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Just got back from a blast around the Valley on my faithful XS11. Wotta blast!
As I rolled her from her slot in a motorcycle filled garage, I pulled in the clutch lever and popped the gearshift down into first to free the clutch plates. It's an old trick that I learned from a Brit bike racer and I do it as a matter of course any time I ride. Put down the centerstand and stepped on it. The mass of motorbike lifted, swung through an arc, and settled softly down on the stop.
After retrieving the kicker arm from the saddle bags and putting it in place, I swung my leg over the saddle and settled in. Turned on the fuel, choked her one click and eased the kicker over a few times to prime her good. Key in the on position and one serious kick and the sweet sound of XS is my reward. Incase yer wondering, the starter works just fine and I usually let electricity be my boot. But sometimes I enjoy the personal connection of starting my motor with a physical act. I also like the way it just booms to life-no whine of the starter motor-just the symphony of eternal combustion.
With the choke fully closed, I left her to warm as I pulled on my old and worn leather jacket, armored gloves and helmet. The smooth, even sound of the 11's motor at idle is a comfortable noise to my ears. I know the health of my baby by the sounds she makes, and she sounds shaweeeeet! It seems she liked the camchain adjustment that she got last night. Oh baybee, we gonna have some fun.
One walk around to give a pre-flight inspection and make sure the stuff that is supposed to be there, really is where it should be and doing it right. I had checked tire pressure and oil levels in the garage and filled with gas after the last run a couple days past. Looks good...let's go riding.
I cruise slowly through my hood and let her warm, listening for any untoward sounds. All is well and out onto the streets of the SFV we roll.
It's kinda quiet as the after work rush has passed and the roads are mine. Splitting lanes at the traffic lights leaves me in the empty spaces as I accelerate away and the sound of the Kerker 4 into 1 burbles happily under power. Finding some stretches of open road as I head outta Dodge, I twist the wick a bit and revel in the harder bark of the pipe approaching full chat. This old baby just loves to run!
On past Shadow Hills and up into the Angeles National Forest we run. The sunlight lays in dapples on the tree-lined road as it twists and turns, snaking the way up the hill. I can see Little Tujunga Canyon Creek down at the bottom of the dusty canyon. Not another vehicle do I see as the big Yamaha scrapes pegs in the corners and follows the line so well through the apex that I sit upright and toss the bike around beneath me. So fun. So controllable and predictable. So freakin' fun!
I arrive at my favorite spot and shut off the bike. While the hot metal ticks and pings as it cools, I dismount and stroll up the hillside a hundred yards or so. I sat and looked out at God's Country-the beautiful and scenic sub-division from Hell that is the San Fernendo Valley. After I burned a bit of my glaucoma medication,wink wink nudge nudge, and sitting in the dirt i was ready to return home to my dull monochromatic life. One more toke..
As I ran her through the gears on the way back, I marveled at the smoothness and power in this old beast. Twist of the wrist and away we go! As the revs rise put a little pressure on the shift lever, pull the clutch and snick her into second gear. A bit of extra throttle and the front tire floats just off the pavement and gently touches back down just before the shift into third.
Up onto the 405 freeway for a nice high speed blast. Shift into fifth at seventy-five and hit the far left to claim the carpool lane. Yum yum, open highway and good asphalt. Occasionally we come up behind a slow moving minivan and slide to the right passing them, glimpsing the faces of kids pressed to the glass to see the bike go by.
The circle is closing and I'm nearing home so I exit the freeway and snake my way through suburban streets, racing my shadow past tract houses and skateboarders, pit bulls and Latina honeys. The glory of it all astounds me.
But my bike is running good and none of that earthly dross matters. Who cares about the economy when ya got a motorsickle to ride? I pull in my driveway, kill the motor, shut off the petcocks and push her into the garage. Damn, that was fun!
Let's do it again tomorrow!
As I rolled her from her slot in a motorcycle filled garage, I pulled in the clutch lever and popped the gearshift down into first to free the clutch plates. It's an old trick that I learned from a Brit bike racer and I do it as a matter of course any time I ride. Put down the centerstand and stepped on it. The mass of motorbike lifted, swung through an arc, and settled softly down on the stop.
After retrieving the kicker arm from the saddle bags and putting it in place, I swung my leg over the saddle and settled in. Turned on the fuel, choked her one click and eased the kicker over a few times to prime her good. Key in the on position and one serious kick and the sweet sound of XS is my reward. Incase yer wondering, the starter works just fine and I usually let electricity be my boot. But sometimes I enjoy the personal connection of starting my motor with a physical act. I also like the way it just booms to life-no whine of the starter motor-just the symphony of eternal combustion.
With the choke fully closed, I left her to warm as I pulled on my old and worn leather jacket, armored gloves and helmet. The smooth, even sound of the 11's motor at idle is a comfortable noise to my ears. I know the health of my baby by the sounds she makes, and she sounds shaweeeeet! It seems she liked the camchain adjustment that she got last night. Oh baybee, we gonna have some fun.
One walk around to give a pre-flight inspection and make sure the stuff that is supposed to be there, really is where it should be and doing it right. I had checked tire pressure and oil levels in the garage and filled with gas after the last run a couple days past. Looks good...let's go riding.
I cruise slowly through my hood and let her warm, listening for any untoward sounds. All is well and out onto the streets of the SFV we roll.
It's kinda quiet as the after work rush has passed and the roads are mine. Splitting lanes at the traffic lights leaves me in the empty spaces as I accelerate away and the sound of the Kerker 4 into 1 burbles happily under power. Finding some stretches of open road as I head outta Dodge, I twist the wick a bit and revel in the harder bark of the pipe approaching full chat. This old baby just loves to run!
On past Shadow Hills and up into the Angeles National Forest we run. The sunlight lays in dapples on the tree-lined road as it twists and turns, snaking the way up the hill. I can see Little Tujunga Canyon Creek down at the bottom of the dusty canyon. Not another vehicle do I see as the big Yamaha scrapes pegs in the corners and follows the line so well through the apex that I sit upright and toss the bike around beneath me. So fun. So controllable and predictable. So freakin' fun!
I arrive at my favorite spot and shut off the bike. While the hot metal ticks and pings as it cools, I dismount and stroll up the hillside a hundred yards or so. I sat and looked out at God's Country-the beautiful and scenic sub-division from Hell that is the San Fernendo Valley. After I burned a bit of my glaucoma medication,wink wink nudge nudge, and sitting in the dirt i was ready to return home to my dull monochromatic life. One more toke..
As I ran her through the gears on the way back, I marveled at the smoothness and power in this old beast. Twist of the wrist and away we go! As the revs rise put a little pressure on the shift lever, pull the clutch and snick her into second gear. A bit of extra throttle and the front tire floats just off the pavement and gently touches back down just before the shift into third.
Up onto the 405 freeway for a nice high speed blast. Shift into fifth at seventy-five and hit the far left to claim the carpool lane. Yum yum, open highway and good asphalt. Occasionally we come up behind a slow moving minivan and slide to the right passing them, glimpsing the faces of kids pressed to the glass to see the bike go by.
The circle is closing and I'm nearing home so I exit the freeway and snake my way through suburban streets, racing my shadow past tract houses and skateboarders, pit bulls and Latina honeys. The glory of it all astounds me.
But my bike is running good and none of that earthly dross matters. Who cares about the economy when ya got a motorsickle to ride? I pull in my driveway, kill the motor, shut off the petcocks and push her into the garage. Damn, that was fun!
Let's do it again tomorrow!
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