Honda 599 New to Now

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Sev
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#21 Unread post by Sev »

Reynolds Museum:

This year the Reynolds Museum in Wetaskiwin is hosting one of the biggest public collections of bikes in North America. Assembled from all over there's everything from the #01 Honda Rune to the bike that Doris rode solo around the world, and everythin in between. Of course this is a once in a life time opporunity, since after it gets closed down it's highly doubtful that it would be possible to get all these bikes back together.

Bikes Redy To Go

The last week has been singularly rough. Tons of rain, thunderstorms, hydroplaning and hail. However it seems that no matter what happens every second sunday is beautiful. I cannot fully explain it, but I'm not going to complain. This weekend was no exception, and there was a meet to go to. As usual I set out from my house around 8:00 AM, what an ungodly hour to meet the Retreads for a breakfast meeting. My Aunt and Uncle are both members and take me along as their guest. I have been riding with them every trip for the last few weeks and greatly enjoying it. While I am not officially a member, nor will I be old enough to join up for at least 19 years I have made enough friends that simply showing up will have someone adopt me as a guest. At least, that was my theory, which was put to the test. My Aunt and Uncle are out east for the next few weeks on a motorcycle adventure of their own.
So, like I said, braving the potentially inclemental weather I set out alone at 8:00. I arrived at the same time as Gerry and Denise. You'll recall that Gerry was the pleasant fellow who directed me and my friends down that gravel road last year. Definately going to have to give him a hard time.
They adopt me and we head in to breakfast together, the usual meeting stuff goes on, while I enjoy my breakfast. Not being a member of the club I get to ignore most of it ;) General chitchat fills the air as we wait to get the ride underway.
After everyone finishes breakfast and the club business is taken care of we all get ready. Split into two groups and headed out. With heavy metal blasting into my ear and a fair bit of trepidation (Gerry is leading the group I'm in so I'm expecting gravel) we set out. Excitment fills the air, and the roar of 4 other bikes joins the general fray. This is going to be a good time.
As usual Gerry performs his magic on the roads of Alberta. As if he's taken the straight line of ribbon that makes up Alberta's roads between thumb and forefinger and flicked his wrist he magically creates twisties out of nowhere. How he manages to do that, I'll never understand.
Following a series of backroads that I could never remember, let alone recreate we made our way South and West out of Edmonton. Carving through all the turns we could find.
Because of traffic lights we get split up on occasion, after the second time I come to the decision that I being immortal and thus more willing to take risks will ride drag. I'll admit it might not have been a smart decision, the guy who was in the back had a CB, but he also had a passenger which basically means he had to be more conservative then I did. That and I'm riding a crotch rocket as opposed to the cruisers everyone else is on means that I might be able to keep up a little better at things like yellow lights.
It was a good theory, but we got split up once more, though highway miles and some careful passing took care of that.
Somehow we arrived at the intersection of Sec Highway 795 and Twn RD 472A where Gerry turns off onto gravel. NOOOOOOOOOO! Okay, well it turns out it was a parking lot and not a gravel road. But I was scared regardless. We ended up at Pipestone Cafe and Country Antique Shop. Which was like an antique shop, cafe, and general store all rolled into one. A quick cup of coffee, and slice of pie (for some) and we were back on our way. Though the 2 other customers certainly seemed surprised to see 9 bikers walk in. Just sitting around talking was a lot of fun.

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From there it was a quick jaunt to the museum. Seconds after we pulled up another young guy on a Yellow Honda 599 pulled up BESIDE ME. I've never seen another one in Edmonton that wasn't at the dealership, so we had to talk for a bit. He's put about 1600km on his. And we're in total agreement, it's an AMAZING ride. Tons of fun! We went inside where we got to see about 100 different bikes, all of which were beautifully restored. It was awe inspiring to wander around and look at what people used to ride. It was terror inspiring to wander around and LOOK AT WHAT PEOPLE USE TO RIDE.

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Having seen the show before with BuzZz who had actually thrashed the crap out of a lot of the later models shown I was armed with some knowledge that few of the other riders had. That made it even more fun :D

I also got to sit on the very first Honda Rune that ever rolled off the assembly line. That's right this is 001.

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After wandering for a couple of hours we had lunch and decided it was time to head home. Only 4 bikes to go, the rest had taken off on their own. We hoped. Two bikes stopped at the next town over while I followed the third through Leduc and watched them turn off towards Edmonton while I continued East to highway 21, which I thought was rangeroad 330 (it's actually 320) so you can imagine my surprise when I hard braked from 140km/h to turn onto 330 and found gravel instead of highway. Back up to speed in a couple of seconds and kept on to the highway. I arrived home safe and sound, and loved every second of it.
Last edited by Sev on Fri Nov 25, 2005 6:57 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Of course I'm generalizing from a single example here, but everyone does that. At least I do.

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#22 Unread post by Sev »

On Sunday July 10/05 I got the opportunity to go for a ride with BuzZz from the forums. As you probably all know, he's sitting a FJ1200 currently and all I can say is... FAST. Here's my quick report:

I'm working nightshifts this weekend. This means that my typical day consists of working 7pm to 7 am running the crane, or hefting around lumber for railcar blocking. Afterwards it's a 15 minute ride home, and a long hot shower, which is followed shortly by passing out to awaken around 4 or 5 and do it all over again. This weekend however was to be a little different. I'd been previously contacted by BuzZz letting me know that he'd be in town, and he was interested in getting out and about for a bit. Definately a great opportunity to go riding.

I was expecting a phone call on Sat around 2 or 3 which wakes me up a little early, but would give us more time to ride around. Being something of an insomniac I woke up at 1:00 and waited for a call. The appointed time came and went without a phone call, as I watched storm clouds mass in the distance. By 6:30 when I was getting ready to leave for work it had started pouring, so I didn't feel to badly about it.

Work was the usual, I spent about 10 hours throwing 30lb 4"x4"x8' s into railcars and then positioning them so that the steel could be chainslung out of the railcars when it gets delivered. I REALLY wish more places had electromagnetic cranes. Anyways...
Sunday I was rudely awakened by the sound of my Dad beating on my door bellowing some nonsense about my friend wanting to talk to me. All of my friends know better then to call me on a day like today (nightshifts) so I was curious and a little warry, but I answered anyways.
"Did I wake you up?"
"yes"
"do you want to go riding?"
"Yes"
"how long do you need?"
"1/2 hour"
"Mee at Sorentino's in 45 minutes then"
Frantic rush to get my gear, pack food for work that night, and cram some of the same down my throat. It's 3PM, last time I ate was 3 AM, and I manage to eat a small container of applesauce and an old dry cornbread muffin. Today is looking good. I make the rush across town getting there two minutes early. BuzZz of course arrives 10 minutes late, with a buddy in tow. It's okay though, I passed the time trying to figure out which of the 5 or 6 cruisers wandering around the parking lot belonged to him. Turns out that the answer is none of them, but I see one in his future.

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Watching the road I see a couple sportsbikes headed my way... a Fj1200 (BuzZz) and a Gixxer 1000 (his friend whose name I forgot...*Edit it's Corby and I'm fixing my post*). I can tell that I'm in trouble.
I should clarify that statement. All of my past riding experience has been with my friends and Aunts/Uncles riding club the Retreads. This means I typically ride with cruisers and tourers. A far cry from the liter bikes I'm facing now. I've typically taken a lack-a-dasical approach to riding as a slow start for me is the same as a fast start for my friends. My biked is named the Hornet and aptly so... it handles like one. But I'm facing a pair of torque monkeys, this is going to be tough.

So anyways, I'm now faced with a couple of true supersports, though I don't think that anything that's purple could truely be called sporty... And I just went from the fastest in the group to the slowest and I know it. And they are determined to show me.

We talk for a couple of minutes, and decide to head down to Hawrlack Park. So they take off, and I play catch up. Out onto Sherwood Park Freeway, and I can already tell what kind of a ride this is going to be. I round the right hand corner, and they're already 2 blocks away. Throttles twist for a reason, so I hammer into mine, and discover the true powerband. Not the sedate one I've been riding, but the POWER BAND. And I take off. I catch up and notice that the Corby's left turn signal is on. Turns out it's almost always on, and that's more then a little distracting. Seems we cannot remember how to turn it off.

We take off down the freeway passing what few cars there are and weaving around the slow moving traffic. *All at the speed limit of course, obey the law kiddies*. We get up to Whyte Ave, which is pretty much totally shut down for some street sale thing. And end up in the wrong lane of stopped traffic. Corby gets in, in front of a big yellow truck, BuzZz gets his wheel in, and I prepare to follow. Traffic starts, they go, I get moving, and the truck guns it. Stops about... 2 inches from my elbow. But I don't get smeared so it's okay... I guess.

We weave around Whyte Ave for a while, crossing and recrossing it until we find ourselves on Groat Road. We take Groat to the park. And circle around looking for a spot to stop. Stopping in the shade we "sit and talk." Which really means watch all the scantily clad women, and laugh at the guys driving by. High points included a blinged out hummer, several white boys in trucks blasting rap, an old guy doing the same. Tons of ugly sports cars. a purple V-max, some guy on a Harley in a fullface, full leathers with a woman on the back in a skull cap, tank top, and sandals. Asian guy on a v-star wearing a harley jacket and more that I'm sure BuzZz will pipe in about.

The high point of my day was pulling up to a stop in which BuzZz indicated I should take his spot and stop at Corby's right, instead of behind them. He stops, and looks to his right to talk to BuzZz but I'm there... confused look, and a glance to the left. BuzZz is RIGHT there! Flicks off his turn signal and yells, "Use this RIGHT! It's pissing me off!"

After he pulled away, I had to say, "that was awsome!"
"We've been riding together since we were this tall, we "fudge" with each others bikes on the highway."
*nervous laugh* no touchy *point at my bike*

All in all one of the best rides of my life, as I had to actually use my bike close to its potential. Watching those bikes power out of the corners makes me understand why someone would want a liter bike. Though BuzZz looks like a toy sitting on his... soooo small Wink All in all I cannot wait to go riding with him again.
Last edited by Sev on Fri Nov 25, 2005 7:29 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Of course I'm generalizing from a single example here, but everyone does that. At least I do.

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#23 Unread post by Aggroton »

you really should write as a profession.
thats a sweet bike.

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#24 Unread post by Sev »

You should get me a job to do so ;);)

Writing isn't the problem, being inspired to do so is. That and finding someone who will pay me.... Mike... you need another writer? My resume is posted above.
Of course I'm generalizing from a single example here, but everyone does that. At least I do.

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#25 Unread post by Aggroton »

Write some crazy book. Im thinking somewhere between the dark tower series by stephen king and hells angels by hunter s thompson. I dont know. I would read it. Novels are where its at though. The best thing out there now its sad to asy is Harry Potter.
thats a sweet bike.

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#26 Unread post by Sev »

If you're looking for something good to read then try:

The Prince of Nothing and Warrior-Prophet by R. Scott Bakker. By the time I finished the 2nd one I was ready to flip out because I wanted so badly to read the next one. It comes out in early 06... hopefully.
Of course I'm generalizing from a single example here, but everyone does that. At least I do.

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#27 Unread post by Aggroton »

yeah after dealing with the dark tower...i try not to pick up anything that isnt finished...i had to wait almost two years for an end....some people waited longer....hes crazy. ill check that out though.
thats a sweet bike.

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#28 Unread post by Sev »

So, it's been a little while since my last post. I figure it's time to give the world a little update.

Story takes place on July 3/05 and no it's not a fantasy novel like requested ;)

This weekend I had the chance to go riding with Whytegryphon and nearly plowed myself headlong into a car at highway speeds. Ahhh what a lead in.

Once again I have a long weekend off from work with some money to burn and a desire and the usual desire to ride. I've contacted Owen to see if he was interested in meeting for what he would deem a short ride. After a couple of e-mails back and forth we agreed to meet at the McDonalds in Leduc around noon. In typical fashion I strapped my raingear to the back and set out with heavy winds pushing me around on the highway. 140km/h with a crossbreeze is a lot of fun. Like my dear father taught me, I arrived 10 minutes early, and to make sure that I was at the right place I took a quick drive down the road to make sure there was only 1 Mcdicks there, the damn things pop up like cancer. It wouldn't do to wait for 30 minutes at the wrong one and then head home.

Having completed my patrol I popped inside and picked up some food and a drink. I devoured my sandwich in record time, not wanting to get caught eating when Owen arrived. I disposed of the evidence and nursed my coke while people watching for the next 20 minutes. I wasn't upset though, gave me a chance to fully wake up, and Owen was fighting a nasty headwind on the way up here.

Seeing a red KLR pull into the parking lot I set my head back and pretend to be asleep. This gave Owen the opportunity to to try to scare the crap outta me. He did a poor job of it though. He grabbed a coffee and we headed outside to look at each others rides. Owen is the proud owner of a brand new KLR650 in brilliant red, and I was treated to the grand tour. It's a wonderful looking ride, but she sits pretty high for me.

When he's finally finished all of his mods it'll be a true touring machine. Though I think it would have been cheaper in the long run for him to buy a goldwing hehe. As he hauls a map book out of the trunk and we start to discuss possible routes a Triumph 800 pulls up. It's a man taking his daughter out for a ride. She runs inside pretty quick, but we stand around for quite a while and talk bikes. We laugh about how stupid squids can be "I don't need gear." And he spent a fair bit of time coming down on sportbikes in particular, but that's okay. I gave him some cleaning tips and Owen suggested a couple of mods as well. It was a lot of fun.

"I haven't been South East yet."
I cringe at these words because that's exactly the opposite direction I cam from. And it heads towards Owens, so every mile puts me further and him closer to home. I bite down on my tounge and gesture for him to lead on.

After a quick stop for gas, and for me to buy his old tank bag we're zipping down 50th street to highway 21. Now I'd like to say that this was a relatively uneventful ride but a couple of things popped up that I wish hadn't.

The first was pretty much nothing just a beaver or porqupine that wandered across the road and required us to slow down a little. From my angle at the bottem of the hill it looked like a deer head, so I really slowed down, but Owen just blazed ahead.

The second was partially my stupidity, partially a driver being an "O Ring". We were blazing along at just slightly over the speed limit when we come up behind a truck pulling some plywood trailor. I see a clear space and prepare to pass. Clutch in stomp on the gear shift lever dropping me from 6th to 5th, rev HIGH and dump the clutch, the bike surges forward. I see the driver look back at me and look ahead, there's a car, but I can make it. The truck is still beside me... I'm doing 170.... the truck is stil... "poo poo" "poo poo" "poo poo". Off the gas, clutch HARD brakes!!! Front end DROPS, get off the brakes tip to the right. Out of oncoming traffic. Car goes by. About 4 seconds of clearance, at highway speeds. My heart was in my throat for the next 20 minutes and I was cursing up a "procreating" storm inside my helmet.

We did manage to pass him safely though:roll: , I guess seeing that happen kept him in line. We pull into Camrose where Owen needs to use the facilities, I stay outside and clean the faceshields. Upon his return we discovered a fresh oil stain under my kickstand. A second o-"poo poo" moment in two rides. Several moments of frantic groping under the engine revealed no wetspots and a couple of burned fingers. Looks like I'm not leaking as even my kickstand is dry. Check the dipstick, then fire it up, still has oil pressure, but I'll keep my eye on it for the duration of the ride. Guess it came from the car that parked there before, I should have known as the oil was clold. But as we all know we don't always think correctly when we worry. :frusty:

Mount up and continue South, now Owen doesn't actually know this yet, but I nearly piled into him from behind. We come across a sign that reads, "historical sight of interest 300 meters." Travellying at 140km/h that actually requires some decent braking pressure, and all that I remember is him shrug then slow way down and pop out of staggered formation to in front of me. Ohhhh bugger, slow down, slow down, slow down. Gravel.. errrgh. Stopped with lots of space, but I'm glad I was watching the road and not the scenery. That might have been bad.

We also got to see a deer laying on the side of the road. It's a surprising feeling to find it's leg 50 meters further down the road. Ugh.

Despite the close calls we arrived safely in Stettler for a quick lunch. I had indicated that I wanted to try one of the smaller places, but we ended up at Tim Hortins. Which was actually great because the following conversation took place with my friends.
"What did you do today?"
"Rode 400km round trip to Stettler."
"Why?"
"Tim Hortons."
"WHAT??? There's one around the corner!"
"That would be the point."

After lunch we tracked back to the West toward Red Deer, Owen took me through some of the twisty bits which was a LOT of fun, I scrubbed some new areas on my tires, the chicken strips are getting smaller and smaller :D At one point he motioned for me to take the lead through a couple of long sweepers down into and back out of the river valley. It was AMAZING! I didn't even realize how fast I was going until I looked back and realized that he wasn't there.

After I slowed down and he caught up we pulled into Red Deer and stopped at another Tim Hortons where we met a really cool old oil-rig worker. He's been fired 4 times and rehired for more money each time. He lives to ride and won't let ANYTHING get in his way. He regailed us with tales of hopping on his goldwing at 3 AM to ride to Regina for pickled eggs. "All I need is my bike and a direction. If I feel like going on a ride at 3 AM, I go for a "procreating" ride at 3 AM." I hope to have that sort of freedom some day.

At this point Owen and I parted ways, heading home. He went West through Red Deer, and I went North along highway 2A, one of the few twisty roads in Alberta. 140km.h and the machine becomes a part of me. I'm flying, effortless passes carving turns, slipping around any obstacles on the road. As my friend once said, "we are the people our parents warned us about." There wasn't a car that could keep up with me. It was easy riding even at that speed, the wind had died off, and the tank bag acted sort of like a windshield, helping to deflect some of the wind off my chest. I can't wait to get a my windshield for this poor little naked.

Faster then I would have thought possible I was back in Leduc down 50th Street to get to 21 north. When I stopped to make that left turn however... I had a big surprise. My legs had stiffened up, almost so badly that I nearly didn't get my foot down in time. But, where there is a will... Left onto 21 and I'm gone. It's just a short ride from there to my house.

I arrive safe and relatively sound, surrounded by the stench of dead bugs. My helmet and jacket are a uniform spray of dead bug bits. Alternating colors of grey, yellow, red, and green. Nasty. I cannot see the backs of my mirrors, and my headlight barely works. Ugh, I'll wash it tomorrow! But I have to say I love that smell, bugs rotting in the sun, leather, and gasoline mixed into fresh air. Smells like freedom to me.
Last edited by Sev on Fri Dec 16, 2005 1:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Of course I'm generalizing from a single example here, but everyone does that. At least I do.

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#29 Unread post by Gadjet »

Nice write up Jeff.

You just made one slight error. The guy we chatted with at McD's in Leduc was riding a Kawasaki Vulcan 800 Classic, not a Triumph.

Next time, you pick the route.

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#30 Unread post by Sev »

I thought that we saw 2 triumphs, one at Mcdicks and one at the first Tims?
Of course I'm generalizing from a single example here, but everyone does that. At least I do.

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