I finally worked up the courage and the ganas to do my own belt replacement / oil change / valve adjustment on the ST 4. So far it has broken down (poor choice of words) as follows: Day 1: Remove bodywork, drain and replace oil; Day 2: Drain coolant, remove expansion bottle; Day 3: Remove radiator, remove belt covers; Day 4: Run over to Sears for a couple of offset wrenches to remove belt tensioners. By springtime I should be done.

Spotted in the nytimes online this morning, this article. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/12/us/12helmet.html I think I am one of the few people to examine the methodology of motorcycle helmet laws and the statistics used to promote and resist them. In fact the only contribution I made to the field in graduate school was to look at the wholly unstudied phenomenon of motorcycle helmet laws and the interest groups that argue their merits. If you look at the graph that accompanies the article, it shows "deaths per motorcycle registration." Since when did the number of motorcycles registered become a proxy for motorcycling activity? Does NHTSA use vehicle registrations to determine deaths for autos and trucks? (The answer is no.) The trouble is (and this comes from my current life as a transportation planner) that the Federal Highways Administration has no way to calculate motorcycle Vehicle Miles Traveled. VMT is the denominator in the death rates and crash rates for all other modes of transportation. On the policy end of things, I am indifferent. I ride without a helmet only rarely, like when I toodle around the block or to the store a block away. I know it is dangerous to do so. But for those small trips, lugging a helmet around is uncomfortable. My friend C. says that it is impossible to legislate against stupidity. She also says that a graduated licensing system would insure that people would have adequate experience and training for each level of motorcycle they are licensed to ride. I am inclined to agree with her on both counts.

I have been deferring maintenance on all my bikes lately. The Morini need swing-arm bushings again, the F1 needs wiring, the ST4S needs and oil change and valve check. Then, I notice sputtering from the normally trustworthy CT90. This continues for a week or two, as I become increasingly concerned that the little thing is trying to tell me that it needs some kind of major work, after years of mostly benign neglect. I am suspicious of the carburettor, and sure enough I look at it on a recent arrival home and I see some threads showing where the slide attaches to the carb body. Tighten it up and I'll be damned if the thing doesn't run 100% again.

New license plates for the Land of Entrapment. Where do I sign up? http://www.newmexico100.net/mvdsurvey/mvdsurvey.aspx

A colleague rode his SX200 to work today. I got kinda choked up so similar was his bike to my old one. Later, when I was leaving work, I saw J125 riding down 8th St to the roundabout at Central and then head west. It must be Lambretta day.

How far we've come! Since Roomie chose not not to come along last week, she asked if we might go for a ride. Our so-called monsoon season has arrived early this year, so we did not want to get too far afield. Roomie suggested Mountainair for breakfast at Pop Shafer's. The ride from Tijeras down NM 337 was better than I recalled. Perhaps the ST is more comfortable for long straights than the 851. It certainly soaks them up faster! In any case, once we were past the congestion immediately below Tijeras (unfortunately the location of the finest twisties of the ride), there were plenty of places to pass cages. Breakfast was a delight. The ratio of motorcyclists to non-motorcyclists there was 7 to 1, including a pair on Kawasaki Vulcans that we passed on the way into town. I hope they manage to stay open. The ride from Mountainair to Belen was fine, though NM 47 is rather congested on a weekend. Probably congested on a weekday too. But Roomie enjoyed riding up Broadway and Edith. Within a few hours of arriving back at home, the thunderstorms began. The rain was paltry, but it felt good to be home.
View Larger Map

Monday, I had arranged to meet some of the High Desert Hooligans at Coffee at Dawn's. Just as I pulled up, without so much time to even check the time, I notice Jim about to follow a bunch of other Ducati's up NM 14 on his 1098. Thinking this must be my group, I follow Jim up to the Shell where the others are fueling up. Jim responded affirmatively when I asked if his was the group meeting at Dawn's at 10.Mike and Tom on matching Pearl White 848 and 1098 were there, as was Ron on his Aprilia. Hans, with his 888 was filling up and the five of us took off north. Of course, this wasn't the group I had intended to meet, but we had a hell of a time anyway. The route took us from NM 14 to Pecos Trail, which used to be Old Route 66, but is now a frontage road for I-25. Pecos took us to Glorieta, where we had to get back on the freeway before exiting onto a frontage road on the other side. This we took all the way to NM 3, where we fueled up. The first 15 miles of NM 3 are some serious twisties — lots of blind corners, some rocks on the road, the Pecos River, and a few small towns. Once the road opens up it becomes much like NM 41 or so many other New Mexican state highways: very high speeds with some widowmaking sharp turns. But the early part is where the fun is, and I want to go back to try out Risa's in Villa Nueva. We jumped on the freeway to Clines Corners for a snack and more fuel. At the restaurant, we met a GoldWing rider whose charging system was getting him about 50 miles or so on a fresh battery. He almost made it all the way back to town with us, but needed to get a ride on the 848 into town to get another battery from the only large blue store that was open on a holiday.
View Larger Map

Driving to Sears yesterday to pick up a mid-section toolbox to house my new goodies (see post below), I notice a motorcyclist on a wide-tired sportbike, fender eliminator, LED taillights, etc zipping through traffic, weaving to and fro. Minutes later, I pull up behind a stopped car in the right hand lane. I notice two people trying to move a hulk of a motorcycle off the road; they are not having much luck. Plastic bodywork littered the lane 30 feet ahead of where they were handling the motorcycle. As the car ahead of me pulls around the pair, I see squid and helper trying to push the bike off the road. The fact that the rider was OK (thank God for helmets and protective gear) after having dropped his bike (or driven it into a curb) may have allowed me to grin more than I should have. After all, we are both motorcyclists. I am just glad that I am not that kind of motorcyclist.

I just placed my order for some serious specialty equipment: doo-dads to check and adjust the shims on the 851 and ST4S, micrometer, belts, etc. Although such tools come at a rather substantial cost, they will save me money in the long run. Perhaps sooner. Each 4-valve Ducati tune-up runs about $700. By the time I do each bike once, the materiel will have paid for itself. Moreover, as much as I like the fellows at PJ's and appreciate all they do for the Ducati community in Albuquerque, I think that I can afford to take the time to do the work more diligently, if more slowly. First up, the ST4S, who will need a 12k service by the time Roomie and I have done our next ride on it.

With the higher seating position on the ST4S, Roomie decided that she needed a full-face helmet to replace the ¾ helmet we purchased last year. Choosing a brand and a model was fairly straightforward—I was ready for an upgrade from the HJC I bought back in Maryland when we were strapped for cash. I had had Shoei's for years before that. Both of them were in advanced disintegration before I managed to get rid of them. More difficult than choosing the model was choosing the color: I first had a black Shoei, then a red one. Most recently the HJC was in Safety Yellow. To commemorate the new bike and keep in line with my pattern of not repeating colors, I opted for a light silver RF-1000. Jill had chosen the TZ-R because it came in orange, but at the very last moment pulled the trigger on a Monza Red model instead. As it turns out, our helmets are a Garanimals-type match to the ST4S. See for yourself.

My helmet:	Roomie's helmet:

It being a lovely spring day, and having done a weekend's worth of chores yesterday, Roomie and I decided to go for a ride. Things were looking dodgy—her helmet has not arrived from Cycle Gear, and the gloves we ordered from newenough.com were backordered, then too small. A third pair will be ordered once the small Fargo's are returned. But mostly I think the hesitancy was in the thinking about going for a ride. The temptation to try out the new gear (her new jacket) won out. We set her up with my old full-face HJC helmet and layered fingerless gloves over some woolies and we set off. NM 14 north of Cedar Crest is no man's land: one leaves the northern reaches of Bernalillo County, passes through a portion of Sandoval County that has no road connection to any other part of the county, and then continues into Santa Fe County. Above Madrid, the congestion is palpable. We stopped at the Mad Hatter and discussed how she felt about going really fast. After tea, we stopped next at the Shell at 599. There we had to decide to go home via El Camino Real or to proceed to Harry's Roadhouse Bistro. Assuming Harry's was going to be packed on account of Mother's Day, I made a daring suggestion: we could head north and west over to NM 4 and have lunch in Jemez Springs. To my surprise, she took me up on the offer without hesitation. I rode with restraint from Madrid all the way to White Rock. Beyond White Rock I was able to open the bike from time to time. From the NM 4 / NM 503 split to Jemez Springs is my favorite part of NM 4; the traffic is relatively light before Hwy 126 and the twisties are among the best in the state. We ate as planned in Jemez Springs, where Roomie posed the question I have asked so many times, "Where is the hot tub?" Roomie's favorite stretch of NM 4 is from Jemez Springs to the Jemez Pueblo. Red rocks, the Jemez River, and roller-coaster hills. From the Pueblo home, congestion and slab-riding was the norm, though US 550 provided some high-speed straights. As a consolation for putting her through US 550, I took us home via 313 and the Sandia Pueblo, which conveniently ends where 2nd St begins. While filling up at Jemez Pueblo, I noted the mileage: 46.6 mpg. Not bad for two-up mileage in the mountains, with some high-speed stretches thrown in for giggles. All told, 221 miles covered in about 6 hours, with stops for lunch, tea, gas, and potty breaks. Welcome to the ton-up club, Roomie!
View Larger Map

Roomie got all misty-eyed when she saw the embroidering on our TLC bag liners. But the ST4s is special, because I purchased it with her in mind. Roomie even gets a little jealous when I take it out without her. In any case, I am looking forward to taking some day trips (and perhaps beyond, once our housesitter arrives) later this summer. For the time being, an occasional toot up to Madrid or Leona's will have to do.

Last night I attended Bike Night in Albuquerque. Garduño's on the Green is a local chain restaurant set in one of Albuquerque's more unique environments. The Balloon Fiesta Park is a ready-made tourist attraction, complete with Balloon Museum, golf ball driving range, hundreds of acres of soccer fields and generally much open space. In the middle of all this is Garduño's on the Green. And oddly, there were a lot of people at this large-sized family venue. Even before the motorcyclists arrived there were bunches of people, coming in from the golf course, sight-seers, and who else I really don't know. The event itself was sponsored by R&S; Motors, a large Yamasakiuki dealer in town. They had a sad little raffle where no one seemed to be too thrilled with what they won. In fact, it was not entirely clear what was being raffled, though they certainly made a big deal of announcing the raffle several times as a highlight of the evening. I estimate that about 200 motorcyclists showed up. There were some of the oddball things like trikes, but the bulk of the crowd was Harley dudes and dudettes, squids on sportbikes, and a handful (perhaps 10) Ducati's. One of the more intriguing groups was the Ms. Behavin' gals, some apparently lesbian, some apparently not. They sported patches and tattoos of a buxom red woman brandishing a bull whip. Most of the Ducati folks are in their twenties so they blended in well, only the brand advertising on their leathers distinguishing them from the others. A couple of middle-aged men tag along with the Ducati group, one of whom is accepted despite the fact he rides a Kawasaki touring rig. Bike Night brought out a couple of welcome geezers—folks who have some miles under their belt, have done a bit of traveling and know their motorcycles. I had made contact with one of them earlier online. He and a friend are plotting a trip to the WSB races in Salt Lake City at the end of the month and invited me to come along. Chatting with these two was really the highlight of the evening, and I am tempted by the prospect of doing some regional exploration on the ST4S.

Spring has arrived in Albuquerque in all its 90° beauty. On Monday, I took the Trail 90 to work. Tuesday, the ST4s. Wednesday, the Benelli 250. After work Tuesday, I took the 851 back downtown to meet up with the High Desert Hooligan crowd at Villa di Capo. Four different bikes on 3 days. Now this is what having a fleet is all about. Sadly, the F1 needs a wiring upgrade and the Morini needs some swing arm bushings, so I won't be taking those in to work any time soon. But projects are good to have, especially with the days becoming longer.

With the new (to me) motorcycle, comes new purchases. The stock headlights on the ST's are pretty poor, and aftermarket replacements are available from Ducati Designs for the tidy sum of $500. When I feel a little more flush, I will pursue one. As it stands, I do not ride much during night hours, and even less when riding two-up. Another useful accessory for the ST are saddlebag liners. These are custom-made for the ST bags, and everyone at the ST forum swear by them. Nice thing about these is that they will allow Roomie and I to quickly and easily pack for overnight trips, each with our own bag making full use of the ST's carrying capacity. And I have not been alone in keeping the economy stimulated. Roomie has ordered a replacement for the inexpensive helmet I bought for her last year, and she purchased for herself a new fabric jacket. Here's what she has to say about it.

As is customary when I purchase a new old bike (is an '03 an old bike yet?), I took it in to work to show it off. When I brought in the F650 last fall, I took one of my colleagues for a spin. She likes motorcycles, though she would never admit as much to her grandchildren. Yesterday, I took the same route with a different colleague. She had never been on a motorcycle before, but she was an avid bicyclist. It was a lovely spring day—dust levels were down, folks were irrigating along the clear ditch, and schoolkids waved to us was we thundered by on the ST4. "It's just like bicycling, but with acceleration!" she said as we stopped at a light. She simply squealed when we crossed the Rio Grande on Bridge St. We arrived back at work, grinning ear-to-ear.

Tomorrow is the big day: After work, the buyer comes over to collect the F650. Then Roomie and I drive across town to pick up the ST4s. Oh boy, can you tell that I am excited?

After persistent posting to Craigslist, I managed to find a buyer for the F650. I could not come down much below what I was offering it for, given that I had just purchased the thing in October and had installed a fresh tire (sure, that was included in the sale) and had the fork seals done and brake pads replaced. Major work considering that I had the bike for a total of six months. Anyway, no sooner had I found a buyer for the F650 than did I arrange to take Roomie on a test ride of the ST4s that has been occupying my attention. By the time we made it onto Tramway from the sellers place in High Desert, she proclaimed that the bike was plenty comfortable. It is good that I got back to the seller when I did. Although he told me repeatedly that he was not going to sell to anyone else, he claimed that he was preparing to list it on Craigslist himself for $7200 I learned a few things about the bike from the seller. He has owned the bike twice, purchasing it once for $11,000, and later for $8,000. It is a 2003, the first year the model could be purchased with ABS. During his two ownership periods, he has replaced the stock seat with a Corbin and the stock exhaust with a full Termignoni system. The only must-have mod he has not made is to replace the stock headlight system with a Ducati Designs replacement. As soon as I have $500 burning a hole in my pocket I'll get right on that. As excited as I am about the new red beast in my garage, I will miss the F650. The blue bomber is without a doubt the most fun commuting bike I have ever known, she makes riding in effortless.There is now a gap in the fleet. Doubtless the Trail 90 will be pressed back into service. Also, the Morini is an enjoyable commuter; I just need to replace the swing-arm bushings to get her back on the road. The "decade" rule is restored i.e. one bike each from the 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's (gets 2), 90's, and 00's as is the proportion of Italian brands to everything else. Everything else being the Honda, the sole non-Italian in the fleet. Most of all, Roomie and I both are looking forward to doing some sport-touring up in the twisties, to Taos, and maybe even up into Colorado.

So much and so little has happened since last post. I took the F1 up to Madrid, where she would not start due to some wires pulling loose. Also, the tail light had rattled completely loose and was hanging by its wires. In the midst of fettling with the wires, the headlight switch broke. After much tweaking of said wires with duct tape and some borrowed tools, the F1 came back to life and ran fitfully down the hill as far as Tijeras. I then called for help in the form of Roomie with Iris. Clue to a "House"-style differential diagnosis: The battery had a charge when it began to not start in Madrid, for the headlight and tail light were how we could tell whether we were getting juice. That being said, the battery was not strong enough to turn over the motor. I have heard tell that on old Italian bikes, most charging and ignition troubles can be traced to poor connections, and I would be surprised if the F1 did not have more than its share of bum wiring. In fact I know that it does and I have been responsible for some of it! I knew since the bike arrived that it needed to be wired; now wiring is on the front burner. First thing to do is replace whatever cooked wiring I find and update the connections with modern, waterproof types. In other news, I am preparing to take on the Morini 500 restoration. One of my repeat Morini Ricambi customers has a beautiful black Morini 500. I have to replace the swing-arm bushings on the bike anyway, and the paint is looking pretty faded. Once the F1 is dialed-in (just using the term with that bike tells me that it may be a while), breaking down the Morini for a cosmetic makeover is next on the docket.

Sometimes it is really great to have a garage full of various tools. It turned out that one of the brake hoses that PECO worked on for me did not function correctly. Upon examination of the hose, I noticed that one of the connectors was cracked from over tightening. PECO was really good about replacing the fittings on both hoses at no charge, again, while I waited. On the weekend, I put the hoses on the bike and still no brakes on the RH side. I removed the caliper to inspect and it looked fine. Then I blew compressed air through the hose and it seemed kind of congested. I removed the screw-on fitting connecting the flange (attached to the hose). I then tried to run compressed air through the hose. Much better! Next step was to try blowing the blockage out of the fitting. No luck. I reached for the bailing wire. Too thick. On to the utility wire: right thickness, but too soft to push the blockage through. By this point I was pretty sure that I had found the source of the problem. The smallest drill bit in the box fit the fitting. Putting the drill on the slowest setting, I reamed the fitting. A substance resembling wax emerged through the other end and coated the drill bit. After passing the bit through several times and collecting as much wax as I could, I sprayed WD-40 in the passage and blew everything out with compressed air. Nice having a compressor around when you need one! End result: Brakes bled successfully! Now I am ready to take the F1 for an inaugural spin up in the mountains!