I Lost 117 Pounds in One Week!

The 1982 Yamaha IT-175J.
When I was 16 I was dying for one of these, and I read through a sales brochure I'd gotten from the local Yamaha dealer about a trillion times.

It's sometimes tough finding a good pic on the Internet of the bikes I've had in the past.
The above pic is the best one I could find in the 10 minutes I allowed myself to search for one.
It's an action shot from the 1982 test article from Dirt Bike magazine (and I read that one a trillion times, too), but at least it shows the bike in brand-new condition, where the ones I saw from doing a Google search were well-used and looked like shit, or were not-exactly-as-they-were-when-new restorations.

I bought this bike used around 1990.
Around this time, I'm not able to remember exactly what bikes I had during what years because I was making a habit of buying, repairing, riding, and selling them fairly regularly.
I didn't do this to make money (and didn't), but was instead a hobby.
I liked doing it.

The IT-175J was a fantastic bike.
Basically, it was the 1982 version of the bike I ride in the Pachaug rock pile these days, a bike made for trail riding, racing off-road on trails or in the deserts of the south west, and just general fun riding.
Back then, like I wrote in an earlier post, all of the real off-road bikes were 2-strokes, or at least that was the consensus with most riders.
This bike was light, had a great engine with low end, a punchy midrange, and a good top end, a good suspension at both ends, handled very well, and gave the rider (me) a great feel.
It felt like a real dirt bike, as it should have because that's what it was sold as.
If I had one of these bikes today, and I could somehow get a license plate on the back of it, I wouldn't hesitate to ride it out in Pachaug.
In fact, I believe it would be a great bike for that, even though it would be 28 years old, now.

Off to jerk,
-John

116 Days Until Christmas

We're in the later stages of summer, and the days are noticeably shorter, ain't they?
Oh, well.
At least there's lots of good dirt bike riding weather coming up, with the prime weather in October and November, all the way until around December 1st.
After that, the ground starts to regularly freeze overnight, which makes traction less good.
Fingers tend to get cold, too.

Things at work are slowing down, too, as it always does when we reach the end of summer.
Even though the calendar says summer won't end until September 23, after Labor Day (September 6th), most people consider it done in their minds.
One good thing about this is that I don't have to camp out at work until some ungodly hour just to get my day's work done.
God, I really dislike doing that.
Luckily for me, I was able to work with a pair of very nice assistants during the peak months.
They were fantastic people, and they actually gave a shit about doing the job properly.
I'm very grateful - lucky, even - to have worked with them this season, and I hope to hell they realize this.
To me, it was a big help, and a big deal. :)

Off to jerk,
-John

I Just Smoked 115 Joints and I'm Blasted

I'd imagine that this guy is the one who spoke those words of this post's title.
Naaaah, I'm being too stereotypical.
Just because the guy looks like an old hip-dip Harley rider doesn't mean he smokes so much pot, all of his clothes reek of it.
He probably chugs down booze like it's water, instead.
Yeah, that's it.
That stuff's real good for you, too.
Especially when you get older, and we all get older.

I went on another street ride with my old buddy on my WR-250R, yesterday, and it was a good time.
I led the way this time and took us down roads that I know, but since I felt my buddy did not know them, I kept the speed down a notch.
Oh, well.

While we were gassing-up at the beginning of the ride, a couple of Harley hip-dips pulled up to me, and the head hip-dip asked if I lived around there.
I asked why that mattered, and he said, "I'm looking for the head shop."
You all know what a head shop is, right?
It's a store that sells stuff you need to do drugs, like bongs, pipes, rolling papers, and whatever else drug addicts spend their money on.

Anyway, I wanted to laugh and tell the guy to quit doing drugs since he looked ready for retirement age, but, I was nice and asked the name of the shop (like I really cared).
"Cloud 9", the hippie-dippie replied.
I was nice and actually told him how to get in the general area.
I've been past that hole-in-the-wall a few times, but, unfortunately for the two drug-using hip-dips, I couldn't tell them how to arrive at the doorstep, which, judging by the looks of them, they really, really wanted.
Considering how I really, really dislike drugs and the thought of taking them, I did my hip-dip good deed for the year.

I just came back from my Sunday Pachaug rock pile ride, and it was another good one.
The fire breather WR-250FY continues to impress and feel like a fine dirt bike.
The additional air intake area on the top of the airbox (which I detailed a few posts back - go look it up) gave a bit more power with a corresponding bit more intake noise, which was expected.
I think it's a worthwhile trade, and I think I'll keep the bike this way.

One thing I saw today was that within the past two weeks (after my last ride in the Pachaug forest), some state/DEP/Nazi with a bulldozer made it more difficult for motorized vehicles to enter a particular area of the forest.
It's probably due to some loser (which I saw two weeks ago) getting his friggin pickup truck stuck out in the wood while following the rough dirt road that winds it's way through the woods.
Thanks, you asshole.
Now, because you were too dumb to realize your piece of shit street pickup truck wouldn't make it all the way through the trail and you got it stuck real good and required assistance to remove it from where you sunk it (probably getting the state of CT. DEP (AKA Pachaug forest tree police) involved, too), the DEP decided it needed to block the entrance onto the trail.

Good going, you asshole meathead.
Keep your sorry ass off the goddam trail, OK?
You obviously are causing trouble, and I don't want the friggin' DEP gods-of-the-forest on my case because they assume I'm a moron like you are.
Jezzus!
Now, see what you did, you retard?
You made me use foul language.

-John

My Grandma Drives at 114 MPH

The 1983 Yamaha TT-600K.
Big single-cylindered 4-stroke dirt bike made for general off-road use, like trail riding, popping big wheelies, and fooling around on a makeshift motocross track.
I bought one of these somewhere around 1990.
It was sitting in a shed, neglected and looking beat-up, and making a bad-sounding "thunk" noise from the engine when you moved the kick starter lever.
Still, I bought it and brought it home.

Turns out that the noise from the engine was simply the big nut on the end of the crankshaft that fastens the gear which drives the clutch.
Somebody was in there and didn't properly tighten it, so the gear was wobbling back and forth, making the noise.
Once I took care of that, and of course went through the entire bike to bring it up to snuff, I had myself a fun, heavy, extremely torquey dirt bike.

By motocross bike standards, it was very heavy, weighing about 275 pounds, dry.
However, once you become used to the weight from that massive engine, it is a fun bike to ride, throwing clumps of dirt off the rear tire with ease and doing wheelies like it's nobody's business.
I rode the bike for at least a year, never having any trouble with it, but certainly having a lot of fun on it.
The bike felt solid with good stability over rough ground, a good suspension, very good brakes, and was very easy to start, something that other big, kick start 4-strokes have a reputation of not having.
In fact, if I were to run across another one for a fair price, I'd be tempted to buy it.
It left a good impression in my head.

Off to jerk for another freebee 1/2 day Saturday,
-John

Want to See my Collection of 113 tickets?

Pretty soon, ALL public land will have signs like this posted at the entrances.
In fact, I believe that the signs will say "CLOSED TO ALL", motorized vehicle or not.
This means they want you out of any place other than where they want you to stay.
Like cattle.
Sounds pretty, doesn't it?

I really believe that's what the elite snobs of the world - the guys you never see or hear from, but really own everything like the natural resources without you knowing it - have in store.
Gradually, under the guise of environmentalism, they're grabbing land and simply posting it as off limits to you - period.
I'll never believe that any wealthy and powerful snob (who believes they're MUCH better than you ever will be, don't you ever forget) truly gives half a shit about the so-called fragile environment.
Why?
Because these liars created this whole environmental movement just for this purpose:
To use as the big excuse to do what they want to do.
Why do you think kids in schools today are being taught that mankind (that's you and me) is the whole reason for this supposed fragile environment, and we must give up this, that, and the other thing in order to stop the damage we're doing?
Yes, give up the right to walk on this piece of land, and give up any spare money you have left over in order to pay your carbon taxes, which are coming down the pike real soon.
Yeah, people, you should be ashamed of even breathing.

Are you seeing my point to the above sign?
The elite snobs of the world would just love it if the retards with the junk genes (you and me), the ones who aren't evolved like they are because we've inherited our junk genes from our parents and grandparents and great grandparents, would simply die and let them have the world for themselves and their offspring, the ones who truly deserve it.

What you think about that notion, huh?

Off to jerk,
-John

I Have a Collection of 112 Cracker Jack Prizes

The 1987 Yamaha TW-200T, even though the pic says 1989.
This was my next motorcycle after the TT-225S, and another brand-new one.
It was a dual-purpose bike, one that was supposed to be a street-legal version of the Yamaha BW-200 models, which were dirt bikes with big ATV-style balloon tires.

I liked the TW because it was very good at slow-paced trail riding and trail blazing.
That is:
Making your way through the woods where there wasn't even a trail to begin with.
It excelled at this because it had a low seat height, sharp turning radius, gentle and torquey power delivery, and the fat tires gripped the ground out in the middle of the woods very well.
It felt right at home snaking the way through trees, over ruined stone walls, and up the side of a steep hill out in the middle of nowhere.

I had that bike for about a year, and had a lot of trail riding fun on it.
As the pic shows, it wasn't a YZ, but that wasn't the intended purpose of the bike - going at a much slower pace was.
The trick was to have fun at a much slower pace, so that's why I'd go for the gnarly woods with the bike.

I had this bike when I took a job at my local Honda/Yamaha/Kawasaki dealer, a place called Central Sports.
Now, THAT deserves a few posts all of it's very own. :)

I think I'll actually be able to ride the WR-250R into work this morning.
God.

Off to jerk,
-John

111 Calories Per Mouthful

Do a Google image search for "dual purpose bike" and see what you get.

I did, and now I feel like I need a barf bag.

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Note:

If you ever wonder why the spacing of these paragraphs seems to very from day-to-day, it's because this blog website is inconsistant with how the post ends up looking once I submit it.

For today, for example, I had to add these funny dotted lines (again) in order to break the paragraphs up instead of having it displayed as one big paragraph.

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I often complain about this subject, but it's because it goes against my belief in motorcycles, and remember, motorcycles are a big part of my life.

What does the above bike look like to you?

Remember that a dual-purpose bike is one meant to ride both on the street and in the dirt.

If you're like me, you see a full-on street-only bike in that picture.

In fact, not too long ago, you'd a' been laughed at for even suggesting the bike shown should be ridden off-road because, to people who really want to enjoy dirt riding, it's obscenely big and heavy.

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But, it goes to show how marketing (brainwashing) can change minds.

The above bike is still just a street bike with semi-dirt-bike styling, but people eagerly take to these things and gladly call them adventure bikes.

The only bit of sense I can make out of this kind of bike is that you use it 99% on the street, and take the occasional dirt road.

I think the "adventure" part comes in when you decide to roll the dice and try something that looks a bit rougher, like a bumpy power line road that a 4X4 truck could still take.

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No, the thought of riding that kind of bike will probably never sit well with me, because to me, any time you're off the excellent traction of the pavement and the glass-smooth surface of the pavement, you're simply trying not to crash this adventure bike that's really a street bike.

Where's the fun in that?

And you know what?

I expect that the majority of test riders writing silly review articles for magazines and E-zines that give these bikes good reviews simply turn the blinders on, write a positive article, and expect to keep their jobs.

I'd be curious to know what they believe the truth is, and it's probably something quite different than what they tell you and me in these road test articles, which are really a form of marketing to sell the friggin' bikes to start with.

Don't forget:

Without the motorcycles manufacturer selling bikes and staying in the motorcycle business to start with, the guy doing the article wouldn't have a job there in the first place.

You have to make the manufacturer look reasonably good.

Or else.

Just imagine how much of a B.S. artist the manufacturer rep is.

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It's another drizzly day, so it looks like another drive to work in my clammy-but-trusty Ranger.

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Off to jerk,

-John

110 Bottles of Beer Thrown on the Back Seat

"You see that, Billy Bob?"
"Yes, I did! She done blowed up reeeeeeeal good!"

Well, the master mechanic with his unexplainable clickity-clack transmission noises posted some pics of his troublesome gears.

There were some real nice rounded-off gear dogs and slots on the side of the gears, too.

Hmmmmm.

What a surprise that was (to him).

The only thing left to do in this saga now, other than replacing the damaged parts and putting it back together, is to tell the world how he'd never seen or heard of that weird shit, before.

I like to get a chuckle out of (what I think is) silly motorcycle message board tomfoolery, but, I can also get some useful information out of them, too.

For example, just Sunday evening, a guy wrote something that I'd been wondering about on-and-off since I'd bought my firebreather WR-250FY last November.

See, when a WR-250F rolls off a brand-new showroom, it runs and has engine performance only at a fraction of what it's capable of.

This is due to what everyone knows as EPA regulations, but I like to call them ridiculous tree-hugger regs.

Basically, and supposedly to prolong the life of the Earth's extremely fragile environment, the bike is all choked-up with air intake restrictions, lean carburetor settings, and a plugged-up exhaust muffler.

Even the Yamaha factory in Japan, and the USA branch known as Yamaha Motor Corp., USA, has some real men that like motorcycles left in their employment that are well aware these silly regulations remove the performance from your WR-250F.

Because of this, Yamaha Motor Corp., USA makes available a little kit of parts with nice instructions that will remove these gay restrictions and have your nice, new WR-250F running as it would have if not for these tree-hugger, brainwashed, pro-environmental, pro-fascist, pro-Earth worshipping and new-age faggot EPA regulations.

I bought my WR-250FY used (it was relatively little used), but the previous owner only did some of the restrictions removal (known by riders as "uncorking" the bike).

When I got my hands on it, I set out to finish the uncorking, and bought that nice little kit from Yamaha Motor Corp., USA.

The instructions tell you to remove these gay-assed air intake silencers that everyone calls snorkels.

The snorkels sit on top of the air filter box, and after they're removed, you're left with two triangular-shaped holes sitting there all nice and pretty.

I ran the bike like this since I got it because the previous owner removed the snorkels and left the bike as described above.

However, I noticed that the top of the air filter box (also known as the airbox) seemed to have a feature that, after removing a few more screws, would allow the entire top part where the triangular snorkel holes were to be completely removed, opening-up the top of the airbox even more.

I thought about investigating this, but, since I felt my WR-250FY was breathing fire pretty darned good as it was after I installed the uncorking kit, I left it as it was.

Well, on Sunday, this guy who wrote a post on a message board showed a few pics of this, and showed that, yes, indeedy, that top panel of the airbox will indeed come off, leaving a nice-looking hole for intake air.

This is all in the name of better engine performance.

Well, I did the same after jerk last night, and this Sunday (weather permitting), I'll be tryin' 'er out. :)

Off to jerk,

-John

I Changed My Mind - I Spent $109 on a New One

Hmmmmm.
Leroy took his engine apart, looking for the reason of his bike suddenly quitting running while out riding with his pals Dumbass and Retardo.
He still hasn't found the problem, and thinks he's got some kind of mysterious, one-of-a-kind situation brewing, one that would stump even the most experienced engine techs.
Must be, no doubt.

Since yesterday ended up being a rainy day, I didn't go on my Sunday Pachaug rock pile ride.
Too bad, too, because I really missed it.
I even got the bike ready to go, but, once the time rolled around, it was obvious that the weather wouldn't let up.
Sure, I could have loaded the bike and riding gear up and left, but, my conscious told me to stay put and skip it, hoping for dry conditions next Sunday.
We'll see.

I did read some funny stuff on the usual motorcycle message boards, though.
One of the better ones has to do with a guy "with a lot of experience tearing down engines" looking for the reason his buddy's bike suddenly won't stay properly engaged in 3rd gear without making loud clacketty noises.
He took the engine apart, scratched his head, and said he couldn't see what was causing the trouble nor see any worn or damaged parts, so he posted on the message board looking for help in finding it.

After a couple posts back and forth, he posted a pic of a part called a shift fork.
The shift fork clearly showed damage from the gear it controls, with the gear being forced out of engagement due to worn things on the side of the gear called dogs.
The gear was being forcefully shoved to the side, grinding into the shift fork, and causing the clacketty-clack noise.

The amazing thing is, even after he saw the wear marks, took the pic of them, posted the pic, and talked about it, he still didn't see it as anything bad or unusual.
Hmmmmmm.
I guess he was expecting to see something like in the above pic, where there should have been shrapnel dispersed throughout the entire engine and the gears all in itty-bitty pieces laying at the bottom of the engine.
I guess tell-tale wear marks on the shift fork controlling 3rd gear wasn't obvious enough.

Sure, Lenny.

This kind of thing happens all the time - a guy has some kind of mysterious problem that he basically implies should not be happening because he's already ruled-out all of the logical possible causes.
It's almost as if the guy is saying that his bike is possessed by supernatural forces, and this problem is so strange and unique, all of the greatest engine techs (mechanics) on Earth probably couldn't figure it out since he hasn't been able to.
So, the guy will post back-and-forth on the message board, basically saying, "No, that can't be the cause of the problem..." whenever anybody suggests he investigate a very well-known possible cause for his particular ailment.

The end result is often the guy never coming back to tell everybody how the whole ball of wax turned out, leaving all of the the readers who followed the thread hanging, denying them the ability to learn what this particular goof's trouble really was.

Then, there are also times where the guy with the problem does come back to report how he actually got the trouble fixed, and is gracious enough to explain what the problem was and how it was repaired.
Usually, it winds up being something very basic, something that has to do with the fundamentals of a properly-functioning engine.
Wear marks gouged into the 3rd gear shift fork when you're having trouble with 3rd gear is a very good example.

We'll see how this story pans-out.

Off to jerk,
-John

I Hit 108 MPH on my Skateboard

Went for a ride with my ol' buddy yesterday.
Left the house at about 3:15pm, and got home about 8:45pm.
Not a bad day as far as time and milage went, meaning that as long as I'm having a good time, the more, the better. :)

We stood down around his old stomping grounds (areas that he knows well because he grew up there), and I basically told him to go where he felt like as fast as he wanted.
We rode at a decent clip (speed) but nothing that scared the shit out of me, I gotta' admit, and any spikes of adrenaline that shot through my veins for a second or two came from not knowing the roads at all, not from sheer speed or daring.
All-in-all, I rate the day's ride a 7 out of 10.
Not too shabby, and it was worth the while.

Next time, though, I'm going to suggest a change of pace.
Instead of doing what I usually do when one of my ol' riding buddies calls to get me to go along for a ride (go and ride his roads with him leading), I'm gonna' say that we should let me lead and we'll stay in the areas that I know.
Fair is fair, I say, and I haven't done that in too long, it feels to me.

On another note in motorcycling, it's raining this morning, and it's forecast to basically be a rainy day.
That's a bummer because it means that if I go on my usual Sunday Pachaug rock pile ride (and I will as long as it doesn't rain hard at departure time), the pace and route will be reduced and changed a bit, all in the interest of self-preservation.
Basically, the wet rocks and tree roots sticking out of the ground get slippery, and losing the front end (having the front wheel slide out from under you just when you need traction) can mean you go down in a hurry while at speed.

The macho men out there will scoff at that notion, saying, "Well, you just gotta' make sure you don't do that, you wimp..."
Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you never made that one-in-a-million mistake, right, pal?
Go watch some cartoons while eating your Coco Puffs, OK?

-John

I Owe $107 Million in Carbon Credits

Hmmm.
That'll be the day.
They can kiss my carbon-based ass on that one. :)

An old buddy is supposed to call me today so we can get together and do some motorcycle riding on the street.
That means I'll be on my WR-250R.
Good thing I got up early this morning and put the extra 45 minutes to good use by installing another new rear tire that I'd been putting off for a couple of weeks - it really needed a new one.
I'll be sure to report back on the outcome of the ride.

Just got back from my Saturday half-day freebee at work.
Did some grocery shopping, too, so now, it's time to feed my face.

-John

This Is 106, WACK Radio

A rapper in action.
I used to think rappers were just the things your bubble gum came wrapped up in.
I wonder who he's pointing at, or what he's actually supposed to be saying.

I won't give you a penny for today's popular music.
I say this because it sounds terrible to me.
You know what a melody is?
Look it up, buckwheat.
Well, lots of shit on the radio today has none, but everyone that's young loves it.
That's brainwashing at work.

You know what's really something, though?
I will personally guarantee that once these youngsters in their teens and early 20s get to be my age, THEY will dislike whatever crap music that's popular with the younger generation, too, and be pretty adamant about it like I am.
And, you can bet this will happen because you can bet the sound of the "music" will change quite a bit, enough so that everyone will insist on calling it by a different name.

I wonder how many people believe that all of the rock, country, rap, emo, and any other kind of popular music is ultimately produced and controlled by bigshots a lot older than you are, and a lot older than the supposed "artist" supposedly singing this shit.
Did you ever think of that, Lenny?
Do you really believe some backstreet kid with a rap in his head somehow gets his little ditty cut onto an album exactly as it came out of his little bee-boppin' head?
Pfffffftt!
Yeah, right.
More like that IF some little homie is brought into a studio, any "songs" he has are rearranged to the point of being unrecognizable, so a song about growing up in the 'hood and smashing-out Cumberland Farms windows in order to get food to eat will be molested into a mean-assed rap about raping and killing everyone in sight, just because little homie is having a bad hair gel day.

Think about that one, people.
"Your" music is really the product of old, wise, crafty men in suits, gray hair growing out of their nostrils and all.
They just don't want you to know that, and also believe their secret is safe because you're too young and stupid to realize that, anyway.

Well, are you?

Off to jerk.
-John

I Got a 105 Big Bore Kit for My Weed Wacker

Is it a street bike that looks like a funny dirt bike, or a heavy dirt bike that looks like a Gold Wing?
You decide.


I couldn't imagine myself having fun on the bike in the above pic.
No, that's a bike for geeks.
The one thing missing from that pic is the 6-inch-thick seat pad for the rider's little bum-bum so it doesn't get blistered from sitting down in one spot for hours at a time.
Is the guy a refugee running from the long arm of the law, or something?
The only other thing missing is the kitchen sink.
Truly disgusting.

Some guys do think this is a great way to ride off-road, though.
I think that these days, they're known as "adventure riders".
The term adventure riders came from this relatively new marketing term used to categorize (and sell, which is the whole point) these obscenely heavy "dual-purpose bikes", and I put that in quotes because bikes like the one in the above pic are, to me, really street bikes.
They're street bikes with a bit more ground clearance and a bit more suspension travel, but with still a whole lotta' weight.
I couldn't imagine actually getting the bike in the pic to turn well off-road without making the front wheel plow straight ahead, and probably would, in a lot of instances, assist turning by pulling in the clutch lever, hitting the rear brake pedal, and skidding the rear wheel around to finish the job.
A garbage scow like that would require it, unless you had as much room as a football field.

But, that's probably when the rider, complete with his WD-40 pocket protector full of pens, would say, "Well, I'm not out here racing. I'm just out here on an adventure trip. I have two weeks in va-ca time saved up from working at Geektronics in Semi Valley, so I've been chomping at the bit to get my awesome KLR out here to do some real adventure riding...blah, blah, blah..."

I need to run and get a barf bag after hearing that shit.

Off to jerk,
-John

Take Highway 104 Until You Can't Go No More

Here's a typical motorcycle retard readying himself for his next adventurous ride.

I never fail to come across all kinds of goofy shit while reading posts on my motorcycle forums and message boards.
Basically, all of those goofy posts can be grouped together with this theme in common:
They're written by people who don't know what they're doing.

A fool will write in, claiming that there's absolutely no way in hell his 1983 XT-550 will start easily.
I know this is bullshit because I bought, owned, and rode a 1983 XT-550K.
(That K on the end would endlessly confuse the guy, too, because he wouldn't know it means it's a 1983 model Yamaha motorcycle.)
That bike was actually quite easy to kick start, so what the moron writing in really should write is something like:

***************************

Hi.
I'm a newbie motorcycling pinhead who doesn't know my ass from my elbow when it comes to these motorcycles.
Hell, I probably don't even know what the air filter does or where it's located on my own bike.
I'm most comfortable with just getting the bike running for one more time, putting gas in the tank, and going out, and crashing it several times before I limp home with more battle scars.

Whenever I have trouble with my motorcycle, I'm going to jump up and down, pronouncing the bike a piece of shit that's poorly designed.
I'll never admit that I'm the cause of all my problems, because that would undermine my own self esteem.
When are they gonna' come out with the bike that does everything for you?
Huh?
They should, you know.
Riding these things can be hard work.

So, if you see me writing some utterly retarded post on a forum, make sure you wave as you chuckle at my lack of the most basic mechanical common sense.
Hell, I'm the guy who can't remember which way you turn nuts and bolts to tighten or loosen them. :)

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The reality is that the above made-up shit (by me, of course) does, in funny words, basically boil-down what the view point of these guys is.
They will take a brand-new bike and molest it with their abundant stupidity to the point that it will become a roach of a bike in a year.
I've seen it with my own eyes.
The real funny part is that the retard thinks this is perfectly normal.
Yeah, for him it is.

Off to jerk,
-John

I Just Ate 103 Hamburgers

The 1986 Kawasaki KDX-200C1.
My 5th motorcycle, and my second brand-new one.

I'm not a Kawasaki guy.
Not by a long shot.
In fact, I like to nickname Kawasaki motorcycles cute names like Kawasaga.

For some reason, in early 1986, I traded my YZ-125K in toward this KDX.
I believe at the time, I'd become brainwashed that this KDX would be a much better bike for me.
Well, when all was said and done, after owning it for about 6 months, I just didn't feel like owning it any longer (I guess green ain't for me), so I decided to sell it and buy another Yamaha - another brandy-new bike called an XT-550K.

The XT was a new, leftover 1983 model dual-purpose bike, and I had a lot of fun with this one.
Being a big bike for off-road use around in the woods, I rode it off-road relatively little, getting my kicks with it on the back roads.
It was a wheelie fool of a bike, that's for sure.
Wheelies from a dead stop, for example, were easy and fun.

Since I also needed a bike for more serious off-road use, I also bought in 1986 a bike called the TT-225S.
This was a little 4-stroke trail bike, with light weight, high maneuverability, and surprisingly good rear suspension, especially since it was regarded as an off-road playbike, not a serious rip-roaring racer.
I rode this one for about a year, and had many good rides with it.

Off to jerk,
-John

I've Got 102 Aluminum Cans to Trade In!

Oh-oh.
It's Maude, that liberal retard from the 1970s sitcom TV show with the same name.
Could this be the same Maude that's supposedly buried out in the middle of the Pachaug rock pile woods alongside a trail?
I bet she's old enough to make it a possibility.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EcrUyhpo8k

That above link is of a YouTube video done by a guy who fancies himself a comedian/news reporter.
It shows the very trail that I rode down yesterday, and explains the (several versions of the) local legend of Maude's grave.
The video was posted one year ago, today, so it's fairly recent.
Oooooohhhh.
Spoooooooky.

The title line is just a joke to use the number 102, by the way.
I don't recycle anything if I can help it.
I'm not a fanatic about it, but I feel it's more a way of brainwashing people as much as anything else.
I'm more likely to believe it's a way for aluminum and plastic companies to save money than anybody in power truly giving a shit about the supposed fragile environment of the Earth.
I believe that, along with having to buy special garbage bags in order to drop your garbage off at the town dump (oops! I mean transfer station), this recycling gig is mainly about making everybody feel that there's some big crisis that we must all unite to combat...under the direction of the United Nations, naturally.
Have you ever snooped around to find out who started the UN?
You should - the same kind of guys who started the world's central banking scheme, and the same kind of characters who believe they're MUCH more evolved that you are.

Evolved?
Why, yes.
They believe in evolution, and have for thousands of years, Bucky.
They're the super-smart cream of the crop, so their offspring deserve to live much, much more than yours does.
The fact that they've got a net worth in the million or billions proves this, and you're just a useless eater sucking up their resources, resources that should rightfully be used by them and their offspring.
It's their planet in their minds, after all is said and done.

Off to jerk,
-John

101 Dalmatians Run Over by a Garbage Truck

The WR-250FY after today's Pachaug rock pile ride, sitting there in my front yard, wondering why leaves are already falling off some of the trees.

Today was another good ride.
Even though I felt a bit tired and a bit down on energy before I hit the trails, once I was on the bike and loosened up a bit, I had a good time.
I took a couple of trails that I usually don't take, and they were fun, especially the one that goes past what is supposedly called Maude's grave.
What's Maude's grave?
I'll explain it in tomorrow morning's post...as long as I don't forget. :)

I decided to wear my old Sidi Vortex boots, today?
Why?
I'm not too sure if I'll get used to that conical-shaped protective piece covering the hinge pin on the inside of the ankles.
The main beef I have with that is it basically spaces the boot out a bit, making it a little more difficult to squeeze the bike with my ankles as I like to.
I could have ridden with the new Crossfire TAs and put up with it, but, I elected to go with the ol' standby for at least another ride.
I guess I simply wanted one less thing to be concerned with, so I went out, a' squeezin' the bike as I like. :)

And now, it's time for some serious din-dins.

-John

It's a Century of Posts - 100

The 1983 Yamaha YZ-125K.
This pic is from the sales brochure from that year.
This was my 4th motorcycle, and my first brand-new one.

I bought this bike in June or July of 1984, and also had the bike I mentioned in my last post, the XT-200J, at the same time.
So, the XT was my street transportation and bike for when I mixed trail riding with street riding, and the YZ-125K was the bike that was not street-legal, but for serious off-road use.
It was a motocross bike, after all, so it was all about off-road performance.

And perform off-road it did.
I had this bike from the Summer of 1984 until the early part of 1986, and for those two riding years, I enjoyed it very much.
Not surprising that I did, since I was young and craved this kind of dirt bike to ride - a bike made for lots of hard riding over rough terrain and big jumps and whoops.
You know, the kind of terrain found on a motocross track, whether it be a real, bona-fide motocross track, or a makeshift one out at the local riding spot.

The bike was, compared to the three reviewed previously, lighter, better-suspended, faster in acceleration and deceleration, and, quite simply, a blast to ride.
It had hard-hitting power than came on with a decent burst in the midrange, and revved to a good top end.
I liked it.
It was, at the time, a thoroughly state-of-the-art dirt bike, and a bike that wasn't carrying around any silly shit like linked brakes, a luggage rack, or a home-made seat pad 6 inches thick and 12 inches wide.
That nonsense is for geeks who think they're really pushing it while sitting down 99.999% of the time while off-road.
Don't try kidding me, even though you do believe that's pretty rough stuff.
No, that YZ epitomizes what a dirt bike is to me - all business, and operating under the theory of if you expect good results while riding a dirt bike off-road, you must get your body in on it in a big way, which means being in good physical condition.
That's my kind of bike.
It was great, and a good time period for me.


Wow, 100 posts, already.
Amazing, when I think that all I've been writing about is what was on my mind at the time.

It is a Sunday morning, and I'm gonna' prepare my firebreathing WR-250FY for another afternoon-into-dusk ride in the Pachaug rock pile.
I drove there in my clammy Ford Ranger last evening just before sunset to walk a trail that I usually ride right past while in the rock pile on Sundays.
It simply is a shortcut, since I would ride past each end of it.
Even though it's a shortcut, the actual difficulty of the terrain is much higher since it's full of rocks and some tree roots stick out of the ground.
Not particularly any harder than the other rocks elsewhere that I've been riding, but since it's a new spot in the rock pile, if I decide to start adding it to my Sunday rides, I'll have to learn it and, basically, memorize it before I feel truly comfy with wicking it up.

-John

I Got Bit By 99 Mosquitos!

The 1982 Yamaha XT-200J.

This was the third motorcycle that I bought.
I was 18 years old, and I needed some street-legal transportation in addition to my dirt bike riding in order to get myself back and forth to work.
I thought about trying to get my 1981 Honda XR-250R street-legalized, but that was shot down when the fat pig who bought that bike new basically told me he still owed money on it, therefor he didn't have a title to hand over to me.
He was also quite rude to me over the phone, as well as fat.
Very, very fat.
Obese, even.
Quite a fat slob.
And a liar.
Did I mention he was disgustingly fat and dishonest, as well as very, very fat?

Soooooo, what I ended up doing was trading my XR-250RB in at the local shop (a place I'd be working at 3 years later, by the way) toward the purchase of a mint condition 1982 Yamaha XT-200J.
As you can see by the above pic, this was a nice little dual-purpose bike.
Small, light-weight, maneuverable, and very good at fun trail riding.
Being a 200cc engine vs. a 250cc one of the XR I'd just traded for it, the lack of power was readily apparent from the first second riding the bike.
But, it was still a much better bike than the AT-2, and it was 100% street-legal, and it was in like-new condition, and it at least had enough performance to do what I needed, so I was quite satisfied with the bike.

For one solid year - from April of 1984 to April of 1985 - that XT-200J was my sole way to get around without having to bum a ride.
I used it for all of my transportation needs on the street.
I trail rode it, rode in the sand pits and gravel banks with my buddies, and used it on the street for anywhere I had to go, whether it be work, the grocery store, or anywhere else.
I was completely happy to be in this situation, especially after relying on a coworker to cart me to and from work for a few months prior to getting this bike.

All spring, summer, and fall, it was simply ride, ride, ride.
I'd literally go trail riding in the morning and early afternoon, then go into work (when I was on 2nd shift of my rotating-shirt job just a mile-and-a-half from home).
When I was on 1st shift, I'd go to work, then go riding after I got out for the day.
On weekends, I'd go riding with my buddies.
The bike was constantly being used, and remained 100% reliable, requiring only normal maintenance and upkeep.
I had 10,000 miles in it by the time April of 1985 rolled around.

An interesting thing about the XT-200J is that the basic engine design is still used in Yamaha motorcycles sold this very day.
The 2010 TT-R230Z and the 2010 TW-200Z both use the engine design, which first came out on the 1981 SR-185H street bike.
Quite a long-lived engine - very simple and rock-solid, unless you're a moron, or course, because morons could break a rock just by looking at it.

Off to jerk for another freebee Saturday,
-John

I Just Took 98 Sleeping Pills

My first motorcycle, a 1972 Yamaha AT-2.
It was a 125cc dual-purpose bike.
I think this pic is actually a 1971 AT-1, but you get the point - it's a relic.

I think I hear the sad-sounding violin starting to play, but I never had my motorcycles handed over to me like most other guys I know.
What I got were the basic essentials needed to survive, lest my dad be persecuted for neglecting his kids:
A roof, food, water (or Kool-Aid), clothes, and a kiss from mom in the morning before being sent out the door to catch the grammar school bus.
I got a bicycle, but that was as far up the ladder as it went until I was old enough to leave the yard, get a job, and venture off, find a used dirt bike, buy it, and bring it home.

What I got was the motorcycle in the above pic.
This was September, 1981, and the state of the dirt bike art had progressed quite a bit from 1972 up to then, both in the engines and chassis.
What I got, got running, and then rode for a couple years was, literally, an antique bucket of bolts that nobody else wanted to ride, and the only guys riding an old, obsolete bike like that were guys like me, the guys who had nothing else to ride.

I had fun on it because it was something new to me, and the enthusiasm for riding a motorcycle was running very high so that made up for it.
But I was also well aware that I was riding an out-of-date antique and really wanted to get something modern.
A funny side note is that, all these years later, guys will pay obscene amounts of money (thousands) to buy the bike in the above pic with 2010 dollars, a bike that I bought for $100 back in September of 1981, a bike you wouldn't want to be seen on back then while riding with your pals.
Now, because these guys are suffering from a nostalgia trip that's incurable, they'll want that very same bike in their living room to hark back to the, "good ol' days of when motorcycles were simpler, blah, blah, blah...".
I think they need their heads examined if they're gonna' pay two or three times what the bike sold for new back in 1972.

Why?
Well, just look at it.
The frame is spindly, the suspension short, the rider ergonomics from the 1950s, and the whole thing simply cries, This bike is Meant for Cheap Costs and Going Slow.
Vintage bikes, as the nerds who like those things call them in order to mask their problem, are not my bag, and never were.
They make me want to puke, basically, when talking about the design of the motorcycles, themselves.
The only thing I got that was useful out of those AT-2 days was the experience.
It got my feet wet.



The 1981 Honda XR-250R.
This was my second motorcycle, which I bought in August or September of 1983.
Since it was a mere two model years old at that point, it was still a modern dirt bike, and compared to the relic AT-2 I'd been riding, it was like waking up into a fantasy dream.

It had all the features that made a modern dirt bike, which included the biggies:
Long-travel suspension.
Modern ergonomics that let the rider sit well forward as well as well rearward, and also easily go from sitting to standing, and vice-versa.
Modern styling, which was actually a by-product of the ergonomic design.

I was in heaven, finally riding a bike that was, as far as I was concerned, up-to-date.
It had much more performance, being twice the engine displacement (250cc vs. 125cc), and the way the suspension, chassis, and engine worked while out there on the local trails and gravel banks and sand pits was so much better, it wasn't even worth mentioning.
I had NO problem letting that old AT-2 go.
This was where I was meant to be - on a modern dirt bike with up-to-date design features, feel, and capability.
I had so many good rides on that bike, so many good feelings, and I'll never forget them.

Funny thing is, though, is that I still have no nostalgia trip coming over me to track one down, restore it to like-new condition, and either ride it or put it on display.
Hmmmm.
Something must be wrong with me.

Maybe that's because the dirt bike I'm riding these days, my fire breathing WR-250FY, a 2009 model Yamaha dirt bike, would run rings around my old 1981 Honda XR-250R, given equal rider ability.
This is due to about 30 pounds less weight (a huge amount in the dirt bike world), much more engine performance, and a suspension and chassis that works a lot better, still.
When I'm out there doing my thing on my WR-250FY, I'm riding the latest thing from Yamaha for 250cc off-road bikes, and it sure as heck feels like it.

I'll let the vintage bike guys have the 1972 AT-2s and the 1981 XR-250Rs.

Off to jerk,
-John

Gasoline: 97 Dollars a Gallon

60 minutes.


A know-it-all aristocrat in his relaxed pose.

I hear about the national debt enough to want to puke, and I don't even watch the TV news, anymore.
We need to pay it off and quit spending money on this, that, and the other thing, blah, blah, blah...
That typically comes out of the mouth of a bullshitter politician, too, or some economist nerd.
This has always been the case in my lifetime.
It has never changed.
It never goes away.
It's like complaining about the leak in your roof, but nobody ever goes up there to fix it.

Well, I really believe that the reason nobody is ever sent up there to fix the leak in the roof is because the guys who are really in charge of big things don't want it fixed.
Why not?
Because they benefit from it this way.
Do you really, really, really think things would be going down the quazillion dollar debt drain year after year if we absolutely had to put a stop to it?
The fat cats who literally own you and the world and all of it's resources don't want you totally free and clear of them.

As soon as you're born, you're a burden to them until you get old enough to work, where you can then start being taxed.
Even though a gazillion tax dollars are raked in every year, the USA still has to go borrow money from these fat cats and their private banks.
Yeah, elite tycoons who lend money to countries.
You'll work your ass off your entire life, only to be told that we're now 2,406,734 times deeper in debt than we were 50 years ago.

Why does it never get better?
The big shots want it that way, something you'll never be taught in school, or read about in the paper, or hear on 60 Minutes.
It was never intended to be paid off, and it was designed that way from the start.
It's just a big con played on us, this big financial mess we're in, and we're told there's just no way out of it.
It's just one, big sickening lie, just as environmentalism is one, big, sickening lie, a political movement masquerading around as something else.
And who came up with that one?
Why, the elite aristocrats and their cronies, the guys who are much smarter than you and deserve to be at the top of the world because they were sly enough to steal away the world's wealth from everybody else - who else?

Off to jerk,
-John

96 and Pick Up Sticks

A serious bullshit artist in his natural habitat.

..........................................

..............................................

I hear that we're in the midst of some congressional election season right now.

That would explain why I've been seeing those little "Elect Joe Asshole to Congress!" billboards stuck up on trees and staked into peoples' front lawns.

......................................................

I don't vote, myself, and never have, save for once.

The only time I was in a voting booth was the very first year I was old enough to vote.

I basically felt that my vote wouldn't amount to anything, and I haven't bothered, since.

................................................

Tell me - when does anything in your day-to-day life ever really change?

Have your annual taxes gone down?

Or up?

Is your existence becoming easier?

Is life more enjoyable?

Or, is it more difficult?

Do you have more free money over the years?

Or less?

Does it really matter what jackass mouthpiece liar is in the White House or in the Senate?

When was the last time things really looked like they might change for the better?

Was it back in the John F. Kennedy days?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Look what happened to him.

Gee, I wonder why that happened.

Must be a strange coincidence.

.......................................................

Basically, I believe that when some liar is running for some political position, he'll promise the moon in order to get votes.

Once in office, it's simply business as usual, and any mouth-watering promises that were made are thrown out like yesterday's trash.

Yet, we're all brainwashed to go and vote and make a difference.

If some joker is elected to some office that really wants to push for changes that would truly make things better for the average Joe down at the bottom of the totem pole (you and me), you can bet that not only would he not even be allowed to run in the first place, but even if an honest guy or girl were elected by some huge miracle, they'd either be run out of office by their cronies or silenced in some way.

It's all just a big show put on for the public, and we're all supposed to fall for this crap, hook, line, and sinker.

Year after year, it's the same story.

Kiss my goddamm ass.

................................................

Hey, here's an idea you'll never see in a billion years:

Let's see one of these stinking-rich big-time politicians take a 50% pay cut, and suggest his or her cohorts do the same.

What's a B.S. artist in Washington DC make a year?

Betcha' it's much more than you and me, unless you're a politician, yourself.

Yeah, let's see them really want to set an example.

Set an example by doing.

......................................

Off to jerk,

-John

The Speed Limit in Front of the School is 95

Oh-oh.

It's a Harley hip dip fag, looking for trouble.

If you're riding anything other than a Harley, at least you know your bike will start so you can get the heck out of there.

If you're a Harley hip dip yourself, well, grab your ankles, Bubba.

.................................................

....................................................

Here is the very first motorcycling story that I can remember having happen to me:

It was the summer of 1982, not even a year after I'd bought my first motorcycle, an oldie called a 1972 Yamaha AT-2.

It was a pile of crap, basically, and I rode it off-road on the trails near my house by the local town reservoir (something you couldn't do today without the police being called) and at the nearby off-road riding spots (gravel banks) about 5 or 6 miles away (where the bike would have to be pushed there along the side of the road).

Yes, that's right - I had no driver's license, no car or truck, and my dad was in no way involved with my motorcycling.

...........................................................................

My older sister, who is one year and one month older than me, had a boyfriend in the summer of 1982 who was much older than herself.

Quite eye-opening, really, because she was 17 and he was 30.

Yes, you read that right.

They'd actually met the year before, so they got involved when she was 16.

If I had a pic to show you of this hip dip loser, you'd probably want to run to the bathroom to throw up, too.

He looked very much like the spic half of the comedy duo Cheech and Chong.

He looked like a Mexican version of Jesus Christ, long hippy-dippy hair down to his shoulders and all.

He was short, too, about 5'5".

Thoroughly disgusting, thinking back on it.

But, you know how kids in their teens are - the know it all, they know what they're doing, and don't try to tell them anything because they've got it all under their control.

I'd hang around at the local swimming hole, a bend in the river (more like a brook than a river, being about 30 feel across at it's widest and 5 feet at it's narrowest) where the current slowed and the bottom was a bit deeper.

There was a rope to swing off of, and it was generally a good time being there.

The trails I'd ride went right past it, too.

Me, my older sister, and her boyfriend were often there, as well as some of the boyfriend's hip dip Harley buddies who were also grubby-looking dip dips.

.......................................................................

You see, 1982 was past the official hippy days of the mid 1960s to mid 1970s, but there were sitll plenty of hangers-on who just wouldn't get a haircut or a proper job.

Or bathe.

Or shave that snotty mess of a tangled beard.

They just kinda' bummed the summer away, taking each lazy day as it came.

Smoking lots of pot and getting a decent buzz off beer were important things to do, and as long as this was done every day, things were OK by them.

..................................................................

One day, a kid about a year younger than myself, who I recognized through school, was there, talking about motorcycles with the boyfriend and his hip dip Harley buddies.

None of these guy owned a bike that was not a piece of shit as far as I know (if they even owned one at all), but that wasn't the point - as long as you acknowledged Harley Davidson motorcycles as the king, you were OK by them.

You also must realize that these were the days where even Harley fans will tell you the quality and reliability of Harleys was at it's low point, even leaking oil brand new on the showrooms.

Yes.

..........................................................................

Well, the hip dip Harley buddies and the boyfriend basically started yelling at the kid because the kid had the nerve to suggest that Harleys weren't all that great, and a nice Yamaha or Honda was a lot more to his liking.

The hip dips shouted things at the kid, all amounting to:

Buy a Harley, or else you're some kind of Jap-loving traitor to the USA.

Harleys are for real, patriotic men.

.............................................................

I remember wanting to puke, not only because I didn't agree with Harleys being desirable (I still think they're not for me, to say the least, and even back then, I knew that for the riding I was doing, they were below useless), and not only because the hip dips were a bunch of grubby, filthy loudmouths, but also because they also had trouble conjuring-up the words to state their point.

Must have been all of that pot and beer, because they could only muster a 4th-grade vocabulary during their shouting match.

..........................................................

I never forgot that moment.

That was my first incident of supposed Harley superiority from the mouth of an idiot, an idiot who probably couldn't ride to save his life.

Even to this day, I'll still think back to that time on occasion when I hear some retard spouting-off about how great Harleys are supposed to be.

It's most humorous the more the retard looks like the pic above:

A true Harley lover's delight. :)

....................................................

Off to jerk,

-John

I'm Running a Temperature of 94

A hip dip on a bike.
What's a hip dip?
I'll go over that in a future post, but for now, it is short for hippie dippy.
You know - a hippie who acts dippy.
I mean, c'mon.
His guitarcycle is out of tune.

Had a decent Pachaug rock'n'roll pile ride yesterday.
No crashes or heart-stopping moments, but plenty of concentration required to do a good job, rewarded with plenty of good feelings and feedback from the bike.

The reason it was decent and not fantastic is because it was the first time I'd worn my new Sidi Crossfire T&As on the bike, and since they're still being broken in, working the gearshift and rear brake pedals was more difficult and a bit clumsy.
This slowed me down a notch, and there were times I consciously backed off a bit on the speed because I knew I wouldn't be able to control the bike exactly like I'd want.
This is because the stiff, new boots require riding time to soften them up a bit, and after the next ride or two, I'll be in much better shape.
The new boots are very good in how snug they fit and how good they feel, and other than the still-new stiffness that will gradually go away, my only gripe is the trade-off that was made with the ankle pivot hinge.

The boot in encased in what is basically plastic armor on the outside.
So much of it, that where the ankle needs to bend, a pivoting hindge joint was made, and there's a hinge pin on each side of the ankle.
On each side where the hinge is, there's a burly cone-shaped protector covering the hinge pin, which allows the area to slide back-and-forth over the side of the bike as you ride.
The down side of this design is that it effectively spaces your ankle out a little bit.
I'd rather not have to get used to this, but, after one ride on these boots, I already am adapting to it.
I have worn Sidi Vertigo Corsa street boots that are similar to this for years (and still have a pair in excellent condition), so I'm not totally foreign to the concept.
It's coming along.

All this goes to show how much the feeling the rider gets while riding the bike matters very much, something that the casual, long-haired hip dip on his guitarcycle probably doesn't consider.

-Off to jerk,
-John

Have a Railroad Spike - 93 Ounces of Iron

Looks like a mighty scary collection of mysterious engine parts.
I wonder how it all goes together.

I wore my new Sidi Crossfire T&A boots in the garage last night for about an hour, and they're already easier to bend.
See, new motocross boots are stiff, stiff enough that it is hard to make the ankle flex and move as needed.
What you have to do is wear them and bend them, and after a while, you're able to bend the boot enough so you can ride the bike without feeling like a klutz with a too-stiff boot.
As time goes on, the day eventually comes where they get worn out and they bend too easily, feeling too lose and floppy.
When this happens, it becomes easier to get hurt if you whack your foot on something since the floppy boot won't be able to absorb the energy of the whackage.
Whackage.
That's a nifty-sounding word, eh?

I'm off to the garage and get the WR-250FY ready for this afternoon-into-evening Pachaug rock pile ride.

-John

92 Men on a Dead Man's Chest! Yo, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum for Lunch!

Here they be, the Sidi Crossfire TA boots.
They fit veeeeeeeery well, and feel as snug as a bug in a rug, even though my rugs don't have bugs as far as I know.
As soon as I break them in a bit by wearing them around the house for a while, I'll be using these on my Sunday Pachaug rock pile rides.

-John

It's 91 Degrees Inside my Freezer

I just received a Facebook friend request from somebody I don't know, but I don't want to accept it.
Why?
It's supposedly from a young lady (judging from the pic, she's around 20 years old) wearing lots o' makeup (too much, in my opinion) with some kind of emo hairdo.

I clicked her user name and wanted to read some stats about this mystery person, but her page was as blank as could be, with none of the pertinent info filled-out.
I couldn't even send her a message to ask who the frig she was - when I clicked the SEND A MESSAGE button, I wasn't even able to create a message to send.

My cranium got suspicious, so, I think I'll let sleeping dogs lie.

Off to jerk for another freebee Saturday. :)
-John

I Got a 90 on my Hearing Test!

It's Goober from The Andy Griffith Show, an old TV comedy from the 1950s or 1960s.

This pic is in color, so it probably came from the 60s.

I think this pic depicts the mental state a lot of riders are in.

...................................................

...................................................

I get a kick out of how other riders, who own and ride the very same model of motorcycle that I do, expect the opposite from the bike that I do.

On one of the message boards I belong to, one for my WR-250R dual-purpose bike, there are lots of posts and comments from too many other riders who are, basically, complaining about the very features that makes a dual-purpose bike a dual-purpose bike.

.................................................

..............................................

What IS a dual-purpose bike, anyway?

Well, I know I went over that in my very first or second post, but, it bears doing again.

I'm sure you know what a dirt bike looks like.

I'm sure you know a typical dirt bike isn't street legal.

I'm sure you know what a typical street bike looks like.

I'm sure you know a street bike ain't made for off-road riding.

If you want a dirt bike that you can legally ride on the street, straight off the showroom floor, you buy a dual-purpose bike.

This is a bike that is intended to be ridden off-road and also on the street.

..........................................................

......................................................

Now, this is where the differences of opinion start, because what your idea of a dual-purpose bike should look like depends on a couple of key things that have to do with you and your gray matter between your ears.

Do you expect the bike to basically be a street bike in dirt bike clothes that can run with 100mph traffic with ease and have a seat made for simply plopping your ass down on it for hundreds of miles at a time, with a big fuel tank to allow such fuel range?

Or, do you expect a dirt bike that has the required parts (like lights, a horn, mirrors, etc.) on it that will make the bike genuinely street legal, letting you hang a license plate on the back so you can ride down any road without fear of getting a ticket for non-registered motor vehicle use?

.................................................

................................................

Myself, my idea of a dual-purpose bike always has been the latter - I want a dirt bike with street-legal running gear because I plan some real dirt bike riding to go along with my street riding.

The Yamaha WR-250R is exactly this.

It has compromises (like extra weight from EPA crap and taller gearing and cheaper suspension) that both cut costs and make it a better bike on the street compared to a off-road-only dirt bike, but it is, as looking at it can plainly tell you, a dirt bike in it's basic design.

It is plain to see to even the casual motorcycle observer, that it's designed like a dirt bike.

What is it about other riders riding this bike that cracks me up?

When they start putting on the 50lbs. of soft luggage, 3-foot-tall windshields, steel racks over both fenders, heated grips, complain the seat height is too tall, complain about vibration through the seat and grips, and, probably the No. 1 sacrilegious modification they all seem to do to the bike, modify the seat into something twice as wide as it once was, removing the ability to move back-and-forth easily on it, both while seated and while standing, and they always end-up making this creation of a seat shaped to hold their ass toward the rear half of the seat, something that is a big no-no while cornering off-road.

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That last one is a clear sign that, if these guys are even riding the bike off-road, they're doing it while sitting down all the time, which means they're doing it at a snail's pace.

Sorry, folks, but riding the bike at a snail's pace ain't cutting the mustard.

That is something you do when you're scared and uncertain about what you're doing.

I will joke to myself, when I see pics of other WR-250Rs that have a ton of touring-rider-type shit thrown on them, that they really want a 250cc street bike.

Well, that's just fine and dandy if that's where they want to ride, but openly wondering about and complaining about the seat which allows good rider movement while hustling the bike off-road is only gonna' make me roll my eyes and puke.

And laugh at the guy.

He deserves it because he's basically wondering why a cow says "Moo!".

Or why Santa drives a sleigh and delivers toys.

It's because that's the way it is supposed to be, and you're missing the intended purpose, Lenny.

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-Off to jerk,

-John

Get Yourself a Life for 89 Cents!

Oh-oh.
Looks like Mr. Serious Geek found himself a real hottie from that dating service called Nerdfinder.
Hmmm.
I wonder if her mom knows that she goes around putting lipstick on cheeks like that.
On the first date, even.
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Gonna' be a typical chance-of-rain-at-any-given-moment kind of day as far as weather goes, so it looks like I'll be choosing to drive the ol' clam of a trusty ol' Ford Ranger into jerk, today.
Oh, well.
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I'm gonna' take a break from spoutin' off about motorcycle message boards today.
The reason they seem like a big enough deal to me to spout off about in the first place is because that's the kind of shit I bought my first PC for in the first place:
To read about motorcycles and find out what other motorcycle riders were doing and communicate with them.
I mean, there's soooooo much silly shit being written about motorcycles by complete idiots, I'm just trying to give the dimwitts their just-deserved 15 minutes of fame by bringing it to your attention.
It's like a public service, free of charge.
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Things are going well as far as my own motorcycle riding goes.
My street-going WR-250R has 6,500 miles on it after 13 months of ownership, and is running like a top.
My firebreathing WR-250F has only a fraction of that mileage on it because it gets ridden on a trail loop for about 40 miles on Sundays, but makes up for it by being ridden over muuuuuuch more rough and rugged natural terrain.
That bike is, as I continue to point out after my Sunday Pachaug rock pile rides, very impressive with how it works.
I am soooooo glad I bought it.
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Yes, natural terrain.
The word natural is derived from the word nature, and when I'm out riding in the Pachaug forest on Sunday afternoon-into-dusk, I'm out there in the midst of nature.
It's natural out there in the middle of the woods.
Quite a contrast from the man-made and manicured flat and grassy clearings, picnic areas, and gravel parking lots near the main entrance of the Pachaug forest.
To a lot of people, that stuff is as nature boy as they care to get, and is all they know about the woods.
When they think of off-road in their minds, that is what they picture.
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Nope.
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That ain't nature.
Get your ass out into the middle of the woods, where the sun is blocked by all of the greenery on all of those trees, the mosquitoes will spike you if you aren't constantly shooing them away, all manner of critters critter around you, and, quite frankly, is a place that would own your sorry ass if you were suddenly faced with having to stay out there for a week straight if you hadn't brought a gaggle of camping supplies with you.
Or even just over one night.
Yeah, that's right, nature boy.
You self-righteous environmental fuckhead.
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I could go on and on about how the typical environmental propaganda that's brainwashing people (that includes kids in grammar and high school this very moment) is so misleading.
There ain't any shortage of trees.
Mankind ain't on the verge of killing the planet, no matter what he does.
It's OK and just fine and dandy to exhale and put carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, people.
THAT is a natural occurrence, and it's been going of for an awful long time.
Don't let anybody fool you by trying to make you feel like you need to pay or do penance or even feel bad for being alive on Earth.
You don't need to recycle everything in sight.
You don't need to fall in line with what everyone else is doing.
Be VERY suspicious about anything to do with environmentalism, greening, new-age, or anything coming out of the mouth of a media star or top-ranking politician.
You're being fooled.
You're being lied to.
You are, slowly, but surely, being made to believe any and all supposed problems on the planet have to do with you and me simply being alive and existing.
We're all suspected terrorists, too.
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Sounds like some pretty mad-assed rant, huh?
Well, think about what's on the TV news and what young people are being taught and what is being pushed as "normal".
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Off to jerk,
-John