (521 cc) for the progressive springs than the amount required for the stock springs. But last Sunday, I finally got it done. I was so happy to have both bikes running again.
I decided to ride the Magna for the next couple of weeks because it’s been setting up for a while. So I pulled the Valkyrie up on the sidewalk, inside the gate, where I keep it. I put the cover on it to keep off any dust, or rain that might fall. As I came out this morning, I noticed a spot on the front tire. I often let my little Yorkie out in the front yard to do his business, and my first thought was that he had marked the bike. No such luck. Closer examination revealed it to be fork oil, dripping from a busted seal.
If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

－ Guy Wheatley

A modern twist on chariot races in 1939 at the
Palmerston North Speedway in the Manawatu area of New Zealand.

The heyday of the Roman war chariot was about 1,500 years ago, but they may be coming back. Hopefully they won’t be used to subjugate neighboring nations. But the excitement of careening around a dirt track in a flimsy looking, two-wheeled cart a la Ben Hur, sans biological horses, seems to be calling to some modern gear heads. A company called RomanX is trying to bring back the excitement of bread and circuses, ancient Rome style. It’s just replaced the hay burners with gas burners. Specialized quad machines are harnessed to the front of the ancient-styled chariot, driven by a racer dressed as an ancient Roman warrior. RomanX hopes to bring this to life as a commercial venture with television contracts. Who knows? There are certainly stranger shows on the air.
The people at RomanX aren’t the only ones with this idea. A quick Web search gave several hits of variations on the theme. Most of the other sites and videos I found used standard motorcycles as the “beasts” of burden. Some had riders on the bikes, other modified the bikes to be controlled from the chariot. One group even put plastic horses over the top of the motorcycles. Some of these folks just seemed to be having fun, while others are looking toward some sort of business venture. It’s an interesting idea, but it turns out that it’s not a new idea.
I recently ran across a post of old photos featuring old motorcycles. There were several interesting photos, including extended-fork, chopper-styled bikes going back as far as 1917. But what caught my eye were the old Roman chariots being pulled by motorcycles. I was able to track one of the photos to a 1939 event at Palmerston North Speedway at the A & P show grounds in the Manawatu area of New Zealand. Apparently the show grounds had fallen on hard times and was looking at various new attractions to bolster attendance. It had two “chariots” built by a local company that used two, nine-horsepower, Harley-Davidson motorcycles. The history of the speedway site says that one of the riders, Murray Andrews, attended the 75th Jubilee. It didn’t mention whether he showed up on the chariot. The site says there are no accounts of how the machines performed. But I can see a good bit of dirt being spit from the wheels in the old photo. My guess is they were pretty exciting. I’d have bought a ticket. Ancient Romans captured nations with chariots pulled by one and two horses. I’d imagine that Mr. Andrews and companion were able to capture and audience with their chariots pulled by 18 horses.

－ Guy Wheatley

Editors note: I originally had the location of the A&P Speedway as Takaro, New Zeland. Thanks to Max Rutherford, Secretary/webmaster, Historic Speedway Ass. for setting me straight.

Left side of the 1520 cc, “boxer” engine on my Valkyrie.

The wife, Binky and I took a ride up to the Jonquil Festival a couple of weekends ago. The weather was great and we were just looking for an excuse to ride. We left the house about 12:30 pm and got there in a little less than an hour. We checked out the vendors, bought a few trinkets, showed off Binky in his stroller and just generally enjoyed the weather and atmosphere. By 4:30 we were ready to load up and head for home.
Instead of taking the same road back I headed west on state Highway 73, intending to go back through Ashdown. I made a mistake where 73 intersects state Highway 355. I should have turned north and followed it up to where 355 meets with state Highway 32. Instead I turned south and followed 355 back to Fulton. But the road was pretty, so there’s no real tragedy here. I just had to rerun the part of U.S. Highway 67 from Fulton to Texarkana.
But with Fulton still in my rearview mirror, the bike started to sound strange. It’s hard to describe the sound except to say it sounds harder. It’s as though there is a harder bang when the cylinder fires. At first I wasn’t sure I was really hearing anything, but it got worse and worse. Then it started to slowly lose power. By the time we got to within 5 miles of Texarkana, I had the throttle wide open trying to maintain 55 MPH.
I kept the throttle cranked open trying to shave every mile I could before the bike finally died. I figured that as soon as I let off the gas, it would die and I’d be calling somebody for a ride. Every mile closer I got, was a mile I wouldn’t have to trailer it.
We finally got into town. I hoped that I might get lucky and hit the first few signal lights green. Fat chance. The first one I came to changed to red, just as I got to it. I got in the far right lane and looked for a place to push the bike off the road when it died. I let off the gas expecting to hear the engine sputter and stop. To my pleasant surprise, it idled down and sounded fine. I cranked the throttle a couple of times, winding the engine up to red-line. It revved perfectly, never missing a beat.
I was convinced that the engine was suffering gas starvation. Even though it would rev up in neutral, I figured that I’d have to really pile on the RPMs and slip the clutch to get it moving without dying. The light turned green and I cautiously eased out on the clutch, ready to give it all the gas I could if it started to lug down. But it eased right through the intersection as though there was nothing wrong. I hit several more red lights on the way home, and never had a problem. The bike ran just fine the rest of the way home.
I rode it the 10 blocks to work all week and never had a problem. Sunday the three of us ran about 40 miles up 67, cutting back west at 108, then eventually coming back into town on Summerhill Road. This was as much to check out the bike as it was a joy ride. It seemed to do fine.
That’s not necessarily good news. It might have been a little water in the tank that I finally burned out. Possibly it could have been a clogged vent tube pulling a vacuum on the gas tank. It could have been several things. The problem is, I don’t know what it was. More to the point, I don’t know that it won’t come back. I’d feel much better if I had found something to fix. Now I keep listening to the bike, wondering if it sounds a little strange. Buzzing around town is one thing, but I don’t have the confidence in it yet to load up and take a long trip. And unless I find the cause of that episode, I won’t trust it for some time.
All I can do is ride it until it happens again, or I eventually stop waiting on it to happen. I don’t enjoy not having faith in my bike.

－ Guy Wheatley

My wife Sharon on the Victory.

A rider on a motorcycle forum (Link to VRCC) recently posted he’d found the name and contact information for a previous owner of his bike, scribbled on the inside cover of the owner’s manual. His question to the group was, “Would you mind if the new owner of a bike you had sold contacted you?” There were 18 replies to the thread. Five of them didn’t really address the issue, three were flat-out no, and 10 thought it would be OK. The responses were interesting and give one a little insight about the people expressing those opinions.
Most of the folks who liked the idea had fond memories of something they had sold and wanted to know what happened to it. They still felt an attachment to the thing they’d sold and hoped it was still being used and well taken care of. One respondent mentioned a more pragmatic reason. He had contacted a previous owner and came into free parts the PO no longer needed.
The people who didn’t think it was a good idea mentioned some things I hadn’t thought of. One guy said that he’d bought his bike from an estate and was in no hurry to be able to talk with the previous owner. Another person said that his bike came from a man suffering hard times. He knew the guy didn’t want to sell but simply had no choice. He was afraid contacting this previous owner would only stir up bad memories.
The negative response that most resonated with me was from somebody who’d bought a bike that had been repossessed. My Victory had been a repo. It was an unusual enough brand in this area the previous owner would have recognized it immediately if he’d spotted me on it. I always found that a bit disconcerting, and felt a little uneasy when ever I caught somebody looking at the bike. But I did get attached to it. Even though I sold it in order to get my beloved Valkyrie, I still wanted to believe that it would be ridden and loved by the new owner. I wrote about the sale in a previous blog. (Big Vic is gone.) I was fortunate in that not only did I fully believe that the new owner would care for the bike as much as I had, but it turns out he goes to the bikers’ church just a few blocks from my house. (Link to blog – It ain’t a sin to be in the wind.) I get to see Big Vic almost every Sunday and know, despite a gender change, (They call it a her and named it Victoria.) he’s well taken care of.
I’ve sold two other bikes, both little 250 starter bikes. The NightHawk went to an elderly gentleman who was coming back to bikes for the first time in more than 30 years because of rising gas prices. I had fond memories of the NightHawk. I was able to ride a similar model when I took the Motorcycle Safety Foundation course. I wouldn’t mind knowing what became of it. I hope it’s a good story.
The other little 250 was a Diamio we bough for my wife to learn to ride. It had a few issues that could, and should, have been quickly remedied by the dealer. But the dealer experience was so bad I eventually came to despise this little machine. Though I eventually gained enough wrenching experience to be able to take care of the problems myself, my wife gave up trying to learn before I was able to get it ridable. I sold the bike with full disclosure and encouraged the buyer to contact me if he had any trouble. I never heard from him and can only assume/hope that things went well for him. I wouldn’t mind knowing for sure how it turned out.
Reading the comments on the board and examining my feelings about the bikes I’ve sold, I’ve come to realize a little part of us goes with the bike as it passes on to the next owner. And I think I can detect at least a little of my Valkyrie’s previous owner. He and his wife rode a lot, putting more miles on it in their first few months than I have in the years I’ve owned it. This model is often referred to as a “Phat Lady.” I can promise you she does get pouty and temperamental when she’s been ignored for too long. But like a real lady, she can get your heart pounding when you give her the attention she deserves.
I don’t plan to ever sell the Valkyrie or the Magna, so contact from a future owner is never likely to be an issue. There is too much of my soul now living in those bikes for me to ever let them go.

－ Guy Wheatley