09-10-2007, 10:36 PM
Well, the weekend of the 1st was also the annual Finger Lakes rally, hosted by the Finger Lakes BMW club.
I decided, on a whim, that I was going to go. I called Claire on Tuesday, and asked her what her plans were for the weekend, then I told her we were going to ride up to New York on Saturday. It would be the fourth time she had ridden on a motorcycle.
We left about 9:30 on Saturday, under clear skies and cool weather. We took 81 up to Harrisburg, and then stitched our way through northern Pennsylvania to the New York Border. Naturally, the scenery was beautiful. We covered ground rapidly, and only lost time due to frequent stops (the best way to travel). My father loaned me his R1100S for the trip, since it had large enough saddlebags and was comfortable for two up. It had no problem cruising the highway at 80, even with 380lbs of people and at least 50lbs of gear. It also had no problems cruising backroads at 70, carrying both of us in relative comfort through whatever twists and turns Pennsylvania could throw at us. Claire was happy, I was happy, the weather was amazing....I couldn't have asked for better weather for our first tour. We got to Watkins Glen about 6:30 that night, stopped for beer, and headed to the campground. Driving through Watkins glen was wild. I've never seen so many BMW's on the street in my life. I was happy. Their license plates were from all over too.....Quebec, NC, VA, MA, CA, NV....people rode in from all over the country. And judging from the scenery, I had no questions why this was one of the most popular rallies on the calendar. So, we got to the campground. It felt like a homecoming.....everywhere I've been I've been the defender of BMW, but here.....I didn't need to defend anything. Fields full of tents and Beemers, some as old as 1953, had all ridden here for this event. As we rode in everyone smiled and waved, it was like a parade. We hop off and someone comes up and says hello, tells us there is an open campsite next to their tent, offers us a beer and introduces himself. It was amazing.
![[Image: DSC01011.jpg]](http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p26/PGK4130/DSC01011.jpg)
Our camp. We camped next to a bunch of folks that had ridden out from Detroit Michigan. We also camped next to a kitten who was inhabiting a cabin nearby.
![[Image: DSC01012.jpg]](http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p26/PGK4130/DSC01012.jpg)
That's Claire, with the kitten, who was christened Beemer. Claire had a good time on her fourth motorcycle ride.
I was reminded, the next morning, of how small the BMW community is. I had pitched my tent right next to someone I work with every day, the Parts manager at Bob's and frequent club racer Bucky Sexton. We chatted the next morning and he recommended some ride routes and wineries to sample.
This region of New York Is renowned for its wineries, at least a dozen on each finger lake. We went to Castel Gritsch early on Sunday.
![[Image: DSC01016.jpg]](http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p26/PGK4130/DSC01016.jpg)
![[Image: DSC01015.jpg]](http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p26/PGK4130/DSC01015.jpg)
![[Image: DSC01013.jpg]](http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p26/PGK4130/DSC01013.jpg)
The winery was gorgeous, with a fantastic view of Lake Seneca. The wine was good too.
After that we stitched our way through Amish country over to lake Keuka, to go to Dr. Franks winery. The ride was beautiful, the roads fast and flowing, but lots of Amish out in the buggies. It was, after all, sunday. We waved, they waved, we were all happy. Unfortunately, a Sunday afternoon on Labor Day weekend is not the time to go wine-tasting. Dr. Franks was packed, with a line out the door. The cool part was the dozen or so BMW's in the parking lot, and I also (small world? small BMW world?), bumped into my big boss, Bob of Bob's BMW, there. We chatted for a bit, I asked him how his new bike was doing, as I had just done the break-in service on it. We went on our way without tasting anything, made our way back to Hammondsport for lunch. After that we headed back to the campsite.
Back at the campsite, we hung out with my friend and former co-worker George, who was there selling parts in the vendor area. He and I worked at Morton's together, and we've stayed in touch since. George is a true beemerphile, you show him a part and he will tell you what bike it came from and when. He gave me a pair of 800cc cylinders and pistons and a bottle of brake fluid. I needed the brake fluid because during our ride, the ABS on the bike kept faulting, which generally means the wheel circuit fluid is low. Back at the campsite, I took the bodywork off to access the ABS unit and top off the fluid.
Now, anytime anyone is working on a bike at one of these rallies, it becomes a magnet. While I was working no fewer than two dozen people stopped by to ask what's up, need help, need tools, need beer, whatever. While I was doing that, I chatted with a fellow who rode up on an 80-something K100RT, that wouldn't start. We chatted, he's been riding since before I was born, and had ridden there with his wife. He was interested in getting an R1100S, but I think I helped steer him towards a new R1200ST. Anyways, I told him I'd help him out with his bike later on, after dinner.
We go to dinner, and while we are eating the Finger Lakes club holds the door prize giveaway and the raffle. We didn't win anything. They also announce statistics. The oldest person at the Rally was 73. The youngest was 6 months (rode up in the sidecar). The average age at the rally went up, which sucks because BMW, and the BMW community has been pushing to lower the average age recently.
I run into Rich, with the busted K100RT, and I go over to take a look. Again, like I said earlier, you start working on a bike and it attracts people like a magnet. As soon as the seat is up and the toolkit is out at least 20 people appear and offer help. We start work around 8:30, and a few of the people gathered actually offer useful help. We think it's a bad ground through the starter, so we pull the starter and start to take it apart. unfortunately, one of the screws holding the starter together starts to round out, but we manage to get some penetrating oil and a small cigarette lighter torch, get it apart, clean it, and reassemble. but it doesn't start. at this point, someone in the crowd asks if we checked the battery, I say "no, we don't have a multimeter". then, the guy next to me, who has been working with us the whole night says "I've got a multimeter in my pocket". nice. So, we find out the battery only has a surface charge. But where do we get a battery? Wal-mart. they're open, so I loan Rich the R1100S to go get the battery, he comes back, it starts, and we celebrate with a 12 pack of Bud.
I went to bed that night drunker than I'd ever been. It was fuckin' awesome. It was great to be a part of that, because that kind of camaraderie doesn't exist anywhere else. About 6 of us had waited up for Rich and the battery.
The next morning, we woke up late and hung over as hell, hopped on the bike and rode back. on the way, we saw this:
![[Image: DSC01020.jpg]](http://i124.photobucket.com/albums/p26/PGK4130/DSC01020.jpg)
A live bait vending machine.
ninja edit: this weekend was also the Ferrari Club of America meeting at the Watkins Glen racetrack. We woke up to the sounds of high-strung Italians V8's and V12's Sunday morning, then our ride through Watkins Glen later that afternoon was surreal.....the main street is pure Americana, full of old American pickups and sedans, but at the same time, for this weekend, hundreds of BMW motorcycles and dozens of Ferraris....quite surreal.
I decided, on a whim, that I was going to go. I called Claire on Tuesday, and asked her what her plans were for the weekend, then I told her we were going to ride up to New York on Saturday. It would be the fourth time she had ridden on a motorcycle.
We left about 9:30 on Saturday, under clear skies and cool weather. We took 81 up to Harrisburg, and then stitched our way through northern Pennsylvania to the New York Border. Naturally, the scenery was beautiful. We covered ground rapidly, and only lost time due to frequent stops (the best way to travel). My father loaned me his R1100S for the trip, since it had large enough saddlebags and was comfortable for two up. It had no problem cruising the highway at 80, even with 380lbs of people and at least 50lbs of gear. It also had no problems cruising backroads at 70, carrying both of us in relative comfort through whatever twists and turns Pennsylvania could throw at us. Claire was happy, I was happy, the weather was amazing....I couldn't have asked for better weather for our first tour. We got to Watkins Glen about 6:30 that night, stopped for beer, and headed to the campground. Driving through Watkins glen was wild. I've never seen so many BMW's on the street in my life. I was happy. Their license plates were from all over too.....Quebec, NC, VA, MA, CA, NV....people rode in from all over the country. And judging from the scenery, I had no questions why this was one of the most popular rallies on the calendar. So, we got to the campground. It felt like a homecoming.....everywhere I've been I've been the defender of BMW, but here.....I didn't need to defend anything. Fields full of tents and Beemers, some as old as 1953, had all ridden here for this event. As we rode in everyone smiled and waved, it was like a parade. We hop off and someone comes up and says hello, tells us there is an open campsite next to their tent, offers us a beer and introduces himself. It was amazing.
Our camp. We camped next to a bunch of folks that had ridden out from Detroit Michigan. We also camped next to a kitten who was inhabiting a cabin nearby.
That's Claire, with the kitten, who was christened Beemer. Claire had a good time on her fourth motorcycle ride.
I was reminded, the next morning, of how small the BMW community is. I had pitched my tent right next to someone I work with every day, the Parts manager at Bob's and frequent club racer Bucky Sexton. We chatted the next morning and he recommended some ride routes and wineries to sample.
This region of New York Is renowned for its wineries, at least a dozen on each finger lake. We went to Castel Gritsch early on Sunday.
The winery was gorgeous, with a fantastic view of Lake Seneca. The wine was good too.
After that we stitched our way through Amish country over to lake Keuka, to go to Dr. Franks winery. The ride was beautiful, the roads fast and flowing, but lots of Amish out in the buggies. It was, after all, sunday. We waved, they waved, we were all happy. Unfortunately, a Sunday afternoon on Labor Day weekend is not the time to go wine-tasting. Dr. Franks was packed, with a line out the door. The cool part was the dozen or so BMW's in the parking lot, and I also (small world? small BMW world?), bumped into my big boss, Bob of Bob's BMW, there. We chatted for a bit, I asked him how his new bike was doing, as I had just done the break-in service on it. We went on our way without tasting anything, made our way back to Hammondsport for lunch. After that we headed back to the campsite.
Back at the campsite, we hung out with my friend and former co-worker George, who was there selling parts in the vendor area. He and I worked at Morton's together, and we've stayed in touch since. George is a true beemerphile, you show him a part and he will tell you what bike it came from and when. He gave me a pair of 800cc cylinders and pistons and a bottle of brake fluid. I needed the brake fluid because during our ride, the ABS on the bike kept faulting, which generally means the wheel circuit fluid is low. Back at the campsite, I took the bodywork off to access the ABS unit and top off the fluid.
Now, anytime anyone is working on a bike at one of these rallies, it becomes a magnet. While I was working no fewer than two dozen people stopped by to ask what's up, need help, need tools, need beer, whatever. While I was doing that, I chatted with a fellow who rode up on an 80-something K100RT, that wouldn't start. We chatted, he's been riding since before I was born, and had ridden there with his wife. He was interested in getting an R1100S, but I think I helped steer him towards a new R1200ST. Anyways, I told him I'd help him out with his bike later on, after dinner.
We go to dinner, and while we are eating the Finger Lakes club holds the door prize giveaway and the raffle. We didn't win anything. They also announce statistics. The oldest person at the Rally was 73. The youngest was 6 months (rode up in the sidecar). The average age at the rally went up, which sucks because BMW, and the BMW community has been pushing to lower the average age recently.
I run into Rich, with the busted K100RT, and I go over to take a look. Again, like I said earlier, you start working on a bike and it attracts people like a magnet. As soon as the seat is up and the toolkit is out at least 20 people appear and offer help. We start work around 8:30, and a few of the people gathered actually offer useful help. We think it's a bad ground through the starter, so we pull the starter and start to take it apart. unfortunately, one of the screws holding the starter together starts to round out, but we manage to get some penetrating oil and a small cigarette lighter torch, get it apart, clean it, and reassemble. but it doesn't start. at this point, someone in the crowd asks if we checked the battery, I say "no, we don't have a multimeter". then, the guy next to me, who has been working with us the whole night says "I've got a multimeter in my pocket". nice. So, we find out the battery only has a surface charge. But where do we get a battery? Wal-mart. they're open, so I loan Rich the R1100S to go get the battery, he comes back, it starts, and we celebrate with a 12 pack of Bud.
I went to bed that night drunker than I'd ever been. It was fuckin' awesome. It was great to be a part of that, because that kind of camaraderie doesn't exist anywhere else. About 6 of us had waited up for Rich and the battery.
The next morning, we woke up late and hung over as hell, hopped on the bike and rode back. on the way, we saw this:
A live bait vending machine.
ninja edit: this weekend was also the Ferrari Club of America meeting at the Watkins Glen racetrack. We woke up to the sounds of high-strung Italians V8's and V12's Sunday morning, then our ride through Watkins Glen later that afternoon was surreal.....the main street is pure Americana, full of old American pickups and sedans, but at the same time, for this weekend, hundreds of BMW motorcycles and dozens of Ferraris....quite surreal.
horizontally opposed>*
:thumbup: