The Breakfast Club: A Motorcycle Story

Monday thru Wednesday, 23–25 Mar 2015

Pictures start here

Alberto Writes:

The Three Mosquitoes – “One for all and, all at once!”

Bob Burns (aka Major WWWobble), Markus Baur, Rich Penrose and Alberto Sevilla

Following an impulse that gestated sometime in 2013, a half a year later, some time in July of 2014 I purchased a motorcycle. A Kawasaki Versys, 650 cc. I was impressed! What a honking machine. A bit scary… but it had what I needed: A big gas tank that would cover more than 150 miles and, no carburetor but rather fuel injection, for altitude cruising in the California Sierras or Colorado.

During that first year, I joined a group of riders called SMBC for, Sunday Morning Breakfast Club. This turn out to be a most fortuitous association. This group has a most versatile format: Wanna join? Show up. Do not want to be a part any more? Do not show up. In summary a lose association of like-minded riders without any organization whatsoever. My cup of tea!

That first year I went with the SMBC group on my first motorcycle trip. San Jose, CA to Death Valley, CA. Each way about was 450 miles and a bunch of side trips while at Death Valley, making the weekend a little over 1,000 miles. It was simply fabulous! Everything I imagined a motorcycle trip would be came true. Including the sore-butt from riding 11 hours on the same day, lesson learned!

I immediately set upon making alternate short trips in California. You see, I am in need of experience. And, I am in a hurry! I have been participating in Mid Week Rides of 200 to 300 miles for the day. This riding has been mostly in the Santa Cruz Mountains as well in the Napa Valley and Petaluma hills. Riding a lot of “wendy’s”, [Editors note: a wendy is slang for a U turn. It comes from the mid-week riders, another group with some SMBC overlap] continuously curving roads, is the best for gaining experience.

To ease my anxiousness for touring, SMBC has several trips programmed every year. They seem to be generally to the same place, year after year. Keeping to their format: Come if you want, otherwise, have a good time wherever you are. This format goes back to 1949. Amazing! Half a century of un-organization that seems to be thriving! These guys are fiercely independent and highly gregarious. Go figure out that one!

Organized trips are fun. This I admit. Someone else does all the thinking; all I need to do is show up. Hmm, So? How am I the better? If I am to make a major tour alone, a serious possibility, I must learn to set my own agenda. That is, select where to go, and go. Make it happen!

I have been looking for a riding mate for some time now. While company is not required, it is smart to go along with some one. Anything can happen on the road and the other rider would be there to save the day. Compatibility? Ah, learn along the way, when the desire is there everything is easy to surmount.

Meet Rich Penrose. Rich is a fellow I met at a bagel shop. He rode up on a huge BMW-1200RT. I have learned in the last six months this is the premier touring motorcycle. Yes there are other brands and models for many other objectives, such as cross-country, trails, etc. For pavement cruising, in the US, this is it! BMW 1200RT. Little by little I learned, my small Kawasaki would suffice… but! Ahh, here I enter the undefined, what you know only by intuition. Not enough data to guide you. A bigger motorcycle was in my mind, why? I have no answer. Rich, gently steer me toward a motorcycle similar to his.

March 2015, while going shopping for a pair of motorcycle pants for $200 ended up buying a motorcycle for $15,700. Impulse? Hardly! This had been in mind for several months, without pressure at all. It was quite serendipitous. The bike, the price and my general attitude, they, were all aligned.

At first it was difficult to make the transition from the smaller bike to the new-and-bigger bike, to the point of questioning my decision. Had I been wrong? Am I not cut out for the bigger bike? Three weeks of riding. 1,500 miles in those three weeks gave an answer. Without any doubt, I had done the right thing. Riding the bigger motorcycle; while the riding technique is the same the response from the bigger motorcycle is different. The bigger motorcycle has a longer wheelbase making it less “nimble” than the small motorcycle, a fact that was familiar to me from my bicycling days. I must now decide what to do with the smaller bike, but that is a separate issue.

Getting back to Rich. He is of a similar frame of mind as I am. Desire for adventure on a motorcycle. Unfortunately for him he owns a business, which requires his attention. Sooner rather later he will sell this business being that he is of retirement age, not put to pasture, just retirement. Much life left in this fellow. Time gains, and he will not stand still just to be buried. I am sixty-seven years old and Rich is my senior… a whopping one or two years, I let pass no opportunity to remind him of this fact, out of respect of course!

It is early March 2015. The first trip of my making is afoot. I proposed to Rich a three day journey heading south from San Jose, CA, some 300 miles, then into the California Sierras, skirting the foothills as the sierras are deep in snow. Returning on the third day. Enthusiastically, arrangements for work absence were considered. The logistics of getting off from work, while cumbersome had to include getting away from home leaving his wife to attend two teenage daughters. This is no easy task. Rebecca was up for it, and it all seems ready.

Meanwhile, word spread at SMBC of this small jaunt to the southern foothills. Robert Burns asked to join. He is one of the most knowledgeable riders at SMBC. “Are you kidding me!” Not only he need not ask… I’d have asked him! Had I know his willingness to go with neophytes. Lo and behold, Markus Baur hears of this mini-trip and quickly lets us know his interest.

We now are four riders. Departing next Monday March 23, 2015.

A word about Bob Burns, he once had the most horrendous motorcycle wobble managing to keep the bike under control, ever since known as “Major WWWobble”. He has been riding motorcycles over a half century. I’d say he knows a thing or two and perhaps a few more hidden under the collar. Humor is present even in the dourest of circumstance. Seriously an independent rider who is likely to keep us amused and from trouble (if he only knew what I think… he may reconsider coming! – not a chance, he’ll read this account until after the event).

Markus Baur. Without choice, he has a worldly view. He is from Germany, married to a lady from Korea with two daughters born in the USA that keep him in the straight and narrow. His most salient feature: Fearless. Inclement weather has no meaning for this guy. “A leetel rain never hert any vone” he once said, this while three inches of rain are coming down to Santa Clara County, on one of the more aggressive storms to hit the area. He put on his rain gear and simply went for a motorcycle ride; this while no one would even consider a car! Is he seriously deranged? Or, like I said, fearless. Small note: Markus was my riding buddy on my first ride to Death Valley.

The trip is afoot. Tomorrow we depart on this mini-tour. Looking to coordinate with Rich I sent him several notes, “Rich, call me at home. Let’s coordinate departure tomorrow morning”. “Alberto. I am working on it. Not looking so good!” Aw Man! Still, there may be a chance, I said to myself… nah!

TIME TO GET GOING

Small warning to the reader: This editorial has been entered after I wrote the entire account. Only day 1 is long-winded and maybe interesting. Day 2 and 3, you can only say so much about riding a road. Ohh, uhhh, Ahhhh! Great road! Okay, when do I gag? Now read at your own peril!

DAY 1

A bit of a heart breaker. Work got on the way of play. It happens! I am certain that Rich is the most disappointed one. He was ready for this ride. I gather my wits and accept the development. Tomorrow I am heading on my own.

Yesterday evening Markus decided on going via hwy 101, and WWWobble, well, at times he is an enigma has not indicated his preference. It had been concluded that we would meet at the Cozy Cup in Hollister by 9:00 am, some 50 miles south of San Jose. That’s where I am heading on my own.

Up at 6:00 am. Lazy pace as Hollister is just 50 minutes for me. Checking for any new mail, hoping to hear a change from Rich, Oh surprise! Memo from Markus: “Alberto, see you at 8:00 on hwy 85, we’ll ride together”, almost fist pumping. Yes!!

Riding to Hollister was uneventful except for the rain? Huh? Yes, rain! When we got to the Cozy Cup I was ready for something warm. WWWobble had already arrived and in short order starts the ribbing: “Hey, Alberto, there is a drought and you choose the only rainy day? What’s up with that?”. Peevishly, I let that comment go by, knowing they’d stop. If I say anything, well, he would only pile it on, heavier! And Markus, no doubt would join him. No point in making two fourteen year-old happy at my expense. I remained chit… not a word. But they took pictures for the record!

Breakfast was uneventful. By the time we got going the rain had subsided and, South, the way we are heading looked like the clouds are dissipating.

Highway 25. If you have not traveled this road you are missing big time. Undulating, gently sweeping left and right, you can crank your engine all you want and get your jollies. What a treat!

An hour or so, we stop for a change of leader. Markus had suggested not taking highway 25 all the way, but that there is another road cutting the corner: Coalinga-Los Gatos Rd. “It is an old one lane road full of patches, narrow but interesting” is the way he put it. And that is exactly what it turns out. Probably the best part was the adventure, a bit off the beaten path. Midway on this road, taking a break in a state park, WWWobble took the lead again on our way to Porterville.

WWWobble leads, Alberto in the middle with Markus bringing the rear. Alberto takes another lesson. While riding, I am watching WWWobble who has a penchant for slowing down on the straight-aways but show him a sequence of curves, and WWWobble transforms into a… defies description. This mild mannered senior-citizen-turn-teenager goes bezerk. Up! Goes the throttle and leaning left and right disappears into the curves. It is nice to see his technique. Elegant. I am watching… I am learning. On the next straight away, we are all caught-up I am waiting for the next set of curves. Here they come! I get close to Bob, and as he goes, so do I!

Okay, what does he do differently? Lean, shift (we all do that) PLUS twists his shoulders (body) away from the turn and positions it a little toward the tank, really parallel to the tank and not stick-out as the result of the lean. This, l reason keeps the center of gravity a bit more on the bike allowing to turn the bike a little harder - because WWWobble does turn that bike!

Is this right? In the next set of turns I test this observation. It works! And I m scared. This is not the time to experiment. Ok I got the idea and I will practice this on my own. But I can’t! I am still behind Bob, and I want to test, and test, and test. It does work! While I am not so adept at this new technique…. I am keeping closer to WWWobble on the turns. Not scared any more but genuinely apprehensive. I make a sign for Markus to pass me. Once. Again. And a third time. No result, he is staying right behind me, and I know he has seen y request. Hmmm… I NEED him to pass me, so I may not continue to keep up with WWWobble.

Thank goodness for a mandatory pit stop and a cup of coffee at a Starbucks. I asked Markus, if perchance my signal to “pass me” had been done in Spanish and he did not understand it. “No, I was happy were I was, I did not want to pass you” he replied. Thinking to myself, Ahh, you see, these guys are uniquely independent was my thought. This is good. Wanna ride? Ride your pace and comfort! Second lesson in one day.

Visalia. At some random Starbucks. The coffee pit stop could not have come at a more appropriate time. Coffee: in-by-the-gallon, and from the last stop, coffee out-by-the-gallon. Ahhhh! Much relieved. I know, TMI, but how can I omit such crucial change of internal state?

The weather so far perfect! The sun had come out meaning it’s very best, not hot, just ideally warming.

From Visalia we had to, and I emphasize HAD TO take highway 99. Yecch! At this moment I was not ready to take a major highway. Little highway 25 had spoilt me. Eventually we got to Porterville.

For some reason I remember nothing about this town. I think it was just a destination for gas and the entry to the mountains and Sequoia National Park. Highway 190, is a meandering road in fair condition. Markus took the lead. Great! Because I do not want to follow WWWobble. So Markus takes off like a rocket!! Holly smokes. What’s up with the pace? Luckily, with WWWobble’s earlier lesson, keeping up with Markus was a bit of a pleasure. I was self-impressed (actually that is easy for me to do, I know so little that most everything impresses me) Markus was pace-inspired, so inspired that he blew right past our appointed turn. Several miles later, WWWobbles blows his horn to get Markus’ attention… “wrong way!, wrong-way!”

Regrouping I asked WWWobble, “are we lost?” Nonchalant replies: “Nope! I know exactly that here is exactly where we are not supposed to be, but we are figuring out where to be”. Aha! That is clear as mud. You go figure WWWobble will give an answer to make you wonder. I said to myself, “he is now improvising, yes! He is lost! - All to the better for the adventure.”

Backtracking a few miles place us on a side road called Springville-Milo Road on our way to Yokohl Dr and Three Rivers. This was the best “lost” yet!

Our motel, the Gateway Lodge & Restaurant. Not bad. Just be prepared with your wallet.

Dinner was fun. So for all of you that did not come, learn this: the only safe place from serious gossip about SMBC members … Is by being present! Otherwise, boy! Did we rip into each and every one. Good-and-bad… Hmmm… Naaah, mostly bad!! Like I said, it was a fun dinner.

The food, not great but acceptable. The accommodations were quite good. Breakfast the next morning had us waiting until 8:00 am for them to open the facility. I was antsy to get going and not exactly patient. Would I go back to this place? Hmmm… Thinking, … thinking… Thinking. Let it go at that, just thinking.

DAY 2

Skip all the breakfast baloney and fast forward. We mount our steeds and in short time find ourselves at the mouth of the Sequoia National Park. Your first indication of a National Park is the mandatory booth, requesting the mandatory fee. WWWobble and Markus pay up, it is now my turn at the booth. “My wallet, where is my wallet!” I tell the girl (Quite the pretty camper she is, with a million dollar smile) “I cannot find my wallet”. I get off the bike, open panniers, travel bag, everything. Ahhhh! Of course, try looking in my Jeans, rear pocket, and , sure enough, there is was. Markus and WWWobble are looking at me flirting with the girl, OLD GOATS! I am doing business, poorly but doing business. Properly taxed, I am now free to enjoy myself! … Huh? FREE, yeah right!

[Editors note: apparently our 67 year old author doesn’t know about the $10 one time payment to get a senior pass that gives him free entry into all of the national parks forever.]

Sequoia National Park. Yes! You can enjoy yourself. Great road (taxes well paid). Up above the facility has many set-ups for you to visit (more taxes well paid) - still, well taxed or not, I not happy to pay!

Markus asked if I had been here? “Nope”. “Ahh. Then we must take you to see the Sherman Tree”. WWWobble had not seen it either so off we trouped to the appointed place. Parked our bikes, and discovered that we have to hike to the tree. What?! WWWobble was not prepared for this hike, and almost refused to do the short hike of half a mile… DOWN. Cajoling Bob, we get going, WWWobble is trying to put a good face to this. 500 yards short to the tree you could see the tree down below. “Okay, I’ve seen it. This is enough for me”, WWWobble makes a U-turn and starts back up the hill, muttering to himself $$#@$)&@€% (feel free to translate). Markus and I continue the remaining 500 yards downhill. Managed to take a “victorious photograph” with my foot atop a sign of the Famous Sherman Sequoia. Getting back to the bikes at this elevation ain’t for the wimpy. I did not let it out, but WWWobles was right! This thing is just the dream of a tooth-pick factory owner… only a matter of time!!

Heading out of the park must have been about 9:00 am or so, the temperature a scanty 41 degrees. Cold, but did not feel cold enough to wear heated gear. There was snow on the ground.

Out of the park we headed for Pine Flat. While I was not paying attention to the map, I had enough idea where is at. But trust me, it is a long enough road that you can find it; please do find it because the place is a dream of a road. This eventually led to Toll House where we had a less than interesting lunch. For me three fried egg and toast… Otherwise called an egg sandwich, Yummy!

So we stop to get fuel at some random gas station. At the station there are three other bikers, all riding BMWs. Bob and Markus engage in conversation. I do not have to tell you what they talked about. You probably can guess most of it. Five grown ups … Nah, five BOYS trying to determine whose is bigger!! This was like SMBC at Alice’s and talking… here it goes: The precise make, model, year of manufacturing and how many spokes a particular bike had on that year because the next year they added three more spokes! Uuuuh, enlightening! Love it! In three years I will talk just like these guys… And I’ll be a know-it-all, well, I’ll know what to say without really knowing what I am talking about, just like you guys! - Except Marco Hyman, he really knows everything! He can give you, not only the year, make and model (like most amateurs), Marco can give you the manufacturing serial number, including Series A or B depending on what you are looking for. What is Alberto talking about? Don’t ask. He, yet, does not know… three more years, just three more years. Among these boys, I was collected enough to say: “common guys, we came here to ride, let’s ride!” That is all that was needed. We mounted. Good boys!

The road henceforth was winding, twisty, up’n down, interminably climbing. I though to have died, and was on my way to heaven. Eventually, Oakhurst loomed in the distance. The Best Western motel was as good as it gets. Dinner. Lights out. Bob took a room by himself. Markus and I shared a room. He claims that I snore…

DAY 3

Achu!! Bless you Markus, you awake? “yes – what time is it?” - Oh, about 5:30 in the morning”. Markus gets up. Morning bathroom. Five minutes later is my turn. In this manner the day starts. Neither of us getting out of bed, you see, we both know WWWobble is nowhere waking up until past 8:00 am. By the time we mosey over to Bob, Markus and I had been up the better part of two hours.

I am certain you do not want to hear the details about getting up, having to rush Bob out of the shower, and having breakfast.

I must tell, however, Bob was not allowed any where near the breakfast bill. Yesterday, after having others spring for breakfast and lunch yesterday, WWWobble, to even-out the expenses, and volunteered dinner. Well! He got thoroughly taken! Dinner was a massive whopper of a bill, might have been the diner-drink, followed by two glasses of wine… etc. Enough alcohol for Markus and WWWobble the be pickled or internally disinfected, your choice. But all that is too mundane to tell in detail, suffice it to say that WWWobble is looking to get a second mortgage on his house. Let us then skip forward, past the commercials.

We loaded the bikes and truly, with much enthusiasm hit the road. The day promises and we are ready to receive… Amen.

Not far from the Best Western was the turn onto highway 49. Yes! The much talked about highway, yada, yada, yada. I was needless to say ready for this. For the better part of 20 miles or so, yes, it is pretty; yes curving left and right, low traffic, et, etc, but… what is the big deal? Highway 25, to me, had already delivered all this. Common, Alberto, stop comparing! Each road is to be seen on its own merit. This is beautiful! Let it go at that.

Fool! Fool-and-a-half! If you think highway 49 is a ho-hum-dee-dum?
Highway 49, after the town of Mariposa, by some thirty miles heading north, offers what no other road can offer: The crossing of the Merced River which feeds Lake McClure. You will, from a vista point see a drop of well over 1000 feet to a strip of pavement way down in the distance. From this vantage point, cars look like ants! What a spectacle! I will never forget this sight. You, now, can take my eyes for I have seen! You do not do this journey some time in your life… well, at your own loss. Nough’said!

Heading home to the Bay Area. We change from 49 to highway 132. Shortly after changing roads, Woobble slows down, and says: “wait here”. Markus and I are rather confused at the request as we see WWWobble take off alone. Alone? I know it is not my under-arm deodorant, nor Markus’s whatever deficiency he may have. A few minutes later, WWWoble returns, grin on his face. Gets off his bike and calls Markus… AHA! It dawns on me. WWWobble’s bike is about to, or has, rolled over 100,000 miles! You may think whatever, but this is a milestone to be recorded. Cameras out and all three of us spring into action. It is now in the annals of the digital world for everyone to see, which also means that no motorcycle shop will service this bike: Too old! And too much liability! Good job WWWobble. He is so proud; he now owns a pile of junk!

Mandatory pit stop 12 miles short of Modesto. Alberto cannot hold his drink, a venti-iced-four-shot-expresso, spilling it all over the floor, calling on the proprietor and volunteering to clean. The proprietor insists, “Oh, no! No worries – let me get you another drink”. Bob, interjects, “this is how Alberto manages to get a drink and a half for the price of one – nice going ace!”

We get thru Modesto, onto Highways 205, 580 with the mandatory on-the-road farewell sign. They head toward San Mateo, while I take highway 680 south toward the South Bay. I feel somewhat lonely without my buddies but very satisfied.

The journey ended with a little over 750 miles for the three days.

Pictures from Alberto, Bob, and Markus

This is not how the ride was supposed to start!

Normally last up; first to arrive

Waiting patiently

Riding in a drought?

Hollister-rain

Ugh, gets me right here

Heading South on 25… clouds dissipating

Hwy 25 - heading South

Old Coalinga Rd

That is a great bike!

Markus doing his thing

Any questions?

Random Coffee House in Visalia

clouds? What Clouds?

At Porterville

“Yokohol Rd” between Porterville and Three Rivers

mountains ahead

“Yokohol Rd” between Porterville and Three Rivers

Hey!! wrong road

let us see

Not lost - we are here!

That’s the way to go

Markus takes the lead again

Tada!!

Happy?

Who are those guys? Check the bike!

Bob… bobbing

Finaly we found it

Dinner

Happy travelers

Maps? What for?

planning

Gateway Motel / Three Rivers

Check the wall - taxes at work

Sequoia Park Entrance: Alberto is searching for his wallet that he conveniently forgot in his other pants.

heading to Squoia Nat Park

Sequoia National Park

Heaven is only a bit higher

WWWobble, The Lone Ranger

Master photographer prepares

The Three Mosquitoes

Two Mosquitoes

Will Bob’s camera be left behind just like at the Cozy Cup where the waitress chased Bob to his bike?

Squoia Nat Park

Trek to Sherman Tree

Descending to General Sherman Tree

Bob already falling behind

Not the Sherman tree

Bob, this is close enough!

Alberto Dominating the tree

Markus at Sequoia Nat Park

heading North out of Sequoia Nat Par

The three Mosquitoes

Darth Vedar and Darth Vedar Jr

Sequoia National Park

Three other riders

Pine Flat Rd - art?

artistic?

Spring scene, off Maxxon Rd.

Artistic, defenitely!

The lunch place

Tollhouse, CA: Nice little restaurant. They even have a gas station next door.

Tollhouse, CA: Major Wwwobble is getting ready

Bob turning that bike

Alberto is practicing his newfound cornering skills

Kerckhoff Reservoir

Part of San Joaquin River

Do you know this guy?

We were here

Oakhurst

having fun?

not a bad place

Markus

from the room

Highway 49

that is where

yep down there and up again

Highway 49

Hwy 49 bridge over Merced River

drought, see theh water mark on pier

Still no proof it’ll make 100K

Ka-SA-WAKI turns 99,999

"The Hammer" just before turning from great, reliable bike to junker

Bobs bike now JUNK!

99,999 at hwy 132 and this Rd

Cup-and-a-half for price of one

Alberto can’t hold his coffee ;)