I was "volunteered" to compose my first Ride Report for the JaBoB's (Just a Bunch of Bikes) Sundee outing thru the Foothills. Thought I'd share it here too. I'll add a few pics later.
The Truth...............Goats or not it was a fantastic day to be rollin' on two wheels with the JaBoB's. It was a great pleasure to become acquainted with another trio of the JaboB's finest.
My day started off being envious of the Stockton contingent's plan of an early morning attack of Stoney Creek. Although somewhat out of the way I set my sights on the Pardee Overlook to join the Stoney fray. I arrived long before the appointed hour and made a loop down thru Burson and back to keep the rim protectors warm as Butthead was determined to make an 8 minute flight down Stoney, in to Jackson.
Scott snuck in front of me just prior to the Dam on my rubber warming return from Burson. He was aboard his winter project GS1000 born in 1979, unloved and long forgotten in a friends barn since 92. Discovered and devoured by rats who had made a meal of the her rim protectors and airbox she was a sorry sight indeed.
Scott seeing a diamond in the rough went to work on her and for a sum of less than 300 bucks has a nice new Vintage? ride which will be celebrating her 20th sometime soon. Scott has some luck as his Son's friend donated another GS to him, a year younger that may be the donor of it's heads and improved CV carbs.
As the GS was being examined, with the rally time come and gone the Dawg's growl and the blare of the Bandits Italian bugle was heard echoing from the hills below. We cast our gaze in their direction expecting to see the Red and Black at any moment. Our ears were fooled as it was near 10 minutes before they could be seen burning up the asphalt in the distance.
After the new arrivals had poured over Scotts handy work we set off for our 8 minute run on Stoney, all of us on cold tires. No matter to the Red and Black, they were gone in a flash, as Scott and I attempted to keep the pace.
Christine was poised at Stoney's exit waiting to join the foursome aboard her KLR. We motored through Jackson and on to the Dead Fly a bit behind schedule. Allen had finished all but the last swallow of his cuppa wondering if he had been stood up, because of our tardiness.
Christine convinced me over breakfast that I need to experience the thrill of a track day. Something I have often considered, but never put into motion. She and her Husband will be attending Keith Codes school and "Twisting A Wrist" at the track next week. I look forward to riding with you and and meeting your husband soon. Tear it up at the track.
With Christine, headed back to her crib after breakfast the Five headed towards Georgetown with the thought of seeing what Wentworth had to offer us..........SNOW in the out bound lane from the shoulder to the double yellow. Butthead turned the Five around and laid out a route to Placerville.
We Rock n Rolled in to Hangtown on Rock Creek Road, one of those Goaty
pieces of pavement that seems to go on forever and leaves you wanting more. Why is it such a crappy piece of asphalt becomes so enchanting when traversed on two wheels? Must be the company that it's shared with.
Butthead departed in P ville, off to visit his Mother in Folsom. Allen took the point and led the Four through Sommerset, Mt Aukum, Fairplay and Daffodil Hill where we passed Fun Monitor Hernandez directing traffic, whom I met two months prior in the aftermath of a Harley riding buddies fall to the surface of Sutter-Ione Rd. He has also provided several pieces of yellow paper to a Busa Brother of mine in past 5 months. On a first name basis, they are.
We were off with a wave to the Officer and down the Ram's Horn into Volcano where we stretched our legs and found the public facilities. What seemed to be the end of the day turned into lets let's go play some more when Allen began to verbalize his intended route home.
I still had that greedy need for more twisties and was not about to let Allen get bigger helping than me. Pat was in agreement and we headed off to Hwy 26 for some more fun. Scott made the turn towards home, as the Three rounded up Red Corral Rd. I think???, as I didn't miss him until the turn on to R/R Flat Rd. and Pat said he was cribbage bound.
From there the Three, with Allen still up front, found ourselves another Goat, an Afghan I've heard, as he shepherded us across Sheep Ranch Rd. Nice, Nice, Nice. Thanks Allen, loved every minute and Piggish piece of it.
The arrival in Murphy's found the sun showing signs of calling it a day. So after a refueling and a few more lies and a lesson in Dyna Beads, Bandit and Busa finally set course for the homeward leg.
Hey, when was the last topping of the tanks? Ahh the Placer departure of the thirsty Dawg, first time Masago needed more than just a splash of the go juice.
Pat appointed me the frontman of the Two. I nervously accepted and managed to get us past a Fun Monitor lying in wait, but nearly missed the Poole Station entrance. Luckily Pat saw it coming and didn't run up my pipe as I clamped on the binders to make the turn. Claims he never knows where he's at, only where he's been. Right, one up on me, don't know where I'm at, nor where I've been. Even with the GPS mounted under my nose.
We pounded Poole Station's twists and tuns down for desert and called it day in San Andreas. I split to Jackson and lost sight of the Bandit bugling off towards it's Stockton home.
My greed not quite satisfied, I jumped off 49 and smacked Sutter Ione Road for all it was worth before making my own drone to the crib on Hwy 104.
My appetite for the twisties finally satisfied after a near dawn to dusk run and 272 (s)miles. Let's do it again...........................
Russ...
Am I a Boy scout yet?
The Truth...............Goats or not it was a fantastic day to be rollin' on two wheels with the JaBoB's. It was a great pleasure to become acquainted with another trio of the JaboB's finest.
My day started off being envious of the Stockton contingent's plan of an early morning attack of Stoney Creek. Although somewhat out of the way I set my sights on the Pardee Overlook to join the Stoney fray. I arrived long before the appointed hour and made a loop down thru Burson and back to keep the rim protectors warm as Butthead was determined to make an 8 minute flight down Stoney, in to Jackson.
Scott snuck in front of me just prior to the Dam on my rubber warming return from Burson. He was aboard his winter project GS1000 born in 1979, unloved and long forgotten in a friends barn since 92. Discovered and devoured by rats who had made a meal of the her rim protectors and airbox she was a sorry sight indeed.
Scott seeing a diamond in the rough went to work on her and for a sum of less than 300 bucks has a nice new Vintage? ride which will be celebrating her 20th sometime soon. Scott has some luck as his Son's friend donated another GS to him, a year younger that may be the donor of it's heads and improved CV carbs.
As the GS was being examined, with the rally time come and gone the Dawg's growl and the blare of the Bandits Italian bugle was heard echoing from the hills below. We cast our gaze in their direction expecting to see the Red and Black at any moment. Our ears were fooled as it was near 10 minutes before they could be seen burning up the asphalt in the distance.
After the new arrivals had poured over Scotts handy work we set off for our 8 minute run on Stoney, all of us on cold tires. No matter to the Red and Black, they were gone in a flash, as Scott and I attempted to keep the pace.
Christine was poised at Stoney's exit waiting to join the foursome aboard her KLR. We motored through Jackson and on to the Dead Fly a bit behind schedule. Allen had finished all but the last swallow of his cuppa wondering if he had been stood up, because of our tardiness.
Christine convinced me over breakfast that I need to experience the thrill of a track day. Something I have often considered, but never put into motion. She and her Husband will be attending Keith Codes school and "Twisting A Wrist" at the track next week. I look forward to riding with you and and meeting your husband soon. Tear it up at the track.
With Christine, headed back to her crib after breakfast the Five headed towards Georgetown with the thought of seeing what Wentworth had to offer us..........SNOW in the out bound lane from the shoulder to the double yellow. Butthead turned the Five around and laid out a route to Placerville.
We Rock n Rolled in to Hangtown on Rock Creek Road, one of those Goaty
pieces of pavement that seems to go on forever and leaves you wanting more. Why is it such a crappy piece of asphalt becomes so enchanting when traversed on two wheels? Must be the company that it's shared with.
Butthead departed in P ville, off to visit his Mother in Folsom. Allen took the point and led the Four through Sommerset, Mt Aukum, Fairplay and Daffodil Hill where we passed Fun Monitor Hernandez directing traffic, whom I met two months prior in the aftermath of a Harley riding buddies fall to the surface of Sutter-Ione Rd. He has also provided several pieces of yellow paper to a Busa Brother of mine in past 5 months. On a first name basis, they are.
We were off with a wave to the Officer and down the Ram's Horn into Volcano where we stretched our legs and found the public facilities. What seemed to be the end of the day turned into lets let's go play some more when Allen began to verbalize his intended route home.
I still had that greedy need for more twisties and was not about to let Allen get bigger helping than me. Pat was in agreement and we headed off to Hwy 26 for some more fun. Scott made the turn towards home, as the Three rounded up Red Corral Rd. I think???, as I didn't miss him until the turn on to R/R Flat Rd. and Pat said he was cribbage bound.
From there the Three, with Allen still up front, found ourselves another Goat, an Afghan I've heard, as he shepherded us across Sheep Ranch Rd. Nice, Nice, Nice. Thanks Allen, loved every minute and Piggish piece of it.
The arrival in Murphy's found the sun showing signs of calling it a day. So after a refueling and a few more lies and a lesson in Dyna Beads, Bandit and Busa finally set course for the homeward leg.
Hey, when was the last topping of the tanks? Ahh the Placer departure of the thirsty Dawg, first time Masago needed more than just a splash of the go juice.
Pat appointed me the frontman of the Two. I nervously accepted and managed to get us past a Fun Monitor lying in wait, but nearly missed the Poole Station entrance. Luckily Pat saw it coming and didn't run up my pipe as I clamped on the binders to make the turn. Claims he never knows where he's at, only where he's been. Right, one up on me, don't know where I'm at, nor where I've been. Even with the GPS mounted under my nose.
We pounded Poole Station's twists and tuns down for desert and called it day in San Andreas. I split to Jackson and lost sight of the Bandit bugling off towards it's Stockton home.
My greed not quite satisfied, I jumped off 49 and smacked Sutter Ione Road for all it was worth before making my own drone to the crib on Hwy 104.
My appetite for the twisties finally satisfied after a near dawn to dusk run and 272 (s)miles. Let's do it again...........................
Russ...
Am I a Boy scout yet?
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