Bob's Used Motorcycle Parts (Emporium), and other sundry items.

VAST, could very well be the adjective to describe this business.  I've added the Emporium, as this place truly counts as a mecca for the parts seeker amongst my clan.

From a seemingly endless and turbulent ocean of utter chaos, that is Bob's Used Motorcycle Parts...

there emerges a Sargasso Sea of relative calm... once you get used to the mayhem.

Located in the community of South Mountain, Phoenix, Arizona... Bob's is relatively easy to find amongst the industrial buildings, the auto repair and parts shops, the 7-11's, numerous gas stations and mix of new and old residential communities.

I first reached the place by following I-17 South from Glendale on my then very undergeared XT 350, the Monday after I had arrived at my Phoenix home.  Of course, they were closed!

Before my trip home to Canada, and after my ride to Crown King, the adventure to Bob's began.  Now geared more appropriately for riding on paved streets that, judging by the flow of traffic, had no speed limits* I once again made the trek south on 17 to 1325 E Elwood St Phoenix, AZ 85040, (reminds me of the Blues Bros)  

First thing you'll notice as your eyes adjust from bright sunlight to cramped dark quarters inside, is what seems like madness!  People everywhere, phones ringing off the hook, staff flitting about like 200 pound butterflies, customers lined up three deep at the long narrow counter that runs the length of the building. 

Like I said, utter chaos!

Yet... if you have patience, there develops a frenzied calm (!?) from this madness.  I found myself wandering the labrynth of tiny mazelike aisles, transfixed by low hung exhaust pipes banging into my head (maybe should have kept the lid on?), snagging my backpack on faux leather saddlebags,

Unlike many business operations, this one allowed me to freely roam the premises.  I wandered for endless days (well okay, a couple of hours) amongst engines piled high. 

V Twins, V fours, various inlines, dirt bike singles and ATV shafties.  Forks like stalagmites turned sideways, bodyparts galore, and countless skeleton frames of hundreds of bikes that had met their ends in unimaginable fashion.

Bob (now deceased) started the parts business many moons ago, and now it is run by a very happy go lucky guy named Rod, appropriately enough.  He has a small army of very knowledgeable enthusiasts working the shop, the yard, the office and the counter.

Even though the place resembles Beirut in the 70's, somehow they manage to keep a pretty good handle on what's available.

While there, bikers of all descriptions and types came and went.

I found some replacement mirrors for the 350 and tried on some saddlebags that didn't fit.  Even though I didn't ask, Rod charged me 33%  less than the ticket price of 15 bucks, (which at the time was 14.55 CDN), for which I was very appreciative.

So... if you're ever in Phoenix, and you need, say... a sprocket to gear up your Honda 500, make sure you give Bob's a go.  Tell him Dave sent me, and I was sending you...

* despite the posted 55mph limit on I-17 thru the city... cars hurtle by at several notches above that on a regular basis.



D Day

I thought I would take a moment and honor those army, naval and air forces that crossed the English Channel on this day, back in 1944. 

June 6th, 1944, marked the beginning of the end of the Second World War.

How glad I am not to have been one of those that fought not only, the battles themselves, but the fear and tragedy that war is.

Thank God... that we live in relatively peaceful times...

fs

Homeward bound...



Jennifer, a wealth of local information.



Crown King was like a movie set, but real.  A melding of new homes, mobiles, a General Store and a rustic Saloon. 

I rode main street... thought about doing a wheelie, havin' a whiskey, and not that cheap stuff, picking a bar fight, callin' somebody out...

...settled for a Starbucks Ice Cap and a chair in the General Store.



One of the inhabitants of Crown King...



I could have camped right there for a couple of days, I was so tired.  My shoulders were aching and the insteps of my feet were feeling pretty, ummm... tender!

Enjoying an Iced Cap in CK.

Jennifer regaled me with tales of the town's history, the fever of the gold rush, maybe not like Caleeforniaye in 49, but a mini rush none the less.

The first strike was in '75 ( that would be 1875!) by a miner named MacKinnon.  Over the next 75 odd years, over 40 claims were filed before the ore played out in the 50's.



The Saloon.  Dirt bikes, ATV's and Jeeps.

Once a booming mini metro with over 500 buildings, two Chinese restaurants, and electricity, CK even had a phone line in 1897.   



Amazing views



Leaving Crown King.

In 1904, one Frank M. Murphy built a rail line through the Bradshaws, dubbed       "Murphy's Impossible Railroad" 

Gives you an idea of what the terrain is like.

It felt like I had been riding for three days!  To be perfectly honest, I felt at the time like I had met my Waterloo.

   



27 miles to I 17





Pavement begins...



The afternoon was waning, I had 27 miles of the Senator hiway to ride just to get to

I-17.  Time to get along lil doggie...

It was an experience that ranked right up there with the best and most challenging rides of my life.  I vowed that from here on out, I would stick to less imposing terrain unless I could find a riding partner with my unique interests.  (Unlikely!) 

Chalk another one up for the Doc...

Peaking out... at last.

My home in Glendale sits about 1000' above the levels of a rising ocean.  1500' if you were to count the Salton Sea in Southern California!

Throughout the day, the altimeter rose steadily. 

Two thousand feet, as I was passing Lake Pleasant.  Three thousand leaving  abandoned ranches in my wake, thirty five hundred when that 6' diamondback crossed my path. 

Four thousand as I reached my point of no return.

At five thousand feet I'm standing on the pegs, leaning hard forward and contorting my body like Houdini, counteracting the angle of the washout, my front tire just bounced off my chosen path up that killer hill!

When I'd reached six thousand feet the going became easier, the road actually a road, almost wide enough for a Jeep and an XT side by side.

As I looked far back south, down the mountains I'd just conquered, the numbers rolled past six thousand seven hundred and finally sixty eight hundred feet above sea levels. 

What a climb it had been!  A dozen roads, a hundred mountains, a thousand curves... a gazillion magnificent vistas, and it was all downhill from here.

There were scattered houses showing in the distance, several ATV's and then a parade of side by sides rolled by, some with senior citizens at the wheel.

We were close now, in the high pines.  The saguaro cacti left far behind with the rattlesnakes, down below.  Here it was cool, just over 50 degrees F.  I stopped, had another sip of water, and put my sweater and MSR jacket back on. 

I thought for a moment that this jacket had covered a hell of a lot of ground over the years, and wasn't worn out yet!  It would still see highways and biways and roads and tracks.

Crown King village was just around a few more corners, the numbers and bar graph were heading in the other direction now. 

What a day it had been.

Crossing the narrow bridge into downtown Metro CK, my tense muscles were beginning to relax, the legs aching, but happily worked over, my butt sinking a bit deeper into the blue saddle.

WELCOME TO PARADISE!

Mother Nature

 
 
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I'd reached the "point of no return"  Honest, it was painted on a rock!

 


Ever wonder if Mother Nature has a sense of humor?







Last sign here said... "Cattle rustlers will be shot"



If God looks at us mere mortals and shakes his head...

Do my Mom and Dad look down on me and think,

"Where in the hell did this come from...? 

Did we boob somewhere...?"



Still a long way from civilization... but getter closer!



If your kids think you're nuts?



Thank goodness, an easier part.



I often wonder myself, 'what was I thinking?'

I had been stopping about every twenty minutes to replenish H2O, have a short rest break, keep my mind focused on the task at hand.

Not much room for error here.

I deliberately left my Canon at home, was using my very trusty Olympus waterproof digital. 

This particular camera had taken over 10,000 photos alone while biking Europe.



Hmmmm...



Normal stuff.

Another rest break in the shade before tackling another rocky climb.

It was compact, and if it rained (not too bloody likely today) or I wanted to take some pics in the pool, it was capable of doing it all.

I'm going to leave the dialogue short this time around, let the photos do the talking for me... you'll get a pretty good sense of the terrain I had taken on, and why I was glad to have a tractor of a motor.  Don't be fooled... it was a lot tougher than it looks.

Remember... you can't stop to photograph the "Oh S__t" parts...



Looking south back on the Crown King Road.




I was just there.



Surprisingly a lot more water than I expected.

The end is near...