Archive for the ‘Alabama Motorcycle rides’ Category

The event known as Dual Sportin’ the Free State started on a Friday, and ran thru Sunday, a fairly large gathering of DS riders from across the state, and outside.  Originating from ADV Rider, most of the guys came from there.  Interesting to meet some new faces, and ride with some guys that I have known of.  We came in Friday afternoon, in the rain and promptly set up a tent to have a dry spot to sleep.  We had a good chance to share some spirits and stories with the Goodwin boys and their families.  Brushy Lake is a nice spot to start from.

Plenty of time to gear up in the morning, as most of the riders only showed up a few minutes before  departure time.  A nice comfortable pace started the ride, gradually gathering speed until we ran across a group of horses with riders enjoying the forest.   Well maintained FS roads allowed us to maintain 45 MPH thru most sections.  Until we took  a section with a ROAD CLOSED sign moved to the side, we kept a good pace.  This road was composed of sticky, slick, OSFH (owl-shit from hell) that dumped at least 2 bikes at very low speeds – as turning your bars had very little effect on which direction your bike went.

After the adventure through 2 miles of the OSFH road, we stopped at the local market to regroup, refuel, and repair a broken brake lever from mud-falls.  Then off we went, back into the woods to find other unique spots.  Most of the moisture on the roads did not cause any real problems, but rather kept the dust to a minimum as a large group as this could make a real mess on a dry day.

Although there were several other “crashes”, the others were low-speed, made in some really slick mud.

The details of our crash (the bad ones) are more a tale of what not to do:

We (me and Jeep8) had just passed another member of the ride (doing a reasonable speed) and turned it up about 6 notches, just before a downhill turn.  The rider in front locked his rear and went sliding off the bluff – about 15 feet down.  I did the same, just to his right, and my bike was stopped by the tree to my right – luckily it did not follow me down the hill.  I remember 3 very loud thuds, and recovered 30 feet from the road, and 15 feet below…….. minus my breath, helmet screen, sunglasses, and tank bag – all were recovered in a few minutes.  Injured both shoulders, left knee, ribs/abdomen, right hip and ankle.  I also discovered a bruise to my forehead after returning home, and it looks like the helmet took a pretty good lick.  4,000 mg. of Ibuprofen, and 24 hours later, and I am walking like and 80 year-old man, but at least I am walking.  Given the circumstances I fell pretty lucky to not have severe and crippling injuries.  I heard Jeep8 had 3 cracked ribs.  I hope he heals up soon.  I hope to be riding next weekend.

Untitled from dredman on Vimeo.

Well it was like any other morning….except where there was supposed to be traffic, there was only open highway. Where there was supposed to be tall buildings, farmland passing by. Smog…replaced by sunlight breaking through fog. I actually got to keep my visor open to breath in clean air on the way to meet the first group of BamaRiders I would meet.
Funny what things go through your mind when you think you’re going to feel one way about something and instead a situation changes everything about everything and from there…nothing is the same.
Also funny was the Bubba and Jeb in the truck hanging out the window yelling “WHOOOooooo OOOOOOooo LIKE THAT TAIL!!!” and hanging the cell phone out the window to take pics of me on the highway….funny….they don’t get a lot of gal sport-bike riders in cullman I guess.
No problems finding my way on a strange highway in a strange state to meet up with Pruitt, Mark, Michelle, Suzanne, Scott and Clark. (Thank you Mark and Michelle for that one)Pruitt rolled up first with a twinkle in his giddy eye. He was just as excited as I was without the reservations of meeting new people I sometimes have. WHAT A bike that boy has!! While he is new to riding, my 12 yrs of experience and beat up bandit took a backseat in eye appeal for sure! Next to roll up was Mark and Scott Parker. Called them on the cell phone and like superheros they swooped in on Pruitt and I in a heartbeat. Just when I was looking for a pair of capes, in rides Michelle on her Harley beauty, complete with pretty spiked helmet to “de-cute” any and all girlyness that might lead you to thinking this chick can’t ride. Then again, ask her about that cute pink fuzzy thing she keeps on the tail bag that one MAY not notice right away….
Next up was Captain America on the Red, White and Blue Trike! What a crack up that cool thing is and was!! My first inspiration to whip out the camera! Will provide photos via Photobucket link later today. By the way, I’m down for kicking in for a gas gauge as a b’day present for Clark if he has to get pushed to the gas station ONE MORE TIME !! (And what a pair of buddies Pruitt and Mark are for being willing to push it on through to the station!
Last but not least was our virgin group rider Suzanne. Our infant of the group in a leather halter..go baby GO! Insecure about showing off her new bikerbitchness,  t’was I that told her “if you have boobs, you can wear it” and wear it she did!
Off to 29 Dreams behind Scott who wound up making a KILLER ride leader allllllll day long -  sans the dam trip later that day….that’s dam not damn…
Now I have ridden – AND I DO MEAN RIDDEN.   Anyone that has read or knows about my 12 years in Hollywood/LA knows…and the scars on the 5th bike I have owned will show…I HAVE RIDDEN. I have ridden mostly alone, and a LOT in the mountains..through cities, and through the gates of hell in traffic. I have ridden through the black hills of S. Dakota with Daddy and the uncles,  I have ridden in group rides with many a sport-biker. But what I had NEVER ridden ..was with a group of incredibly CARING people…people who will NOT abandon you.  Will NOT ditch you.  Will NOT try to impress you and lead you into something you may not be equipped or experienced enough to handle.  People who make the riding fun (with the exception of my family that I have already stated I rode with)   Complete strangers that become instant friends. Friends one can suspect you will have likely for a very long time if not for the rest of your life.
Riding to 29 Dreams was amazing.   It was eye opening to see what Alabama looks like…if only a small part of it. I have never seen so much green. I have never seen so many bikers wave. I have never seen so much space and so few people..and when you DO see people..they often wave!  I have never seen lush foliage and space between the houses and so many tractors, horses, (poor dead one on the side of the road..that was new too!)  I’m sure these things are not a big deal to most of you ..heck..maybe ALL of you..but to a citified gal like myself?? Someone who has had almost NO fun and all drama and fear on a a bike….it was pure magic my friends.   I never worried about dying. That has NEVER happened to me on any ride ever in 12 yrs. NEVER.  There is always something waiting to get you around every corner where I come from.  Out  riding with this group through the towns, and literally over the river and through the woods…while I was totally aware that the same dangers of cars, road hazards, animals, people and mechanical failure existed…and yet I was able to RELAX for the FIRST TIME and enjoy the ride.   I am usually hyper when I get off of the bike…ask anyone who hung with me..I was cool as a cucumber when we got there.   Normally when I meet lots of new people I keep them at arms length…yesterday…I couldn’t get enough hugs.  What a blast we all had at 29 Dreams. How great everyone was to take care of Suzanne being new, Pruitt too, though you wouldn’t know it, me being totally unable to find my way home if I had to, and to Shannon and Tanya who went down and became everyone’s concern. I have seen bikers go down several times in front of me, but not all the riders stuck around..most didn’t want their ride ruined and left.  That was NOT the case here at ALL.
I know I was a stranger in a strange place, but all day long and through the ride and even back home again, all I could think of was what the license plates around here all say…..Sweet Home Alabama.

-pinkspeeder

Well today was the Breast Cancer awareness ride here.
I had beat my brains into a jelly like mass going over and pounding problems out of he world famous Flaming Screaming Kawasaki of Death.   But the crazy part of it was I had beat this deadline and was 99.99% confident that the bike would have no problem making this run.
Mistake #1. I am way too mathematically illiterate to possibly figure out the statistics involved in calculating the survivability of a 26 year old bike with a few thousands parts (that really don’t like each other sometimes) and a ride of 100 miles  in a pack  of 40 other riders. I forgot to move some decimals and factor in the Voodoo curse placed on me years ago.

Chapter 2: A New Hope

After spending the last couple of days in the grips of allergies that were quite possibly the cause of the swine flu and having to go and watch the local high school baseball team win their 2nd round state playoff game last night  (GO CHOCTAWS!!! ) I was still feeling pretty beat down and tired when  7:00 rolled around and the alarm went off.
I got up and left She Who Must Be Obeyed (the beautiful Mitzi Elliott for those of you who were not aware I was married) snoring in a blissfull slumber…dreaming contentedly about projects and jobs she NEEDED me to be doing on a beautiful and glorious Saturday.  A bowl of cereal and a glass of sweet tea (I’m an action man and I don’t have time for coffee in my life)  after a quick trip online for the hour by hour local forecast on weather.com and a quick check of Bamarides.com it was time to get the all important  two Wal-mart bags from the kitchen and go out to the garage to start the bike.
Now I know what you are thinking “What do Wal-mart bags have to do with starting a motorcycle? ” Well there is a story there too. Let me digress back acouple of days.
As most of you are aware I’ve been having carb issues with this bike. It is a Kawasaki with standard Mikuni B-34s or 6’s on it.  A popular manufacturer, a huge carb company and a fairly popular size and style.
Try and find a rebuild kit for it.
If you are riding or repairing 76-79 model then there are tons of rebuild kits available because as we all know it is so much easier to get parts things the older they are. Try and find a rebuild kit for an 80-83 model,,, they don’t exist. So I’m running a homemade set that are made from the best surviving parts from 3 different sets and 2 different motorcycle manufacturers. Not the best answer for this problem but hey its an answer.
So now back to the Walmart bags… A couple of days ago I stopped by one of Tuscaloosa.. no West Alabama’s finer motorcyle repair, rebuild and wrecked bike recovery operations “Primitive Cycles” where Primitive and Booty Hunter welcomed me with the $10.00 tour of their fine establishment. After Primitive and I talked over my carb situation and he explained that he had not yet found the rebuild kits I needed he asked me how I started the bike. I told him that the carbs did not have a choke rather using an enrichiner circuit. After a few moments discussion he pointed out that I needed to manually choke the carbs by hand.   Shane must have told Kerry a funny joke just as I was pulling out of their parking lot the way they were laughing and pointing it had to be a good one. Yall have to tell me later guys.

Well I wasn’t going to put my hand down there since this bike has on regular occaisions decided to backfire….I have the singed eyebrows to prove it. So I stuff plastic Walmart bags in the carb throats and turn the motor over for a few seconds with out the power to the coil basically choking the patookie out of it. I then flip the switch and push the starter button and it rolls over for a while then coughs, gags, farts, backfires and starts.
Its not exactly the ideal way to start it up but hey if it works it works. After the bike is warm then it fires instantly just by bumping the starter. Where is the fun in that?

So after bagging the carbs and firing it off I headed out into one of the prettiest Saturday mornings I had seen in some time.
Today was going to be great, beautiful weather, a smooth running bike, and helping to ensure the health of women.
I was a force of nature, one with universe, that old Suzuki sales pitch line “…Like a single moving part…” going through my head I snicked smartly through the gears leaving my cares behind.

Chapter 3: Something smells strange

I stopped and topped off the tank and made it to the registration site, naturally I had miss read the flyer and instead of an 8:30 start and back home by lunch it was a 10:30 start with a late lunch.
No problem. I signed up and went to CVS to see my buddy Eric the manager (Harley Davidson Heritage owner btw) and get something to try and make these allergies a little more manageable. After talking with him I decided a private ride to West Blocton  and back ought to sooth any fears I had of the bike not being 100%. I pulled back up to the church at 10:15 and ths lot was a whole lot fuller than I thought it would be. I guesstimated 35+ bikes which is a good draw in a small town on Talledega weekend. I parked and hustled over to the preride briefing and prayer. After the opening festivities I made my way back to the only KZ still in operation with this carb setup for roughly 10 parsecs in any direction. There was a couple of people there looking it over. Now I’m used to that at any event where a sizable group of riders are present there is always someone who had one, their dad, uncle grampa etc had one or they are just confused since its not a V-twin and decked out in chrome. The lady was nice enough she wanted to know where my gremlin bell was. Now I’m not a superstitious person so  don’t have one. But being the natural born smart ass I am I replied that the gremlins stole it from me but I didn’t want one since it would probably be a dinner bell for all gremlins withing 10 miles. The man looked me in the eye and said the magic phrase “I had one of these once…The damn thing was cursed, I think it is a Mopar design or something.” Then they got on their shiny Honda land yacht and pulled toward the front making sure that therewere many bikes between him and the cursed Kawi.
The first leg of the trip went with no fanfare from Centreville down to Maplesville over to Clanton then hang a left to Calera. The bike was running like it hasn’t since I owned it. For a cursed ride it sure was acting like the demons were all just in my head. Then we made a left and took 31 towards Calera. About 1/2 way between Clanton and Calera there was a pop like a .22 going off. A quick glance at the tach showed no variance in the readings a glance down and back showed no oil or smoke and the pulsing of the engine hadn’t changed its note. So the only option was to ignore it and motor on. after about 5 minutes or so there came a noticible wobble in the back. I pulled beside my friend Mike and pointed down to the tire. He looked down and hollerd back FLAT!!. We were coming up on Calera and that BP across from the Super Wal-mart (Remember the damned bags that got this day started?) I rolled in and dropped the kickstand. I naturally carry a can of Fix a Flat, some tire plugs, an assortment of wrenche, pliers screw drivers, extra plugs electrical and duct tape with me (I used to race 4 wheelers cross-country and learned real early that trailside repairs are easier done if you have tools with you).
But there was not a spare tire in my bag. A good chunk of the tread had chosen to leave the rest of the tire making this a replace instead of a repair issue.  The tools were of no use. I sat there and cursed my luck then I realised that my luck was not the factor here. I am probably one of the luckiest S.O.B.s your ever going to run across. I have a bike with zero payments a great family waiting at the house (to laugh at my stupidity for going riding on a 26 yr old bike) I’m 45 and in great health and I managed to break down at an air conditioned store located next to a Waffle House. The only thing to do was pull the sacred cell out and call one of my friends with a trailer.
So the day wasn’t what I had envisioned it to be But it was far far from a loss. Now the only thing to do is to order a tire and track down the elusive carb kit and get ready for the Barbers Superbike races.
Just to observe, not ride in.
The pro riders would protest the old Kaw showing them up.

~Wildh20skier

motorcycle rides in Alabama

Best Alabama roads and rides – the place to find the best roads in Alabama for motorcycling.  We are compiling a map of the best roads and rides in the state, in an easy to read link based system for videos, pictures and ride reports for residents and tourists alike.  If you would like to contribute or find out more about these rides, please join our community and speak your mind.

I could not resist getting out into the snowy abyss, because of boredom or just a photo op.  The roads were not icy, but simply wet, and just a little bit colder than the day before.  Surprisingly, the fluffy snowflakes were stinging my eyes even at around 20 MPH.  A bit too uncomfortable for a long ride, but very nice for a short loop around the neighborhood.  A nice, strange day overall.

Enjoy the video.

I decided to ride from New Hope to Frog’s Inkhouse in Moody on Saturday December the 6th. This ride is 102 miles each way from my house from which I left at 11 am on Saturday and did not make it back until 2:30pm on Sunday December the 7th. How can this be you ask ?

The original plan was to meet a couple other BamaRides members in Gadsden and continue on to Moody. Somehow our wires got crossed and that did not play out. Though this cost a little time it was not the problem. The problems started in my driveway and should have served as an omen of things to come. You have to keep in mind I had invited folks to go with me on the forum so my mind set was not open to not going to Moody. As I pulled on my gloves my nose itched and I reached up to scratch the itch with the back of my right thumb forgetting about the hard rubber shield cleaner attached to my gloves. You guessed it. I cut myself right where my nose meets my upper lip. Nothing to do now but stop the bleeding. Delay number one. Mounted up and moving now I get out to Hwy 431 South and go a few miles and stop to get gas. The call made to the guys goes straight to voice mail so, I leave a message that I’m running a little late but am on the way.

Riding down the highway I can’t help but notice it seems a little colder than I thought it was going to be. I’m wearing long johns, jeans, two sweat shirts, chaps, leather jacket, thick socks, my supposed winter riding gloves, my neoprene skull print face mask, boots and helmet, I think to myself, no problem. By the time I get to Guntersville my finger tips are a little more than uncomfortable. Reaching Boaz the pain in them forces a stop. I try another phone call with the same result as before. Riding on I am now on Hwy 411 South in Gadsden and stop at the first gas station I come to to warm these again aching hands. I try to make contact with my guys again with the same result as before. After warming up for about 30 minutes and trying the phone one more time I now am deciding whether to go on or go back. I should probably explain that getting a mild case of frost bite on my hands and feet, compliments of Uncle Sam, in Germany in 1983 is the cause of the pain once they get cold. So I really am not a wimp you see.

I decide to go on to Moody, which speakes for my hard head. Again, just before reaching Odenville I have to stop for the hands only this time I have trouble squeezing the clutch and front brake levers. Warm again I ride on and get to Frog’s Inkhouse in Moody. It is now a little past 3pm. I meet Frog and we try to find something that will work for my cover up tattoo.
Not able to find the exact thing yet I notice its getting on toward sundown. It’s now close to 430 pm. The return ride in falling temps and the approaching darkness now dominates my thought process so I bid my farewells and hit the asphalt on the way back. My hands are now reaching the painful stage at a faster rate and the cold is beginning to start the shivers. I arrive in Asheville around 530pm with my mind made up to get a motel room for the night which I do. I realized the feeling was beginning to come back to my feet around 10pm and I think how strange I didn’t realize they were that cold. My hands probably kept me from recognizing it I suppose.
The next day I check out of my room and am on the way in ernest about 11am. It’s cold again but the sun is shining and I only have about 75 or so miles remaining of the 102 mile return trip. Both routes are virtually the same mileage. I pass through Oneonta and stop at a small gas station just before reaching Cleveland to warm my again throbbing and burning hands. The lady at the station has these Chihuaha’s and the male is wanting to play and acting real friendly. After a few minutes of petting the dog, he runs off for awhile and returns, rears up on my leg wagging his tail just the way he did the previous time he wanted to be petted. This time as I petted him, just like before, he suddenly bites me on the palm of my left hand between the thumb and the wrist. Great, now I’m stopping the bleeding again. The lady is apologetic and I tell her aw he’s just being a dog. Now I’m thinking why did you say that since, had the last dog that bit you not gotten away you were going to use the knife you retrieved from your pocket to gut it alive and now your not even upset, how strange.

After a little more time spent warming up, smoking one more cigarette I gear up, mount up and ride on. I make another thawing stop at the intersection of Hwy 79 and Hwy 278 and continue on to and through Guntersville and stop at the Shell station after crossing the river on Hwy 431. After warming up again I cover the last 15 miles or so and alas at 230pm on Sunday I’ve made it, I’m home.

As I rode this weekend with my mind running in countless directions, cleaning the laundry so to speak, I suppose it began to creep in at some point. I think it finally arrived as I sat around warming up at home. Over the course of the weekend a lot of things happened that would normally have had me operating at varying degrees of frustration yet none of it phased me in the least. I pondered this fact and wondered why is that? Some would consider this an ordeal but I didn’t. I was completely content with things the way they turned out including being bitten, Why is that I questioned. The answer to the question at the end is found by looking at the beginning. It is simply the ride. The ride on it’s own dominates all the other circumstances encountered.
Circumstances which are unpleasant, irritating and even at times painful are so overshadowed by the ride itself that they are willingly endured for the sake of the ride. I think this can only come from a true love or passion for riding and can only be understood by those who share in it. I am thankful that in my life I have been fortunate enough to encounter both, the passion for riding and people who share that passion.
Ride On and Ride Safe
jc

Once again we find ourselves approaching the largest biker event held in Alabama, the Trail of Tears. Each year the estimate range from 90,000 to 150,000 motorcycles participating in the 30-50 mile long parade of bikes, commemorating the historical Trail of Tears, the 1838 removal of native Americans from the territory.

The interesting development this year is the the split of the ride into two separate rides. For the past few years a storm has been brewing between organizers of the ride until a split was made, and two separate groups were formed, conducting two separate rides, down different roads, with different stops and destinations. There is certainly a large amount of confusion about where the rides will start, and where they will end. The two groups each have their own website to find out more about details of where the rides start and finish, check out:

Trail of Tears Remembrance Motorcycle Ride

Trail of Tears Commemorative Motorcycle Ride

Lots of confusion for everyone this year. Let’s hope it does not spoil the amazing spectacle this has become. If you want to find out more about riding in Alabama, don’t forget to check out the real source of information about what is happening in Alabama, where everyone is riding, and the cool spot to hang out at Bama Rides videos and descriptions of great roads, rides, and stops in Alabama to make your life better. Sign up for the free motorcycle forum to share your opinions about the Trail of Tears, and any other topic concerning motorcycling in Alabama.

What a great ride. We left Jasper with 11 bikes, and found some interesting places that very few people in Alabama know about. Nice, easy riding, with mostly long, sweeping turns, and scenic forests along the way.

Bankhead National Forest motorcycle ride – more great motorcycle rides in Alabama

Read the entire review here

A little less spontaneous than last Sunday, we planned this ride the night before, and posted in the new rides section. After meeting up at the Crack-Barrel, we wound our way thru Hueytown to find a nice surprise out in the woods – River Cafe – great hamburgers, fries, and an interesting menu of frozen items, with plenty of cold beer, cold-air, and comfortable environment built for the hungry biker.

After dining on the delicious fare, we continued the journey onto the Warrior River. Nice twisties, decent paved roads, with just a bit of gravel in a few of the turns. Lots of other places to explore out here, when you have the time.

Eventually, we arrived at King’s Point, the end of the road, and another place to wet our whistle. Not quite as nice as the previous stop on the inside, but they did have cold beer. Outside, was much more scenic, with a few picnic tables overlooking the lake on the Warrior River, a nice boardwalk, and a few boats passed by as we rested.

On Sunday – all the regulars show up..

click pic below