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Slimey Crud Revisited
by Gary Charpentier |
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Cold.
If I had to sum up my second trip to the Slimey Crud Fall
Cafe Racer Run in one word, that would be it. Mark Foster
and I rode for nearly five hours to get to our hotel on
Saturday afternoon in forty-some degree weather and I was on
a basically unfaired motorcycle. Despite the fact that I was
wearing my carefully developed winter riding ensemble by the
time we arrived I was mind-numbingly cold. Had I taken an IQ
test at that point, I would have registered somewhere south
of moron; D-d-d-d-d-duhhhh! Something on the
sportier side of the Sport-Touring equation might just fit
into my plans and budget someday soon. These cafe racers
were never intended for long-hauls or sight seeing, and
Gypsy, my 1982 Kawasaki Gpz 550 pack mule is not much
better. She's good for all day in nice weather, but when the
temperature drops, so does my endurance in the saddle. Not
much wind protection from that enlarged headlight bezel they
euphemistically call a bikini fairing. Bill Bassett and
Glenn Dahl rode in on their Gold Wings around dinner time.
Sitting around a table at the Green Mill in Wisconsin Dells,
our little group was discussing what time we should head for
Leland in the morning. I thought about the forecast I had
heard for a low of 28 degrees that evening, and suggested,
"Let's not set a time, let's set a temperature." That got a
good laugh from my companions, but it also caused us to
consider the wisdom of leaving while there was still frost
on the road. In the end, we decided we would leave whenever
we were ready... Sunday dawned with
the predicted frost covering everything in sight. The sun
shone so brightly on our motorbikes that they sparkled like
sequins on an Elvis suit, prompting me to grab the camera
for a few quick snapshots before breakfast. Comfort Inn
offered the same old Out of the Dells,
we entered a land of rolling hills and peaking fall colors.
The roads began to snake over and between those hills, and
the ride began to get interesting. Nice, sweeping curves
joined by medium-length straights set up a pleasant rhythm,
and it seemed no time at all before we were pulling into the
parking lot of Morgan's for a real breakfast. Early as it
was, there were already fifty-plus bikes parked around the
lot across from Morgan's, and there was a steady flow of
riders rolling into town the whole time we were
eating. A quick side-note
here: Angie, the bartender at Morgan's, built me the best
Bloody Mary I have ever tasted! When we ordered them extra
spicy, she said, "I'll just make them the way I drink them
then." Ohhhh, MAN! Talk about a wakeup call... I was still
chewing on bits of horseradish during my ride home. I have
GOT to get her recipe! After breakfast,
we wandered back across the street to get a look at some of
the assembled machinery. The first thing I noticed was that
there didn't seem to be a pure showbike or "trailer queen"
in the bunch. As you might expect, the cold weather kept
the dilettantes away. Why, even the sole Ducati MH900e that
showed up exhibited signs of hard and frequent use. The
sheen of that beautiful bodywork wore a patina of bug-splats
and road grime. The tires were worn edge-to-edge, the
license plate and fusebox cover had fallen off, and the
license plate light had been secured to the frame with black
tape. I met the owner later in the day, and he didn't seem
like the fastidious type; but rather more like someone you
would see on the back of a hardtail chopper. Remember, this
was the first bike that was sold exclusively over the
internet. On New Year's Eve, 2000, precisely at midnight
GMT, the entire production run sold out in under four hours.
Some reports say two. I'm glad to see at least one of these
got into the hands of a Rider, rather than speculators and
collectors. The closest thing
to a showbike I found was Jamie Valentine's 1966 Bultaco
Metralla. This was a rare, 200 cc version of the Spanish
company's two-stroke streetbike. Jamie's version is stripped
down to its elemental cafe-racer essentials. Simple,
bright-red paint covered the seatpan, fenders, and that
voluptuous gas tank. The I was hoping to
see and hear one of the new MV Agusta F4s at this gathering,
but alas, none showed up. (See my comment above re:
dilettantes.) However, there was an older 350 twin of the
same marque proudly displayed against the cyclone fence near
the back of the lot. I couldn't track down its owner, but
did take the time to admire it and shoot some photos. This
was another bike that showed the telltale signs of long
storage and recent use. Bystanders told me it had been
ridden to the event, and I had no reason to doubt that. I
wish I could have heard it run. One sound that
seemed as pervasive as Muzak in an elevator was the rattle
of dry clutches and the rumble of Ducati twins. Although
their predominance at the Crud is beginning to wane, my
desmo-calibrated ear picked up the soundtrack continuously
throughout the day. Another impressive sound was that of a
tuned and piped V-max, whose rider delighted in making
short, top-fuel dragster runs up and down the street in
front of Sprecher's Tap in Leland. This bike sounded for
all the world like a nitro-powered V8, from its lumpy idle
right up to its tire-shredding redline. I guess I can see
the appeal of a ride like that. So, what about The
Ride? Well, I hooked up with an eclectic group of guys on
widely varied machines. My friend Robb from Milwaukee
piloted his Hawk GT, and introduced me to other riders.
There was Dennis on a Cagiva Gran Canyon, Jason on an old
Suzuki GS850, and Aaron lead the pack at a surprisingly fast
clip on his vintage Honda CB500 Cafe Racer. Gypsy and I
flew formation in the number two slot on Aaron's back tire
and stayed there for the duration. We swooped in and out of
valleys, up hills and over dales. There were sweepers,
esses, tight off-camber kinks with smooth, brand new
pavement followed by bumpy and leaf-strewn sections of old
tarmac. A smooth and relaxed, 7/10ths pace for Gypsy and I
appeared to be a bit more exciting for ride leader Aaron on
his older classic. He tended to wobble a bit in the rougher
corners and did a spectacular burnout at one of the
stopsigns. Apparently he had some history there with another
bike on a previous ride. A couple of the guys kind of faded
off the back, but everyone made it to Leland in one piece. I
arrived at Sprecher's Tap exhilarated and thirsty. Time for
some of their famous home-brewed rootbeer! A few laps around
the parking lot revealed many of the same bikes I had seen
in Pine Bluff. A beautiful Harris Magnum 5 had been on
display when we left, but apparently the owner beat us to
Leland. He wasn't around to answer the inevitable questions,
but had thoughtfully left a laminated factsheet about the
bike hanging from So many great
bikes, so little film... I snapped frame #36 in the parking
lot across the street from Sprecher's Tap, and looked around
for someplace to buy more. No luck. Leland is but a flyspeck
on the map, and all I could find were the two taverns on
either side of the road. Well, the time was passing quickly
anyway, as it always does when we dare to have this much
fun. So I decided to head westbound. Not much to say
about the trip back; A solo drone on the interstate designed
to get me there as quickly as possible. It was all a blur of
core-freezing cold punctuated by stops for gas and hot
cocoa. I settled in behind trucks to cut the wind, until I
spied a fast car with a radar detector and elected speed
over comfort. With this method I cut a full hour off my
travel time on the way home. Once in the house, I left a
trail of riding gear on my way to the bathroom, and settled
into a hot bath with a cold beer. There's no place like
home... M.M.M.
I've
come to the conclusion that long-term exposure to relatively
mild cold affects a rider more severely than short-term
exposure to extreme cold. Either that or I am getting old
and soft and should start shopping for a Goldwing right
now... mmmmm, Nah! Foster was riding his brand new R1, and
he seemed to be fairing a lot better (pun intended, of
course).
donuts
and coffee "Continental Breakfast" that you get anywhere
else, and we made short work of that. Once everyone was
suited up and checked out, we topped off the tanks and hit
the road for Pine Bluff. It was right around 32 degrees, but
the sky was clear and it was warming up fast.
Spaniards
seem to share that Latin flair for design with their Italian
cousins. Jamie rides this bike, but only on special
occasions. A regular attendee at both Spring and Fall Crud
runs, he used to ride the bike around the historic AHRMA
vintage roadrace gathering at Steamboat Springs,
Colorado.
Apparently,
Harley Davidson finally figured it out too, if their new
V-Rod is any indication. It's interesting to see the Motor
Company turning the tables and copying their Japanese
competition for once. Unfortunately, with the ransom they
demand for the V-Rod, I could buy two brand-new V-maxes and
a years supply of fresh rear tires for both of
them.
one
of the clip-ons. For those who don't know, Harris is a
British company who have been making high-end roadrace and
street specials for many years. This particular version
sports a gorgeous chro-moly trellis frame wrapped around a
hot-rodded CBR900RR motor, with premium chassis bits and a
really evil, "street-fighter" look.
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