Picking Up My 86 Venture Royale in 2005

[Bob and Mary]

The day, Saturday April 2nd, started out windy and rainy. Hourly checks of the National Weather web site showed that there would be a break in the weather long enough to allow a 70 mile road trip to bring my new bike home. Granted, there was supposed to be some wind. But how bad could it be? After all, if birds could fly in wind you should be able to ride a bike in most weather, short of hurricanes and tornadoes. So my wife and I set out a schedule and called her sister who loves to come along for any great adventure. Come to think of it, she likes to do many things, up to and including watch paint dry. My wife said she invited her to help load the body into the car in the event I crashed and burned. My wife was dead set against me riding it home. She cited some nonsense about it’s been 27 years since I rode a bike and it was only a 650 Kawasaki W-2. In addition, due to modifications that removed excess weight like rear shocks and center stands, that bike weighed quite a bit less than a full dress, 1300 cc Yamaha Venture. She said I should trailer it back. I explained to her that riding a motorcycle is like riding a bicycle, once you fall off, you never forget how.

 

The trip was from Fort Wayne, Indiana to Peru, Indiana, about hour and ½ away. Off we went, arriving at Max Pitts in Peru, Indiana in a record 21/2 hours. This was due to a stop at the bank for a deposit and a journey thru town to pick up her sister. It also allowed us to stop at a famous name brand fast food place and eat a nutritious lunch. Lunch wouldn’t normally take as long as it did but for some reason, whenever my wife and her sister are in the same restaurant together the orders are never right. After several trips to the counter to get the orders fixed my wife sat down to eat. Of course by this time I was done with lunch and ready to go. Being the gentleman I am, I refrained from going out to the car and honking the horn. Instead I chose to remain with her and her sister and fidget. Finally, they were done eating and ready to drive to the dealer. As we neared the dealer’s lot, my wife asked if I was planning on going to the blessing of the bikes in Arcola, Indiana. I told her that I would decide after the ride home.

 

We arrived at the dealer and found the salesman. He had gotten the bike ready with paper plates, a full tank of gas and tire pressures checked. I mentioned to the salesman that I’d need to purchase a good pair of gloves as my old ones had dry rotted several decades ago. He made the mistake of mentioning that whatever we bought as far as accessories today we would receive 20% off. This meant that instead of leaving soon, we would be enjoying ourselves in the motorcycle boutique. $110 later we were ready to leave.

 

After getting my riding duds on in the parking lot, I was silently kicking myself in the ass for not borrowing a set of leathers a co-worker had offered to loan me. Not that I thought I would really need them, after all, it was at least 40 degrees and sunny, except for the clouds. And the wind was only gusting to 50 MPH or so. The bike was parked outside, at the top of a 30 foot ramp leading to the showroom. I would have preferred to have it pointing down the ramp instead of up the ramp, but I had a plan. Mounting the bike, I planned to start it and use the front break for control to roll gracefully down the gently sloped ramp. As I began rolling down the ramp, it occurred to me just how steep the ramp was and how heavy this bike was. It also dawned on me how high up the center of gravity was. But I took my time and managed to get the bike pointed towards the driveway for my first ride in 27 years.

 

As I nearly hit a parked car in the dealership lot, I thought to myself how inconsiderate that person was. They could have parked out on the highway and given me just a little more room to maneuver. I turned left onto the paved road that led to the highway. I do mean turned. This in itself was no big deal, but somehow the bike thought I should be leaning into it a little more. To emphasize this point the bike immediately headed for a large chuckhole. As I caught on and leaned a bit more, I over corrected and came close to a van pulling onto the road from the highway. Thank goodness, the driver was considerate enough to stay out of my way. Probably respect for a fellow motorcycle enthusiast or he didn’t have time that day to call a wrecker to dislodge a motorcycle from his grill. I stopped for the highway, checked traffic and proceeded across the two southbound lanes. I stopped in the median to check for traffic and pulled out. I remembered to lean into it a little more vigorously this time and managed to aim myself and the bike north on highway 31 towards highway 24. I got rolling very well and adjusted my body for the ride. Once I felt comfortable, I decided not to ride on the shoulder of the highway, which is where I had ended up after the ever so skillfully executed turn, so I got in the right hand lane.

 

Did I mention this is a big heavy bike? My first stoplight was a bit of a surprise. The light had changed and I had plenty of time to stop so I began down shifting. As I began applying the rear brake, I didn’t get the sensation that I was slowing down much. And as I began applying the front break, I had a strange fear that the brakes had gone out. (Later, when I read the owner’s manual, I found out that the bike has a suspension control system that eliminates fork dive) Eventually I came to a stop at the light. When the light turned green, I pulled majestically away. I picked up my left foot to shift to second and again found myself heading for the shoulder. I told myself I’d have to work on stops and starts as my previous bike had the rear brake on the left and the shifter on the right… and it didn’t weight 800 pounds.

 

The biggest challenge was riding in heavy cross winds. I think it would have been easier had the winds made up their mind which direction they wanted to come from and stick with it. As it was, the wind would first come from the right, then from the left, then at an angle and then change again. After the first twenty miles or so I was getting the hang of it. But it does disturb me that we give the government all that money for taxes and they build a four lane highway with such skinny lanes.

 

The next fifty miles were a repeat of the first twenty with interesting variations on wind speed and direction. I did find out that I enjoyed being passed by tractor trailer rigs as they block the wind from one direction for a little bit. (Yes, I was only going the speed limit)

 

Exiting 469 northbound at 37 in Fort Wayne was a challenge. The road is banked at an angle suitable for a sweeping right turn at 65 MPH. As I approached the exit ramp to my right, the wind picked up from the right and blew be back on to the highway. I slowed, leaned more and more and still nearly missed the exit.

 

As I approached home, it dawned on me that the entrance to my driveway is one of those modern curbs with no cutout for the driveway. I had worked it out in my mind that I should approach it as head on as possible just like railroad tracks. Of course the streets are only forty feet wide or so, which really cramps my style. In order for me to turn to approach the driveway squarely, I estimated I would need at least half a football field or a runway suitable for Piper Cubs.

 

I hit the curb at a slight angle, rode over it gracefully, missed my truck parked in the drive and went straight into the garage. Thanks to my wife, who had the foresight to open the garage door as I approached, I glided to a stop inside the garage, as opposed to embedding the bike in the garage door.

 

Once I shifted to neutral and had the bike on the side stand, I pried my fingers from the bars and turned it off. I say pried, not only because I had been hanging on so tight, but also because my hands lost feeling from the cold during the first twenty miles or so.

 

All in all, it was a good ride. The only aches and pains were a stiff hip from the lack of pegs to stretch my legs on. This and the bike seat looked to be about as wide as the seat in my truck. This caused my hips to cramp, but better that than popping them out of the sockets.

 

After all that, I decided to skip the blessing of the bikes in Arcola and try to find out where they bless fools like me.

 

From the ride it is evident that I need work on low speed maneuvering and other miscellaneous items. I plan on taking a safe rider course soon.

 

As a follow up: here it is 40 some thousand miles later and I wouldn't give this bike up for the world... although it would be nice to get out of Indiana to a state with less winter and more summer.

[eagleeye]

That was an awesome story!

Thanks

[pbjman]

Fun read!

[Flyinfool]

That sure brings back memories from when I got my 88 back in 07. My story is very similar.

[cowpuc]

WONDERFUL READ @Bob and Mary!! THANK YOU!!!

[VanRiver]

Great story @Bob and Mary , would love to see a picture of your Venture! Yes these bikes are not for the "novice" or "faint of heart" if you are not used to them.

 

I had a similar experience but from the outside looking in.....I restored two 1986 Venture Royals this year as a father son project with my Dad. My Dad is 73 years old, has been riding motorcycles all his life both personally and professionally, is a retired Police Officer who chased "bad guys" on old Police Harley's for over 30 years, and taught me EVERYTHING I know....not to get too sappy but he is truly my personal mentor and Hero. And got me my first motorcycle when I was 5 years old, so he's kinda cool too.

 

Anyway, I got the scoots all fixed up over the long Canadian winter and we went for our first ride together on the matching Venture's (Big Day as this was the climax for all the wrench turning and garage time we spent over the winter)......now the kicker, my Dad is unfortunately not the same big "Burly Policeman" at age 73 that I remember (getting old sucks!), plus he also hadn't been on a "big" motorcycle for around 20 years. Long story short I was scared as hell that he would take a spill on this "maiden voyage of the Venture" while he was still getting used to the bike and having the training and muscle memory of riding come back to him....I would never forgive myself if he hurt himself!!!!! I was totally stressed as I followed him down the road and I could see that he was showing a little stress too but didn't want to admit it to me. The good news is, it all came flowing back to him and the next thing I know he was telling me via my helmut intercom that he wanted to take it on the highway to see what this old girl could do.

 

After a nice 1 hour ride cruising the highways and byways of Southern Alberta we headed for home....he was happy, the restored Venture's performed flawlessly, and I was finally starting to relax with the feeling that my worries about my Dad not being able to handle and enjoy the bike was me just being over protective of the man that had done things on bikes that I could only dream of, including high speed pursuits, learning to fire a weapon while riding, and how to properly lay a bike down at high speeds or in the police training sand pit (he has all kinds of great stories)........Well we exit the highway and head for my driveway to park the bikes in my garage.......I have a automatic gate at the entrance to my property that requires me to punch in a code for it to open.....so I pass my Dad and head to my keypad to punch in my code.....the next thing I know I see a flash in my rearview mirror and see my Dad and his Bike laying down on the left side. I mean completely flat with the left mirror touching the pavement. Panic set in and I have never dismounted a motorcycle so quickly in my life to see if he was OK.

 

Long story short, the slight angle of my driveway, high centre of gravity that my Dad was not used to, plus the sheer weight of our lovely Ventures got the best of him while he was waiting for me to open the gate, and he laid her down on the very first ride. My nightmare had come true!!!.....but at least he wasn't going 100 km at the time!! Good thing was he was smart about it, once he figured he couldn't hold her up he basically rode it down with hands safely on the handlebars and feet safely tucked in on the pegs and let the crash bars do their thing. Pride was the only victim in this story. Screw the bike, as long as he was OK.....I can fix anything on that Venture, but I can't fix my Dad!! I was worried that after the incident he was going to say..."this is not for me"....but rather we stood the bike up together and he hopped right on it again and drove it up the driveway, parked it, and proceeded to ask when we would be going for our next ride.......but that we should probably not tell my Mom about the "little incident in the driveway"!

 

Anyway, lessons learned for me that day:

 

1. My Dad is still my Hero!

2. Ventures are Awesome machines!

3. It takes time to get used to a new bike, to understand it's personality and unique characteristics.

4. If something that is 800+ pounds wants to fall over.....it is going to fall over.....no matter how strong or weak, young or old your legs are!

5. Mom's don't need to know about everything that happen on Father/Son Rides (sounds weird coming from a Man in his 40's, but it is true)

 

This is my Dad back in the saddle with his sweet 1986 Brown Venture Royal, my Black 86 is the background (picture taken several rides after the "maiden voyage incident"....If you are reading this please don't tell my Mom!)

Edited May 14, 2015 by VanRiver