The Futura was a great bike and I plan on doing a full review at a later date.  I really had no complaints, and she never left me stranded.  I think its the best sport-tourer to have if you want to ST fast.

Anyway, the new owner picked it up today and created a hole.  That hole will be filled eventually, but probably not for a while.  I have a fancy for the Triumph Rocket III at the moment, but time will tell how the used market has them priced. 

Heh - someone else is going to have to do the heavy lifting on asphalt-related articles!

It’s Round #5 of the CCS/SW road racing series this weekend.   To tell the truth I am looking forward to the forced summer vacation.

See I have been racing most every month for the past 9 months.  9 rounds, 11 race days, a number of Track Days, Track Schools, Working Out, Going to Two Wheel Tuesday and much more.    It just has been a ton of motorcycling racing and its time to go street riding and enjoy just hanging out.

Last race weekend my buddy got a bit aggressive and low sided behind me.  That gave me the opportunity to have my first high side.  3 seconds later, I was up running to my bike.  I don’t know what has changed in me, but I wanted to get back on the bike and get back into the race.   That is the first time that has ever happened to me.  The last crash, I just got up and walked away, but this time it was different.  My crash was not my fault, but something external to me.  Lucky for me the bike was damaged and I could not continue that race.

In the pits we put the bike back together again.  Even though it was a bit tweaked and I was hurting a bit, I went out on my next race thinking “Don’t let it slow you down”.  I went out and ran within a second of my best lap times with a bike that was not 100%.   My next race I went and pushed harder though the corners to catch another racer and matched my best times of the weekend, on a bike that the front end was not 100%.

The next Monday, after seeing the doctor to make sure my foot was not broken.  I tore the whole bike apart and arranged for everything to get repaired.  In 3 weeks, I had all my bodywork repaired and primed up, forks taken off and checked (They were 100% straight, just tweaked in the triples).  New rear sets, Tire warmers off for repair (don’t even ask why!!!), new controls ordered, new gearing put in, the bike prepped for the next weekend.

Thursday I will finish some last things and load the bike on the trailer for my last race weekend.  It should be a fun 100+ degree day in the heat.  I will be racing on the fastest track, which is not my best track, attempting to shave 2 to 3 seconds off my best lap times.

…. I don’t know why I put all this effort into racing… but I will look forward to the summer off… That way I can spend the summer obsessing over the next 9 months of racing… I think I need a shrink.

If I saw a complete stranger and the only thing I knew about him was that he rode a motorcycle, he would have an in with me.  I think its why the sport, on one terrain or another, has survived in my arsenal of activities for so long.  The  common bond of knowing what two wheels is all about.

I think riding is a good fit for me because its both a solo sport and a group sport at te same time.  I consider myself a social creature, and never really ride/rode alone.  I like the solo sport nature that riding provides, but its still done with others working their own machine.  The camaraderie is excellent and has create some of my best friends…literally…met through riding.

I can’t help but think of the brotherhood that my friends who are military veterans tell me about.  I’ve never served, and I cannot imagine the brotherhood from motorcycles is as tight as with those who have been in the trenches of war together, but it sure sounds like it falls along the same line.  I remeber a quote from the movie Black Hawk Down from “Hoot”:

When I go home people’ll ask me, “Hey Hoot, why do you do it man? What, you some kinda war junkie?” You know what I’ll say? I won’t say a goddamn word. Why? They won’t understand. They won’t understand why we do it. They won’t understand that it’s about the men next to you, and that’s it. That’s all it is.

I truly think that if my fellow bikers weren’t great people overall, I’d have shaken the sport a long time ago.  Of course I have met a handful of bikers that were complete ass-hats for one reason or another, but overall the two-wheeled folks have been people I would let stay at my house.

Heh - so no…my wife didn’t need to explain to me what the wave means.

As an avid believer in motorcycle forums for the best knowledge available, I am a member of thumpertalk.com.  It seems like everyone and their mother is running a 45 pilot jet and a 165 main jet.  The main has been on since the beginning, but the idle circuit has not.  Starting this machine has been a bitch from day one - cold or hot.

Checking the pilot jet process goes something like this:

• set the idle
• adjust the fuel screw to get maximum yet smooth rpm
• fuel screw should be between 1-3 turns out. 
• less than one means a need for a smaller idle jet
• more than three means a need for a larger jet

Not trusting the process and only trusting the TT forum left me with a 45 idle and popping at idle no matter the fuel screw setting.  Wayyy too lean.  Finally, I trusted the process and upped it to a 48 pilot jet.  4 turns out and it ran great.  Started great too for the first time ever…first kick great.

Keeping with the process, I upped it to a 50 pilot jet and got to three turn out on the fuel screw and the same result.  First kick cold or hot with no other input needed.  Finally.

I will ride it for the first time in its current condition this weekend.  I am very optimistic that the jetting is finally correct or very close.  I am expecting some small tweaks on the trail, but again hopeful that I am done with the wrenching.  I will say that I am smarter than I was before and had to go back to fueling basics 101.  I trusted others settings over the process, which in this case may have been a mistake.

Fuel injection is a great thing.  Fortunately they are already in the Suzuki off-road lineup and other manufacturers are close behind.  I don’t mind the work (I can have my carb off in about five minutes now ), but I did lose some riding time and that always sucks.  The good news is that once the jetting is dialed in, it’ll probably never have to be meesed with again for local conditions.

Woohoo!

• Staintunes exhaust with AF1 H-pipe
• Tuneboy module with custom map (passes AZ smog);
• Heli-bar risers
• Pyramid double bubble screen
• BEF fender eliminator kit (powdercoated satin black)
• Grip heaters + heat-troller
• Braided front brake lines
• Throttlemeister
• Upgraded alternator, ‘brown connector’, & quick-disconnect
• Two extra power outlets
• New Dunlop ‘Roadsmart’ set to be installed
• Factory matching hardbags
• All stock parts included

Here’s the bike…

Price - $5800.

The bottom line is that I haven’t ridden the bike since November 4th…when I got a bullshit ticket.  The two main reasons are simple:  the new found love for the dirt & the ticket.  I have been trying to go off-roading every weekend since the new year and have almost succeeded.  I’m having a total ball with the dirt bike and I only have to go about twenty minutes away from my house. 

Second, no cop is going to jump out from behind a cactus with a radar gun.  I’ll admit it that part of the enjoyment of riding is blazing through the twisties…at speeds that would likely get me thrown in jail.  The rub is that I can’t get tickets with my job, working for an auto manufacturer in an evaluation group.  Driving company cars is part of the job and big fat tickets will eliminate me from the ability to drive company vehices and in turn eliminate me from the ability to do my job.  In the end, its just not worth it.

I think for me to revisit the road, I need to become a better tourist.  Don’t get me wrong, I love that Futura.  The problem is that the bike handles so well for a sport-tourer that I treat it as a sport bike.  I’m cool on the highways and the straight stuff, but I lack the discipline in the twisties to simply cruise through them.

Hmph.  This is a tough one.  I have not been sans street bike in almost twenty years, but I’m pretty damn close.  Its not a matter of money as the bike only costs about $300 per year including plates and insurance.  Rather its a matter of space and pragmatism.  Space bacuase I’m always looking for more garage space.  Pragmatism because the bike is not custom…if I ever feel the need to replace it, I can simply go get another one.

I deleted the email to the guy who sold me the bike.  I just couldn’t send it yet.  Not because I am not wanting to put out a feeler, but because I’m not absolute on my decision to sell yet.  See, as a proud member of the two-wheeled brotherhood, I will not take the chance that this guy has been waiting for my call.  The feeling of excitement of knowing that you may get your bike back that you rregretted ever selling, only to have it not available is no less severe than getting kicked in the balls.  And having been kicked in the balls by Jim Chumchai in grade school, its not fun.

I was stranded at a gas station in Tres Piedras, New Mexico after a regulator failure on my Ducati 748. Just to set the scene, TP (as it’s affectionately known to locals) is a crossroads in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere. There’s a crumbling gas station, a dilapidated restaurant and that’s about it. The nearest “town” is Taos which is about 50 miles away. With no tools to properly troubleshoot a dead electrical system, I assumed it was my battery that had died. After locating/calling a Honda dealer in Taos, who just happen to have the oddball size my euro-scoot required, I settled into that that semi-conscience trance brought about by the need to pass a couple uneventful hours in an alien and boring place. So with my partially stripped Italian (Ducati likes to put the battery behind the right side fairing) sitting over in the corner of the lot, the excruciatingly slow passage of time began.In my somnambulate state, the first impression I had of the approaching thumper was of an insect buzzing around my ear. Then as it grew in volume, I knew that was no bug, but a motorcycle. I caught site of the yellow machine out near the horizon. Within a few moments a yellow DRZ400 pulled up to the pumps. Ahh, someone to talk to who would understand my plight and offer a sympathetic ear, maybe even a helpful hand. When his helmet came off, a young man of distinctly Asian heritage appeared. The first words that came out of his mouth had such a thick accent that it was obvious he wasn’t from around here.

After exchanging some cursory greetings, I soon discovered that his lack of language skills would make this communication difficult. But I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge, especially if it means leaving boredom behind. His pronunciation was so bizarre at times that I had to have him repeat many of his utterances multiple times. I tried not to speak loudly as many are prone to do when encountering an alien, believing that volume makes up for comprehension. (Just watch Nicky Hayden ask for con-di-shun-er from an Italian shopkeeper in The Kentucky Kid) I tried to use the most common and simple words I could muster to try to keep the conversation going. Fortunately, he was quite patient with me and I think he wanted to have a chat as much as I did. Being all alone on a deserted stretch of road will do that to you.

Through a lot of repetition and sign language, we were able to comprehend just enough to keep the conversation lively, even with an occasional joke thrown in for good measure. I told him about my predicament and how I had spent the last week riding all over the southwest looking for the holy grail of sportbikers, the vacant twisty road. I mentioned that I intended to cover a couple thousand miles when all was said and ridden. Then he told me how much he admired my spirit of adventure.

After further questioning, I came to understand he had flown to LA from Japan. Rented this barely street worthy machine, used a bungee net to strap down the bulk of his necessities and had set off to cross the entire United States by himself. He had planned finish somewhere in Florida where he would rendezvous with friends who were going to spend their week at DisneyWorld. I told him my sense of adventure couldn’t hold a candle to the journey he’d undertaken.

After a bit more small talk, we posed for this self-timer special (sorry about the quality). As it became apparent that he needed to be on his way and that I was stranded for the time being, we said our good-byes and in an effort to share a little Moto-Americana with him, I admonished him to “keep the rubber side down”! This brought a very puzzled look to his face. I knew my reference would need further clarification, so I explained that I was wishing him luck at keeping his machine upright and the tires on the road. After a few extra hand gestures, his widening eyes told me the light bulb had illuminated.

In an effort to help remember this new farewell, he repeated “key-a-lubba-sy-dow”. His cliché accent gave the words a completely different feel which made me laugh heartily and in turn brought a big toothy grin to his face. I was certain he would be the center of attention at the next gathering of his fellow two-wheeled comrades back in Nippon. I bowed in acknowledgement of what I considered a very sincere effort, as well as the pleasure of his company. His continuing repetition of the phrase indicated he was also delighted with his newfound American expression.

He donned his helmet, mounted his Suzuki, thumbed the starter and took off for his next adventure under foreign skies. Best of luck my intrepid acquaintance…………

I am going through my bike now and trying to sort the jetting. This is the history to date:

1. As purchased (used & stock performance parts with \r\n- Free Shipping ($149 or more)
\r\n- Supports the ThumperTalk Community", "style=\"background: #FFFFCC;padding: 2px;font-size: 10px;\"", "ThumperTalk store sells Boyesen", "style=\"border-top: 1px solid black;border-bottom: 1px solid black;background: #CCCCCC;padding: 1px;font-size: 10px;font-weight: bold;color: #000000;\"");" class="gal">Quickshot 2 \r\n
\r\nMore info…”, “style=\”background: #FFFFCC;padding: 2px;font-size: 10px;\”", “Definition: Accelerator Pump”, “style=\”border-top: 1px solid black;border-bottom: 1px solid black;background: #CCCCCC;padding: 1px;font-size: 10px;font-weight: bold;color: #000000;\”");” class=”galnolink”>AP cover)
Condition - ran like total crap. Idle was variable, but on the high side like it was running lean. Low end bog, but WOT was good.