Ritten
07-28-2006, 03:54 PM
Yesterday was a beautiful morning here on the bayous of southern Louisiana and I jumped at the opportunity to get some much needed work done to the bike while the forcast was clear. The recent 5500 mile trek I took a few weeks ago left the bike with a thick film of road grime, and a crankcase of oil that needed to be changed. So I pulled out the tools, turned on some tunes, and enjoyed some time to be up close and personal with the bike.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/2.jpg
I removed the skid plate only to find that my steed had indeed taken a bullet for me somewhere along the way.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/1.jpg
Apparently, while coming down Imogene pass in Colorado, a few of the rocks that I bottomed out on hit the plate hard enough to shear one of the rubber mounts. They're designed to do exactly that and be self-sacrificing instead of transferring the impact to the case so it didn't upset me too much. A quick call to Heberts in B.R. and I've got a few on order to pick up when I get home from offshore.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/3.jpg
Not long after I hung up the phone, it rang again with Nick on the other line looking for a few good photo spots down around Houma. The question threw me for a curve at first cause usually I go everywhere else to get decent pictures, but I recomended a few spots here and there and he seemed happy with that.
I finished up the oil change and rolled the bike onto the back slab for a good washdown. The mud that was caked in all the nooks and crannies seemed to wash away easy with just the hose and the bike was already looking 100% better, but behold the power of Suzuki wash!!! I'm not sure what they put in this stuff, but I'm sure the ingredients include Chuck Norris spit. Grease melts, dirt vanishes, and shiny shit shines when it's used and the only reason I use a washcloth is to help get the mounds of bug guts off the windshield.
As I'm spraying down the last of the wheels, the phone rings again and I fumble with wet and slippery hands to answer it. After a few more road descriptions it hits me, "Dude, quit washing the bike and go ride!!!!" Nick is about to start on his way so I tell him to give me a call when he gets into town and I'll take him "down deh bayou" on some roads that were recently brought to my attention.
While waiting for the DSRL Consigliere, Bayou Boy called me up and we went grab a bite to eat at one of the local mexican spots in town. It just seems fitting that the first time I see the dude since we got back from Mexico is over a polo burrito and salsa that we got to order in english. After a discussion about where the ride would lead that afternoon, Brian suggested taking a gravel road through the woods and cane fields down in Point aux Chenes (for your non-coonasses that's pronounced "pawnt oh shaa"). After the meal I took off to meet Nick and Brian headed back to the J.O.B.
The summer heat was overbearing, but the fun of darting in and out of traffic on the GS was the only thing I was thinking about. I was still used to having 150lbs of gear on the back and without it all the bike felt more like a supermotard. Nick met me at a firestation in town, we filled up the bikes, and headed south.
The roads below the levees are terrible and potholes can swallow a Mack truck down here. Not far down the bayou Nick pulls over with the envie to shuck a few oysters...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/4.jpg
Dude must have serious oyster shucking talent cause by the time I could get the camera out, he already had one hell of a pile of shells built...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/5.jpg
We rode a little ways further till the road turned into water and it was obvious that unless we tied pontoons to the beemers, we would have to turn around. You laugh, but down here everyone tries to "dual-sport" out what they have!!! When was the last time you saw a shrimp boat with wheels???
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/6.jpg
Nick checks cell phone coverage while I check out the area...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/7.jpg
One can either ride the road, or ride the water. Here's looking north...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/8.jpg
I found one of the hiding places that the Loup Garou may have preyed on drunk fisherman, and unwary trappers back in the old, OLD days.....like in the 70's. You can almost imagine this scene at night with those fire red eyes staring at you from along the bayou side.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/9.jpg
With enough time killed at the end of the world, we aimed the pigs up the road and rolled the winding road back to drier land. Along the way I saw the old gas station and the gravel road that Bayou Boy was talking about. It looked freshly grated and the pace was going good right up to the point we hit some mud. When you feel the bike squirm beneath you, and the sloshing sound fills your ears, there is only one thing that pops into your mind..............I JUST washed it!!! After the first puddle though, it was done and I figured we just as soon get them dirty all the way. About halfway down the road we stopped to make sure there would be an inch of canefield dirt cake clinging to every part of the bike.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/92.jpg
Nick laughes to himself knowing that his bike will now be OFFICIALLY broke in.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/93.jpg
He grabs his camera as I turn the bike around to make another pass through the standing water and mud in the potholes...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/219otmt-2.jpg
New bikes get no special privledges and are treated with the same disregard to being kept clean. After all, Nick washed and detailed his also the same morning!!
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/94.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/95.jpg
Heading down the trail a ways further, Nick discovers the limits of his pegs and almost eats it........twice........when his waterskies that he calls boots slipped off the stock pegs. We slide the bikes through the mud and run the gravel till we finally pass the bulldozer that is doing the grating. Once back on the highway, it's time to start riding towards Baton Rouge to meet everyone for the "meet, greet, and eat".
I route us up "old 90" through the backside of Houma which runs along Bayou Black. The clear still waters of the bayou lined with palmettos, cypress, and water hyacinths give the road along side it a calming effect when you ride under the shadows of grand Oak trees that drape over it. Gradual sweepers and long wide curves make it the perfect ride to put your feet up on the engine bars and settle into a cruising mode.
We stopped off in Gibson one last time to grab some water before heading up La308 to the "Red Stick".
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/97.jpg
The old drawbridge waves us on after another good summer ride along the bayou.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/96.jpg
We crank up the RPMs on the pigs and the pace is transformed into something out of a movie. The straights on 308 are long and cars can be flown by with 6th gear ease while the corners see a good bit of lean angle and wide open throttle exits. The clouds building on the horizon set an unspoken sense of urgency between us and it looked more obvious that we would be getting wet. The Sunshine bridge was anything but, and it was as if night had fallen. By the time we got to I-10, it was the sky's turn to fall.
Neffystl once refered to rain like this as "a cow pissing on a flat rock" or "a certified turd floater". Cars were rolling at 10-20mph due to no visibility and there was at least an inch of water on the pavement waiting to run off. When you're caught in a storm like this, all you can do is be glad it's not winter. We rolled on to the interstate and not 5 miles down the road, the lightning started popping. At that point it was decided that we'd head to Nick's casa to dry off and take the truck.
Now one good thing about the oilfield is that slim, trim, and fit guys always end up in the same place after a few years, and both Nick and I were there already. I was just planning to squeeze the water out of my clothes and let them wear-dry the rest of the way since riding pants and poly shirts are good for that, but Nick had another idea. After drying off in the bathroom, he hands me a pair of shorts, t-shirt, over shirt, and a new pack of underwear. A set of flipflops later and the big guy had gone so far out of his way to help a buddy be comfortable that it was almost funny to work out so well. We put the bikes up in the garage, jumped in the truck, and headed out to meet everyone for coffee, and then to the Cathouse for burgers and beers.
Juilia, being the sweetheart she is, had put a fan on my gear so it would be dry by the time I headed home. I rode home without so much as a drop falling on me, and rolled up to my driveway with only three hours to sleep before catching my flight offshore this morning. Some of the best rides aren't over until you take that warm shower right after, and this one was no different.
To Nick and Jules, thanks again for being the dear friends you've become. Here's to many more gravel roads, good times, and weathering storms.
Thanks12
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/2.jpg
I removed the skid plate only to find that my steed had indeed taken a bullet for me somewhere along the way.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/1.jpg
Apparently, while coming down Imogene pass in Colorado, a few of the rocks that I bottomed out on hit the plate hard enough to shear one of the rubber mounts. They're designed to do exactly that and be self-sacrificing instead of transferring the impact to the case so it didn't upset me too much. A quick call to Heberts in B.R. and I've got a few on order to pick up when I get home from offshore.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/3.jpg
Not long after I hung up the phone, it rang again with Nick on the other line looking for a few good photo spots down around Houma. The question threw me for a curve at first cause usually I go everywhere else to get decent pictures, but I recomended a few spots here and there and he seemed happy with that.
I finished up the oil change and rolled the bike onto the back slab for a good washdown. The mud that was caked in all the nooks and crannies seemed to wash away easy with just the hose and the bike was already looking 100% better, but behold the power of Suzuki wash!!! I'm not sure what they put in this stuff, but I'm sure the ingredients include Chuck Norris spit. Grease melts, dirt vanishes, and shiny shit shines when it's used and the only reason I use a washcloth is to help get the mounds of bug guts off the windshield.
As I'm spraying down the last of the wheels, the phone rings again and I fumble with wet and slippery hands to answer it. After a few more road descriptions it hits me, "Dude, quit washing the bike and go ride!!!!" Nick is about to start on his way so I tell him to give me a call when he gets into town and I'll take him "down deh bayou" on some roads that were recently brought to my attention.
While waiting for the DSRL Consigliere, Bayou Boy called me up and we went grab a bite to eat at one of the local mexican spots in town. It just seems fitting that the first time I see the dude since we got back from Mexico is over a polo burrito and salsa that we got to order in english. After a discussion about where the ride would lead that afternoon, Brian suggested taking a gravel road through the woods and cane fields down in Point aux Chenes (for your non-coonasses that's pronounced "pawnt oh shaa"). After the meal I took off to meet Nick and Brian headed back to the J.O.B.
The summer heat was overbearing, but the fun of darting in and out of traffic on the GS was the only thing I was thinking about. I was still used to having 150lbs of gear on the back and without it all the bike felt more like a supermotard. Nick met me at a firestation in town, we filled up the bikes, and headed south.
The roads below the levees are terrible and potholes can swallow a Mack truck down here. Not far down the bayou Nick pulls over with the envie to shuck a few oysters...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/4.jpg
Dude must have serious oyster shucking talent cause by the time I could get the camera out, he already had one hell of a pile of shells built...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/5.jpg
We rode a little ways further till the road turned into water and it was obvious that unless we tied pontoons to the beemers, we would have to turn around. You laugh, but down here everyone tries to "dual-sport" out what they have!!! When was the last time you saw a shrimp boat with wheels???
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/6.jpg
Nick checks cell phone coverage while I check out the area...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/7.jpg
One can either ride the road, or ride the water. Here's looking north...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/8.jpg
I found one of the hiding places that the Loup Garou may have preyed on drunk fisherman, and unwary trappers back in the old, OLD days.....like in the 70's. You can almost imagine this scene at night with those fire red eyes staring at you from along the bayou side.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/9.jpg
With enough time killed at the end of the world, we aimed the pigs up the road and rolled the winding road back to drier land. Along the way I saw the old gas station and the gravel road that Bayou Boy was talking about. It looked freshly grated and the pace was going good right up to the point we hit some mud. When you feel the bike squirm beneath you, and the sloshing sound fills your ears, there is only one thing that pops into your mind..............I JUST washed it!!! After the first puddle though, it was done and I figured we just as soon get them dirty all the way. About halfway down the road we stopped to make sure there would be an inch of canefield dirt cake clinging to every part of the bike.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/92.jpg
Nick laughes to himself knowing that his bike will now be OFFICIALLY broke in.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/93.jpg
He grabs his camera as I turn the bike around to make another pass through the standing water and mud in the potholes...
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/219otmt-2.jpg
New bikes get no special privledges and are treated with the same disregard to being kept clean. After all, Nick washed and detailed his also the same morning!!
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/94.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/95.jpg
Heading down the trail a ways further, Nick discovers the limits of his pegs and almost eats it........twice........when his waterskies that he calls boots slipped off the stock pegs. We slide the bikes through the mud and run the gravel till we finally pass the bulldozer that is doing the grating. Once back on the highway, it's time to start riding towards Baton Rouge to meet everyone for the "meet, greet, and eat".
I route us up "old 90" through the backside of Houma which runs along Bayou Black. The clear still waters of the bayou lined with palmettos, cypress, and water hyacinths give the road along side it a calming effect when you ride under the shadows of grand Oak trees that drape over it. Gradual sweepers and long wide curves make it the perfect ride to put your feet up on the engine bars and settle into a cruising mode.
We stopped off in Gibson one last time to grab some water before heading up La308 to the "Red Stick".
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/97.jpg
The old drawbridge waves us on after another good summer ride along the bayou.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v679/RSTed1000/96.jpg
We crank up the RPMs on the pigs and the pace is transformed into something out of a movie. The straights on 308 are long and cars can be flown by with 6th gear ease while the corners see a good bit of lean angle and wide open throttle exits. The clouds building on the horizon set an unspoken sense of urgency between us and it looked more obvious that we would be getting wet. The Sunshine bridge was anything but, and it was as if night had fallen. By the time we got to I-10, it was the sky's turn to fall.
Neffystl once refered to rain like this as "a cow pissing on a flat rock" or "a certified turd floater". Cars were rolling at 10-20mph due to no visibility and there was at least an inch of water on the pavement waiting to run off. When you're caught in a storm like this, all you can do is be glad it's not winter. We rolled on to the interstate and not 5 miles down the road, the lightning started popping. At that point it was decided that we'd head to Nick's casa to dry off and take the truck.
Now one good thing about the oilfield is that slim, trim, and fit guys always end up in the same place after a few years, and both Nick and I were there already. I was just planning to squeeze the water out of my clothes and let them wear-dry the rest of the way since riding pants and poly shirts are good for that, but Nick had another idea. After drying off in the bathroom, he hands me a pair of shorts, t-shirt, over shirt, and a new pack of underwear. A set of flipflops later and the big guy had gone so far out of his way to help a buddy be comfortable that it was almost funny to work out so well. We put the bikes up in the garage, jumped in the truck, and headed out to meet everyone for coffee, and then to the Cathouse for burgers and beers.
Juilia, being the sweetheart she is, had put a fan on my gear so it would be dry by the time I headed home. I rode home without so much as a drop falling on me, and rolled up to my driveway with only three hours to sleep before catching my flight offshore this morning. Some of the best rides aren't over until you take that warm shower right after, and this one was no different.
To Nick and Jules, thanks again for being the dear friends you've become. Here's to many more gravel roads, good times, and weathering storms.
Thanks12