Goobr
Well-known member
Below is a post I made on the ZRX Forum. We just started a "Ride Report" section there.
The reason I'm posting this here is because over the last couple of years, I almost stopped riding,,, give it up, lost the passion. That is until I bought the '04 FJR. I feel like a kid again.
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I have truly missed riding. Riding like I used to do. Ya know, grab a change of clothes and a sleeping bag, tie those off to the back of the bike somewhere and just go. No destination.
I had a destination this time. It was back home to Georgia for Thanksgiving at my little sister’s house but I had no time I was ‘sposed to be there, no time when I was ‘sposed to leave and 4 days to do it.
I bought a 2004 Yamaha FJR1300 ABS a couple months ago from a very good friend, husband/wife, down here in Central Florida with hopes of rekindling my love of motorcycles which has been on the wane for the last few years.
Thirty-eight years ago, Daddy introduced me into motorcycling with a Honda Mini-Trail 50 for Christmas and from then on, I’ve been hooked. Motocross and hare scrambles from then through high school, enduros in college and then almost straight into road-racing when in 1983, Honda came out with the VF750F Interceptor. I raced with WERA for 3 years before getting married and all responsible and stuff. Motorcycles took a back door then although I did keep the ole Interceptor around for blasting the back roads. In 1994, something hit me and I had to have a new bike. A Concours it was. I put some miles on that thing. From Perry, GA I’d take a day ride up to what we call “The Cooler Run” now just to run it once and be back home in Perry for supper. Bought a 1995 VFR750 just to ride to Westerville, OH because I wanted to go to the AMA headquarters and tour the Heritage Museum. Bought a 1996 CBR900RR because I wanted a modern day sportbike. I packed it up one Sunday morning and hauled ass to Jasper, Arkansas just to meet some buddies from Texas, Mississippi and Alabama so we could all see one another again. That ’96 900RR is, without a doubt, the most attached to a motorcycle I’ve ever been. Lordy I miss that bike. You see, that red rocket almost took me to my death up on The Cherohala Skyway back in 1997. That’s another story but I’ll always look at “The Arah Arah” as my most favorite motorcycle. I bought another 900RR in 1999 but I just never developed the “relationship” with it that I did my ‘96. Y’all know what I mean.
That’s not near all the motorcycles I’ve had. Each and every bike I’ve owned I have a story or a memory of something stupid or memorable I’ve done with it. DT125’s and 6” rock walls don’t mix. Hahahahaha! With that said and the rambling I’ve done from the beginning of this post brings me to remember and smile about my Thanksgiving this year, 2007, with my FJR and my sister. Best Thanksgiving I’ve had since Mama and Daddy passed away.
0430 Thursday morning, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK,,,,,,, Grrrrrrr, slap the SNOOZE button. Seven minutes later, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK,,,,,,, Grrrrr,,,, okay, I smell coffee. Roll outa bed and grab the dresser to stand there for a second to see what hurts this morning. Hmmmm, nuttin’ hurts,,,,,, might be a good day. Walk into the kitchen and pour that wonderful first cup of coffee for the day. I just stood there smelling the coffee, all excited about taking my first long ride on the FJR. All I gotta do now is SS and S. No,,,,, I just had to check the weather online. I pulled up a couple of weather maps and RAIN! Grrrrr, God’s trying to rain on my parade! Every map I viewed had this big blob of rain just off the Gulf Coast blowing eastward right into my path from Ocala to the state line,,, about 3 hours of riding. Since it’s been so long since I’ve done this kind of riding, I didn’t have a rain suit, I’m older and with a bad wreck,,,, yeah the one on the ’96 900RR, no spleen to help keep me from getting sick, I’m thinking dammit man, I need to go in the car. I literally waffled on bike or car for 2.5 hours. In that time, I drank a whole pot of coffee and got so “jittered up”, that I said screw it, I’m gonna ride because I know it’ll be nice on Friday and I want to ride some of the roads in my ole stompin’ grounds.
I rode out about 0700 from Lakeland, Fl and hit rain, yep, you guessed it, just south of Ocala. I almost started smiling as I felt that first “wet spot” soak through to my knees. This is how I remember it I thought. All the miserable rides I’ve had, wet, cold, dumbass cage drivers, arriving a few hours later at your destination to be greeted with a hug and hot cup of coffee. I pulled in a little tighter and whicked up the throttle to about 85,,,, smiling like a jack-ass eatin’ briars. By the time I got just south of Lake City, I needed to pull off for a butt break and a smoke. I pulled into the pickle park and rode right up to a picnic shelter, got off the bike and under the little cement shelter I went. Gloves, soaked,,,,,, helmet, a little damp but not too bad,,,,, jeans, legs, soaked,,,,,, body/torso, surprisingly dry! I think it was that I never got cold, a little chilly maybe but not cold. I called my sister to let her know where I was and get her to check the weather maps to see where I would run out of the rain. She said I was in the worst of it where I was and by the time I hit the state line I should run out of it. Cool I thought. I went to the pavilion and got a cup of coffee, back out to the picnic shelter for another smoke and dig out some dry gloves. Funny, it was then that I knew I had done the right thing by riding. I was in such an “in touch” state like I have never been since I gave up road riding years ago. To heck with finishing this smoke,,,, I snuffed it out and hit the road again. Hehehehe,,, coming out of the rest area, I was so excited that I spun up the rear end and it stepped out on me. An “almost OOOOPS!” I literally laughed inside my helmet. Head down,,,, I’m goin’ to see my family.
By the time I got to my sister’s house, I was almost dry again. She heard me coming into the subdivision they live in and greeted me with a beer. She said, “I knew you’d be almost dry by the time you got here and would want a beer more than a cup of coffee”. I was at home.
The rest of Thanksgiving Day was spent eating, BSin’ and catchin’ up with each other’s lives. There really is no place like home and family. I don’t pray like I should but I did pray to God before I went to bed Thanksgiving night. I thanked Him for allowing me to be born into a caring and loving family that no matter what an asshole I can be, my family will always love me, welcome me and most importantly, have that hug that no one can give like a family member can.
I woke up Friday morning about 0600 ready to hit the road. Got a shower, drank a cup of coffee and was waitin’ on my Brother-in-Law (BiL) to get up and dressed. His name is Robb and rides a 2006 Kawasaki Vulcan 1500. He wants to follow me because I’ve got several of my old roads that I want to hit again. Well, we leave around 1030 hrs and I’m chompin’ at the bit. A little nippy, about 40°f but it reminded so much of how I used to ride. Cold in the morning when ya leave out and just right about the middle of the day. We left out on some back roads I knew and headed up to Knoxville, GA, county seat of Crawford County, Georgia. Christie, my ex-wife, and I lived in Crawford Co when we first got married. Good memories from that time.
Then Robb and I whittled our way back into Byron, GA over to a bike shop that he goes to for his bike’s service. It’s called “JugHeads”. It’s mostly a HD shop but has recently taken on metric cruisers as well. Robb introduced me to all the guys there and it was nice to meet them. Good ole buncha boys but one question that kept coming up, “Is that a BMW you’re ridin’?”. Hehehehhee.
Robb bought a pair of new gloves there and we got ready to leave, he asked where to now? I said, if it’s cool with you, I’d like to ride over by the old home place and have a look-see. So we mounted up and took a round about way to where I grew up. Holy moly,,,,,,,,, I was really shocked to see the way the area had grown up. Seriously, at one point my eyes welled up. It’s “progress” I thought. When we got to the old farm house I was raised in, I pulled off in the ditch to take some pics. When I “zoomed” the camera, I could tell it had not been taken care of very well.
The small red building in the foreground is the pump house. That’s where the water well and pump were. They’re served by County utilities now. The pump house is falling down from neglect. In the background is the smoke house. You can walk into that bottom door to this day and smell the smoked meats hanging from the rafters. Atop the smoke house is where a small bit of hay was stored. Used to be a block and tackle over that top door that was used to lift the hay bales up.
And then there is the mule barn. The center part is where all the feed, scales, mixing barrels, supplements, drugs and such were kept for the mules. More so in my time, it’s where my sisters and I kept our show steers and hogs for 4-H and FFA.
I miss the old place but there is no way in hell I could pay the ad valorum taxes for it now. Dern shame. Anyway, Robb said, let’s hit the road back home man. I said okay, let’s go. We went on out Crestview Church Rd out to US41 like I had done a million times before headed to Perry for school, a date, a weekend with my old crew,,,, you know. The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful though I knew I had to ride a little more. We were back at the house for about an hour and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I told my sister and BiL I was going to fill up the bike so I wouldn’t have to in the morning before I left back for Florida. I was gone about 3 hours. Hehehehhehe. Visited some old friends of the family, went and spent some time at the cemetery with Mama and Daddy,,, had a good cry. Yep, there’s such a thing as a “good” cry.
Obviously, goin’ to the cemetery got me all nostalgic and stuff. Got back to my sister’s house and whipped out the camera. It was almost dusk. Sun hadn’t quite gone down yet and I remembered something Eric308 wrote to me once. I went back in the house, got a glass of E&J Hearty Burgundy and headed out with my camera and glass of wine. Eric said in so many words, “ I looked up at those tall trees and thought, what a life, what a life”. With me, I looked at that Georgia red clay, that sunset and that full moon and thought, what a life, what a life. I’m a Georgia boy and motorcyclist forever, no matter where I go or who I’m with.
The most influential woman in my life. My little sister Susie.
This has gotten way more long winded than I intended it to but I started writing and I couldn’t stop. If you’ve made it this far, thank-you for indulging me.
I got up yesterday morning again about 0600 ready to hit the road but I thought it not quite proper to “eat and run”. I made coffee, got the newspaper and sat at the kitchen counter for a couple of hours until the rest of the house stirred. The FJR was packed and I was showered and ready to hit the road when Susie and Robb got up. Susie made some cinnamon rolls for breakfast so we sat around and BS’d for a few. Robb and I got some measurements on the leather saddlebags on his Vulcan. He wants some hard bags so we needed something to go on measurement wise. I left out about 1030 hrs, 44°f, hit I-75 and came home. I did lots of thinking on the 5 hour trip back here to Lakeland.
This weekend I have learned that nothing can replace family. Real friends are family. There really is no place like home. And to be selfish for a moment, Thank God Almighty, I still got it for motorcycles. I just needed to change gears.
==========================================================
Thanks,
Ben
The reason I'm posting this here is because over the last couple of years, I almost stopped riding,,, give it up, lost the passion. That is until I bought the '04 FJR. I feel like a kid again.
===========================================================
I have truly missed riding. Riding like I used to do. Ya know, grab a change of clothes and a sleeping bag, tie those off to the back of the bike somewhere and just go. No destination.
I had a destination this time. It was back home to Georgia for Thanksgiving at my little sister’s house but I had no time I was ‘sposed to be there, no time when I was ‘sposed to leave and 4 days to do it.
I bought a 2004 Yamaha FJR1300 ABS a couple months ago from a very good friend, husband/wife, down here in Central Florida with hopes of rekindling my love of motorcycles which has been on the wane for the last few years.
Thirty-eight years ago, Daddy introduced me into motorcycling with a Honda Mini-Trail 50 for Christmas and from then on, I’ve been hooked. Motocross and hare scrambles from then through high school, enduros in college and then almost straight into road-racing when in 1983, Honda came out with the VF750F Interceptor. I raced with WERA for 3 years before getting married and all responsible and stuff. Motorcycles took a back door then although I did keep the ole Interceptor around for blasting the back roads. In 1994, something hit me and I had to have a new bike. A Concours it was. I put some miles on that thing. From Perry, GA I’d take a day ride up to what we call “The Cooler Run” now just to run it once and be back home in Perry for supper. Bought a 1995 VFR750 just to ride to Westerville, OH because I wanted to go to the AMA headquarters and tour the Heritage Museum. Bought a 1996 CBR900RR because I wanted a modern day sportbike. I packed it up one Sunday morning and hauled ass to Jasper, Arkansas just to meet some buddies from Texas, Mississippi and Alabama so we could all see one another again. That ’96 900RR is, without a doubt, the most attached to a motorcycle I’ve ever been. Lordy I miss that bike. You see, that red rocket almost took me to my death up on The Cherohala Skyway back in 1997. That’s another story but I’ll always look at “The Arah Arah” as my most favorite motorcycle. I bought another 900RR in 1999 but I just never developed the “relationship” with it that I did my ‘96. Y’all know what I mean.
That’s not near all the motorcycles I’ve had. Each and every bike I’ve owned I have a story or a memory of something stupid or memorable I’ve done with it. DT125’s and 6” rock walls don’t mix. Hahahahaha! With that said and the rambling I’ve done from the beginning of this post brings me to remember and smile about my Thanksgiving this year, 2007, with my FJR and my sister. Best Thanksgiving I’ve had since Mama and Daddy passed away.
0430 Thursday morning, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK,,,,,,, Grrrrrrr, slap the SNOOZE button. Seven minutes later, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK, ANCK,,,,,,, Grrrrr,,,, okay, I smell coffee. Roll outa bed and grab the dresser to stand there for a second to see what hurts this morning. Hmmmm, nuttin’ hurts,,,,,, might be a good day. Walk into the kitchen and pour that wonderful first cup of coffee for the day. I just stood there smelling the coffee, all excited about taking my first long ride on the FJR. All I gotta do now is SS and S. No,,,,, I just had to check the weather online. I pulled up a couple of weather maps and RAIN! Grrrrr, God’s trying to rain on my parade! Every map I viewed had this big blob of rain just off the Gulf Coast blowing eastward right into my path from Ocala to the state line,,, about 3 hours of riding. Since it’s been so long since I’ve done this kind of riding, I didn’t have a rain suit, I’m older and with a bad wreck,,,, yeah the one on the ’96 900RR, no spleen to help keep me from getting sick, I’m thinking dammit man, I need to go in the car. I literally waffled on bike or car for 2.5 hours. In that time, I drank a whole pot of coffee and got so “jittered up”, that I said screw it, I’m gonna ride because I know it’ll be nice on Friday and I want to ride some of the roads in my ole stompin’ grounds.
I rode out about 0700 from Lakeland, Fl and hit rain, yep, you guessed it, just south of Ocala. I almost started smiling as I felt that first “wet spot” soak through to my knees. This is how I remember it I thought. All the miserable rides I’ve had, wet, cold, dumbass cage drivers, arriving a few hours later at your destination to be greeted with a hug and hot cup of coffee. I pulled in a little tighter and whicked up the throttle to about 85,,,, smiling like a jack-ass eatin’ briars. By the time I got just south of Lake City, I needed to pull off for a butt break and a smoke. I pulled into the pickle park and rode right up to a picnic shelter, got off the bike and under the little cement shelter I went. Gloves, soaked,,,,,, helmet, a little damp but not too bad,,,,, jeans, legs, soaked,,,,,, body/torso, surprisingly dry! I think it was that I never got cold, a little chilly maybe but not cold. I called my sister to let her know where I was and get her to check the weather maps to see where I would run out of the rain. She said I was in the worst of it where I was and by the time I hit the state line I should run out of it. Cool I thought. I went to the pavilion and got a cup of coffee, back out to the picnic shelter for another smoke and dig out some dry gloves. Funny, it was then that I knew I had done the right thing by riding. I was in such an “in touch” state like I have never been since I gave up road riding years ago. To heck with finishing this smoke,,,, I snuffed it out and hit the road again. Hehehehe,,, coming out of the rest area, I was so excited that I spun up the rear end and it stepped out on me. An “almost OOOOPS!” I literally laughed inside my helmet. Head down,,,, I’m goin’ to see my family.
By the time I got to my sister’s house, I was almost dry again. She heard me coming into the subdivision they live in and greeted me with a beer. She said, “I knew you’d be almost dry by the time you got here and would want a beer more than a cup of coffee”. I was at home.
The rest of Thanksgiving Day was spent eating, BSin’ and catchin’ up with each other’s lives. There really is no place like home and family. I don’t pray like I should but I did pray to God before I went to bed Thanksgiving night. I thanked Him for allowing me to be born into a caring and loving family that no matter what an asshole I can be, my family will always love me, welcome me and most importantly, have that hug that no one can give like a family member can.
I woke up Friday morning about 0600 ready to hit the road. Got a shower, drank a cup of coffee and was waitin’ on my Brother-in-Law (BiL) to get up and dressed. His name is Robb and rides a 2006 Kawasaki Vulcan 1500. He wants to follow me because I’ve got several of my old roads that I want to hit again. Well, we leave around 1030 hrs and I’m chompin’ at the bit. A little nippy, about 40°f but it reminded so much of how I used to ride. Cold in the morning when ya leave out and just right about the middle of the day. We left out on some back roads I knew and headed up to Knoxville, GA, county seat of Crawford County, Georgia. Christie, my ex-wife, and I lived in Crawford Co when we first got married. Good memories from that time.
Then Robb and I whittled our way back into Byron, GA over to a bike shop that he goes to for his bike’s service. It’s called “JugHeads”. It’s mostly a HD shop but has recently taken on metric cruisers as well. Robb introduced me to all the guys there and it was nice to meet them. Good ole buncha boys but one question that kept coming up, “Is that a BMW you’re ridin’?”. Hehehehhee.
Robb bought a pair of new gloves there and we got ready to leave, he asked where to now? I said, if it’s cool with you, I’d like to ride over by the old home place and have a look-see. So we mounted up and took a round about way to where I grew up. Holy moly,,,,,,,,, I was really shocked to see the way the area had grown up. Seriously, at one point my eyes welled up. It’s “progress” I thought. When we got to the old farm house I was raised in, I pulled off in the ditch to take some pics. When I “zoomed” the camera, I could tell it had not been taken care of very well.
The small red building in the foreground is the pump house. That’s where the water well and pump were. They’re served by County utilities now. The pump house is falling down from neglect. In the background is the smoke house. You can walk into that bottom door to this day and smell the smoked meats hanging from the rafters. Atop the smoke house is where a small bit of hay was stored. Used to be a block and tackle over that top door that was used to lift the hay bales up.
And then there is the mule barn. The center part is where all the feed, scales, mixing barrels, supplements, drugs and such were kept for the mules. More so in my time, it’s where my sisters and I kept our show steers and hogs for 4-H and FFA.
I miss the old place but there is no way in hell I could pay the ad valorum taxes for it now. Dern shame. Anyway, Robb said, let’s hit the road back home man. I said okay, let’s go. We went on out Crestview Church Rd out to US41 like I had done a million times before headed to Perry for school, a date, a weekend with my old crew,,,, you know. The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful though I knew I had to ride a little more. We were back at the house for about an hour and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I told my sister and BiL I was going to fill up the bike so I wouldn’t have to in the morning before I left back for Florida. I was gone about 3 hours. Hehehehhehe. Visited some old friends of the family, went and spent some time at the cemetery with Mama and Daddy,,, had a good cry. Yep, there’s such a thing as a “good” cry.
Obviously, goin’ to the cemetery got me all nostalgic and stuff. Got back to my sister’s house and whipped out the camera. It was almost dusk. Sun hadn’t quite gone down yet and I remembered something Eric308 wrote to me once. I went back in the house, got a glass of E&J Hearty Burgundy and headed out with my camera and glass of wine. Eric said in so many words, “ I looked up at those tall trees and thought, what a life, what a life”. With me, I looked at that Georgia red clay, that sunset and that full moon and thought, what a life, what a life. I’m a Georgia boy and motorcyclist forever, no matter where I go or who I’m with.
The most influential woman in my life. My little sister Susie.
This has gotten way more long winded than I intended it to but I started writing and I couldn’t stop. If you’ve made it this far, thank-you for indulging me.
I got up yesterday morning again about 0600 ready to hit the road but I thought it not quite proper to “eat and run”. I made coffee, got the newspaper and sat at the kitchen counter for a couple of hours until the rest of the house stirred. The FJR was packed and I was showered and ready to hit the road when Susie and Robb got up. Susie made some cinnamon rolls for breakfast so we sat around and BS’d for a few. Robb and I got some measurements on the leather saddlebags on his Vulcan. He wants some hard bags so we needed something to go on measurement wise. I left out about 1030 hrs, 44°f, hit I-75 and came home. I did lots of thinking on the 5 hour trip back here to Lakeland.
This weekend I have learned that nothing can replace family. Real friends are family. There really is no place like home. And to be selfish for a moment, Thank God Almighty, I still got it for motorcycles. I just needed to change gears.
==========================================================
Thanks,
Ben
Hope ya get fully recovered soon!
