That's what we call a "MFU"
Did the bike go down, or just the coyote?
Way off topic here, but this story is pretty darn funny, except for the ticking part.
Admin edit: I originally wrote the folllowing in Aug, 2004 - Warchild
Apologies for the ramblings here..... been up for 36 hours, half of that on the road...
The Good:
I have been bumming that it was kinda obvious I wasn't going to make my self-imposed mission to reach 30,000 miles in the first 12 months of ownership (I took my FJR out of the crate and assembled it in Aug, '03)... a brutal winter kept the FJR garaged for 2 1/2 months, and I lost another 1/2 month during prime riding season (a week due to ticking evaluation/diagnosis in July, and a week not riding due to the Conti Heart Attack debacle in early August)
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Late last Friday evening (20 Aug), around 10pm, out of blue, I got a serious hankering to go have breakfast at a favorite diner I know of, one that makes the most awesome hand-made Hot Italian Sausage on the planet. It's called the Black Bear Diner. I asked my bride if she'd mind if I ride down there for breakfast. "Sure, honey, no problem... see you tomorrow afternoon, then?"
You see... she knows the Black Bear Diner is two states away (~500 miles, each way), in Alturas, California.
So about midnight, I look the FJR over, top off the oil (as it's been ~1000 miles since I topped it off, so it was a good 1/3 quart low), and headed out straight down HWY 395 through the heart of Oregon. Phuck me to tears if there weren't entire HERDS of mangy-ass Forest Rats just everywhere all along the way... (I stopped counting after 150 miles and 23 deer). I would have never seen all of them with the pencil-beamed PIAA 910s, but the wide-coverage PHIDs lit them up light incredibly well.
I roll up to the Black Bear Diner about 7am, and have a killer breakfast of eggs and Italian Hot Sausage). I go to mount back up and return home when a dude on a Gold Wing pulls in. He's got Washington plates on. too. He asks where I'm from, and I reply "the Tri-Cities". He asked how many days I've been on tour. I replied I wasn't on tour, I just rode down for breakfast, and I was about to ride back.
He looks at me and says, "You mean to tell me you rode 500 miles for breakfast, and now you're going to ride 500 miles home?!"
"Yep", I says, pointing to my license plate holder, "we LD guys do stuff like that all the time".
He shakes his head and says, well how many miles do you have on this bike"? I turn the keep on to check, and I'm as amazed at the mileage figure as the Gold Wing guy is.....
Because 5 hours later, I was able to snap of this photo:
30,000 miles in 12 months.... mission accomplished!
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The Bad:
The ticking on my FJR has now reached the horrendus stage. I believe I really need to park this thing until parts come in to repair it. The oil use continues to climb, and in reading posts from Nocchi, Torch and others familiar with the symptoms of the advanced stages of ticking damage, all have told me at some point, I should see oil coming out of the mufflers, particularly the right muffler.
Well.... it has started.... it's not a horrendous amount yet, but clearly, it's time to stop riding this thing...
*sigh*
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The Coyote Ugly:
Deer can ruin your day if you plow into one....BTDT. But you figure coyotes are a little smarter, and generally won't come racing out from the roadside to commit hari-kari, like we often see many jackrabbits due out west.
But on my ride down to breakfast in Alturas, I discovered there is one coyote in central Oregon that wasn't that clever.
It's about 4:30-ish am, I am leaned over in a easy sweeper, about 5 miles east of Wagontire, OR, when the PHIDs light up a tan/white coyote on the left hand side of the road. No problem.... I see him, he sees me, I figure all is good. Wrong. As I approach at about 70 mph, I see him crouch down as if he's about to lunge forward.
"Oh, no, you better not" I scream in my helmet.
Oh, yes, he does!!!!!
He darts right for my front wheel. I immediately stand the bike up to get a good, clean impact, and brace for it....
"ka-THUMP thump......"!
"Daaaaaaymn, you idiot coyote!" I figure he's buzzard meat, and slow way down to carefully study the bike, noting no problems with handling, etc. I study the temp gauge for several miles; no rise in temps, so I figure he didn't ding the radiator either. Phew! Got off lucky, here!
Or so I thought.... until after breakfast, and I give the bike a once over. Amazingly, there is coyote fur stuck in between the front tire and the wheel rim! I snicker at this, thinking it comical until I spy the massive cracks in the right fairing and chin piece (point to by yellow arrows; photo doesn't do justice to the actual damage):
DAAAAAAAYMN..... another comprehensive insurance claim!
Since I was taking the same route back home after breakfast, I figured I would find the carcass being munched on by various scavenger birds. Sure enough, about 5 miles east of Wagontire, I see a have-dozen birds circling, and another half dozen munching away.
I'm guessing your bike-ambushing days are over now, Mr. Coyote!!!
Hard to ambush motorcycles with one front leg missing, and the remaining one pointing the wrong way!
All in all, it was an event filled breakfast ride.......
- Warchild