Riding the New Bike Home, Day 1

After my old bike was totaled, I knew I wasn’t quite done with riding the crap out of an SV650, so there was no question what kind of bike I’d be getting once the salvage truck took my baby away. I had just gotten off the phone with the insurance claims guy, who told me that yes, my SV was going to be totaled, when I stumbled across a particular ad on Bay Area Craigslist.

Miracle #1: Finding the Bike

• 2007 naked SV650… just like mine
• purchased new in 2008… just like mine
• motosliders, handguards, heated grips, relay/distribution block… pretty much just like mine
• and most important of all, the bike was blue… just like mine

Uncanny, that!

Buying a motorcycle sight unseen is a serious undertaking. I had a good feeling about the bike and the seller through his ad on craigslist and the accompanying pictures, and subsequent emails and phone calls only served to increase my confidence. The seller was very up front about the bike’s flaws, and I had reasonable expectations regarding the bike’s condition based on my experience with my old SV.

There was no going back once I advanced the seller a small deposit and booked my ticket for Oakland. I would be flying to Oakland early on Saturday morning and riding back to Oregon, arriving home on Monday.

Fun With Airline Travel, aka There’s Always Time For Lubricant

Despite Alaska Airline’s best attempts to screw me by canceling my originally scheduled flight and re-booking me on to a later one, I wasn’t going to let a little airline foolishness get me down even though my schedule was now going to be cutting it awfully close.

My Saturday began at 3:40am. By 4:15, Stacey and I were on the road to the Eugene Airport. My flight was due to depart at 6:55am, but I wanted plenty of time to pass through security as I was carrying a duffel dry-bag containing a smorgasbord of odd items: my tank bag, the custom seat off my old SV, the passenger grab bar also from the old SV, battery harness for GPS, Gerbing’s temperature controller stuf, and my tool roll. After imagining how my Gerbing’s heated jacket would appear on an X-ray machine, I wondered if I should have packed some lubricant too, in a 3oz bottle of course.

As expected, my duffel took several trips through the scanner, each one accompanied by puzzled looks from the TSA screeners. One of them pulled the bag aside so it could be examined manually. The heated jacket didn’t get any scrutiny, but my tools and tank bag did. Be aware that a 7 inch wrench is considered a deadly weapon and strictly forbidden, but a 6.5 inch wrench is a-ok.

Once I cleared security, the rest of my airplane experience was uneventful. I discovered that it takes 5 minutes for a prop plane to fly from Eugene to Corvallis and that the Olympic Mountains are beautiful from the air. The weather was spectacularly sunny in Oregon and Washington, though a little on the chilly side. After a boring layover in Seattle, I hopped on another plane and flew back down to Oakland, arriving 30 minutes early.

You’re in the Big City Now, Oregon Girl

The trip from OAK to the seller’s location was a quick one courtesy of BART. I had a four block walk to JG’s (the seller) place and damn, that duffel was heavy. But just when I started to get tired, I rounded a corner and spotted a pretty blue SV, the sight of which perked me up immediately. It was now 12:30, and I had a little more than an hour to evaluate the bike, conduct the transaction, and prep it for the long ride home.

The bike met my expectations exactly. There were no surprises, since JG was very honest about the bike’s flaws. The bike was extremely clean except for some scratches and chips on the tank and some rust on a few bolts and the upper fork clamps. It fired right up and ran just fine. I was sold, so I handed over a bunch of cash and then the bike was sold. And California titles are pink. How cute!

It’s amazing the difference having transportation can make. One minute I was a stranger in a very big city, totally dependent on my legs and public transport to get around. The next minute, I had a bike. I could go places! I could go home!

But before I could go anywhere, I had to get the bike ready. The bike was parked in front of JG’s apartment building, so I grabbed my tool roll and removed the seats and lifted the gas tank right where there on the sidewalk. This business attracted the attention of a sketchy looking guy sitting on the steps of the building. First, he mistakes me for a man. Then, he asks if he can borrow a phillips screwdriver from me to do something with his front door because he has no key(?)… I have a bad feeling about this dude so I lie (sorry, Jesus!) and tell him I only have hex drivers. “That’s cool,” he says, “Those’re 5 sided, right?”

Umm, yeah…

A few minutes later JG emerged from his apartment bearing a can of Chain Wax and a pair of pliers. Sketchy guy went back into the building so I’m puttering around hooking up my wiring when I hear a “whoop-whoop” of a police siren. I’m a Corvallis girl so I pay no mind to the noise. But then I notice that JG has gone silent and that he’s looking up at something. I turn around and realize that I’m surrounded by police cars.

That’s no good…

“Do you have your taser?” one cop says to the other.

Don’t tase me, bro…

And then I realize they’re not here for me. They’re here for sketchy guy. What a surprise! I have to admit that I thought to myself, “Thank god I didn’t let that dude borrow my screwdriver — I’d never get it back after the tasering!”

So that was my “Welcome to Oakland!” moment.

After experiencing my own very special episode of COPS, I realized that I’d forgotten to bring the battery harness for my Gerbing’s gear. I had the gear, the temperature controller, but no way to hook it to juice. By now it was already past 2, and I had to get going. I buttoned everything back up, gave JG a big hug, and headed on my way.

First up was getting gas. What the hell are these hippie anti-evapo-nozzle things? Man, they suck.

Finding gas screwed up the routing on my ghetto GPS, so I had a hard time finding I-80, much to the amusement of the crowd of old black dudes standing on the street corner who watched me circle around the block like a poor lost fool.

Miracle #2: The Cruiser Guy

I eventually found I-80. Not exactly the best way to ease a country girl into big-city traffic but I had no choice. I’d never ridden a motorcycle in this kind of traffic before, and you locals may laugh, but I was so terrified I started to have a freak out moment. Unfamiliar bike + unfamiliar traffic = scary!

But then out of nowhere, a motorcycle appeared ahead of me. I caught up to it, and decided to follow along behind. Cruiser commuter guy was cruisin’ along at a little over the speed limit, confidently making his way through traffic. He was a miracle. I’ll never be able to describe the feeling of relief I felt as I followed cruiser guy north. I’m not the most spiritual person, but I was so thankful and grateful that tears started pouring out of me. I’m getting a little teary just remembering it.

Amazingly, cruiser guy’s route was exactly the same as mine up until the Richmond Bridge. We exchanged a wave as he took the exit before the toll booths. Thank you, cruiser guy!

Korean Food 101

You might have the impression that I’ve never been to the Bay Area before, but I spent two summers in Santa Rosa during college so I’m somewhat familiar with the area. One of my very favorite Korean restaurants is in Cotati of all places. It’s called Bear Korean Restaurant, and all of you should go there and have the Hot Rock Pot Bi-bim-bap. Trust me.

I ordered a pot of hot roasted barley tea, which hit the spot after the chilly ride up from Oakland. When you order a meal at a true Korean restaurant, the first things to arrive are small dishes called banchan:

Banchan can be eaten as appetizers, but most folks eat them along with the main course, which for me was this beautiful bi-bim-bap:

Bi-bim-bap is a bowl of tasty vegetables prepared various ways along with some sweet bulgogi beef, topped with an egg fried over-easy. The first thing to do is grab the big bottle of red pepper paste and have at it:

Then, mix it all together.

Add rice, stir, and enjoy!

After my meal, I called up Liz, whom y’all may know from her comments here and from her blog Lilred’s Riding Blog. The plan was for me to ride up to Boonville via 101 and 128 and meet her there so we could ride together to Fort Bragg so I could stay the night.

I decided to check the adjustment of my clutch lever before taking off because it felt a little loose. Well, it was more than a little loose — the adjuster screws were completely undone! That’s what I get for hurrying while checking over the bike. Unfortunately, I had no pliers thanks to the TSA’s rules against Leatherman tools, so I tightened things up as best I could and then got back on the road.

Is it just me, or has the same stretch of 101 through Santa Rosa been under construction for the past 10 years?

Anyway, the ride to Boonville turned pretty terrific once I left 101 and hit 128. I wish I could have stopped to take pictures of some of the sweet curves, but the sun was setting and I had to keep moving. I made it to Boonville just as the sun set, filled up my tank, and waited for Liz. We’d be meeting each other in person for the first time. I’ve lost count of the number of amazing people I’ve met thanks to motorcycling!

Liz rolled into town on her Kawasaki ZX-6 and we said our greetings. She ducked into the convenience store to grab a cup of coffee to warm up, and while she was doing so, I checked the straps securing my duffel bag. I found quite a surprise — enough to make the blood drain out of my face.

Miracle #3: Rok Strap Failure

My dry-bag duffel was strapped to the pillion seat with two Rok Straps and an extra nylon strap (just in case). I found one of the Rok Straps hanging free on the peg it was looped around. Where was the other end of the strap? It was looped around the passenger peg, and instead of the 3 foot long strap I expected there was an 8 inch long stub with a ragged end.

The plastic buckle on the Rok Strap had completely failed, leaving the loose strap to fly free. I’m very fortunate that the loose end of the strap didn’t end up caught in my chain, or in my wheel, or in my brakes, or around the axle… The frayed end was slightly melted so I suspect it hit the hot exhaust and melted free before anything catastrophic happened. And here I tossed all my bungee cords after hearing horror stories about those!

If you look closely, you can see that the buckle is missing a piece out of it. The red nylon strap is not part of the original Rok Strap — it’s part of Liz’s awesome solution that she rigged up once we got home. (More on that later.)

Once again thanking my lucky stars, I used my just-in-case extra strap to replace the broken Rok Strap. Then we mounted up and headed for Fort Bragg. It was full dark so Liz led the way on 128. I’m glad she didn’t mind leading because I have awful night vision. I usually avoid riding at night for this reason but I didn’t have a choice. Anyway, the road was nice and twisty — I can’t wait to come back and ride it in the daylight!

We made it to Fort Bragg sometime after 7. Liz’s partner Tony had graciously cleared room in the garage for me to park the SV so I could work on it in the morning. We warmed up with cups of coffee and I had a great time chatting with both of them until it was way past time for bed. It had been a long day.

Tagged as: Motorcycling