Fork Seal Change on a Gold Wing

While repairing an uncooperative starter, I noticed fork oil running down the right side of the front suspension. Closer inspection revealed soaked brake pads and coated wheel and undercarriage on the right side.

I decided to get an estimate at the local Honda shop. Four hundred plus parts. Naturally I opted for the most difficult choice and bought the new seals and dust covers, optimistically assuming nothing else would need repair once I opened up the job.

The first step I recommend is to find a truck stop or industrial waste site and collect about 5 gallons of used petroleum products and if possible add to this a few pounds or pureed rotten moose guts. Spread this mixture liberally over the garage floor, walls, and any tools and benches you plan to use to mask the smell and roughly match the volume of the goo you will "drain" from the forks.

Next spend a few hours reading on the internet how easy it is to swap out a set of seals in 30 minutes to two hours tops. Don't forget to study the "shop manual" for useless information that has nothing to do with the actual work you are about to tackle. After wasting half a day looking for time saving shortcuts, give up and actually start taking the bike apart.

It turns out the geniuses at Honda use two bolts on the left brake caliper and two on the right to hold said devices to the forks. When you try to remove them you find two bolts take a 13 mm socket, one a hex wrench, and one a #40 Torx socket. Yes, three different fasteners to hold what amounts to the same component to the same structure, just on the opposite side.

Removing the front half of the fender and the front wheel is pretty straighforward. Unless you count the 30 or so fasteners you have to take off to get the brakes out of the way. It's also important to consult a higher power before trying to fish the back part of the fender out of the tangle of brake lines and sytem of tabs and slots designed to test the patience of Job.

Once all the various contraptions that are stuck to the fork legs are removed the job gets a little simpler. There are still a couple of tricks up Honda's sleeve however. The dash has to be removed to access the top caps. This of course means dealing with the wire connector which cannot be pulled apart no matter how many times you have done it before. (Every time I take it apart I swear I will file off the little catch that causes the problem).

Another procedure calls for loosening the hex bolt in the bottom of each leg. Many people suggest using an air impact wrench for this. I opted for the low tech method. Using a standard hex wrench, I found a giant Crescent wrench and fitted the "L" part into the jaws and broke loose the stubborn bolt. This is also the time when random spurts of stinky black oil will begin to fly out out in all directions without warning or deference to physics.

Speaking of oversize tools, the top caps can not be loosened without resorting to extra leverage. After straining with a ratchet wrench and inventing a few new words, I decided to gain an advantage by using my torque wrench with the long handle. As I was holding the right handlebar with my belly and pulling the wrench for all I was worth it occurred to me it might be interesting to see how much torque it took to break this particular bolt loose. Just as my eyes started to focus on the tiny numbers the bolt gave way. I didn't get the reading but I did put the torque wrench on the floor where I could trip over it a few minutes later.

One more obstacle remained before I could actually remove the right fork and spill more oil on the floor. The upper pinch bolt came loose pretty easily. The lower one is semi-hidden up under the front body work and of course coated with a thick mixture of oil and dirt. After loosening the lower pinch bolt I soon found the fork tube was still stuck fast and no amount of cursing would cause it to budge. I re-loosened the upper pinch bolt and began hammering on the top of the fork cap with a big hammer and a half inch socket extension. For some reason I came to my senses temporarily and re-examined the lower pinch bolt. This time I noticed the second bolt immediately above the lower one I had already loosened. A couple of turns and the leg came sliding out, dripping filthy smelly oil all the way to the work bench where it puked another puddle of grayish ooze before I had time to react.

Now I have mentioned several times the odor associated with the used fork oil. It is severe. Think of what it might be like to sniff a vagrant's sweat sock which has been soaked in kimchi, and buried under a damp chicken coop for about three years. Then double the effect.

Once the dismantling is complete, the rest of the job is anticlimactic. At least I hope so. I haven't started putting it together yet. And I still have the left side to do.

Father's Day in Afghanistan

"We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm."
-Winston Churchill

Yellow Wolf Directs Traffic on the Cherhola Hwy.

Interesting Sights Along the Freeway.

Coming back to Michigan from the mountains on Colorado, one is prepared for the relative monotony of miles of freeway riding. The alternative is a multi-day ride on secondary roads with the chance to enjoy a little more local color. Luckily, even the freeway offers the occasional respite from the sameness of the desert or flat farmland.

Coming down old route 666 after visiting Four Corners, the town of Ship Rock offers a view of its namesake off to the west.
The area sports a number of lesser volcanic remains, all impressive, none as imposing and elegant in its command of the surroundings.

Continuing south, isolated thunder storms filled nearby arroyos with fast moving muddy water which at one point crashed against the roadway before turning 90 degrees to seek a culvert. The road had just enough turns that we were able to avoid getting rained on. Sneaking between the huge blue-gray clouds became a gamble with cooler air as the prize.

At Gallup we turned left on I-40 and headed straight for another huge storm cloud. This one didn't get out of our way and as we rode into the leading edge, an overpass beckoned. Apparently we weren't the only ones looking for cover. Several vehicles were already using all the level ground so we pressed on into the dark pouring rain. Traffic was heavy with most vehicles opting for the truck lane. This left the inside lane available for passing. The roadway had water standing in many places and the spray from the semis was blinding. At one point a Ford Explorer appeared in the median with a panicked driver at the wheel. Hydroplaning was obviously a concern for some but didn't seem to be an issue for the motorcycle. Ten miles of rain and suddenly dry road. The wet apparel felt good in the 95 degree heat. I was glad we opted to ignore the rain gear.

The fourth tank of gas for the day brought us to Santa Rosa, about halfway between Albequerque and Amarillo. We had been passing remnants of the famous Route 66 all day. Billboards hawking restaurants boasted of authentic ties to the fabled road. Naturally, one such cafe was across the street from the hotel we chose for the night. The food was good, the memorabilia was predictably tacky. An early 60s T-Bird was parked outside with a fading coat of yellow paint over everything except the windows. Obviously, not intended for close inspection. We had made fewer miles than we had intended due to numerous stops for photos, but all in all it was a good run from Montrose, Colorado.

Rockies Gold 2007 - Day 5

Having seen the Colorado Monument Road, I knew it would be hard to top. With so many routes to choose from and our last day before heading home we decided to head east on 50.

Frank, Don, Mikee and I headed east on highway 50 toward Gunnison. Along the way we found Blue Mesa Reservoir and stopped for the snapshot. Once in Gunnison we decided to take a less traveled road (135) north to Crested Butte for lunch.

The town is an artsy type of place with tourism the obvious sustaining industry. This is fine with me because like the rest of the area around Montrose, the scenery is free and the roads are appealing to motorcyclists.

Among the t-shirt and "paraphernalia" stores are scattered a wide offering of cafes and restaurants. There may be one that is a step up from uber-casual but I didn't notice one.

The Cowboy Saloon boasted BBQ and that is always a draw. Rustic would describe the interior. Framed exterior walls showed were unfinished and made of rough wood with the siding showing into the interior. The first three barstools nearest the entrance were western style saddles on pedestals. The staff was likewise laid back, yet efficient. The food was good and in the cool mountain environment, hot sandwiches hit the spot.

Once again we consulted the maps and almost decided to go over the pass which had been opened for summer. After a discussion of wet dirt roads with some input from the waiter, we got bluffed out and decided to head back down to Gunnison.

Intermittent rain and several previous long days in the saddle helped us decide to retire early and prepare for the long ride home. We took the scenic Highway 50 back to Montrose and spent the afternoon resting up and preparing for the marathon trip home.

All in all our visit to Montrose had been too short. So many roads, so little time. There were many people attending whom I had intended to see, and never did. I knew from the roster there were folks I had met in Arkansas, Tennessee, and New York floating around but again, so many roads.

I will say this. Not a minute was dissappointing. This is one place everyone should visit. Good people, good food, spectacular scenery. I hope to bring Pam here someday.

Bighorn Sheep in Colorado

Rockies Gold 2007 - Day 4

Friday there was an open invitation to any of two hundred or so riders who showed up in Montrose to assemble at Dallas Divide for a group photo.

The previous evening we got together in two shifts to swap lies and eat Mexican cuisine at the Fiesta Guadalajara. Somehow the staff got everyone waited on efficiently. They must practice on tour bus loads of visitors. Speaking of staff, they were all friendly and accomodating. We pretended to understand their Spanglish and they pretended not to understand us.

Riders headed south in twos and threes, sometimes more. Along the way our little band encountered a landing hot air balloon.

When we got to the meeting place Toyo was directing traffic and Wingnutzz was supervising. The bikes lined up on the south side of the road and the riders stumbled around in the weeds on the north side. In the middle was Jim Morris (Wingit) snapping semi-official pictures of the event.

Trying to assemble a group of long distance motorcycle riders into something of a group for a photo is sort of like picking up marbles while wearing boxing gloves. Finally, most were cajoled into holding still for a photo which I think included an old couple who had stopped their PT Cruiser to look and were too afraid to leave.

The group dissassembled as quickly as it formed with people anxious to explore the mountains. I fell in with Frank, Don (Betthe) an Mikee. We planned to head to Utah and have alook at Arches National Park. We were joined along the way by Wayne and Kendra from Florida.

It was a hot ride but once again the scenery was worth it.

We cooled off at the visitor center for a while and got out the maps. We had intelligence that route 128 snaked along the Colorado river, then across the high desert to I-70 which would provide a shortcut to Grand Junction and another great road through the Colorado National Monument.

After gagging down thelast of the hot Gatorade we headed out again into the afternoon heat. We backtracked a few miles toward Moab then turned north after crossing the river. We were enjoying the views and the intermittent shade provided by the cliffs when I spied a sign that said the bridge was out 32 miles ahead - local traffic only. I blazed ahead, being in the lead, but started to wonder if it was good call. After a brief meeting we decided to continue. The road twisted and turned following the canyon and river with rises and blind corners and smooth pavement. Eventually we climbed out on the north rim and made our way to I-70. For some reason the road continues to turn even though there is nothing but lumpy desert for miles in all directions.

Heading east on I-70 we somehow skirted just around the edge of a blue/black rainstorm with lightining dropping out of its edges. With the storm behind us Wayne took the lead and we headed for the Colorado Monument.

We arrived at the Park gat at 6:03 local time. The Park closed at 6:00 and the sign said proceed. Talk about perfect timing. We had the place to ourselves and the only thing to get in our way was the overlooks.

Evening turned out to be the perfect time for canyon viewing. At one turnout we looked down on almost a dozen Bighorn Sheep. The one pictured here put on quite a show, climbing around on the rocks.

The road was the best we had seen on the trip. If I could only ride one road in the area, this would be it. If I get another chance I will bring a camera and lunch and do some exploring on foot.

Speaking of lunch, that was our next destination. We had fooled around until dusk and decided to stop in Grand Junction at a little brewery/pub for supper. From there we headed back down the 60 or so miles to Montrose and some sleep. More later...