I'm thinking of beginning a new blog titled :"Travels with Trevor"

Or, maybe Trials with Trevor?

STRETCH as I like to call him, towers over me.

Hitting the road/trails

He's about 6 feet 13 inches, while I stand 5 feet 4.

If you can imagine Trevor riding his first gen KLR 650 with it's 3 foot high seat, and imagine him putting a regulation CFL football under his butt, his knees would still be bent!

A couple of weeks ago I get a call... "Wanna ride the power line with me?"


Last time I rode a power line was 1978.  My then B-o-L Dean and I, both on identical TY 175 Yamaha trials bikes, went out for a short ride.  In those day a speedo (not like in swimwear) mirror bulb horn and a small head and taillight were the only street requirements in Alberta.  Since it was only going to be a short ride on the power line, we had no food or water to my recollection.

They can somehow manage to get it in full, but can't carry it out empty?!

We rode north on Highway 63 towards the oil sands and took an access onto the power line.  In those days, the Ft Mac Dirt Riders occasionally ran Enduro events along the line.  Then as it is now, FM was completely surrounded by wilderness and when I say WILD, let me tell you, there were bears, moose, wolves and outnumbering them all... drunks!

There is reputed to be a two stroke Husqvarna buried in the muskeg as well as the JEEP that tried to winch it out before the handlebars disappeared!

The PL ran parallel to the highway in most case less than a mile from the pavement. You may have been a hundred miles, so dense was the bush.



Anyway it was summer, hot and the bugs were out in full force.  No bug spray naturally... When they build these things, nothing gets in the way.  A wide right of way is slashed across hills and dales and the towers are erected.

We meet up with an old friend of Trev's

Well on that day what we didn't count on was greasy hills with thousands of short stumps from 4 to 24 " in diameter.  Not only did we have to endure (get it?) the stumps but we had to literally carry the TY across muddy bottom streams that often had a drop of several feet from the trail and then tire spinning push/ride up the greasy hill.

I nearly died!

Cool old time Kelly's Cross village store

SEE what I'm thinking...


Trevor being Trevor said apart from some muddy spots, it was, if I remember... "A piece of cake..."

Last year when we tried to ride this same section of power line the bush was so dense we didn't make it across.  With the building of ATV trails Island wide this section was open.

Off we went, I on my trusty XT 225 and he on his Killer. (KLR?)

Trail is in good shape.

Once in Kinkora, I followed him to Ross road, which is more trail than it is road to be Frank with you, until the turn off.  We had a brief confab and headed onto the trail.  Well apart from some mud, it was... a piece of cake.  The little XT is so good at these things, light weight, 32" seat height, 6 gears and four stroke SOHC 2 valve grunt to save wheel spin.  It was hot as it's been this summer and pretty humid out in the hills but we soon saw pavement as we rolled out of the trails.



Having more tome than brains sometimes I blurted out... "Hey Shorty, feel like doing Brookvale?" which is very near our highest elevation of nearly 500 feet!  Okay it's not Rocky Mountain high but remember we are an Island so that's sea level to 500 feet!

Coming from the Devil's Punch Bowl, headed home.

The ski park is definitely OFF LIMITS to ride on the hill, but they were kind enough to place several trails bordering the park for us motorized bunch.


Trev wondered about the condition of the trail, it can often be washed out badly, but having past through here only a week or so ago I could vouch for it's condition.



It was mostly chugging in 2nd gear for me, silent and still as a moonlit night at Playa Los Cocos.

From here I took over leading as I am familiar with these trails and we did some glorious short connectors on public roads and narrow trails.

TIME standing still for no one, we parted en-route home, he towards some of his local trails and me... mine.

SEVEN ducklings, 1 attendant Mom and several more closure signs equals...

Northern arm of the world renowned Bay of Fundy

NO choice but to back track to the T junction of Upper Rockport road and continue on route 935 to the opposite coast.  Within 2 km I came upon another T, figuratively speaking, I tossed a coin and turned right onto Chignecto Bay.  Little did I know it with a non functioning GPS and no clear maps, that had I turned left... I would have likely come to another 'Road Closure' sign which looking back... was very likely the continuation of the  road I had been on a half hour previously, and who knows, perhaps I could have connected the two.

What else is new!

Another time...

I was now on Dorchestor Cape road where I found more closure signs and the sign of some cottages.  It wasn't long before civilization appeared once again in the form of the cute little burg of Dorchestor NB.  Now many around these parts know this village for it's Federal Penitentiary, both old and new.  It does however have some history besides that.

Gosh darn pretty!  Traveling by MC is the Best.

Stopping under a tree that really didn't offer much in the way of shade, at the Village offices for a swig of, by now lukewarm water in the 32 C heat, I did my tourist thing and wandered around in the town center for some photos.

I got to know Dorchester real well... was there 4 times, all on the same day!!

I didn't stay long this time, as I was indeed on a "voyage of Discovery" of the New (to me) World and there was plenty of road yet to discover.

The "Pen's" looked very well kept both old and new and I was somehow inexplicably drawn to the large sign proclaiming lovely overnight bed and breakfasts at the old jail.  I decided right there on the spot I would return for a stay on another night!  After all, who could refuse such an offer, right!

I say the 'first time' passing through, as today riding for several hundred kilometers through the small villages of the north Fundy area I found myself at this same intersection of highway's 106 in both direction not once but thrice and a stint on Wood lawn Road as well!  This is how easily is can be to lose oneself when exploring out here.


I wanted to find my way across the narrowing arm of the Bay if at all possible and fortunately I did.




Having passed through Middleton, Dorchestor Parish and Memramcook, I swung south onto St Thomas street and crossed the mud flats before climbing from the low country past a beautiful church, and up the hill connecting with route 925! Before long on the sweeping curves I was in the suburbs of Dieppe.





I took the first turn I found on highway 106 East, and headed back looking for a route I was sure would take me back to the Cap Pele vicinity once again on sinewy tiny country roads.

B & B anyone?

Keep in mind that I am but a dozen of so miles from the Trans Canada Highway, that show's KM 1 in Victoria British Columbia, some 6000 km distant west.  It is a huge country this Canada isn't it.  You could likely put Europe in here 4 times!

I wasn't headed to Europe today and even Victoria (by the Sea) at the bottom of Prince Edward Island, was out of the question.

Will try this one day.

The "PEN"

I found myself at a small pond after just connecting onto 106, slurping some more water in the heat and opening what amounted to a half melted energy bar from my pack. 106 was a throw back to the days when this used to be the TCH at one time in the distant past. When highways went "through town" and not around it.  Sure it's convenient to stop off the highway at the truck stop or the Holiday Inn 'No Tell' but something has been lost when we shoot by a Sackville or Sussex at 120 kph.


Before long I was back in Dorchestor!  Oops, I'd missed my turnoff somewhere so I tried the back roads through forest, farm and field... and eventually realized that I was riding into Dorchestor for a third time, that much more of this and I would be checking into the Jail yet that afternoon!

I took another route out or Dorchestor on tiny little lanes and guess what... ?

Wrong, I didn't pass through Dorchestor again at least not this time but I had come upon the outskirts of Sackville where for all intents and purposes... I'd begun my adventure several hours ago!  As soon as I realized I was back where I'd begun I took the first left and played connect the dots having sworn to myself, this time I would find the mysterious route that would take my across country to Shediac on the Gulf coast.

Everything is KING SIZE in N.B. 

Left I went, then right, them left again only to come upon a sweeping curve in the road and onto gravel which took me through lovely and tranquil farm country, past a massive tower and...

Yup... right back into Dorchestor!





Now normally at this point I would stop and ask directions, but to be totally honest I was having a great day!  It was hot, sunny, scenic and spontaneous.

I wouldn't call '50 kph kids' as slow, just sayin' !

Big Blue was running like a Japanese version of a 'Swiss' watch, it would return nearly 73 miles per gallon (I still can't come to grips with "liters per 100 kilometers, who in the hell came  up with that!!!)

Okay, take it easy Frank, it could be your brain overheating. It is after all, hot. Take 106 and back track.  By now I was getting down on fuel and for some unknown reason crossed over the Fundy mudflats once again and gassed up at a mini-mart/gas stop that appeared Mirage like in the distance..

"By the way ma'am (as I was paying for my fuel) I'm looking for a route that will get me to Shediac or there a bouts without doing the highway.  Would you happen to now of any such route, I know it exists because I saw it on Google Earth yesterday when I was planning this trip."

As simple as popping a beer can, she tells me, ahem...

"well you could take the Old Shediac Road..."

'BINGO' I shouted, or something equally pathetic,

"would you be able to give me directions...?"

Sure...

"turn left onto the road, follow it to the right for 1 kilometer and there will be a sign, "Old Shediac Road.  Turn here you idiot"   

Okay I made the last part up but the sign was really there!

Now the reason I say that is... I had passed this spot not once, not twice but three times already and somehow missed the little green sign each time.

Moral of the story, stop in the little villages, people love to talk.  (The other gal told me the story about her crashing her Vulcan 500 and nearly dying.)

Sure as the sun will ride tomorrow, there it was.

The Old Shediac road passed under/over the TCH #2 (I honestly don't remember which) was quickly renamed Calhoun Road and then route 132 passing me through Meadow Brook, Scoudouc and then Shediac, home of the world's largest Lobster!  I thought I heard it say... Feed Me!!!

Now, I really don't like riding Shediac in summer.  There are a gazillion tourists, that often have no idea they need gas until passing within 1 foot of the station's entrance, that and those polite people that will let an entire parking lot worth of traffic into the lane while my air cooled 600 protests, idling away in the near 90 degree heat and the lineup behind this good Samaritan builds several city blocks rearward!

Dorchester Penitentiary  housing.

AT some point (my brain was fuzzy by then) I was able to get past her and her air conditioned red Thunderbird and hightail it out of Dodge.  I rode the coast road (rte 133) to the intersection onto 950 and Cap Pele and pretty little cottage country Petit Cap to the intersection between rte # 950/15 and 940 at Shemogue where I had begun my day many hours ago.

I rode the Yamaha at 100 kph the handful of miles to the Mates Corner turn off on route 955, what I call the Murray Beach road.  I still had an adventure or two before reaching the bridge but |I was now in familiar territory.  Having tried the Johnson Point road awhile back when riding the V Strom, I was determined to give the abandoned road at the top of the point a shot on my much more appropriate dirt bike 600.  After all Big Blue is about 200 lbs lighter then the VS and is a single with grunt.

Surely the road couldn't be as bad as my previously encountered guide had warned, and lo and behold it wasn't.  After several kilometers riding in and past the "Road Closed" sign, my 4th of the day, what I found was... there was NO road, it had simply vanished into a mud strewn tidal flat covered in bull rushes!  Not only was the road closed but indeed, it had been abandoned like I was told. Staring at the impassable swamp before me and looking out at the strait which appeared about 6 inches below my line of sight, I had to laugh.  It had been one of those kinds of days, after all.

I backtracked, across the peninsula checking out the many little back roads that were indeed roads and eventually made my way to the Confederation Bridge once again, homeward bound.

To say I was so "dog tired" as to bark... on the final stretch home, wouldn't be far from the truth.

My loosely planned 250 kilometer back road trip ended up being several hours and over 200 kilometers longer.

On the last leg home...what a great day it was :)

  

Could this be the end of the road... 1

THE summer of '18 will be fondly remembered for the length of consecutive hot days.

                        XT 600 and I are ready to go...

Oil checked, tires set for a compromise between dirt/gravel and rough pavement, no saddlebags but had my mounted tail bag and my Bert's Cycle Mall bag bungied on as well. Bottle of frozen water, several snack bars, printed Google map, GPS and tourist map. I'd rigged up a make shift power supply to run the unit but as often happens, what works fine in the garage doesn't necessarily translate to the same in the field.

Me... the Tourist

Today I was being a tourist! 

I was headed over to nearby N.B. for a look down the north Fundy coast.

Generally when traveling, people tend to "drive/ride through" to get to their destination.  I like to make my rides into "the destination" and anytime I ride my dual purpose bikes (XT 226/350/600) I was doing just that.

As I age, and eventually my memory fades, I wish I can look back on the dozens of stories I'd written about riding Baja CA, the Forestry Trunk road, Arizona not to mention nearly 30 countries in Europe. 

When Kazue and I met at the Kootenay ferry parking lot on hot summer day, we'd tossed around the idea of riding her home country of Japan.  Hard to believe that was over 20 years ago! 

Thank Goodness for Tim's

I didn't make it to Japan to ride Serow's but I had great memories of being invited to the Yamaha factory in Hamamatsu for a tour.

My ride distance was calculated at around 250 km... like often happens though, I ended up clocking 458, drenched in sweat much of the day and riding through beautiful countryside some of it along the very rugged Fundy coastline, in and out of Cape Pele, Sackville, Dorchester and even made it to Johnson's Mill.

Like the sign says... Welcome.  Pretty little burg.

I'd tried to ride from Lower Rockport road along the coastline to what appeared as a connection to Upper Rockport road but simply, I ran out of road!  

I'm sure there is a way to do it but it will have to wait until I return with my much more nimble 225! 

I did ride past the Closure sign, about a kilometer and a half and the two halves of the road which I am certain connected at some point in the past couldn't have been much more than that again, but what I often find traveling like this, is a maze of logging roads, atv trails, and farmer's tractor roads. 

This time once past the warning sign I may or may not have been able to connect.

It was a point of interest for certain and I will just as certainly return on the smaller, lighter bike. 

The 600 is quite nimble, certainly more-so than my Adventure bike DL 650 V Strom, but my criteria for turning an about face depends on whether I can easily or at least without back breaking work, point back into the direction I had come.  I have ridden trails in Baja or more recently Arizona where what seems to be a track peter's out coming from a sand wash and simply ... disappears!  Of course riding in the desert, getting caught short in the back country could get you a one way ticket into a coyote's belly!

Not so bad in New Brunswick but again, when traveling solo, I always leave room for error. Didn't someone say once that "discretion is the better part of valor"?

I crossed the Confed Bridge at about 9 am Saturday, not in a rush and in fact vowed to ride as little of the main paved highway's as possible.  As so often happens on these voyages... I much prefer what awaits me in the bypassed towns and villages.  Sometimes I find gold... and others, I'm fooled by it!

Not yet the end of the road

Shortly after I got off the bridge I took the off ramp to Murray Beach road signed rte 955.  A couple of months ago I wandered to the end of the road at Johnson Point road only to find that it was indeed closed across the short peninsula. 

Can't get much closer to Sea level than this.

Seems the Closure sign was for real.  I spoke with a helpful local, standing in 90 F heat under a relentless sun, dressed in off road gear (me not him!) and he informed me that the road was impassable for cars.  He thought a Jeep or ATV could make it but warned me that it had just been abandoned.  I was going to try tackling it on this weekend from the other direction thinking riding me XT 600 'Big Blue' gave me an even 50/50 chance of making it whereas the V Strom I was riding that day, was a ready to sink out of sight if what I saw was any indication of the condition of the closed connector!

I headed to Sackville NB via 940 at Shemogue, on a rough oft patched forested road with small tidal streams, lots of fir trees and virtually no traffic.  After all, only local folk traveled here, well the odd motorcyclist like me!

Yeah, no idea...

Without a working gps unit (wasn't charging) I was reliant on dead reckoning and taking the right back roads to get me to Sackville where I arrived in due course. 

This was really my jump off point, and after a very relaxed breakfast at Tim Horton's and a fill up at the ESSO across the street, I made my way through the city, only having to stop once at an open bay door of a small automotive service business, where the helpful gents pointed me in the general direction of my second destination. Highway 106 diverges from route 935 at this point.  Just about half a kilometer from the Y in the road, I topped a small rise on the outskirts of the city where I had to stop momentarily as a mother duck shepherded 7 tiny little balls of feathers the last meter into the brush. Mother Nature is full of surprises!





I angled off 106 heading for the coast via Upper Rockport (not even a dairy bar out there) past some sort of alien creature obviously transported from another Galaxy via some Black Hole where it was mauled by unforeseen forces, across a very quaint old metal bridge to where I arrived at lower Rockport where... as mentioned earlier... I simply ran out of road.

Okay... now what?

A senior's couple were taking their folding lawn chairs to sit and read and admire the view (hopefully he wasn't planning on pushing her off the cliff for insurance money, with which to run away with his much younger secretary...) which I must admit was incredible and when queried about his knowledge of the area he admitted he's lived nearby all his life but this was the very fist time he had come to this particular point on the map.

Next trip... Serow.  I'm going to make the connection!

a Fundy shoreline in morning mist.

Having Googled the area and as often happens on my trail adventures, you just keep zooming in and eventually squiggly lines appear where the scale may be an inch to a quarter mile or thereabouts.

Same is true for Arizona as it is for Maritime Canada. 

My goal, if I have one on these types of trips was to see if I could get "there" from "here" especially if the map shows even a thread of a road or often only a trail.  Looking at this particular area prior to leaving home, I discerned that at one point that road connected to another abandoned roadway somewhere in the brush.   I took a few pics, and entered the 'zone'...

The things you find in your own back yard.

FROM very early days... 

I've utilized two wheels to "get away from it all."  

First is was with pedals providing forward motion.  I'd ride my three speed bike that my Father had bought me at BF Goodrich off 109 st and Jasper avenue in Edmonton.  It had pedal extenders rubber banded to the existing pedals and was so high (If I remember it had 28" wheels) that I had to stop at a curb to get my toes on the ground.  All these years later somethings don't change.  Even when I started racing long travel MX bikes and then riding Dual Purpose bikes, I'm still looking for that hump to assist me at stops.  My 600 sits about 33" above ground as does the SYM scooter and the V Strom as well.

Not a problem off road, but I do on occasion miss calculate and topple over.  Like I did in May twice while down south in the desert.

My first bike, a used Honda S 90 of course, was able to travel at Warp speed compared to pedaling to say nothing about the little horizontal cylinder being a lot easier on my leg muscles.

It was nothing for me to travel 20 miles on the pedal bike to visit the various bike/MC shops.  Kanes had a Yamaha store fairly close to me just before the railroad tracks, Alberta Cycle's shop was off 118th ave if I remember correctly.  Al Klatt had a HD business on the north side just off 95 St. United Cycle was through the city on White Avenue.  I could only reach there on the odd occasion where my Dad drove or I took the ETS bus.

Having that Honda completely changed my life.  At the age of thirteen, I had what most of my contemporaries didn't have but wanted.  

FREEDOM! 

Ironically, many moons after I named my Motorcycle business Freedom Cycle.  (Not to be confused with the current FC) 

THROUGH the years, I've taken full advantage of exploring on motorized two wheels (and sometimes three) 

My Suzuki A 100 with it's chromed raised exhaust pipe and it's shortened front fender, was a street scrambler... and of course I rode that off pavement whenever the opportunity presented itself, which in those days of Alberta gravel roads, and lots of nearby lakes, was often.  It was more prone to fouling the spark plug but had more power than the Honda, and that essential, high pipe!  Have the pipe run alongside the frame rather than under it, cut down on dings and scrapes.

Since those heady first forays off road I have always been looking over the hill or horizon getting further and further afield.

Several street scramblers came and went but it wasn't until 1973 that I had a street bike, a Suzuki T 350 Rebel that I bought new at United and got my first "race bike" a Yamaha LT 100 MX, which was really nothing more than a stripped version of the street bike with a GYT kit installed. the most obvious of which was the black painted low mounted expansion chamber.  

The 100 was primarily my race bike (I was living in Fort Mac Murray by then and racing on the weekends) but I also used it for exploring.  Something it really wasn't secure with.  The low mounted pipe was again subject to dings while the powerband was about rubber band wide and if you fell off the pipe, you needed to downshift several times and be quick about it.

THESE days, trail riding is a piece of cake and I have several trail bikes that I use on a regular basis.

In my garage I have a dual purpose DT 50 L/C... both and XT 225 and 600 with a 350 at my Phx home.  

FUN around the track

I also have a TTR 125 for "racing" around my .7 km grass track as often as I can... and let's not forget my Suzuki V Strom, an "adventure bike" just don't take it off road!  

Each and everyone of these bikes does one thing or other better then it's garage mate and I would be hard pressed to part with any of them. 

Which brings me to last Sunday's trail ride.

Trevor, being a working stiff, doesn't often get a chance to get out riding.  Stretch as I call him make his old school KLR 650 seem like me riding my DT 50, gangly.  We have often gone out on trail rides, it's amazing what you can do off road if your legs are long enough!

We've done some pesky trails but of course PEI being so small, most of our riding is short duration.  

Doesn't mean we don't have fun mind you... (Frank remembering burying his 225 last year) we just don't get out often enough together.  

225 buried

He texts me the other day and says: "Feel like tackling the power-line trail, its been opened up 

now?"  

Un buried with the help of the Big guy on the Big Bear

Self explanatory

Not all this easy going!

That's like dangling a worm next to a hungry rainbow trout!

We arrange to head out Sunday last and I ride to Kinkora on the road and Trevor leads me to the Ross road.  Now, when I say "road" I don't actually mean blacktop with painted lines in it.  Nope, often a road here on the Island is nothing more than a way for farmers to travel from one field to another.  

The plot thickens 

Tis pretty

Ross rd is no exception.  In itself, it would constitute a trail ride! Half way to Brookvale we come to the power line and we turn onto the two (sometimes) track.  I follow Stretch, he's done this before and we have a great little trail ride, my Serow mostly in 2nd gear.  The puddles are sometimes past my footpegs but the bottom is hard and there are no calamities unlike that time I buried the 225, did I mention that?

After about 15-20 km we come out on another paved road still feeling really fresh despite the heat.

The only person we meet on the trail, works with Trev

We decide to head to the trails at Brookvale alongside the ski hill (DO NOT RIDE ON THE SKI HILL!) abd head up hill.  Apart from some loose boulders we have no issues and even run into a worki friend of Trev's riding his 750cc Suzuki King Quad.  I remember from my FCI days when I sold Suzuki that a "KQ" was a 270 cc multi-gear about half the size of the one I am looking at now.  To think these machines began as 'toys' and have grown into big boys!

Alas we had come a long way from Kinkora and arriving at pavement we made the direct jaunt home.

Abandoned farm house

Okay maybe not exactly direct as once parted, he did some local trails to his home and I took the Millvale route, well known to me this time downhill on the Devils Punch Bowl.

Another trail ride under my kidney belt.

Genuine smile!

DIY? YNOT!

HAVING grown up in the sixties, I got used to tinkering with the lawn mower, until the neighbor kicked me outa his back yard...

Dad's truck, our lawn mower, or my bikes.  Most of what I learned, I learned from other's with more experience. Reading the manuals, watching and asking questions.  It helped that by the time I was old enough to do my trade at the Northern Alberta Institute of Technology* as a machinist, I had been riding for nearly 10 years. Okay, so most of the bikes then were simple.  Two strokes ruled, brakes were mechanical drums, bikes were smaller.  Even the coveted (by me if no one else) British twins were mechanically very easy to work on.

Sure helps having added a center stand on my DL 650 Suzuki V Strom

Singles became twins.  Twins became triples and riders of the time owning British, American or Japanese machines  (** More of that later) didn't have much choice but to do their own work. If you got a flat, you fixed it, sometimes right beside the road.  If a plug fouled (common on the Kawasaki/Suzuki/Yamaha machines of the day, you pulled over, took out your plug wrench, burned of the excess gas with a match, and scraped it with some sandpaper and went on, even if it meant doing it every 15 minutes.  The term "whiskered" had nothing to do with my paltry beard.

Now this was tricky, but where there is a will, and a hydraulic jack, there's a way

If you owned a bike, or for that matter a truck or car... you simply learned to do stuff because you couldn't afford the dealer costs... if you could find a dealer that is.


Eventually I learned what failed most often with various brands, what parts you needed to carry, and you did your own work.  Sometime, if you were good enough, you had friends lined up to install some brake pads, synchronize the carbs if there were more than one ***.

Checking valves, changing oil, installing two new tires.

As things got more sophisticated, you bought more expensive machines but still did the work.  I can't tell you how much money I've saved from A) riding a frugal motorcycle but also B) doing repairs myself.

Replacing for an extra tooth.

Once I was in the biz, I got my mechanics license and opened a shop.  Then another shop... and yet another.  Writing my motorcycles mechanics provincial license was hard.  The entire test as I remember it, dealt with machinery that was already totally obsolete.  We weren't getting many people coming into Freedom Cycle to get their BSA or Norton or MZ tuned up!  Good thing I grew up on Japanese stuff, cuz that's what people wanted.

DIY, YNOT

Even today, at 63 years of age, I often do work myself.  I have a pretty well equipped garage and a decent toolbox.  Not as decent as it was 25 years ago but good enough to check valve clearances on my three XT Yamaha's or replacing a chain and sprockets on one of my dirt bikes or as often happens, the buddies bikes.

Izzy,keeping an eye (literally) on my work

THE latest project I've dipped my hands into, was fashioning a home made "cruise control" for both my DL 650 Suzuki and my Citicom 300 scooter, while today I pulled the rear wheel from the V Strom to replace the tire and both front and back on my Thunderbird.  My tire changer is of questionable quality, all those "reviews" I read prior to buying it must have been penned by the same guy (or woman being fair) that used to write add copy for the tabloids!

Once removed from the bikes, the wheels went into a local shop to have the new rubber installed.  The DL uses a big tubeless 70/30 road/trail tire, while the T Bird uses tubed types and is going to be wearing some Dunlop 404's.

I didn't have any problems dismounting the Shinko from the DL 650, certainly having a center stand is worth it's weight in gold, well... nearly as much. The rear on the Triumph came off pretty easily even though I have saddlebags bolted on and it is after all, more of a looker than a sports bike.

The front tire, which is normally the easiest was an absolute bit_h to remove.

Obviously being original, it protested it's forced removal and checking the various forums, a common ailment on those era Brit bikes.  Sometimes you use brain to do these things, and sometimes your brain tells you to use more brawn, in my case my biggest, heaviest hammer became the instrument of choice, and not surprisingly, did the job, YAY!!!




SO... tomorrow the tires come home, I'll be about 700 bucks poorer, but I'll have them installed before the weekend.  I'd do it tomorrow but the crew is coming to put in our heat exchanger in the great room!

No... it's not a DIY paying to do that, not my area of expertise, which is another thing I learned long ago.  Sometimes, ya just gotta bite the bullet and pay the pros...

* NAIT
**Remember when the establishment considered the Japanese to be "junk."  Now they're saying that about the Chinese, who btw, copied much of what they've learned from the other side of the South China Sea
***we used to use Popsicle sticks in the carburetor slides to synchronize them