Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'jeff’s'.
Found 1 result
-
OK, this is what I got roped into Saturday at the Skid-in. First I made the mistake of going with Jeff and Dan to a parts place about 50 miles away … not that there was anything wrong with that … it was just that we were taking Jeff’s cage and given Dan’s infirmity and all, we started out with Dan sitting in the front seat, I got the back … Jeff’s cage was built for vertically challenged people with inseams of … oh, say around 15 inches!!! So here I was, I managed to wedge my 5 foot 17 inch, 200 lb frame in the back of Jeff’s cage, my feet jammed against the side window, my head bent under the back window. This was not a pleasure ride … So, off we went. We got back with the Saab part, were not successful in getting it running and that created another unfortunate circumstance for me. Bob and Earl had showed up in the mean time. Finally it was decided that we should all head back to Skids. I noticed everyone was over at Dan’s 85 VR looking at it. For reasons unknown I was asked to ride it back to Skids, it appeared to have been sitting in place for sometime BUT … faced with riding the 85 or jamming myself in the back of Jeff’s cage, this time along with Dan or the Warden back there … I immediately asked “does it run”??? Dan fired it up. The roar was deafening … it appeared to have exhaust leaking from places no VR should vent exhaust from and it was obvious that 100 mile an hour tape would not be a temporary solution. There was a very large hole apparent in the middle of the collector. In the mean while Dan blipped the throttle and the thing roared like a lion with it’s tail caught in a door … my teeth were shaking and my eyeballs bounced around in their sockets. I noted the trees shaking around us and the windows of his neighbors house some distance away flexing in and out … Dan shut it down and the silence was … well deafening! I noted the gutter drain on a corner of the afore mentioned house fall off. I looked at Jeff’s cage, looked at Dan’s 85 and said … “got a helmet??”. Fortified with a diet coke, a helmet one size to big to really fit my head … and everyone heading for their respective transportation resources, I straddled the thing, turned the key and hit the ignition. Over the roar of the bike I asked Dan if the brakes worked … I think he said yes and then something about bleeding, pads, use to … but he was heading away towards Jeff’s cage. I noticed one of his neighbors next door had fallen to his knees, hands up to his ears and eyes shut, mouth wide open … huh, guess it really was loud. Sitting right on top of this 85 it didn’t seem so loud … I later realized that was because I had gone deaf. Jeff pulled out in the lead with Bob then Earl following down the narrow one lane road Dan lives on … I took a deep gulp, said a small prayer (or did I take a small gulp and say a big prayer?) pulled in the clutch and popped it into gear. Feathering the clutch and riding the rear brake I rev’ed ‘er up and pulled out of the impressions in the ground the 85 VR had apparently settled into over time … With the bars slapping the tank and the rear end wiggling like a fat lady hustling towards the buffet line in those too tight polyester pedalpushers they seem to find somewhere … the 85 bellowing like the beanstalk giant in protest of being wakened from his sleep and me screaming like a frightened little girl … away we went. I noticed two squirrels fall from a nearby quaking tree … It appeared that Jeff, Bob and Earl were trying to keep a considerable distance from me as I attempted to keep the rubber side down … probably the noise yah think? As I navigated out onto the lane and got 15/20 mph on it I realized I should of checked the tire pressure and that would of helped considerably with the tank slap. But like the thoroughbred it was, the 85 settled down after a few miles and with warmed up tires only wallowed a bit when heeled over. I corrected this by not heeling over!! Heading down the lane, windows of houses along the way flexing, trees shaking, people running for cover, I got used to the bike. So there we were … ambling down this little, narrow lane that goes UP and down, blind corners and crests. Passed this quaint little church … the 85 producing it’s bellowing note and I swear the sound waves got the bell in the belfry a gonging … anyway, I could hear bells but might have been something internal. Anywho, by the time we were on the main road I felt that I could probably get to Skids on this 85 rather than in an ambulance … I saw a lot of friendly folks along the way to Skids, strange way they have of waving up here though … almost thought they were shaking a fist at me while trying to plug their ears … figured it was some local gesture of friendship … Hit 70 mph up on the freeway, 4th and 5th gears slipping like crazy under acceleration. Jeff and Earl had shot off for parts unknown but Bob hung back with me … quite a distance behind me now that I think of it. We finally made it to Skids, I pulled into his drive and pointed Ugly towards the garage opening and bounced over the threshold of the garage and stood on the brakes and got him stopped. I think that is when I finally started to breath again … Actually Dan that is quite a little 85 VR you got there, does need some TLC but it actually is a rather fetching beast that I believe I have melded with … if you get tired of it … let me know!! And that’s how Dan’s bike got to Skids!
