A brief tale of my test ride, (actually the outbound half of it) from LA to Casper, Wyoming on our Air Tracker shocks:
We installed a prototype set of new Works Air Trackers on one of my FXRs and I was looking forward to setting off for Sturgis Bike Week. I worked on Friday at the shop until about 4:00PM. I jumped on the bike, which was packed and ready to go, and quickly found myself in crawling outbound rush hour traffic when I hit the freeway. I split lanes (between cars) from Chatsworth to the 15 freeway (almost a hundred miles) before the traffic cleared enough that I could start to roll. I bumped the speed up to about 85 and headed up the 15 toward Vegas. I stopped and had dinner with my buddy Joe Z. He's a stand up, old school biker who happens to be a Gaming Executive. Stranger things have happened! Joe fits the classic Italian wise guy, mobster stereotype we are all familiar with from great movies like Wise guys. Pesci and DeNiro have nothing on Joe Z! He runs the half dozen or so casinos at Primm, Nevada, 50 miles out of Vegas. (Joe has since quit his job and opened his own joint in Vegas; Rocky's Bar & Grille. Stop in and tell him Tom sent ya if you're ever in his neck of the woods. He'll treat you well !).
Joe wanted to give me a room for the night, but I really wanted to make some miles. I planned to ride to Mesquite, Nevada on the Utah border, another 125 miles or so, and stay the night there. That would make about a 450 mile ride from home to Mesquite and a reasonable after work ride. When I rolled off the freeway into Mesquite to get gas, I began wondering why my ass hadn't started to hurt yet. I felt good, so decided to go on as far as Cedar City, Utah (another 90 miles). I got into Cedar City about 1:00 AM Saturday morning. Got gas and a cup of coffee. Still no ass pain.... hmmmmm. From Cedar City you head up into and over the mountains, past Cedar Breaks National Monument to Panguitch, Utah. It's a twisty two lane road reaching an altitude of about 10,000 feet at the pass, then more twisty stuff all the way down the other side to Panguitch, In all about 70 miles of canyon riding. This is the stretch of road that my best riding buddy, Doug Palmer, met his final end on. Doug was an ex road racer and a highly skilled rider. Two years earlier, he and his brother were on a road trip and got tangled up with a car load of Jap tourists who had stopped in the middle of the road to look at a dead deer. Doug's brother, a relatively new rider, had panicked, swerved over and collided with Doug, sending him crashing into the rear of the parked car. Doug never made it. Godspeed, my friend.
Even with Doug's deer related, untimely death on my mind, I hadn't counted on the number of deer I would encounter, either on or beside the road. It seemed like every other corner I came around, they were standing on or alongside the road, in groups of two to six. I cut my speed down to 30 to 35 MPH. There were just too many big animals out and the last thing I needed was to hit one and go down in the middle of the night, on a mountain road, hours from rescue. There was no traffic. I had only met one car since leaving Cedar City.
About that time , as I came into a corner and went to downshift, the shift linkage broke. I was stuck in 3rd gear at a speed and incline that demanded a lower gear. Shit! I slowed down and pulled over to assess the damage. The linkage connects to the shift bracket on a ball type joint. It had worn out and come off the ball, so I pushed it back on and kept pressure on it with my hand while I made clutchless shifts with my foot. This got me going again in the game of deer dodge 'em, even though it was a pain shifting up and down into and out of corners. I found that I could reach down and push it back on the ball with my hand and if I kept a little pressure on the shift lever with my foot, it would stay in place. It fell off a couple of times but I managed to get into Panguitch where I made a simple repair using some hair bands I bought at the all night gas station.
Still no ass pain, but getting tired, I drank some coffee and felt good enough to hit the road again. Just after daybreak a big bull Elk sprinted out of the ditch and across the road about 50 feet in front of me. I was hauling ass at that point, with daylight with me again, and wasn't expecting a thousand pound Elk to jump out in front of me. We missed each other, and the adrenaline rush kept me hauling ass, headed north for the 70 freeway and on east toward Grand Junction, Colorado. I pulled into Mom's Cafe in Junction, Utah, my usual stop on this route, for breakfast. It's housed in an old stone building left over from the wild west days and they make a damn fine breakfast there.
Back in the saddle again and haulin' down the freeway into Grand Junction. No sense stopping now. I pulled off for gas just outside of Grand Junction, had a cold drink and when I got back on the bike, I hit the starter button and nothing happened. A little investigating revealed a loose battery connection. No big deal. Whew!
Back on the freeway and headed along the winding river out of Grand Junction to Rifle, where you exit to head north up through the mountains on a twisty two lane road up through Meeker, Craig and Baggs to hit the 80 Freeway in Wyoming and then east to Rawlins. Then off the freeway at Rawlins and onto the two lane headed into Casper. I was still feeling pretty good and rolled into Baggs, Wyoming on the Colorado/Wyoming border for gas. The last 140 miles of mountain riding from Rifle had begun to take it's toll on me. No ass burn, still, but I was feeling bone tired and even stopped at the local motel, figuring enough was enough. I had ridden from LA to Baggs, right at 1000 miles and needed to rest.
I couldn't find anyone around at the motel to rent me a room, and by this time, I was starting to feel better again. I said to myself, "Fuck it, I'll ride to my auntie's house in Casper and stay there. It's only another 200 miles." So, back in the saddle, I hit the throttle hard. If I could roll 85 to 95 miles an hour, I could be there in about 2 1/2 hours with a quick gas stop in the middle. When you get north of Rawlins on the newly surfaced two lane , you can fly. Little traffic and no cops. I was blowing past groups of bikers on their way to Sturgis like they were parked. The sun was out, no wind and a beautiful day to be screaming down the blacktop of a dead smooth road. Open country, sweeping curves that you could lean into at high speed. It felt good and I forgot how tired I had been. I rolled into Casper and up to my auntie's house on the hill overlooking the city. Wow! It was good to be finally stopping for some badly needed food and a night's rest before the final leg into Sturgis the next morning. A paltry 300 mile ride!
I had ridden non-stop (except for gas/ food stops), from LA to Casper, Wyoming. It was the first time I have ridden those kind of miles (1200 miles or 1931 kilometers) in 23 hours without suffering serious butt burn. I was amazed! No ass pain! My arms, upper back and hip joints ached from holding the same riding position for 23 hours, but no other ill effects aside from needing a serious nap when I got there! Did those last 300 miles that following day (standing on my head!). I figure if I can do this on an unfaired FXR at age 61, then the average guy is going to love these shocks!.
My interim assessment at this point: Basically, I hadn't thought about the suspension during the ride. It was that good that I didn't NEED to think about it. It did everything well from straight line to hard cornering on both smooth and choppy roads. My only real complaint is that the front forks weren't as good as the rear shocks and I could feel some chop in the road through the forks. Need to work on that. Note: Have since reworked the fork cartridges to our current specs and it is now beautifully balanced with the shocks and with an FXRT fairing now installed, the bike begs to be ridden hard and long!
By Tom Edison
We installed a prototype set of new Works Air Trackers on one of my FXRs and I was looking forward to setting off for Sturgis Bike Week. I worked on Friday at the shop until about 4:00PM. I jumped on the bike, which was packed and ready to go, and quickly found myself in crawling outbound rush hour traffic when I hit the freeway. I split lanes (between cars) from Chatsworth to the 15 freeway (almost a hundred miles) before the traffic cleared enough that I could start to roll. I bumped the speed up to about 85 and headed up the 15 toward Vegas. I stopped and had dinner with my buddy Joe Z. He's a stand up, old school biker who happens to be a Gaming Executive. Stranger things have happened! Joe fits the classic Italian wise guy, mobster stereotype we are all familiar with from great movies like Wise guys. Pesci and DeNiro have nothing on Joe Z! He runs the half dozen or so casinos at Primm, Nevada, 50 miles out of Vegas. (Joe has since quit his job and opened his own joint in Vegas; Rocky's Bar & Grille. Stop in and tell him Tom sent ya if you're ever in his neck of the woods. He'll treat you well !).
Joe wanted to give me a room for the night, but I really wanted to make some miles. I planned to ride to Mesquite, Nevada on the Utah border, another 125 miles or so, and stay the night there. That would make about a 450 mile ride from home to Mesquite and a reasonable after work ride. When I rolled off the freeway into Mesquite to get gas, I began wondering why my ass hadn't started to hurt yet. I felt good, so decided to go on as far as Cedar City, Utah (another 90 miles). I got into Cedar City about 1:00 AM Saturday morning. Got gas and a cup of coffee. Still no ass pain.... hmmmmm. From Cedar City you head up into and over the mountains, past Cedar Breaks National Monument to Panguitch, Utah. It's a twisty two lane road reaching an altitude of about 10,000 feet at the pass, then more twisty stuff all the way down the other side to Panguitch, In all about 70 miles of canyon riding. This is the stretch of road that my best riding buddy, Doug Palmer, met his final end on. Doug was an ex road racer and a highly skilled rider. Two years earlier, he and his brother were on a road trip and got tangled up with a car load of Jap tourists who had stopped in the middle of the road to look at a dead deer. Doug's brother, a relatively new rider, had panicked, swerved over and collided with Doug, sending him crashing into the rear of the parked car. Doug never made it. Godspeed, my friend.
Even with Doug's deer related, untimely death on my mind, I hadn't counted on the number of deer I would encounter, either on or beside the road. It seemed like every other corner I came around, they were standing on or alongside the road, in groups of two to six. I cut my speed down to 30 to 35 MPH. There were just too many big animals out and the last thing I needed was to hit one and go down in the middle of the night, on a mountain road, hours from rescue. There was no traffic. I had only met one car since leaving Cedar City.
About that time , as I came into a corner and went to downshift, the shift linkage broke. I was stuck in 3rd gear at a speed and incline that demanded a lower gear. Shit! I slowed down and pulled over to assess the damage. The linkage connects to the shift bracket on a ball type joint. It had worn out and come off the ball, so I pushed it back on and kept pressure on it with my hand while I made clutchless shifts with my foot. This got me going again in the game of deer dodge 'em, even though it was a pain shifting up and down into and out of corners. I found that I could reach down and push it back on the ball with my hand and if I kept a little pressure on the shift lever with my foot, it would stay in place. It fell off a couple of times but I managed to get into Panguitch where I made a simple repair using some hair bands I bought at the all night gas station.
Still no ass pain, but getting tired, I drank some coffee and felt good enough to hit the road again. Just after daybreak a big bull Elk sprinted out of the ditch and across the road about 50 feet in front of me. I was hauling ass at that point, with daylight with me again, and wasn't expecting a thousand pound Elk to jump out in front of me. We missed each other, and the adrenaline rush kept me hauling ass, headed north for the 70 freeway and on east toward Grand Junction, Colorado. I pulled into Mom's Cafe in Junction, Utah, my usual stop on this route, for breakfast. It's housed in an old stone building left over from the wild west days and they make a damn fine breakfast there.
Back in the saddle again and haulin' down the freeway into Grand Junction. No sense stopping now. I pulled off for gas just outside of Grand Junction, had a cold drink and when I got back on the bike, I hit the starter button and nothing happened. A little investigating revealed a loose battery connection. No big deal. Whew!
Back on the freeway and headed along the winding river out of Grand Junction to Rifle, where you exit to head north up through the mountains on a twisty two lane road up through Meeker, Craig and Baggs to hit the 80 Freeway in Wyoming and then east to Rawlins. Then off the freeway at Rawlins and onto the two lane headed into Casper. I was still feeling pretty good and rolled into Baggs, Wyoming on the Colorado/Wyoming border for gas. The last 140 miles of mountain riding from Rifle had begun to take it's toll on me. No ass burn, still, but I was feeling bone tired and even stopped at the local motel, figuring enough was enough. I had ridden from LA to Baggs, right at 1000 miles and needed to rest.
I couldn't find anyone around at the motel to rent me a room, and by this time, I was starting to feel better again. I said to myself, "Fuck it, I'll ride to my auntie's house in Casper and stay there. It's only another 200 miles." So, back in the saddle, I hit the throttle hard. If I could roll 85 to 95 miles an hour, I could be there in about 2 1/2 hours with a quick gas stop in the middle. When you get north of Rawlins on the newly surfaced two lane , you can fly. Little traffic and no cops. I was blowing past groups of bikers on their way to Sturgis like they were parked. The sun was out, no wind and a beautiful day to be screaming down the blacktop of a dead smooth road. Open country, sweeping curves that you could lean into at high speed. It felt good and I forgot how tired I had been. I rolled into Casper and up to my auntie's house on the hill overlooking the city. Wow! It was good to be finally stopping for some badly needed food and a night's rest before the final leg into Sturgis the next morning. A paltry 300 mile ride!
I had ridden non-stop (except for gas/ food stops), from LA to Casper, Wyoming. It was the first time I have ridden those kind of miles (1200 miles or 1931 kilometers) in 23 hours without suffering serious butt burn. I was amazed! No ass pain! My arms, upper back and hip joints ached from holding the same riding position for 23 hours, but no other ill effects aside from needing a serious nap when I got there! Did those last 300 miles that following day (standing on my head!). I figure if I can do this on an unfaired FXR at age 61, then the average guy is going to love these shocks!.
My interim assessment at this point: Basically, I hadn't thought about the suspension during the ride. It was that good that I didn't NEED to think about it. It did everything well from straight line to hard cornering on both smooth and choppy roads. My only real complaint is that the front forks weren't as good as the rear shocks and I could feel some chop in the road through the forks. Need to work on that. Note: Have since reworked the fork cartridges to our current specs and it is now beautifully balanced with the shocks and with an FXRT fairing now installed, the bike begs to be ridden hard and long!
By Tom Edison
8 comments:
Great read! Thanks Tom.
I thought I caught a pic somewhere of that FXR with a 'RT fairing on it...Care to post a current pic Tom?
long haul!
I thoroughly enjoyed this story!
Great travelogue, epic one dayer !
thanks!!
great story of an epic ride
Hope you all enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed doin' it!
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