This
was my first (recalled) trip to Death Valley. I may have
traveled there as a child, when dinosaurs roamed the land, but I don’t
remember. I will always recall this trip thanks to presence of a lot of
colorful bikes and riders. Max Bubeck, assisted by John Eagles, put together quite
an event for us, and the Weather Gods cooperated with them by supplying
beautiful riding conditions.
I would guess that about eighty
machines were on hand and most of them were actually running. Our own Kevin
Spear and Larry Ramos remained in fierce competition throughout the three-day
event for the “Pooped out” or “Won’t start” award. In fact, of all the pooped
out bikes, only one was not from our own SoCal chapter. Way to go, guys. Even
Mike Menezes got into the action by seeing how long his Triumph could stay
together at 110 mph. Not long, my friend, I can tell you that. Mr. Pres., Tim
Graber, made a play at a
“sympathy breakdown” by letting his bike fall over in the parking
lot at one of the stops on the way to Badwater, but his only reward was a bent
handle bar and some bruised pride. I gave the breakdown bit a try myself, but
the Chief wasn’t going for it. It just kept on running no matter what I did to
show off my lack of driving skills. My sister, Diane DDD, drove one of the
trouble trucks and enjoyed the company many new and old friends provided by the
numerous broke down scoots. Thank goodness for king cab trucks. Actually, what
she needed more than anything else was someone to help her stay on the right
road. You see, at home she can drop bread crumbs to help her find her way from
the kitchen to the front door and back, but in the desert the little critters
eat up those crumbs and she gets lost. Us guys, on the
other hand, simply say that we took the scenic route.
Furnace
Creek was our base camp, and it provided a good starting point about midway
between the rides to Scottie's Castle, Badwater, Stovepipe, The Devil’s Golf
Course and all of the other areas we visited. Vic Sucher allowed me to pilot
his sidecar one night to a nearby lookout point. I discovered that his Russian
replica of a 53 BMW was spawned in hell for the sole purpose of killing decent
folks like us. If ever there was an award for driving an un-drivable vehicle,
Vic would have it hands down and Doc Sucher would win the bravest passenger
award.
Max
provided us with some great tours of the Death Valley
area that included, among other things, the lowest spot on earth below sea
level, Badwater. After a short look around, we headed back to Furnace Creek
with stops along the way at Painters Palette and a mountain top view of the
entire Death Valley area. Dee
(slipstream) Cameron won the downhill distance coasting run again. I was
personally amazed at Dee’s accomplishment until I
learned that he had pumped up his tire pressure to 185 pounds!
One
of the many planned rides took us to Scottie’s Castle about 50 miles away. Some
strong winds made it an interesting ride. We spent most of the morning riding
to the castle and taking tours of the property. When Diane finally showed up at
the castle with the trouble truck, I noticed that it was decorated with a fine
looking sidecar rig in the trailer and Kevin Spear’s bike in the bed. Larry
Ramos graciously waited for another day to break his transmission. On the way
back from the castle, Craig Dillmann pounded the highways aboard his little
Indian at speeds darn near 40 mph (downhill). Craig gave up the speed machine
to Larry Ramos after a pit stop at the local watering hole in Stovepipe. Craig
did this so Larry could realize and appreciate true perfection in the
motorcycling experience. Craig told Larry that he had been running it full out,
so he (Larry) should take it easy on the old Indian. Larry stalled it a couple
of times before asking where 1st gear was and then he was on his
way. The next thing I know we were cruising along at 65 mph. and my bike was
shedding parts on the highway the way Diane drops breadcrumbs at home. It seems
that all Craig needed to do was turn the throttle a bit.
We
were treated to an all you can eat Bar-B-Q dinner on the last evening. Max handed out plaques to everyone for lots of things and stuff,
which commemorated the event very nicely. The weather continued to stay
mild for our outdoor dining event. The great weather prompted bench-racing
groups to form in the various areas around our base camp each night. The resort
was spread out enough to require the use of a motorcycle to get around, at
least for those of us who were sick, lame, or lazy. I qualified in at least two
of the three groups, all three if hangovers count. The night air was so
refreshing that a few of us took a short ride each night to a local lookout
point either before or during the bench racing events.
Once
again I had a great time thanks to a fun group and an interesting riding area.
Well done Max.