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(This is my third iteration of this report: if my muse will quit screwing with me I may get the whole report in by New Years!)
Ray and I met as planned on Friday morning at Chubbies Diner in Scots Valley. It was a perfect day for a putt: clear skies, and just cool enough to make us debate whether to wear an extra layer, or tough it out knowing it would warm up in an hour or so. We opted for the latter and took off over Hwy. 17 to San Jose. Hwy. 17 is best known by thousands of daily commuters as the main route connecting Santa Cruz and environs with the "Silicon Valley," A.K.A. "The Valley of Hearts Delight." It is noted for fantastic views, reverse camber curves, 4 lanes devided by a concrete barrier marked with very disconcerting black tire marks, and a high mortality rate. It has a song written about it ( sung to the tune of "Abaleene,") and really deserves an article of its own.
"Over the hill" and down into the valley we rode, through San Jose up 880 to Militias, across to 680, to 580. I realized to reason for the "80" designations: It must be because the accepted speed was 80 m.p.h. Ray and I were jammin' along at 80 down 580 past the Altimont "wind farm" when a CHP pulled onto the freeway. I thought "Let the backup begin!" but the Man sped up to 90+ and the flow didn't slow one bit!
Ray picked this route because he wanted to meet another XSive rider along the way. Unfortunately, he had a domestic emergency and couldn't make it. Something about a refrigerator that crapped out with a whole bunch of expensive food about to thaw. Sorry I didn't get to meet you bro: you missed a great ride!
We jammed through the Central Valley for an hour or so. It really reminded me of my old stompin' grounds on the Texas plains: except there you could ride for hours and hours and hours without a change of view. Rays navigation found us on some combination of Hwys 12 and 88. We stopped for lunch in Jackson at a classic American diner, where the waitress, a woman "of a certain age" called everyone "hon." From there on the roads, and the scenery got interesting as we climbed the western slope of the Sierras. We passed through one area that was classic California: rolling hillsides of golden grass dotted with indigenous (that means "native" for you folks in Rio Linda,) oak trees.
The higher we climbed the crappier my bike ran. That satisfying dive bomber "Vr-o-o-o-o-m" gave way to sort of bl-a-(hick-pop) thl-u-u-u-p! It was eight-stroking to beat the band. It seems that what was an exceptably rich setting at sea level was exacerbated ( that means "made worse" for you folks in... oh never mind,) at higher elevations. Thanks to some anonymous Japanese engineer our XS's are endowed with adequate torque.
The scenery was fantastic. I immediately became aware of a major drawback to combining motorcycle touring with photography. The roads are so much fun to ride that one is inclined to think "wow, that would sure make a great shot," and keep right on riding. Fortunately Ray was also into photography and would sometimes stop because he sensed a good shot and was willing to pull over. I am sending a CD of my pictures to our host, DragXS, so he can post them with some other photo's of the run. I hope to have my own website soon to post photo's.
We rolled into Tahoe just in time to check into our motel rooms at the Motel 6. As we were checking in a couple of other Riders showed up.
To be continued:
Next, the meeting
Ray and I met as planned on Friday morning at Chubbies Diner in Scots Valley. It was a perfect day for a putt: clear skies, and just cool enough to make us debate whether to wear an extra layer, or tough it out knowing it would warm up in an hour or so. We opted for the latter and took off over Hwy. 17 to San Jose. Hwy. 17 is best known by thousands of daily commuters as the main route connecting Santa Cruz and environs with the "Silicon Valley," A.K.A. "The Valley of Hearts Delight." It is noted for fantastic views, reverse camber curves, 4 lanes devided by a concrete barrier marked with very disconcerting black tire marks, and a high mortality rate. It has a song written about it ( sung to the tune of "Abaleene,") and really deserves an article of its own.
"Over the hill" and down into the valley we rode, through San Jose up 880 to Militias, across to 680, to 580. I realized to reason for the "80" designations: It must be because the accepted speed was 80 m.p.h. Ray and I were jammin' along at 80 down 580 past the Altimont "wind farm" when a CHP pulled onto the freeway. I thought "Let the backup begin!" but the Man sped up to 90+ and the flow didn't slow one bit!
Ray picked this route because he wanted to meet another XSive rider along the way. Unfortunately, he had a domestic emergency and couldn't make it. Something about a refrigerator that crapped out with a whole bunch of expensive food about to thaw. Sorry I didn't get to meet you bro: you missed a great ride!
We jammed through the Central Valley for an hour or so. It really reminded me of my old stompin' grounds on the Texas plains: except there you could ride for hours and hours and hours without a change of view. Rays navigation found us on some combination of Hwys 12 and 88. We stopped for lunch in Jackson at a classic American diner, where the waitress, a woman "of a certain age" called everyone "hon." From there on the roads, and the scenery got interesting as we climbed the western slope of the Sierras. We passed through one area that was classic California: rolling hillsides of golden grass dotted with indigenous (that means "native" for you folks in Rio Linda,) oak trees.
The higher we climbed the crappier my bike ran. That satisfying dive bomber "Vr-o-o-o-o-m" gave way to sort of bl-a-(hick-pop) thl-u-u-u-p! It was eight-stroking to beat the band. It seems that what was an exceptably rich setting at sea level was exacerbated ( that means "made worse" for you folks in... oh never mind,) at higher elevations. Thanks to some anonymous Japanese engineer our XS's are endowed with adequate torque.
The scenery was fantastic. I immediately became aware of a major drawback to combining motorcycle touring with photography. The roads are so much fun to ride that one is inclined to think "wow, that would sure make a great shot," and keep right on riding. Fortunately Ray was also into photography and would sometimes stop because he sensed a good shot and was willing to pull over. I am sending a CD of my pictures to our host, DragXS, so he can post them with some other photo's of the run. I hope to have my own website soon to post photo's.
We rolled into Tahoe just in time to check into our motel rooms at the Motel 6. As we were checking in a couple of other Riders showed up.
To be continued:
Next, the meeting
Just bought a 1980 Special that has been non oped for 9 years. My Skoot will rise from the ashes and be re named "The Phoenix!"
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