More Snow! 25% Whee! 75% whimper...
My motorcycle needed to be out of the old sign shop by this weekend. The company that manages the old shop building (as well as the new one and most of the Parkville neighborhood, it seems) has a tendency to do slightly less than the minimal amount of work needed in any given situation. In this spirit, they didn't plow anywhere near the building, leaving about 60 feet of virgin snow with a plow mound at the end between the shop garage door and an icy driveway. A 4X4 pickup would have been the ideal thing to use for motorcycle retrieval in this situation. Lacking one of those, I decided to grit my teeth and ride the old BMW through the snow. Really, how badly could that go? That was a rhetorical question. Don't answer that.
I opened the garage door, started the bike and gave it a little time to warm up as I jockeyed it about and backed it up to the far wall to maximize my runway. I psyched myself up, focusing on the spot in the plow mound that I intended to burst through, and let out the clutch. The bike tracked amazingly well through the snow, with no fishtailing whatsoever until I hit the mound. I made about halfway through the mound before coming to a halt. The bike had risen up on the denser snow and was slowly lowering itself toward the ground as the hot cylinders and exhaust pipes melted and boiled their way through the snow. About a minute's worth of snow shoveling and another minute of fishtailing had the bike free. I resisted the strong temptation to ride back to the building and try again. I'm sure I could have nailed it in second gear.
The ride home was a riot. The spoked wheels had gotten packed with snow and were flinging snowballs every which way as I rode up Park Street. People were doing double-takes. Kids were waving. I was laughing hysterically and fogging up my helmet. I took a detour or two along the way, as it felt great to be riding, if only for a few extra blocks. It was delightfully absurd. I hooked a garden hose to the washing machine supply faucet in the cellar and gave the bike a nice hot bath in the driveway. I had to blow-dry the ice-encrusted front brake afterward so it would move again (tee-hee.)
I had multiple offers of winter garage space, but I have a few repairs and upgrades that I want to make before the spring. The problem with an unheated garage is this: The moment it's warm enough to work on the bike it's also warm enough to ride it. I know my only chance of getting things done on the R80 this winter is to have it in the warmth and in my way; in short, in my dining room. I had taken measurements and determined that it would just barely work.
In spite of my practical reasoning, this was still a fairly ridiculous idea, so I called in two of the best people I could call for such foolishness: Pix and Auntie Mame. Two ramps, several ratchet straps, a come-a-long and much grunting later, the BMW was snugly lodged in the front doorway, caught at the crashbars. My measurements had been off by just a bit. Oops! It was dark and cold at this point and my crack team of improv engineers had another engagement, so the bike was pushed back onto the porch, where it now sits chained to the railing. Thanks for all the help! You two continue to rule!
Today I shoveled. I was not doing very well physically and was getting really worn out when Iya's brother came out of the house and offered me a hand. That was really great. I'm very grateful for that. Right now, I need to rest for a few minutes, but I'll pull the crashbars in a little while and figure things out from there.
I opened the garage door, started the bike and gave it a little time to warm up as I jockeyed it about and backed it up to the far wall to maximize my runway. I psyched myself up, focusing on the spot in the plow mound that I intended to burst through, and let out the clutch. The bike tracked amazingly well through the snow, with no fishtailing whatsoever until I hit the mound. I made about halfway through the mound before coming to a halt. The bike had risen up on the denser snow and was slowly lowering itself toward the ground as the hot cylinders and exhaust pipes melted and boiled their way through the snow. About a minute's worth of snow shoveling and another minute of fishtailing had the bike free. I resisted the strong temptation to ride back to the building and try again. I'm sure I could have nailed it in second gear.
The ride home was a riot. The spoked wheels had gotten packed with snow and were flinging snowballs every which way as I rode up Park Street. People were doing double-takes. Kids were waving. I was laughing hysterically and fogging up my helmet. I took a detour or two along the way, as it felt great to be riding, if only for a few extra blocks. It was delightfully absurd. I hooked a garden hose to the washing machine supply faucet in the cellar and gave the bike a nice hot bath in the driveway. I had to blow-dry the ice-encrusted front brake afterward so it would move again (tee-hee.)
I had multiple offers of winter garage space, but I have a few repairs and upgrades that I want to make before the spring. The problem with an unheated garage is this: The moment it's warm enough to work on the bike it's also warm enough to ride it. I know my only chance of getting things done on the R80 this winter is to have it in the warmth and in my way; in short, in my dining room. I had taken measurements and determined that it would just barely work.
In spite of my practical reasoning, this was still a fairly ridiculous idea, so I called in two of the best people I could call for such foolishness: Pix and Auntie Mame. Two ramps, several ratchet straps, a come-a-long and much grunting later, the BMW was snugly lodged in the front doorway, caught at the crashbars. My measurements had been off by just a bit. Oops! It was dark and cold at this point and my crack team of improv engineers had another engagement, so the bike was pushed back onto the porch, where it now sits chained to the railing. Thanks for all the help! You two continue to rule!
Today I shoveled. I was not doing very well physically and was getting really worn out when Iya's brother came out of the house and offered me a hand. That was really great. I'm very grateful for that. Right now, I need to rest for a few minutes, but I'll pull the crashbars in a little while and figure things out from there.