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  • Road Trip Home

    This summer I decided to get back into riding after a lengthy hiatus. Being born and raised in the desert of west Texas, there wasn’t much to do out there except ride. So I started at an early age.

    My first experience with a real motorcycle was in 1970 or thereabouts. I was 10 and my grandfather bought a Sears Allstar? It was a 175 cc Puch. It was air cooled, twin, and horizontally opposed. Not much of a bike but enough to hook a 10 year old, even if I had a hard time straddling it.

    From there I graduated to dirt bikes. I had a couple KX125, a Honda SL350, and a racer…a Yamaha MX100…the predecessor to the venerable YZ series. Being a desert rat there was no shortage of places to ride and race. The desert is a great place to ride, especially on dirt. I mean there is so much of it, the weather is usually cooperative, and you can’t really tear anything up in the desert because there is nothing to tear up.

    As my love of riding grew so did the size of bike. When I went to college I had a 1980 XS650. That was IMO one of the best bikes Yamaha ever made. Though it was not powerful, fast or smooth…the old twin was very durable and reliable and it was my first real street bike. I took several medium range road trips (500-1000 miles) on that 650 Special. It wasn’t much for road trips. Even at that age my back hurt after a few hours on the road. At highway speeds the old twin was somewhat anemic. But nostalgia has etched a favorable image of that bike in my mind.

    Fast forward …2004…I had the itch for an old YammyHammer Maxim. Back in college I had driven one of my buddies 650 Maxim on a short 500 mile trip. I fell in lust with that bike. It was so smooth, and fast, and quite. Even for a medium size bike, the XJ650 was fairly comfortable on a road trip. I figured the bigger ones would even be better. In 2004 I discovered I had figured right.

    I started my quest for the last of the Mohican’s…the last of the venerable XS11…the “Maximized” 11. I stumbled upon this prolific website, www.xs11.com and got to reading and drooling over pictures. Many friends thought I was nuts for wanting a vintage big bike. They all had gone on to the boringly predictable variety of Harleys, V-Twins, and clones thereof. I simply couldn’t go that route. The last time I rode a Harley was 1979. The experience partially impaired me. I only spun the ’79 Sportster a couple miles. Yet in that distance my vision was blurred and hands were itching from the vibration. My hearing suffered temporary damage from the unbelievably annoying exhaust note. After that experience I swore Harleys and V-Twins off indefinitely.

    Most of the XJ1100s I found were high mileage and rougher than a rub board. Occasionally I would find a nice looker with on 20,000 miles but it would always have some issue like bent shifting fork or others. Most of the available Maxim 1100 were on eBay or Cycletrader. When I did have interest enough to go see one it usually never looked as good as the photos. Then one day an ad popped up here at XS11.com. A 1982 XJ1100 Maxim with 5800 miles for sale by original owner. I was really encouraged when I called and the owner was a female. Basically she bought it new, drove it for about 5000 miles and decided it was too big. She parked it in a garage for about 20 years; only driving it enough to keep it limber.

    She sent pictures and it looked very good. I loaded up in a F350 and drove from Oklahoma to California. End of story. It was a long drive but worth it. I got the bike home, cleaned it up, ran a tank of Seafoam laden gas through it and she was good as new.



    After having put a 1000 miles or so on “Godzilla” I had full faith in him. I decided to take a long over due road trip. But where would I go? Where else…home.

    The roads back home in the desert are so wide, and straight, and open. Though the mountains rugged and barren, there are place where the valleys open up and you can see all the way out to the curve (the earth’s curvature). Then when you get up in the mountains proper the roads are twisty. Yet unlike other mountain roads the desert mountains give unprecedented sunshine over rain, warmth over cool, even in the fall.

    My longtime friend and fellow Texican, Miles, loaded up on our bikes one cold fall morning and headed south. The first day we made about 700 miles from the Tulsa area to Odessa, TX. The trip was uneventful except for the fact that his “Bitch” started missing occasionally. He finally determined he had a loose battery cable around Abilene and tightened up. The “Bitch”, a 1996 Virago, never missed again from that point. When he explained to me that the word “Virago” meant loud, contentious woman, I appropriately dubbed his bike “Bitch”.

    At this point you maybe wondering why I dubbed my Maxim 1100 “Godzilla”. Several reasons come to mind. It’s big, powerful, and sounds mean when angry. Also, like Godzilla, it’s Japanese. But the main reason I named it Godzilla was due to the mythical nature of the beast. Legend has it the XS11 was one of the greatest bikes ever made. I believe this legend may persist through the annals of motorcycle history in the future. Only time will tell.

    We grabbed room in Odessa and rested for the trip to Alpine the next day. Alpine is home to Sul Ross State University and gateway to the Big Bend National Park. Big Bend was our primary destination but before we went there we were headed to Guadalupe National Park on the Texas/New Mexico border. Guadalupe is home to “El Capitan” and Guadalupe Peak, the highest mountain in Texas (8749’).

    We left south out of Odessa on 385 cruising down to Fort Stockton. The roads out there are long and straight and go forever. You can see cars approaching miles in advance, that includes troopers. At times I swear I could hear Zilla saying “Let me go…let me go”. I think he’d been caged up in that lady’s garage so long he was literally yearning to do what he was designed to do. I’d open the throttle and let him roar…90…100…120 mph before I would reign him in. You may think I’m nuts, but I believe that old bike was crying tears of joy that he’d finally been released from his garage prison. It was awesome to be sitting on a NOS bike. For all practical intent Zilla was a new bike, just 22 years old.

    We rode into the mountain town of Alpine. Alpine sits about 5500 feet above sea level. The mountains are pretty and tree covered. The people in Alpine are of the small town hospitality type. My high school buddy lives there and is no exception. We hooked up with him for a while then headed west-northwest through Marfa and Van Horn. The area around Marfa is “Big” country. For those of you old enough to remember the James Dean / Rock Hudson movie Giant, it was filmed on location at Marfa, Texas. The ridges and peaks were way in the distance. The grass in the valley was golden, and deep and rolled like the sea in the wind. It was dusk, the air was about 60 degrees and the setting sun gently warmed the road. The entire 100 mile trip from Alpine to Van Horn was serene and almost surreal.

    The next morning we top our tanks off with fuel. The trip from Van Horn to Guadalupe was about 60 miles. There was literally no services between Van Horn and the National Park. The Park had no fuel either so our plan was drive straight to the Park and back to Van Horn. This would be a stretch for the “Bitch”. She only had a 3.9 gallon tank and the upper range of the Virago was about 120. This proved to be a near miss leaving Big Bend headed home. So I filled a quart bottle with fuel, hung it off my luggage rack just in case we need a few extra miles. Then we turned north toward the NM state line.

    The road is boringly straight from Van Horn to Guadalupe. There are 2 maybe 3 shallow curves. It follows a long graben valley bound by classical horst block mountains. There are lots of cactus and Jack rabbits out there. But no gas stations!

    About 30 miles away you could see the monolith of El Capitan. It juts from the desert floor majestically into the wide open west Texas sky. It is truly awe inspiring watching the sheer face of the rock rise higher and higher as you approach the peak.

    Here’s Miles and his Virago. The Delaware mountains can be seen in the backdrop.


    Here I am with Zilla several miles out from El Capitan.
    [IMG] http://totalmotorcycle.com/BBS/album...hp?pic_id=1790[/IMG]

    The road up to the Park went past the peak. It was winding and very windy. The cross winds were challenging even on the big 11. The winds were gusting in places through that pass at 40-50 mph.

    We pulled over at a roadside park and snapped this shot of Zilla and El Capitan.
    [IMG] http://totalmotorcycle.com/BBS/album...hp?pic_id=1789[/IMG]

    Then we went on up to the Park entrance. There is a visitor center there and Rangers on duty. The center has maps, photos and displays. Way back up in the Guadalupe mountains there is a beautiful place called McKittrick canyon. It has running mountains streams, big pines, elk, and deer. All the trappings of true alpine environment are available right there high above the desert floor in west Texas. It is truly spectacular, a high oasis in the barren Texas desert. If you ever get the chance to go there check it out. It’s only 20 miles southwest of Carlsbad Caverns on highway 62. This area is truly a great place to tour.

  • #2
    Road Trip Home continued

    We were pushed for time so we headed back south toward Van Horn. We made back with only fumes to spare. The “Bitch” held 3.7 gallons. We had gone 128 miles. Whew that was close. Godzilla on the other hand can go upwards of 200 miles if he’s pushed to the limit. With a 5+ gallon tank, at 40 mpg I usually let him get a drink around 150 or 160 miles. That way if it’s not getting as good of mileage as normal I don’t run it out of gas. But if you’ve done much touring you know on a bike there is a huge difference between a range of 120 and 200 miles. The extra 80 miles can be crucial. And it can certainly makes the trip much more enjoyable if you’re not forced to look for a station every 90 miles.

    We departed Van Horn after a restful lunch at the local Wendy’s. We headed back east on I-20 to Kent. At Kent we went south on 118 toward the thriving metropolis of Ft. Davis. Ft. Davis is a super quaint mountain village for a few hundred (maybe 1000) residents. It is situated on the edge of the Davis Mountains in Jeff Davis, County.

    The Davis Mountains are very green and scenic. These mountains were formed from volcanics and are fairly rugged. Numerous cedar and pinions dot the landscape of the rugged range. The roads in these mountains are uber-fun. As I twisted Zilla at high speeds through turns of pavement, I thought how much fun it would be on a FJR or the like. But I dare not speak it for fear of hurting Zilla’s feelings.

    We came to the first stop in series in the Davis mountains. Here’s a couple pics of Zilla at the “rockpile” and in front of Sawtooth mountain.
    [IMG] http://totalmotorcycle.com/BBS/album...hp?pic_id=1795[/IMG]
    [IMG] http://totalmotorcycle.com/BBS/album...hp?pic_id=1794[/IMG]

    When we developed this photo’s it was obvious Heaven was smiling on the mythical beast. Zilla glistened in the rays of a temperate west Texas sun. The breath taking 7800 foot peak of the rugged Sawtooth provided the perfect backdrop for a grandiose photo of a grandiose bike, the last of the XS Elevens.

    As we left the splendid Sawtooth, we met a group of Harley’s. They were friendly giving the ritualistic biker wave with the hand stuck out to the side. I’ve got to tell you, the teeth rattling noise from those damned things almost ruined the vibe. Thanks God they were headed the opposite direction.

    From there we traveled back toward Mount Locke. Mount Locke sets at 6791 feet and is home to the Locke Observatory, University of Texas. From this vantage point you can see the mile high village of Ft. Davis.

    Ft. Davis doesn’t look like it has changed much in 150 years. The old fort is still there and is a national historical site. It is open to tour daily but we got there to late. So, we topped our tanks and headed for Alpine south on 118.

    Turning south out of Alpine we stayed on 118. The 90 mile trek ends at the ghost town of Terlingua. Terlingua actually has a motel and small store with a café. 30 years Terlingua was literally a ghost town, with nothing but abandoned buildings from a mining boom gone bust 100 years prior. The town was establish as a mining outpost for cinnabar ore. Now it is the site of the worlds greatest “Chili Cookoff”. It’s amazing that 10,000 people converge on this specter of a town once a year to cook chili and consume rivers of cerveza.

    About 15 miles west of Terlingua is the booming micropolis of Lajitas (Lah-heetas). Some billionaire bought the whole damned town and is building a 5 star resort with a PGA golf course and a state of the art airstrip. There are motels going up out in the middle of nowhere. I imagine this is what Vegas looked like 60 or 70 years ago.

    We grabbed a room at the “no tell motel” near Terlingua. The next morning we had breakfast at small café and headed further south into the Big Bend. The entrance to Big Bend National Park is only 5 miles from where we stayed. The landscape of this northwest part of the park is almost moonlike or even Martian in appearance. The vegetation there is very sparse. Land is totally desolate. And yet it supports life. Occasionally you’ll see a rabbit, snake, or chaparral.

    But as you travel farther into the park the vegetation gets more abundant. And up in the “Basin” the mountains are actually green much like the Davis area. Large pines and Cedar are prolific in the extremely rugged mountains of the Big Bend.

    Miles and I left the Basin area and cruised down toward Boquillas Canyon. There the mighty Rio Grande has cut a spectacular gorge through the mountains. Across the river it the tiny Mexican village of Boquillas. Here’s a pic of Miles on the “Bitch” headed south toward the border.
    [IMG] http://totalmotorcycle.com/BBS/album...hp?pic_id=1791]/IMG]

    We left Boquillas headed north. At the base of the Basin are is a gas station. It’s the only one for miles and miles so we topped our tanks and headed north to Marathon. The drive from there to Marathon was a total drag. From that station to the park entrance is about 35 miles. The speed limit in the park is 45 mph…no tolerance. The Rangers in Big Bend will nail your hide to the hot desert floor if caught speeding. So we drove 45 mph all the way to the east entrance/exit of the park. I think I slept most the way and let Zilla drive himself.

    Soon as we hit the state highway we rolled ‘em up to about 85 mph. We were headed back to Tulsa and I was ready to get in my own bed. But about 15 miles past the entrance I saw a building up ahead in the middle of the road. I started pulling the reigns on Zilla bring him down from the 85 mph clip. I could see a fellow standing near the building in a uniform with his hand up waving for us to stop. It was a U.S. Border Patrol officer. I pulled up and lifted my face shield. He asked if I was a U.S. citizen. I responded a resounding “Yes sir!”. He stepped to the side and shouted have a good day.

    We rolled into Marathon at about 2 pm. I asked Miles if the “Bitch” needed fuel. We had only gone about 65 miles and Fort Stockton was only 60 more miles. We had made it 128 from Van Horn to Guadalupe, and back the day before. The Bitch even had about 2 tenths of a gallon left in the tank. So we knew we could make it.

    The miscalculation came in the fact that we were now driving 85 mph, not 75 like we did at north of Van Horn. Plus we were bucking a 25 mph head wind. We were about 1 and ½ miles south of Stockton when Miles bike started sputtering. I thought “GREAT! I’m gonna have to go into town, get gas, and come back!” But Miles initiated a technique I had used since I was 14 years old on a dirt bike. He started shaking the “Bitch” side to side as he rolled down the road. It actually worked. The low side of the tank that traps a little fuel that never gets to the petcock apparently sloshed up over the rise and drained down into the float bowls. He would go about 100 or 200 yards and the “Bitch” would sputter again. Over and over he shook that “Bitch” trying to choke ever last foot out of her. It was quite comical and hair raising at the same time, but I kid you not, it worked. He literally sputtered and coughed right up to within 100 feet of the gas pump! Then he coasted the rest of the way. It was awesome and will be a story I can tell my grandchildren.

    We tanked up and headed east on I-10 to Junction, Texas. If we’re headed home we might as well take the scenic route and the “Hill Country” of Texas is very scenic. We flew down I-10 at 85 mph. I dunno how the Bitch did but Zilla is stable as a rock at that speed and smooth to boot.

    We turned north at Junction and drove to Brady. The Hill Country is rocky and green with lots of live oaks and deciduous trees. Water is abundant there in the form of rivers and streams and is clear and clean. But the main hazard for any motorist, especially bikers, are deer. There are thousands upon untold thousands in the Hill Country. If you tour through that area, keep you head up and use your horn.

    The whole trip was picture perfect except the last day. So far no rain, and the temperature was a perfect 60 degrees except Big Bend where it broke a mere 80. However, when we left Brady, Texas that fall morning, the temperature was 40. I wasn’t too concerned because the weatherman forecast temps in the mid 50’s for central Oklahoma.

    Guess what…in typical weatherman fashion…he missed it. The temperature gradually fell from 40 to a teeth grinding high of 38. By the time we got to Chickasha I wanted to curl up in a ball. Even with a full fairing Zilla was no fun at 80 mph on the Oklahoma turnpike at that temperature. But all we could do was suck it up and keep going.

    We arrived at the house about 7 pm. It took almost 12 hours to go 500 miles because we were stopping every 80 miles to WARM UP!

    All in all it was a great trip. I had forgotten the sheer exhilaration of a road trip on a bike. Every sense comes alive. There’s nothing like seeing majestic mountains at 70 mph with no cab or windshield. Every sense is heightened. You smell every dead animal, and every blooming flower. Color is more vivid, detail so fine. Your skin senses every minute temperature change on the road too. The experience is truly magnificent.

    At time I felt as if I was flying just few feet off the ground. If I focused on the surroundings I could feel it. But then I would snap back to reality when I sensed the throbbing 95 hp inline 4 between my legs. We went 2500 miles in 4 days. A couple times I was in the saddle for 12 hours. The surprising thing was I didn’t get sore or tired. That’s saying a lot at my age.

    I now have total confidence in Zilla. I have no doubt I could go anywhere for any distance on it and be quite comfortable and safe. I can’t wait ‘til spring…gonna do it again.

    Comment


    • #3
      Beautiful

      I just want to thank you for that ride report! Man its minus 22 here this morning , just had back to back snow storms totaling 16 inches of snow. I miss my bike !!!!!!!!! Oh well 2 more months and my baby will be out of storage. I have lots of work to do on my xs1100s. Thank you again for making my day .....MITCH
      Doug Mitchell
      82 XJ1100 sold
      2006 Suzuki C90 SE 1500 CC Cruiser sold
      2007 Stratoliner 1900 sold
      1999 Honda Valkyrie interstate
      47 years riding and still learning, does that make me a slow learner?

      Comment


      • #4
        Indeed, that was a very timely ride report. I spent almost 3 hours yesterday on the business end of the snow blower and shovel to dig out from this mess.. this was a nice reminder that there is better times coming.

        And just think, only 57 more days untill spring!! <sigh>
        Brian
        1978E Midlife Crisis - A work in progress
        1984 Kawasaki 550 Ltd - Gone, but not forgotten

        A married man should forget his mistakes. There's no use in two people
        remembering the same thing!

        Comment


        • #5
          Jeez! I thought my 160 mile ride on Friday was worth writing about Good read, enjoyed it. I wish we roads like that around here.

          Comment


          • #6
            John,

            Head west on I-20. You'll be there in no time.

            The worst thing about east Texas is the damned traffic. Out west it's WIDE OPEN!

            Comment


            • #7
              I 20

              That's the problem...I 20. I don't care to spend most of my limited riding time on a freeway.

              Comment


              • #8
                Great report!

                (from another Texas rider who loves west Texas!)
                CUAgain,
                Daniel Meyer
                Author. Adventurer. Electrician.
                Find out why...It's About the Ride.

                Comment


                • #9
                  I read some of Meyer's musings with utter delight.

                  However, there's a major difference between our writing styles...






                  HE'S GOOD!

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    Wanna know why he's so good?

                    He works for the "Dallas Morning News' newspaper. He's not a reporter, yet...but he should be.

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Nah...that guy shouldn't be a reporter. He should have his own column.

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        Story Update

                        I know some of you guys read my road story about going to Big Bend Texas.

                        I updated it and posted it as a web page. There were a few minor factual errors i corrected and added some detail and lots of photos.

                        If you wanna read it here's the link:

                        http://hometown.aol.com/rocktone/index.html

                        Comment

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