Limo Science (re-post - orig. 2009)

This is a story from 2009 that I thought was lost... A good friend reminded me of the story and said they still had the original email that I had sent out. 
She was telling the story to one her students, a police officer no less, when he looks over at me and says: "that would be an interesting ticket to write"...

I just wish I had not lost the engineering drawings (thanks bro). They vanished when my computer crashed.


Well as you know, I am driving limo's.  Sometimes you kind of get bored even when driving.  My science project last night was the proper "disposal" of helium filled balloons left over from a wedding.
Okay so I bet you are already thinking of things you can do with them. 

I had dropped off the bride and groom and on the way back to the garage I was trying to figure out what to do with the ten balloons in the back of my 31' stretch Lincoln.
As I figured it, I had some options...

Option 1: When I get back to the garage I can pop them all in the car and dispose of the carcasses. As any self respecting black car limo driver should do. Boring!
Shit man, helium floats! 

Or...
Option 2: This "light bulb coming on" moment happened doing 65 mph at midnight.  Being the prudent scientist I am... I reach through the divider to capture the first unit for my experimental launch, gotta test a theory right?  
Kind of awkward when driving, but doable. 
I open the drivers side window and let 'er rip.  OK that worked but kind of distracting. Got to keep both hands on the wheel and eyes on the road, safety 1st!  
Damn balloons are big as my head, yes my head is that big. All them brains ya know!

I drive a few more boring lonesome miles.

Or...
Option 3: Low and behold another light bulb comes on. Nightlight wattage I might add.  What if I open one window at opposite ends of my 31' custom designed $100K balloon launcher ?  Sounds good to me. The air flow should suck them out.
Right?  

Well you might say I did not take the time for due diligence testing this, this, can you say "brilliant" theory.  Initially I surmised that since I was going forward at 65 mph the airflow would exit the right rear window in a glorious show of balloon freedom!

OK my plan is made and thoroughly thought through or about 1/2 mile/30 seconds worth.  I need to deploy when there is no one around. Not a big problem at this time of night with the highway I am on.  
Aha!  Up ahead I can see about a 1/4 mile stretch of highway that the street lights are all out. No one behind and no one ahead on the other side of the highway. 
Kind of exciting, isn't it! 
So with great anticipation I start my latest adventure.  
I slowly let down the right rear window, everything seems fine. The balloons are just bouncing around, giddy with anticipation of their upcoming freedom. 
And then I lower the drivers side front window...

So my question to you is, which way do you think the balloons decided to go on their maiden voyage?  
Take your time to ponder this.
Again a 31' limo traveling at 65 mph, midnight, 30 degrees outside, 67 degrees inside, helium, black & white balloons, and a dumb ass behind the wheel.....

You got to understand how a limo is made. The back is cool, lots of room, fancy LED lights, a bar and this little 2'X2' "privacy" window hole thingy that allows you to see what is going on, or allows you not to see what is going on in the back. 

Anyway, the drivers compartment is rather small.  Considering me being behind the wheel of the beast and taking up half the space. Okay maybe a little more...
Now add 9 helium filled balloons into the drivers compartment (in less than 2 seconds) traveling at 65 mph, at midnight in a 31' limo. 
Damn that window went down fast...
The first thought that entered my mind was; I would be the lead story on 9 News at 6 am. Heck I bet even FOX would pick it up.
Balloon Boy my ass, that was a wussies attempt at fame!  

Anyway, with my superior driving skills (driving blind, distracted, 65 mph at midnight) I was able to casually?
watch as all 9 balloons exited the drivers front window in an orderly fashion. Black, white, black, white, black, white...
Once my visibility returned. I was able to determine I was still on the road travelling in the right direction still at 65 mph, damn cruise control.  
Next was to check my mirrors (or was it my shorts).  
Did any one witness this wonderful sight? Thank God no one was there to share this wonderful adventure with me, especially a lonely police officer, or my boss....

Remember! What happens in the limo stays in the limo.  Wonder if that applies to what happens when something exits the limo???  Guess I will ponder this for many miles to come...

W

Chauffeur "extraordinaire"

Beer your say...(previous post from 2014)

I read a news bulletin that domestic beer sales are down... Kind of goes hand in hand with the fact that I quit drinking beer three months ago.

This Bud is for me!

I sort of feel guilty, all of those brewery workers relying on me to suck the suds daily that they work hard to produce. What a job, I would really like to be the "taster" of the brew.
Yes I sucked some suds in my day. Always domestic blue collar workin' mans beer. None of that she-man micro brew crap (so sue me if you don't like my PC).
The micro crap always gave me a massive headache and no buzz.  And I can tell you a simple fact, I do not normally get headaches. Thank God, never could understand when people I knew told me they were getting a migraine.
The micro crap is also at least 30-50% more expensive than your true blue American Bud.
So if you are drawing down 3-500 bucks a week (workin' mans pay), have a family to feed, rent to pay and so on. Are you going to spend $8-10 a six pack or $3-5? Simple math, you are not drinking it for the "taste"!
Every time I hear that I want slap them. If you are a man you are slammin' for the buzz, not the taste. Period.
Your life is shit, you struggle day to day to make ends meet. Why would you worry about the taste of what you "guzzle"?
Most men (afraid to tell the truth) tell you that they drink beer, well let me tell you if you drink beer you are livin' in la la land!
Real men do not drink, they guzzle.
Why you ask? To make the madness go away. Their lives are not a "happy, happy, happy" bunch of stuff. Their lives are a "crappy, crappy, crappy" bowl of shit.
A bowl that they now have to stir with a shovel, forget the spoon...
I am writing this maybe because I was used to slammin' 6-8 workin' man beers at a time. For me, to slam that many micro brews is not going to happen. Well I guess that is the problem, quantity/money...

Recently I got into a Facebook conversation with my nephew about beer, as the day progressed I came back to a very strong memory that I had.

I met a woman who treated me as a person no matter what I looked like. She then introduced me to her family after a road trip to her parents home in a Dodge Colt wagon (yeah Google that one!) thanks mom & dad, really.
Well we made it to her parents house with only one major break down on the way. The alternator bracket took a shit in the middle of a small town in Iowa. Great time in a small in the middle of nowhere town. We got a hotel room in a beautiful old hotel on main street and sleep the night away.
In the morning the person at the desk directed us to a garage that could help us out. The guy on duty was what was once called a mechanic, they could fix anything.

Today they are called technicians or in other words they replace broken parts, they have no idea in how to repair a broken part. I lived through this societal/engineering transformation and it was eye opening (maybe another story here someday).
Anyway the mechanic made us a new alternator bracket out of scrap steel, installed it and off we went. We never had a problem with that part again.
We arrived at her parents house in due time and they made me feel at home immediately.
He was a WWII vet (stationed in the Philippines), had worked at a local radio station and drove a "packer" (bet not many if any of you know what a packer is...). Blue collar worker takin' care of his family. Get a job, earn a paycheck bring it home and drink some PBR's along the way.

Her father asked me (maybe because I was not scared or judgmental of him when he asked) if I wanted to go with him to his "club" for a beer. Sign me up. Off we went to his private club.
The club was a basic as you see in the movies bar. It was owned and run by Chris and Mary ("Mary Christmas" they would say). Great people. As we sat suckin' down PBR's at a rate of 2 bits a draft life took on a new glow...
He introduced me to his friends. They accepted me. He taught me some pool shots, bought me some rounds and we had a wonderful afternoon just being people...
This is the life of the working man. Who just wants some suds to dull the pain of the day. Then off they go on home to be with the family.
The taste of the PBR on tap in his private club can never be topped. Because it was a memory of family, new friends, and beer!
This was the man that I asked if I could marry his daughter, yeah the way it should be done.
Well he approved the deal and 33 years later we are still together.
So what is this story all about, hum, I guess it is really about appearances. What do we see and how do we react/respond, and then judge?
When you are confronted with a homeless person, mentally challenged person or someone with a weird hair-do, (or maybe a micro brew drinker) how do you react?
Do you treat them as a person, shy away, go the other way, avoid contact, or do you just jump in and find out who they are?
Maybe sit down and just have a beer with them.

W

The Mule, The Kentucky Derby, & The Wasp...

Honestly this is one of the most demanding endeavors I have ever taken on, yeah really!

As some of you have been reading, I have had a lot going on for the last 2-3 months. Truth is, this story actually begins about 18 months ago.

The Mule

To train people to ride you need machines for them to ride on or known as "trainers", thus "The Herd". 

Motorcycles are easy to find, a dime a dozen, but on the other side of the coin you have sidecars & trikes. Well let's just say that unless you have a fair amount of disposable profit/income they can be hard to find.

In the process of the hunt I had a feeling there was a mule out there just waiting for me at the end of one of those dried up, washed out arroyos you always see in the movies. The ones with the cowboy heading into the unknown, constantly lookin' over his shoulder just knowing that the enemy is not far behind. Sure enough the wash stops at a cliff wall with no way out, but there stands your golden chalice, or should I say your rusty bucket... 

How I found the Mule

The Mule is hesitant, looking at you like, "Yeah you think you're man enough to tame me, climb on ya dumb ass"... She allows you on, you ride around the arroyo walls knowing there is only one way out. 
She realizes this also, kind of like that first bonding moment. Yeah I'm all warm and fuzzy now... 

You know you will have to back track, fighting all the way, dodging bullets, and praying your newly captured steed will survive the journey back home. You have no concept of your own life, just the thought, "If I can just get'r home". Yeah, then all will be well in your universe... NOT!

The Kentucky Derby

I found out about the Distinguished Gentleman's Ride a couple years ago and started to follow what they were doing. For me it was amazing to realize that on a single day a group of riders would take part in a charity ride worldwide! 

This year over 36,000 riders participated in different cities around the globe on the same day. The proceeds of this event will go to prostate cancer research. There is no "enrollment cost", just donations from family, friends, and co-workers who sponsor your ride. Easy enough. Again, I want to thank all of you that sponsored us for your support!

The event is not intended to be a "race", 
but if you think about it, the event still has a start and a finish. It is inevitable that the human ego will always get in the way to produce a race...The Derby! In the starting block there was a large mix of breeds and I might also add "inbreeding" of the participants. Right next to a full bred Vincent Black Shadow, there would be a cool rat bike. 

"Rat Bike"

As I looked along the starting gate I could see many a thoroughbred prancing their true genetics, waiting patiently next to the cafe racer or that special cafe that has morphed into a rat bike.

The Cafe/Rat bike in the middle has a naval search light retro fitted to the bike. Morphed cafe/rat...Cool!

The beauty of the rat bike is that the owners express themselves through their trusty steed. They do not give a shit what anyone else thinks, the steed becomes the rider. The rat bike is the "minds eye" of the rider/builder coming out as an artist. A true DaVinci in the motorcycle world.

Further down the line there sits a Morgan 3 Wheeler, new but coming from an extreme race lineage. 

Few in the field can touch the lineage of the Vincent, Morgan, Triumph (originals), Japanese (2 Stroke RD400), naked Goldwings, Urals, and the ever present Harley. The mix of Harley's and Triumphs was amazing. Running from vintage to new customs, then onto brand new rat customs.

Talking with one rider about his Kawasaki 175, I experienced a story unlike anyone else's present. When he was growing up (late 1970's) his father taught him how to ride and always told him his dream bike was the Kawasaki 175 (same bike that this Gentlemen was riding in the event). He was almost finished restoring it so he could give it to his father on his next birthday. A remarkable labor of love... This poignant story almost brought a tear to my eye because his bike was shunned as was the Honda Trail 90 by most of the other riders. For these two riders to participate in a ride like this, with this degree of difficulty, took an incredible amount of courage. Both bikes finished with their riders smiling ear to ear, bravo!

Intermixed in the group was the brand that holds its head high, the BMW, which justifiably stands for "bring my wallet". BMW has produced an amazing history of motorcycles. Their breeding has continually produced some of the best machines out there. 

In a way I consider my Mule a rat bike. It is a projection of myself. I had envisioned a steed that I could use in multiple ways, and she exceeded my expectations. 

As we head out of the gate you can see some jockeying for position in line, usually it is a Gentlemen's move ahead with a friendly nod to the other rider.

There are a grand total of 5 sidecars in the Denver event. 

Size does matter! We (sidecars) just kind of head out parting the water as we go, banding together as a group. A Ural Patrol out front with his dog as the pillion, next comes another Ural, then a nice BMW with a custom side car rig, then the other Ural and brinin' up the rear, the Mule.

As Bryce & I head out my nervousness starts to flee as I get in my zone. 

Focus weedlopper! My trusty steed is as ready as she will ever be, ready to tackle anything I throw at her, at least I pray so...

The coming path up the side of Lookout Mountain is still the ever present reflection in my mind. I mean like, I have driven sooooooo mannnnnny vehicles but I have never, no never, taken on an adventure like this. 

I give my pillion a thumbs up, he responds in like kind with a huge smile. Good to go!

The Wasp...

As I approached the climb out of Golden, my heart starts to race as I feel a strange confidence growing. My Mule has performed as expected though I am getting concerned over its tendency to push the 300 degree mark on my oil temp gauge... 

Bryce, "my pillion", in his training was told to keep an eye on the gauge and inform me of what he sees. At one point he says, "Poppy it is at 300, will the engine blow up?". I am focused and no more time to sugar coat the facts, "Yeah it could blow, and there is only one way to find out". Onward we go. His smile kind of goes away at this point. At the next few stop lights I could see a little apprehension in his wonderful face. Heck, he is my partner, I ain't gonna lie to him. He is a man and can handle the facts of life. We are in this together, prepared, practiced, and having a blast!

We have arrived at the last stop light before we head the Mule up my nemesis... Lookout Mountain. Temp is gettin' high and there is heavy pinging once I am in second. And here we are about to go vertical. 

At first the twisty's are not bad as I get comfortable with the Mule beneath me under extreme conditions. Some of the corners are so severe I am using both hands on the right hand grip to accelerate and turn; interesting technique, although I do not remember this from my two classes...

I find that I am having to shift my body weight dramatically to be able to control the mule even with the excellent work of my pillion. Together we get in a grove, spankin' the Mule up the side of the mountain. Can you say, "Giddy Up!"?

Bryce is doing awesome leaning into the corners, helping me immensely to maintain our speed as we take on a couple dozen switchbacks and multiple severe corners. Man this road would be a blast on two wheels! All I can say is, "Thank God I was going on training rides everyday for 2 weeks prior to this event"... this is by far the most technical ride I have ever done, period. 

As we approach the last corner I can see the sign to Buffalo Bill's Grave, "UREKA". 

We have conquered the mountain! 

We find a spot in front of Nanna's car (our follow/sweep vehicle for our adventure) and shut the Mule down for a much needed rest.  

Remember in the westerns how a horse looks after a real long hard ride, all covered with white foamy sweat, this is how I envisioned my Mule. 

If I had an apple with me, I would have knelt in front of her and offered up my humble gift... At no point did the Mule complain. We earned her trust and she gratefully accepted the care given her ahead of the ride with appreciation. She now knows someone cares for her again...

Bryce & I are jubilant, excited and kind of spent (couple of high 5's were in order). 

The mental concentration is what takes it out of you. Well okay, so does throwing around a 900 lb Mule. A song materializes in my worn out brain "He ain't heavy he's my brother"...

So you are probably starting to ask, "Where's the wasp?". Hang on we're gettin' there!

As the Mule cools down we head into the shade to hydrate, and chow down on some snacks. Bryce and I hit the Gatorade and water. As I snack on a granola bar, Bryce & Nanna head to the gift shop for a couple of candy bars. This is actually a nice rest stop, great view plenty of shade and a good area to see the stragglers coming in. 

There is the Kawa 175 coming in now, and a little later the Honda Trail 90 shows up. WOW, great for them, I even search out the Kawa rider to shake his hand. I can see the same sense of accomplishment on his face as he smiles, "cool"! Brothers in our own shared conquest of our private fears... 

It's all down hill from here!

After about 1/2 hour the group starts to reassemble and gear up. 

It was refreshing to see that in a state that has a no helmet law at least 80% of the riders were wearing a helmet. Bravo! Statistically this is about twice the norm for Colorado.

Bryce & I try and find the other sidecars but to no avail as we join the pack and wait our turn to get "on the road again". I can feel a new excitement as I realize we are going to be riding another technical though faster section with lots of high speed curves (35-50 mph). Another area to test the Mule out on. Again I find that with a dramatic weight shift I can get the Mule to track very well through the corners at speed. I look over and see that once again that wonderful smile is showing on my pillion's face. We are kickin' ass and takin' names!

"The Money Shot"

After one of the stops another rider comes up to us and says, " I was following you two and wished I had my Go Pro on to film you both leaning through the corners. Awesome!" We had practiced, talked about it, and then went out and used the proper techniques to achieve nirvana! Nothing is better than the feel of nailing a corner. Of course nothing will scare you more than doing it wrong and surviving.

The next leg of our journey will take us to the City of Denver Civic Center building directly west of the Capitol. All the riders are to meet here for the group picture. 

Bryce & I are riding in traffic about 10 blocks from our destination when Bryce taps my arm and says, "Is something stinging me?" as he pulls his right collar down. Well all I can do at speed is a couple of quick glances and yes there is something small and brown sticking out of his neck, though no signs of the perp. I have to yell to him, "Are you allergic to bee stings?". He says no, thank God. Another squishy pants moment passes. He tells me it really hurts and stings. I can see our stop point coming up and ask him to hang in there about 5 more minutes max. What a trooper! No screaming or tears, only the usual signs of severe discomfort associated with a insect sting. 

We've finally arrived at our destination. In we go to the parking area, backing the Mule in quickly and shut her down. Bryce jumps out of the sidecar with the stinger stuck in his neck and the little bastard on his right shoulder still alive!  I flip the wasp on the pavement and stomp on it. Then onto the stinger in his neck. After I get it out I again ask him if he is allergic to stings. Again he says no, but that it really hurts. What a stud! 

I carefully watch the wound to see how bad the swelling is. In the process we crack the first aid kit and get out the antiseptic and 

burn spray (only other thing I can think of). We gently clean the wound and I notice the swelling is about the size of a dime, flat, and not growing. We discuss his breathing and how his throat feels. All is okay. Looks like my resilient grandson will be fine, though a little sore...I get the burn spray (has Novocain) out and nothing, bupkiss it will not spray... shit. I thought I could numb the sting with the spray. I apologize to Bryce and tell him that he will have to suffer through the pain for a little while longer. As we are talking I notice the little bastard is still alive on the pavement. I point and Bryce administers the coup de grace, see ya sucker! I am so proud of how my pillion took a wasp sting under his shirt collar at 45 mph, toughed out the discomfort and pain so we could land safely before 

administering first aid. 

My partner, my hero, my sidecar pillion...

Our final destination was a MC dealer about 10 minutes away from our photo op.

It was kind of cool to see 160 bikes and about 200 riders standing on the steps of the City building facing the Capitol. What are those two mounted cops doing here... Dang bikers, nothin' but trouble...

 Bryce & I are far right side (white tails)

Trying to stay current with gadgets they had a guy riding in the event that was also the official drone videographer. It was a highlight of the group when he crashed his "toy" into the side of the City building, many a cheers arose as the pieces started to tumble down... If any videos surface in the future I will be sure to share them.

This has been the telling of vision, perseverance, practice, pain, joy and a vast sense of accomplishment. Helping to 

share with an 11-year old that so much is possible if you put your mind & body to work... to reach for the stars!

One of the Distinguished Gentlemen was nice enough to share with Bryce his story. He had the only electric bike in the group. The great thing about the bike was that it was his personal creation. He had envisioned the concept, designed the power plant, bought a donor GSXR frame, and built his vision. When I asked if he was an engineer he humbly said, "No". I could feel the honest, hard-earned pride that he had for his machine. His genuine smile could not be faked. This man was living his dream. A kind of bonding again, oh yeah I heard that somewhere before... "This is kind of like what we do", I told Bryce. "Remember the red grocery cart? If you can envision it, you can create it". The gentlemen came over and rested his hand on Bryce's shoulder and said, "You can do anything, even if someone tells you that it's not possible. What do you want to do in your life? Always believe in yourself and follow your heart." 

Yes, this was a long story... 

If you are still reading I thank you for taking the time from your busy/boring day to read my dribble...

Would I do it again? Yeah.

Would Bryce do it again? Yeah (with mom & dads permission of course).

Would I take my trusty steed?

On the same route, no. I am not 25 years old any more...

After the official ride my right arm & wrist hurt so bad I had trouble getting through the last 30 miles home after Bryce had left. 

Maybe once I have the new bars on the Mule I will give her a' go again...

Only time will tell.

W

EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA Iron Buffalo Hires...

Yes, really, to protect the safety of my grandson who will be the riding in the Mule's inaugural ride, we had to hire a "Crash Test Dummy".
Don't laugh, this is a serious, yes a very serious occupation. Not many can say that they were selected for this acclaimed position.
Iron Buffalo felt that no expense should be spared in hiring the most qualified "CTD" in the state.
The Mule has kicked one, bucked a few, and now today was the final test of the road worthiness of the Mule. 
Seriously, I can not take my grandson on a ride in a vehicle that I do not feel is safe, period.
Enter the CTD (crash test dummy)

"Marg, you want to go for a ride in the Mule"...

And off we go, the rest is history... putting the Mule through the paces with a highly skilled CTD on board.
At first I can see the CTD has a tentative look, but as we proceed a smile starts to arise.
Is the smile because the CTD does not realize what is coming or is it that she has also bonded with the Mule?
About 20 miles into the test ride the Mule starts to make a 
serious screeching, whining sound. At first I feel it is the speedo head complaining, then as I slow and downshift I start to wonder if it is the clutch or second gear, shit, not good! 
My CTD does not register my alarm, GOOD, but I am starting to get my squishy pants again. We are 20 miles from home and I have not figured out what the screeching noise is.
I pull over thinking that maybe I have lost trans or secondary drive oil. No that's not it, no visible leaks. 
I check on my CTD and she is all smiles, so off we go. Then the screeching starts again. I flip up my modular helmet and start to listen, listen and then it appears to be coming from the instrument cluster (this was my initial thought). As any great test driver does I start to smack the speedo and low and behold the screeching stops. I continue on and it starts again. I smack it again. It stops. OK, so now my squishy pants start to go away. We then continue on our test ride and every time it screams I smack the gauges. Then I realize that if I smack the tach, it stops.
I can even feel the screaming from the cluster on the tach side. There is nothing like the feel/sound of a screaming mechanical tach...
Problem diagnosed, tach drive is dry. Nothing like a set of squishy pants and a few hard smacks to figure something out at 60 mph...
My CTD is still all smiles as I tell her we are going to enter I-25 for a couple of exits (NOT!) so instead I get back on the frontage roads and see how the Mule performs.
Then I suggest that we take a few dirt roads to see how the Mule performs on dirt. Low and behold the dirt road I wanted to drive on is gone, the bastards paved it, WTF.
Anyway off we go on a wonderful new asphalt paved road. Eventually we find a "dirt road" to take the Mule on. As I exit I look over my left shoulder and it says, "No motorized vehicles". OOPS! Kind of feel bad, but not really... nobody around but me and my CTD.
50 miles later we arrive home, just me and my CTD. All smiles and no problems other than figuring out how to fix a non serviceable tachometer.
Get the hammer!
Anyway, long story short, I figure out how to get it apart WITHOUT BREAKING ANYTHING, add a little clock oil here and there and boom badda bing, the tach has stopped screeching. The needle moves a little slow, as I figure out clock oil is not the right viscosity for a tach, but who cares? It's not screechin' anymore...

Tomorrow BC & me take the Mule out to spank her! Stay tuned...

W

Monday & the Mule Skinner

Information is the most precious commodity in the world. Those that do not realize this will end up suffering...

I have always pushed the limits, or as some would say pushed the envelope. 
On the other side I have always been smart enough to know my knowledge boundaries. Though not my experimentation boundaries, heck I scraped an exhaust can on "Sally" (another story...).

Before I had even bought the Mule I had contacted my "Skinner" to ask about the Mule. He felt that I was headed in the right direction and that my budget was good. 
The Skinner is probably the most experienced sidecar rider/monkey/mechanic in the state of Colorado and or the Rocky Mt. region. 
Or as I would affectionately state, my sidecar guru.

I have been working on the Mule for over 3 weeks, talking with my Skinner, picking up tidbits of his 70+ years of experience and trying to get the Mule road worthy. All of this effort and self imposed stress came to a head today when I was able to get the Skinner to ride my Mule.
I had not told him anything about what I had done to her, just asked that he take her out and spank her. 
I had to. Harsh to say but I am planning on taking my grandson on the maiden voyage in the Mule in 5 days...
Safety first, if she can't cut the muster, I will scrap her. Hard to say but just the simple facts of life. If an animal has to be put down, so be it, man up and git'r done.

I had parked the Mule out front of the garage as I knew he was coming over. What I did not know was that he had taken time to inspect my Mule before he even let me know he was at the house. Kind of like the "Mule Whisperer" shit going on. He had to get to know the beast without distraction, form a relationship before he mounted and tried to tame my Mule.
Once he announced he was at my home we talked a little, he immediately pointed out a couple of flaws that I had suspected and told me he was ready to go.
I drove lead and took the Skinner on a route that would put the Mule through the paces as he spanked her. As I looked in the review I could see that the Mule was a' bucking, not yet comfortable with this new rider, and then as time wore on I could see that the Skinner had won over the Mule. He was makin' her dance, makin' her fly and just becoming one with the Mule. 
Years of riding experience can not be mimicked. You can only gain this by trial, years of riding and an unexplained bonding with your machine and or any machine you mount. 
Or becoming one, man & machine.
I could clearly see this in the rear view, he was one with the Mule. Hard to explain but such a joy to see uninhibited...
Once we pulled back into the driveway the Skinner had a smile, one that only another rider can understand. 
First thing he says is that; "these handle bars suck"! I was totally relieved and happy, as I hated them from the first ride I had on the Mule. He then told me that the hack shock is toast. 
Both of these problems were things that stuck in my craw from the beginning. 
My instincts told me these two items were problems, I just needed confirmation from the Skinner.
Over all the Skinner had praise for the performance of my Mule. He commented on how well she pulled the load, how she tracked straight and true, and that the set up I had done was good, safe and ready to roll.
He felt that other than the crappy angle of the handle bar, and the blown shock she was ready to rock & roll.
Music to my ears, I took a leap in faith, spent about a year searching for a Mule I could afford and today the blessings showed.
My Mule is now part of the herd...

W

Becoming one... (long story, sorry)

It's hard to explain?

I have owned/driven/played with probably over a 1000 or more "machines" (with wheels, and tracks, can you say Thiokol), yes really. I can send you a list... 

I feel that I got my zen (genetics maybe?) from mom & dad. I was raised around their machines and their love of the machine.

Anyway I have always formed a "relationship" with my machines with wheels, (computers and other tech I loath, I still use a flip phone by choice) and have always named them. My daughter Stacey once pointed this out to me and I had never realized it before. I form a love/hate relationship with my machines. 

Sometimes I am initially scared by them. I then try and learn their style, and usually I can empower them to allow me to smile. 

I can also send their piece of shit ass to the scrap yard. I can only take so much of "the bonding"...

The Mule has entered into my world of machines.

Today was a scheduled day of experimenting/test driving on the Mule for me. I even remembered to take a tool kit with me, yeah send me a thank you note on that one...

AGATT (All Gear All The Time) again cause my baby still scares the shit out of me. She ain't friendly just yet. I am still trying to earn her respect.

I rigged the broken tach cable so it would not do any damage to the tach drive gear (major $$$ to fix as it is inside the engine) by removing the damaged cable and sheath. I then removed the broken cable from the sheath and reinstalled the empty sheath. Thus protecting the tach drive gear inside the engine from the outside elements.

I don't need no stinkin' tach, I know that red line is when shit starts to vacate the engine casings! Right?

I then do a visual of all major mounts (that I touched) check my tire pressure, add BG MOA (great product) to the crankcase in hopes that this will help to protect my Mule under high heat. Say my prayers, gear up and off I go.

Initially as I am driving through my neighborhood I can not really decipher much. Yeah it stops, it accelerates but not enough speed to decide if you are going to die today...

Out I go onto the first 45+ mph side road. I notice that I am having to pull hard, yeah really hard on the left handle bar to get the Mule to track. I keep going as my mind processes the minuscule amount of information I have stored on a sidecar hack and how they are "supposed to handle" I ain't no wussie, I can throw a motorcycle around so on I go. Shit, as I get up to speed or around 60+ mph the Mule wants to gallop off the road to the right. I can form a less abusive straight line as I get everything settled and then she kind of evens out. Then I start to notice that the hack dives severely to the right under steering correction, braking (normal)  or farting...and does not rebound well.

So after about 7 miles I kind of have my Mule figured out, yeah right. I pull over after turning around and shift my 60 lbs ballast bag in the hack to the left and then sit off the seat to the left as I ride and regain a significant amount of control. Not enough to get rid of my squishy pants but enough to ponder what is happening as I head for home.

OK so now I know that the Mule wants to vacate the road @ 60+ mph to the right. Shifting weight to the left makes a noticeable improvement in the ability to steer and get the Mule to track straight.

I get back to the garage and park her, shed my gear and stand back and look at the Mule from behind. 

Yeah I am lookin' a Mule in the ass...

I notice that the bike is leaning to the right into the hack. I would guess between 2-5 degrees at least.

Hum, if a motorcycle leans in either direction it will turn in that direction.

I look at an adjustable rod connecting the bike to the sidecar and say why is that adjustable? 

I call the tech line of the sidecar manufacturer and ask pointed question about my ride.

The tech guy is very nice and has been for the last 6 months with my "tard questions".

He gives a lot of latitude to a motorcycle safety training company, thank God. Anyway I can tell he knows that he has someone that understands about 20% of what he is saying. He is nice and repeatedly says "have you read the download about sidecar installation from our web site". I humbly say no and tell him I will, I promise ( I don't need no stinkin' directions, I am a MAN).

Again I stand looking at the ass of my Mule and it clicks, it is leaning to the right, or into the hack. I then call my sidecar guru who is totally patient with my lack of understanding and he says yes the bike should lean left or at least centered. OK enough info for me. I break loose the lock nut (hammer required, cool! I get to beat my Mule) and adjust the rod and low and behold the bike stands up straight and leans to the left. Eureka! Amazing how shit works if you know what you are doing...

I contemplate how this changed the dynamics of the bike and then think, I have ballast in the hack now, the guy said it should lean to the left without a passenger (or pillion, my grandson Bryce). I leave the 120 lbs ballast in and "eyeball"(scientific verbiage) the Mule from the rear. Sure as shit the Mule is standing upright! I play with it a little, gear up, take my trusted hammer with me and out I go on my next test drive. WOW what a difference a little geometry makes (never took a class, almost failed algerbra but WTF?) the Mule tracked 80-90% better. I pulled over once, smacked the lock nut with the hammer (love the use of a hammer) and tweaked it a little more. Off I went saddled to my Mule, learning all the way.

Other notes;

the hacks shock is blown, leaking and does not operate properly. The tech guy says that you might be able to rebuild it or, spend $500.00 to upgrade the suspension that we figured out 2 years later, was not adequate on your sidecar, great.

Once I hooked up the lights for the sidecar from the bike I noticed the right side turn signals did not work well. They operated fast and what appeared to be hard on the relay. Fast clicks instead of a steady click.

I asked my mechanic what this might mean and he said that the sidecar was drawing to much voltage for the circuit. 

Cool, his thoughts made sense, I ask him; "should I snip a wire on the bike or remove an unneeded bulb", he turns his head as he thinks and says "remove the bulb". As I am driving home I think about all of the light bulbs I have replaced in our home to more energy efficient ones. Somewhere I have heard about LED bulbs for vehicles that will draw less voltage. Yeah this might fix my problem.

I ride the Mule to my local parts store and yes they have LED 1156 & 1157 bulbs that I can buy @  $12.50 each are you F'in serious! Well I can not spare any expense to make the Mule road worthy, period. I am stuck with what little, no wait the serious lack money that I have left has to go to feeding the Mule.

I get the bulbs installed and what 'ya know the problem is solved by using less energy, just more money I don't have. Wish my life always worked like that, problem solved by less energy... NOT!

Tomorrow Bryce (my pillion) and I will "scout" our course for the charity ride on the 27th.

I just hope and pray the Mule can stand, not buck, and deliver.

W 

The Mule lives...

It's alive!

I finished up with the last of the initial repairs on the Mule. The rear brake pads, and the air box to carb hoses installation. The rear brake fluid was clear as the Mississippi river, with no mud! Flushed the fluid until she was runnin' clear, everything worked as it should.

Then as any good test pilot does...

I'm off on a 50 mile ride putting her through the moves, she actually did quite well. Went out onto 76 East so I could get up to speed, cruises fine @ 75-80 mph pulling 5-6000 rpm's. That is until the Mule spits the tach cable out. I pull over on an off ramp, do a once over to make sure she ain't bleedin', and re-attach the cable on a very hot engine with no tools...

Note to self:

If you're going on a test drive take some basic tools, baling wire and duct tape, ya dumb ass...

Start up again, tach is working great, oops no tach again. Well seeing as this problem won't go away, time to return to base. 

Overall the performance was good other than the position of the handle bars. They are made for midgets not gorilla like armed people such as myself! My throttle hand kept going to sleep because of the awkward position. Consider a clock dial, my hands were @ 10 & 2 o'clock (imagine holding a car steering wheel) pointing down at about a 150 degree angle... The position will be perfect for our senior 3 wheel instructor, just great. I am a 3 & 9 type rider, 95-100 degree all day long. Oh well we will see what the future holds for the Mule's bar...

Interesting thing about the bike, or maybe it is my age coming out. 

This bike was considered a top tier bagger/cruiser in it's day. I would not last on a all day trip on this bike by itself.  I have not ridden a bike that was this touchy to wind, road grooves and general stability at speed in a long time. 

I mean like you fart and the mule twitches. With the hack on the Mule, the ride will become much more pleasant, or so I hope. 

The bike is heavy enough just does not even come close to the Super Tanker II in the comfort arena.

"Super Tanker II"

My thought is the wheel base difference. The Mule is a heavy bike, coming in just over 600 lbs, but still compared to the 850 lbs Super Tanker II? Going to measure and see.

When I got back to the garage I let it idle to see what the oil temp would do. On my test ride she was consistently under 200 F (high 80's ambient) with the air flowing, good, but as soon as I would slow or come to a stop BEHIND THE EVER PRESENT LINE OF SEMI's in Colorado at a stop light, she would climb to 250. At idle after a long hard ride the temp was about 260 F. Concern. Will take a serious look at installing an oil cooler.

Moved it into the garage shut her down and went to get the hack (sidecar) out of the shed for the installation process. Everything was going fine right up to the point I can't find the F'n mounting bolts. Heck I can't even remember where I put them, so I spend 1/2 hour grinding the gears of memory, looking everywhere I can think of and finally off to the hardware store I go...

$30 bucks later the Mule is whole again. I then check all mountings again, air up the tire, wire the lights for the hack and off on test ride #2 of the day. Just around the neighborhood, (little tired and sore from test ride #1, no ballast) and the old Mule does very well. I am excited. Today once I have the ballast for the hack, I will try and get the rig out on the highway to see what happens. I talked with my sidecar guru and he his hopefully coming by on Monday to test ride the Mule and sign off on her, at least that is what I hope & pray...

I now feel a lot better about the build and how the restoration of the Mule is going. I still have 8 days to repair the tach, fix some wiring issues, install the hack windscreen and luggage rack (for advertising) and have my mechanic check her over and then ride, ride, ride, my Mule.

W

Always loved a good t-shirt...

OK, so this blog post is not for you mild mannered respectable people (REALLY TURN AWAY NOW!). 
Though this post is "OK" for the rest of you assholes (who will understand)...
I warned you! Ladies turn away now! 

Men belly up to the bar you'll need at least a yard to get through all of them, maybe two yards (real men only, Caitlin not allowed) ...

I have always tried to speak my mind through my t-shirts. It is always worth the wait (this can be upwards of a year wearing the shirt, really, yeah! I wash it sometimes...) to see the light bulbs go off in someones head when they actually take the time to read your shirt...

I found nirvana today. I'm in!
T-shirt offensive heaven. 
Not sure how I found this web site but hey I am still laughing.
If you are really, really, really, YES REALLY bored, tired of the hum drum of work, start looking through this incredible collection of ways to offend most people and make the truly brilliant ones laugh...
Maybe it is the other way around? 
I don't give a F'...

http://www.shotdeadinthehead.com/nsearch?page=1&pushnav=menu&keywords=offensive&refine=y&tags=Offensive

Couple of my fav's;

One of my all time fav's currently in use;

Anytime I helped someone move, I wore the shirt. Any job interview I had, I wore the shirt...

The hat has significance also...

So much to see & so much to buy, so little time & so little money...

At least I can still laugh until I cry!

W

If you are kicked in the ass by a Mule...

are you a "jack ass"?

Well looking back at today I would say I am a jack ass.

I have been working hard to get "The Mule" ready for my 1st DGR charity event.

Today I finished up a huge amount of work on the mule from the past week.

Installed the newly rebuilt front forks, rebuilt the fuel pet cock (that does not leak now!) new rear tire, changing the fluids in the final drive, the secondary trans, and the engine, lubing & adjusting cables, checking brake fluids *, installing the newly resurfaced king/queen seat, and fixing a major pain in the ass. The air box rubber hoses from the carbs are crap. I struggled for at least an hour to get four rubber hoses to almost fit, so they can seal, so I can test ride the mule... All went pretty well no real problems. 
(I have ordered new air box hoses to install next week as I doubt the fit of the current ones).
In the process of doing a large amount of work on a bike, you look at everything and notice things. Various hoses/wiring that needs zip ties, worn boots, things leaking, certain things that need adjustment or replacement and on and on.

On to the jack ass part...
For some reason (God) I decided to open the front brake fluid reservoir and "check" the fluid, well it was pretty low, looked like muddy waters, but hey the front brakes worked, right! If it ain't broke don't fix it crap. 
Don't listen to God though, just push ahead get on and ride, ya dumb ass... 
Note to self, if your brake fluid looks like Mississippi mud, well maybe you have a "PROBLEM". 
Not me, just filled up the reservoir gave the lever a few pumps, and it felt fine. Leave it alone, it works in your garage, who cares about the open road, right.

Remember the mule kicking my ass?
I prep very carefully for my first true road test of the mule. I double check everything I have fixed, all the nuts and bolts, cotter pins, any fluid leaks, will she start and so on. In the back of my mind is the front brake fluid, haunting me...

Then it is time for AGATT, get all of it on, ready to ride. I saddle up, bring the mule off the center stand, roll her out of the garage and off I go on the first true test ride of a 35 year old motorcycle that I know nothing about. 
Riding any motorcycle for the first time is tenuous at the least. Can you say pucker factor! 
With my experience as a test driver and motorcyclist you start out slow, check how she weaves, stops, accelerates and just performs as a motorcycle should, or what you think a 35 year old motorcycle should do. 
So far so good, 7 miles into the first ride and looking good, no wait I smell smoke, not sure what it is, is it oil? is it 90w drive oil, is it plastic, no wait it is a brake smell, well that's no problem it is one of the trucks or cars around me, no wait why is the front of the mule dragging, why do I not have much acceleration, no wait why is my front brake lever HARD AS A ROCK? 
Shit both front calipers have seized and they are cooking the front rotors, damn I was kicked in the ass by the mule. 
At 60+ miles an hour both front rotors seized and pissed brake fluid out of the calipers! 
I have never had that happen before. I once had a front caliper come off at 75 mph, another story...
Anyway I get the mule shut down and off the road and check my shorts, still dry. Can you say "low side @ 60mph"...
Smoke is coming off of the front rim/rotors with fluid showing on the wheel and the tire. Crap!
I get back on the mule put her in neutral and try and move her nothing. The front nose dives as I push forward, seized brakes. Not good for me. 
I start to weigh my options, piss my pants now or, or wait and see what happens when the rotors cool down. 
I know I don't need no stinkin' front brakes to ride a motorcycle, right! How many times have you heard that line...
After about 5 minutes I again mount the mule and try moving her forward, bingo, freedom, the calipers have released and I have movement of the front tire.
OK,  reality check time, I have 7 miles to ride home on a secondary highway with light traffic. 
I DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' FRONT BRAKES... Right???
Off I go, my pants are a little squishy but not bad. Get the mule up to 50mph doing fine, keep telling myself "DON'T TOUCH THE FRONT BRAKE". This is really hard to over come. 
Both brakes all of the time, right! 
Twice I pull over let traffic pass the "mentally challenged biker" go home...
Once back in my garage safely I first tell myself, if your brake fluid looks like mud, well don't be a dumb ass FIX IT. 
I then thank God that I am still alive to live another day.
I love my "Mule", she kicked my ass, taught me something and will forever be a trusted steed in my herd...

One of the reasons I am not a pilot, not as far to fall...

W