It would have been a shame to let this beautiful Fall afternoon pass without getting in some kind of ride so I gave my friend Richard a call..........hmmmmm no answer, I bet that dog is out riding already. Oh well I just felt like plunking around anyway, 45-50 mph sounded about right.
You would think that after all these miles I have put on the REB I would be able to diagnose most any problem that came up. The engine keep dying every time I would come to a stop. It was running a little doggy too but I thought things would clear once it got good and warm. I finally got tired of it not idling so I pulled over and screwed in the idle adjuster but it still wasn't right. Took a long time to idle down, must be the advance sticking a little, I'll shoot the WD-40 to it when I get home. Damn this is getting annoying, I get off to take a look, maybe the throtle cable is sticking where it goes into the top of the carb. Nope. OK, now I remember, sometimes the choke doesn't go all the way off without a little help. Whoa now, what is this? The choke is full on and I've ridden it that way for 10 miles. I close it down and it revs up to about 2000 rpms. I quickly adjust the idle screw, ahh now that is more like it....on with the ride.
The gravel roads that I was passing every mile were sure looking inviting. It had recently rained and but they had dried out enough so they weren't muddy but not enough to be dusty. Well, I'll just stop up here and top up the tank they I'll take the gravel roads back home, sounds like a plan.
This gas station is at the zoo exit by I-70 but it is the only thing around. I noticed the guy on the Harley as I pulled in. By the looks of his bike he was on a trip so when I finished gassing up I tooled over to say howdy. He was a biker looking guy, maybe a little younger than my 65 years. Shaved head, except for one of those Ghengis Khan pony tails. A big walrus mustache hung under his nose and his little barley legal half helmet with the Jesus Freak sticker was strapped to the back of the Hog's seat. His leather jacket was covered in patches and pins proclaiming his love of the Lord and service in Viet Nam. I figured he was harmless. He was on his cell phone and as I pulled along side he said into the phone, "you ain't gonna believe this, some guy just pulled up on a Royal Enfield, I gotta go."
We chatted for awhile, he knew about REBs and said he had wanted to get one once but got the Harley instead. He was on his way home to Utah from Missouri. We wished each other safe riding and I continued on with my plan.
It's still strange to see street sign out in the country but we have them and all the roads have names. I think it is for emergency services so they don't get lost when they have to go after some farmer lying under his tractor. The REB handles very well in the gravel, even with the ribbed front tire. Of course I'm only plodding along 25-30 mph in 3rd and 4th. The beauty of riding like this is that you can look around. I like to honk at the livestock, the cows always look, you never know about the horses. I saw a couple of llamas, they sure gave me the eye. Up ahead a coyote ran across the road and into a field of commercial sunflowers. Soon after that I saw a Red Tail hawk take off carrying a snake. You just don't see stuff like that when you are going down the blacktop at 55. I even stopped once, cut the engine and pulled off my helmet just so I could listen to the silence. It only took a couple of hours but it made my day.
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