Labor Daze

It has been a while since my last entry on this blog. Not because nothing has happened this past summer, au contraire, too much has gone down leaving me virtually no spare time to tell you about it. Things that have never given any trouble before have suddenly conspired to break. Other things that should have broken down years ago finally did. I’ve had tractor troubles. My “new” truck developed electrical gremlins and my lawnmower engine grenaded right in the prime lawn-mowing season.
Consider my latest episode on Labor Day weekend: Saturday morning. We were getting ready to leave the house to take in the sights and sounds of the Rice County Antique Tractor and Steam Engine Days near Dundas. My wife casually mentioned to me “There is no water pressure in the kitchen faucet.” Not being one to be alarmed by such statements, I proceeded to run down the checklist of possible causes like the water filter needing to be changed or the circuit breaker switch on the pump being tripped to anything else that could go wrong with our well like a (gulp) bad pump. I found the culprit soon enough, a tripped breaker on the pump circuit. So, I flipped the breaker back on. I tripped almost immediately. I flipped it back on with the same result. This was not good. There was probably a short somewhere but where? A quick call to plumber Mark ( I was quite relieved when he actually answered the phone on a holiday weekend) and he had a few suggestions to look for like a burned out pressure switch, so I checked that. Nope, everything looked good there. His other thought is that maybe a critter had chewed through the wire somewhere between the pump and the electrical box, a distance of several hundred feet. Rare, but it happens, I guess. This would be harder to find and would require fresh wire to be laid on top of the ground and then wired in to both the pumphouse and the electrical box for testing purposes. Not the sort of thing I had anticipated doing on a long holiday weekend. My other option was to fire up my generator and hook that up to the pump to make sure that it was working. Naturally, the generator didn’t exactly fire up on the first pull, or the second for that matter, having sat around for a couple of years with old gas in the tank. A quick fuel system cleaning was performed and I had the beast running, although I had to keep the choke on about halfway for it to run cleanly.
Once the generator was hooked up to run the pump, I could see the pressure gauge making steady progress in the positive direction. Whew. That meant that the pump was in working order so no need to pull the well. That also meant that running a new wire from the breaker box to the pump was my next order of business. Off we went to Menards to gather the necessary supplies. Buying a two hundred fifty foot roll of wire was an eye-opener as well, but then it has been a while since I bought any electrical supplies so I should have expected that.
By the time we got back home it was too dark to attempt any kind of wiring project so I just left the generator hooked up to the pumphouse. We were able to at least take showers before bedtime, however, I had to run back outside after my shower and turn off the generator or it would just keep on running until it ran out of gas. So far, this episode had all the makings of a bad camping trip.
The next day, Sunday, I proceeded to run the new wire from the breaker box to the pumphouse. Once that was completed and the breaker
flipped back on, all systems were go, once again. We had water pressure. Oh happy day!
There was still the matter of burying the new wire and so the next day, Labor Day Monday, I commenced digging a shallow trench for the wire to lay in. Since I had to trench across part of the driveway with its compacted gravel, I retrieved an old pickaxe from the shed and started hacking away at the driveway. A thought occurred to me as I was swinging the crude implement, with the late summer sun beating down, sweat soaking my shirt and it was this: “Here I am, laboring on Labor Day. How appropriate.”
About an hour of that and I decided to see if the local hardware store was open and if they had any kind of powered trencher on hand. Wonder of wonders, the hardware store guy said they were open til 3pm and yes, they had a small trencher that I could rent. I made a beeline for the store and was back within the hour with the trencher in the back of my truck. After unloading said unit and firing it up, I commenced some real trenching. Sweet. This was going to be so much more fun than digging by hand! I had only gone about two feet when the machine found a buried rock and proceeded to smoke one of its two main drive belts. It looked like decision time. Do I take the machine back? (Yet another trip to town.) Or, do I keep going, with only one drive belt powering the trencher? I opted to keep trenching, carefully, so as to prolong the lone remaining belts’ life. All was well until I was about ten feet from finishing up when the machine found another rock and smoked the remaining belt. I guess we were done at that point. I would have to finish up trenching by hand. Sigh.
That’s about how it goes around our place. So close, but yet so far. It could have been worse, I guess. The well could have had to be pulled or a new one drilled. An endeavor like that makes me see dollar signs when I close my eyes. This whole experience has given me a new-found appreciation of seeing a steady stream of water whenever a faucet is turned on. I’m sure those of you who have your own well can relate.

Geo-trike, again!

P254-344-256-368-000h-0037-c11-l057-02-0360-1080-0359-1079-000-LB00-1P254-339-256-374-000h-0037-c11-l059-02-0360-1080-0359-1079-000-LB00-1 So last week I finally got the Geo-trike back in running order after the big digger it took back in January. It still needs a windshield as there are numerous cracks in the old one and I need to get it replaced before getting stopped by law enforcement. I found a door from a guy in Oslo, MN of all places. That is an interesting story in itself and here is how it went; After perusing Craigslist for Geo Metro parts most of the winter, I found a guy in Rochester who had a four-door Metro he was parting out. However, he was still asking $800.00 for the thing, way too much for my taste just to harvest the door and maybe a fender. Anyway, I called him and told him to let me know if he sold it or not as he was looking to move it by the weekend. Low and behold, wouldn’t you know it, he actually called and said he had sold it to a guy in Oslo and he even gave me the guys’ phone number, of all things! I called the Oslo guy, whose name turned out to be Jeff and after conversing a while, found out that he is a bit of a Geo Metro nut, even belonging to a club of Geo Metro owners and having a small collection of the things parked out back of his house. I had no idea there even was such a thing as a Metro owners club. They even have a website dedicated to the things. We made an appointment for me to come down to his place on a Sunday afternoon and have a look at his stash of Metro parts and so I made the trek in my truck.
It was a cold, rainy day in late April when I arrived at his place. He was a friendly enough sort of guy and he proceeded to take me out back to his collection of Geo Metros parked in the weeds. There were eight or ten of them in various states, some with no wheels and missing body parts. I spotted a red four door that had minimal rust and I inquired as to the price of the drivers side door and front fender. “Sixty bucks for the pair” he replied. That worked for me. However, I had neglected to bring any tools with me for the removal process so Jeff brought out his toolbox and we set to work removing the door and fender. By now the rain and a foul east wind had picked up in intensity and his daughter found an umbrella to hold over us in a feeble attempt to keep us dry. Fifteen or twenty minutes of struggling with rusted bolts and the fender and door were removed and in the back of my truck. We then went into his modest house and exchanged emails, payment for the parts and I found out more about the Metro club events. Seems they have a Metro weekend in August and he invited me to come down and enjoy the festivities. He told me they will get fifteen or twenty Metros at this little gathering and they all stand around and talk about modifying their Metros. That sounded like my kind of party so I proceeded to describe my Geo-trike to him and he got even more excited and said that my trike would be a big hit at the “convention”. I told him I would make a serious effort to attend the party and then headed out the door and hit the highway for home.
I was happy to meet such a nice guy who is very sympathetic to the Geo brand and even more tickled to get the much needed parts for my Geo-trike at a good price. The only stipulation he required was that I bring back the old door for him to mount back on the donor car to keep the rain from destroying the interior. I told him this would not be a problem and so a couple weeks later, after I had the Geo-trike back in running order, I made the trip to Oslo and Jeffs’ place to return the wrecked door as per our agreement. As I pulled into the driveway the dogs sounded a warning bark and I saw a few heads peek out the house windows. I had barely come to a stop when Jeff, his wife and their two kids came piling out of the place. Seems they had seen me coming and noticed that this was no ordinary Geo at their house. His wife even had the cell phone camera at the ready and started snapping pics right away. Her comment was “I can’t wait to post this on Facebook. Nobody will believe it”! I stayed a good half hour, swapping Geo-trike stories with them and Jeff insisted that I “Just gotta come back in August for the Geo party”. I assured him that I would make a serious attempt and then I headed for home again, from Oslo, Minnesota, of all places. Strange days indeed.

First ride and a sign from above.


     That first ride of the year can sometimes be an adventure. Last week we had a couple of warm days, a kind of teaser that spring likes to pull on us this time of year. Anyway, the warm weather triggered the bike bug in me and so I decided to fire up the 550 Suzook and take it for a quick spin. Since the big bike (my trusty ST1100) is still on the workbench waiting for me to finish some overdue winter work, the 550 was the next logical choice. I was  anticipating riding it to work on Thursday and that actually got me motivated. After installing the battery and siphoning gas from the snowblower (hopefully I won’t need to run that til next winter!) the old girl fired right up and off I went. I’m usually a bit rusty after not riding all winter and this year is no exception. I made a couple of passes out on the highway and spotted my neighbor, Jerry, out raking the gravel back onto his driveway so I stopped to chat with him a bit. After leaving his place, I rode back home and decided to replace the rear tire on the bike with a better looking used one that I found in my collection of too-good-to-throw-away used tires.  I had about an hour to mount the tire, and take a test ride before lunch and then it would be off to work for me. The tire mounting went OK and I had it done with about fifteen minutes to spare before noontime. Perfect, I thought. Just a quick test ride up the highway for a mile or so and I would be back just in time for lunch. Off I went, again, down the driveway. I had just pulled out onto the blacktop and hooked second gear when the bike revved out of sight, like I had missed a shift or something. Except that I didn’t. I looked back and thought that maybe the chain had come off the sprocket. Nope. There was no chain dragging or anything so I pulled over and stopped. There in the middle of the highway was my chain, alright. After waiting for a couple of cars to pass, I walked back and inspected said chain. The master link had pulled apart, causing the chain to be spit right out the back of the bike. Not a good situation, but at least I wasn’t too far from home, so I started pushing the bike. I had only gone about a hundred yards up the driveway when I figured I might as well abandon that effort and walk back to get my truck. The walk home gave me some time to reflect on what could have gone wrong. I had replaced the chain last summer and it was a good quality O-ring type chain. The kind that will go at least 10k before wearing out. Since the safety clip was missing I could only assume that it had parted company at some point and the sideplate had fallen off too, sometime before the chain derailed itself. I had removed the chain from the rear sprocket for the tire replacement procedure but had not taken the master link off, or inspected it upon reassembly, something I wish now that I had done. In forty years of riding, I have never tossed a chain on a streetbike and maybe only one time on a dirtbike that I can remember. Strange.  Anyway, I got back home, took the truck back down to the disabled bike, loaded it up and hauled it back to the shop. By now it was just past noon and there was no time to find a replacement master link, put the chain back on and eat lunch and then round up my riding gear, rain suit and backpack before it was time to go to work so I was forced to drive my truck on the first really nice warm day. Bummer! But, that’s how it goes. I took the whole episode as a sign that I should not ride to work that day. On the way to work, in my truck, I kept looking out for hazards that I might have encountered if I had been on two wheels but saw none. Better safe than sorry, I guess. There will be plenty of better riding days to come, hopefully, and maybe I will just have to ride my trusty ST1100 to work first, like I usually do.    

Joys of Craigslist


     I use Craigslist alot for selling bikes, parts and just about anything motorcycle related. Most of the time I have pretty good luck, although, if you are selling something, figure on 90% of the people who show any interest to eventually “flake” on you and leave you hanging. Consider my latest episode: I figured it would be a good time to list my ’79 CR125 Elsinore, since it being March, early spring and all. I had a few hits early on and one guy, turns out he is from Burnsville, seemed fairly serious. After exchanging a few emails he expressed an interest in looking at the bike. He also stated that he wouldn’t be interested at my asking price of $2500.00, more in the neighborhood of 2000.00. I figured that since he was the one that showed the most interest, I might as well accomodate him and so I aggreed that I would take the 2k if he liked what he saw. We tentatively set up a meeting for last Saturday afternoon in Faribault. It would be a short jaunt for him down I-35 and I could zip over on Highway 60 in about a half hour. I always like to meet in a nuetral location when dealing with Craigslist folks, just as a precaution.   Anyway, Friday came and I rolled the bike out of the basement, put some premix in the tank, enough to run it anyway, and gave the beast a couple of kicks. This was all done to make sure that the bike would start and run well for the buyer. Keep in mind that I have had this bike for about sixteen years, had restored it about ten years ago and have never started or ridden it in all that time. To say that this was a momenteous occaision would be an understatement. Naturally, the bike started up just fine and settled into a fast idle, sounding every bit as good as a brand new ’79 should. The only problem was a slight gas leak at the fuel shutoff valve, most likely due to a rubber gasket that had dried up and shrank during all those years in storage. After taking care of that little setback, it was test ride time! Since our driveway is still mostly mud and there are snowbanks everywhere else, the only place left was the sidewalk on the east side of the barn. A couple trips back and forth on that were done and I was even able to get the bike into second gear, briefly. That brought back some memories, allright. With the test run completed and the engine up to operating temp, there wasn’t much left to do except roll the bike back into the shop and wait for the buyer to call. The rest of the day passed with no contact from the buyer to set up the meeting time or location. Hmm. There might be a problem. Finally, Saturday morning, I called him at about 10am and left a message on his voicemail. About an hour later I received a text on my cell from him, basically stating that he had been in touch with some “buddies” out in California and they informed him that CR125s like mine were going for $1500-1700 in mint condition and would I consider going that low? I texted him back and said that “no, I’m still wanting the 2k”. I had already come down by five hundred so I figured he could at least meet me half way. He sent me another text informing me that without the original owners manual and paperwork (something I never had in the first place) and the fact that the seat cover wasn’t original, he couldn’t go any higher than $1600.00. So I texted him back and basically said “2K or no sale”. That was it. No more contact, nothing, nada, zipp-o. All this haggling over price and he hadn’t even looked at the bike or heard it run. Made me wonder what kind of buyer was he, anyway? Certainly not a serious collector, or someone I would like to see end up with the bike.  In previous emails I learned that he was  real estate appraiser by profession and was looking to acquire the bike as an investment. That would explain alot, actually. What I should have told him was that I had one of these bikes, back in the day, and actually raced it. They were fast but that goofy twenty-three inch front wheel acted like a huge gyroscope and made the bike hard to turn in tight corners. The guys on Suzukis and Yamahas would run right underneath you in a corner while you were busy trying to turn. Not good. That and the fact that the rear shocks were junk from the factory was a huge turnoff for a lot of guys and so the ’79 was not a huge seller back then. In fact, I can only remember seeing a half dozen or so at any given race back then. Most every other bike was yellow. For this reason the ’79 CR125s are kinda rare around here. I realize that the market in California is different but if the guy thinks he can buy a mint condition CR for $1600.00 and then get it back home for less than 400.00 in shipping, gas or whatever, than he should go for it. Meanwhile, mine is still for sale. Any takers?

Half-time of Winter

Mechanics Corner, Halftime Score

      So now it’s February, or as I like to call it, the Halftime of Winter. Spring is still a ways off and Christmas is a distant memory. It’s halftime. This has been a particularly challenging winter here at the Hinzmann homestead, or maybe it just seems that way because the last few have been fairly easy. Maybe it just seems harsher because I’m not getting any younger. At any rate, I can see now why people head south in the winter. Just to escape the cruel clutches of sub-zero days and nights would be worth it at this point. What I wouldn’t give to go outside in a T-shirt right about now!
     Like any contest, halftime is a good time to take stock of the score and plan your strategy for the second half. Just for fun, I came up with a points system as a way of keeping score with Old Man Winter. For every difficulty that comes my way that is weather related, I give Winter a point. For every situation that causes me trouble that I actually overcome, I give myself a point. So here we go. The first point goes to Old Man Winter for causing us some angst when our “good” car acted up back in December, prompting a tow back to our place along with a hefty bill. Give me a point for getting the car running without spending any more money on the problem. Point number two also goes to Old Man Winter when the new furnace we had installed last summer quit working on the coldest night of the year. Give me a point for having our backup heating source (corn stove) running at the same time so at least we didn’t freeze to death or have frozen pipes.
Old Man Winter got an easy point when the slush that was on the road caused the Geo-trike I was driving to leave the roadway and roll, (see previous Answer Man column in the Post-Bulletin for all the details). Give me a point for driving the thing thirty miles back home with no drivers side window.
Old Man Winter gets another point for causing my tractor to break down right before extreme cold and blizzard conditions were predicted to hit the area back in January. Give me a point for getting the tractor fixed about four hours before the bad weather actually arrived.
     So at halftime it looks like the score is tied up, four-all. My strategy for the second half of winter will be about the same as the first; try to match Old Man Winter point for point until spring rolls around. Which, after this season, will be none too soon. What’s your half-time score?

PTO shaft from Ol’ Bessie

PTO shaft from Ol' Bessie

This used to be one piece.

Winter continues to bring forth its challenges. Consider what happened to me over last weekend. Friday, my day off. Cold but not too bad. I decided to take Ol’ Bessie out and do some maintenance on the driveway. There were some drifts on the hilltop that needed to be blown off and also about three inches of fresh snow to deal with. I had just started in with the snowblower, maybe twenty or thirty feet when the blower stopped blowing. You know it happens because the engine will “unload” for a brief second before the governor takes over. I looked back at the snowblower. I saw the PTO shaft laying in the snow, still attatched to the blower but unattached to the tractor. “That’s odd”, I thought. Maybe the coupler came off the shaft, rare but it happens. So I stopped the tractor, got off and had a look. That’s when I discovered that the PTO shaft on the tractor had snapped right off at the housing. A sinking feeling came over me. The same type of feeling you have right before the tornado hits your house, or when your car leaves the roadway at highway speed. This was bad. Winter was barely half over. We needed Ol’ Bessie to be in working order for at least another three months! I had a lot of snow to move and with the ditches being full, the best way to move it is with the snowblower, which was now inoperable. I remounted the tractor, turned around and proceeded to push snow with the front mounted snow blade. It was not nearly as efficient as the blower but at least our driveway would be passable, for now. The problem with blading snow is that eventually, like now, the snow builds up on the sides of the road and then when the wind comes, those snowbanks act like a snowfence and any blowing snow piles up right where you don’t want it, on your driveway. The forecast was for high winds and extreme cold starting on Sunday. That meant that I had about a day and a half to get this situation rectified before all hell broke loose. I got the driveway as clean as possible and even managed to deploy my “poor man’s snow fence”. This is done by taking Ol’ Bessie out into the field adjacent to our driveway and with the blade down, push a clear path parallel with the driveway for a distance of roughly one hundred yards. This clear path makes snowbanks on either side of it that trap the blowing snow, temporarily, so that it won’t deposit snow where you don’t want it, which is on the driveway. This manuever is a last ditch effort and a one time shot all rolled into one. Desperation? You bet! After that was done, I headed for the shop. A little finaggling and I had Ol’ Bessie in the warm shop and ready to be worked on. I made a phone call to my buddy Steve, who just happens to be a Farmall guru, of sorts. Meaning that he has had experience taking things like this PTO drive apart. I told him my dilema, he suggested calling an outfit in central Wisconsin called Downing Tractor Parts. They have lots of parts for old beasts like Bessie. The only trouble was they are located a two hour drive from me, on a good day. Since it was Friday night by this time, they were closed and their hours on Saturday were from 7:30 til noon. I would have to call them early on and then, if they had the part, hop in my truck and make the trek before they closed. It would be tight but it was doable. Oh, yeah, and he told me the part would be expensive. How bad, I asked? Maybe five or six hundred bucks. Ouch! But what choice did I have, really? Ol’ Bessie is sixty years old now and not exactly a spring chicken. I would have to just grin and bear it.
The next morning, Saturday, I got up bright and early, made the call to Downing Tractor. The guy said he would have to check “downstairs” to see if they had the part and he would call right back. So I waited. A half hour went by. I started getting nervous. In order for my plan to work, the guy would have to confirm that they had the part and I would have to hit the road in short order. I made a call to the International Dealer in Plainview. The parts guy there assured me that all the parts in the PTO housing area for Ol’ Bessie were obsolete but he did give me the number of a guy in Potsdam who worked on old tractors and maybe he might have the part I needed. So I called the Potsdam guy. He told me that no, he had no such part but that a guy in Zumbro Falls might and gave me his number. This was getting interesting, in a wild goose chase sort of way. Turns out that the Zumbro Falls guy was none other than Nick Graves. I used to do business with his dad, Al, who is something of a Farmall guru himself and I even repaired young Nicks Honda ATC70 way back when he was just a lad. Anyway, I got ahold of Nick and he told me that he had the part I needed but that it was still in a PTO housing he had and that he wanted one hundred bucks for it. I asked him how soon could I get it? He was on his way to Missouri, probably on a buying trip, but he told me his partner could meet me at his shop in about an hour. I hung up the phone and made a beeline for Nicks’ shop in Zumbro Falls. His partner already had the PTO housing removed from the donor tractor and sitting in the shop when I got there. I paid the man, we lugged the part to my truck and I headed home, thankful that I was able to get the much needed part so quick and without spending most of the day on a road trip to Wisconsin.
After getting home with the hundred pound PTO housing, I proceeded to take it apart and removed the shaft that I needed and installed it in Ol’ Bessies’ housing. I was able to wrap up the project by about 3:30pm. Just in time to get ready for church. The next morning, bright and early, I fired up Ol’ Bessie, drove her out of the garage and remounted the snowblower. There were a couple trouble spots on the driveway that needed attention and they would be a good test for the old girl. I could tell right away she was back to her old self and even seemed to run a bit smoother as well. That old shaft must have had a bit of a wobble to it before it broke.
I finished up the snowblowing and parked Ol’ Bessie in the shed, just in time, too. By early afternoon that cold front came roaring through, bringing with it white-out conditions and sub zero temps, just like the weatherman had said would happen. At that point it didn’t matter, Ol’ Bessie was back in working order and I was confident that together we could clean up any drifting left over by the winds. Yep, winter on the farm is not without challenges, don’tcha know.

Bike show blues

Last Friday I took my annual trip to the Twin Towns to attend the bike show at the Convention Center. Even though I left somewhat earlier this year I still got in a bit of rush hour traffic on 494 and 35W. Man, you couldn’t pay me enough to live up there and deal with that everyday. The roads were clear and dry too, I can’t imagine how bad it would be with some snow and ice added into the mix. Anyway, I made it to the show without missing my exit this year, unlike last year when it took an extra forty five minutes to get back to where I needed to be. 

 I met up with my brother and his buddy near the Harley-Davidson exhibit and we proceeded to wander around  checking out various displays. It’s always nice to see the new iron but then sticker shock rears its ugly head and reality sets in. Guess I will just run my old bike another season as it’s paid for. The styling on some of the new stuff leaves something to be desired, as well. There seems to be a trend towards dual headlights sticking out of the front ends that make some bikes look like bug-eyed freaks of nature that really turns me off. The custom bikes are a sight to see as well. Seems the builders don’t really take into account that some poeple like to actually ride their showbikes, not just trailer them around.

 I was amazed at the number of side by side four wheelers that were represented. Seems that all the major manufacturers have jumped on that bandwagon as well. Kawasaki started something over twenty years ago that is just now really taking off. With prices approaching that of a new pickup truck, I wonder how much longer this trend will last.

We stumbled around, watched the stunt rider guys try to put on a show with limited space and traction. It was entertaining to a point until one of them stepped off while trying to wheelie and go around in circles at the same time. He was unhurt, thankfully, but it took the wind out of his sails, if only for a little while, then he was right back to it. There were a bunch of kids playing rock music  on a stage set up right next to the stunt area. They did a good job of singing/playing but they were competing with the stunt announcer during their set and I felt a bit sorry for them. As an occaisional performer, I can sympathize with anyone trying to perform while another distraction is going on.

We finally found the vintage display and spent a bit of time there reliving the glory days, (the ’70s). It seems that I had personal experience either riding or fixing every bike that was on display. Guess that makes me an old-timer, for sure. It was much more interesting looking at old iron rather than the new. The new stuff is nice, I guess, but the styling can be a distraction and there is always the “unkown factor” when buying a never before produced model. You just never know how reliable that first year model will be. Whereas, with the old stuff, it is a known quantity. 

After looking at the vintage stuff for a while, hunger and thirst took its toll and so we wandered over to the food court area. They were selling burritos for eight dollars a pop so I opted for a bag of natchos, chocolate-chip cookie and a bottle of water. Even that meager selection cost me nine bucks, ouch! 

One more loop around the outside of the show area and we had pretty much seen it all, just in time too as it was nearing closing time. My brother and his friend said their goodbyes and  headed to their vehicle while I went to the parking ramp and found my truck. It cost me another nine bucks to get out of there and back onto 35W South. The bike show is always a fun time but seems to get more expensive every year. Or maybe I’m just getting older and cheaper. Whatever.    

Geo-trike, the Epilog

more dents than a golf ball

more dents than a golf ball

The aftermath of an off road excursion.

The aftermath of an off road excursion.

Last Sunday dawned warm and a bit windy. I had a jam session to attend in Kasson so I thought it would be a good day to drive the Geo-trike. The forecast was for temps in the mid-forties, the roads were dry and the Geo-trike hadn’t been driven for a couple months, so I figured it would be no problem. Wrong-O!

I left home and headed south on 57, made a stop in Kasson at the local Kwik Trip for some donuts to share at the jam session. Resuming my journey southward, I started to encounter pockets of slush on the roadway. Apparently, there had been some drifting in the morning and now the snow had started to melt. Drivers of normal cars made tracks through the slush but the Geo-trike makes three tracks, whereas normal cars make only two. This meant that I had to concentrate on avoiding large areas of slush if possible. All was well until I was about a mile from my destination, South Zumbro Lutheran Church. I was traveling at a reduced speed, avoiding the slush when  possible when I came upon a large patch of slush. I had nearly cleared the patch when that back wheel caught, hydroplaned and sent the Geo-trike completely sideways in the road. I was fighting the steering wheel like it was an octopus as the Geo-trike veered hard left, across the oncoming lane and into the ditch on the opposite side of the road. I remember seeing the front end plowing into the deep snow and then a sliding, tumbling sensation. I had closed my eyes shortly after impact, partly because I could not believe what was happening and mostly because I did not want to see, either. The tumbling continued, at one point the drivers side window broke, sending shards of safety glass everywhere. And then the sliding, crunching sounds stopped. The engine had killed, the only sound was the radio playing. I unbuckled my seat belt, good thing I was wearing that! Then I opened the door, which actually opened without too much trouble, and tumbled out into the snow to survey the damage. The Geo-trike had landed on her wheels, although it was facing the opposite direction than when she entered the ditch. I was a bit disoriented and was not able to figure out which way I had come from or which way I was headed. That’s when I realized that I had rolled the Geo-trike. Wow. First time I have ever rolled a vehicle, unless you count the many dirt bikes and a couple of streetbikes I have “rolled” in years past. Good thing there was at least two feet of soft snow in the ditch where I went in, it made for a soft landing. It was, as the body shop guys would say, a “light roll”. A large truck approached, one of those LP delivery tankers, I think. The driver asked if I was alright and if I needed a tow. I replied that yes, I was fine and asked did he have any kind of strap or chain on his truck? He told me no but that he lived about a mile away and had a tractor that would easily pull the Geo-trike out of this predicament. I thanked him for his offer and off he went to retrieve his tractor. While I waited, I got on the cell phone and called a couple of other musicians that I knew would be at this jam. I was able to get ahold of one couple, Mel and Jane. They were on the road and only a few minutes behind me. I debated calling my wife and then decided against it. She was thirty or so miles away and there was not much she could do, other than worry. Since I was in good shape and had a tow coming, I saw no need to cause her any consternation. Also while waiting I had a closer look at the wreck that used to be the Geo-trike. Both mirrors had been torn off and were half buried in the loose snow. There was shattered safety glass all over the interior and even some outside in the snow. The roof was dented in, the rear hatch stuck out to the left a couple of inches and the windshield had some spiderweb cracks in it. My instruments were piled in the back window and I hoped they were not damaged in any way, particularly my fiddle which is nearly one hundred years old. The toolbox I carry in the back was turned completely upside down and the box of donuts I had just purchased that was sitting on the front seat was now in the backseat area on the floor. I turned the key and the Geo-trike started up and settled into an idle like nothing had happened at all. Even the exhaust sounded quiet so I knew everything was good in that department as well. By now Mel and Jane had arrived and so I sat in their car to keep warm. They were a bit concerned about my welfare but I assured them that I was fine, just a bit shaken up on the play. A few more of my fellow musician friends drove up and stopped to make sure I was OK. After a long twenty minutes or so the tractor guy showed up with a newer looking four-wheel drive Massey Ferguson with a large snowblower on the back. He proceeded to drive down into the field where the Geo-trike sat patiently waiting and I followed him on foot. I attached the log chain he had brought to the rear strut and he commenced pulling the Geo-trike out of the deep snow and into the field. He manuevered his tractor towards the front of the Geo-trike and I reattached the chain to a tow hook in the front. I got in and he slowly pulled the wounded Geo-trike up and out of the field and back onto solid pavement. I offered him a twenty dollar bill for his trouble and he accepted, reluctantly. With the Geo-trike back on the road and running, there was just one thing left to do. Head to the jam. It was only a mile away and I thought it would be a good test run to see if the drive train on the Geo-trike had suffered any damage. The thing drove just fine on the way, although it was a bit breezy without a drivers side window. I stayed at the jam for a couple of hours and then headed for home. I wanted to get as far as possible before darkness settled in, just in case the Geo-trikes headlights did not work anymore. Mel and Jane offered to follow me at least as far as Wanamingo and I accepted. The thirty mile trip home was no picnic. I turned the heater up full blast so my feet stayed warm but that cold blast coming through the open window was not much fun to experience. At least it was not too cold outside, still barely above freezing. I had to avoid slush piles again and this time I went extra slow whenever I encountered one. I made it home just after dark. Turns out that the lights worked just fine, even the blinkers and tailights. The thing drove normal as well with no weird wobbles or pulling to one side, well, as normal as a Geo-trike can drive, I guess. So now I have to decide if the thing will go off to the crusher or can I get it back on the road without too much expense. It really just needs a drivers door and window. Maybe a windshield too and I could probably just pound out some of the dents. I may just part it out and start with a new project. I have my eye out for a Honda Civic hatchback, ’92-00 years. I think one of those would make a good trike. They sit fairly low and have a wide stance. Now I just need to find one, cheap. So what have I learned from this episode, you ask? Only this: three wheeled cars should only be driven when the roads are clear, ice, snow and slush free, much like a motorcycle.

79 CR125

DSCF0091DSCF0090So I made a decision a while back to liquidate a few of my toys. The Nighthawk was the first to go last spring and the latest victim was going to be my prized ’79 Honda CR125R Elsinore. A bike that I restored some six years back but never have started or ridden since. I would like to maybe ride it someday, but then again it would have to be the right day. Has to be warm out, green grass growing, dry green grass for sure and it would take me a bit to get motivated for a maiden voyage on the old girl. The bike is probably the nicest thing I own at this point and that’s one reason why I have not been in a hurry to fire it up. The thing is soo cherry that I don’t want to get it dirty. Another concern is that if I go to put gas in the tank I might spill a bit on the perfect paint job and that would just not do.
Last week I put the bike up for sale on Ebay. My reasoning was that if I could get top dollar for such a fine piece then I would have a bit of jing to use for something more practical, like a big bore dual sport bike, like a Honda XR650L, something I have been drooling over for a while now. The Nighthawk proceeds were supposed to go towards a dual sport, instead they were used mostly to fund my trip to Mid-Ohio last summer, and to buy my “new” truck. Anyway, the bidding started out fast and furious for those first couple of days on Ebay. Since it was only a five day auction, I figured the sale would be quick and painless. By day four the bidding had topped two grand. Yes! We were well on our way to meeting my reserve price and one step closer to that new dual sport bike! But, day five came and the bidding had all but stopped. There wasn’t even any last minute frenzy like usually happens. The result was an auction that didn’t meet the reserve price so, basically, no sale. That’s how it goes. You put it out there and take your chances. Maybe it was the wrong time of year. Maybe it will go better closer to springtime. Maybe I will try Craigslist at some point in the near future and see if that works better. Or maybe the piece will just go back into my collection and hide out under a dust cover for a while longer.

Fame and Misfortune

An actual copy of my book!

An actual copy of my book!

So it looks like the good folks at the PB ran a little story on my Geo-trike yesterday. Of all the things I have accomplished over the years, to gain fame by this one little “invention” is fairly disgusting. But then again, I guess I will just have to grin and bear it. Whenever you do something that is totally not mainstream, then you better get used to some extra attention from the general public. I learned this when I took that first road test in the Geo-trike. When the reporter guy called the other day my phone was acting up and I could barely understand him. After asking me a myriad of questions and telling me his name for the second time, I finally got the picture. However, I still had no inkling that he would publish a complete article on the beast. As usual, the media did not get the story quite right. For instance, the Geo was made for General Motors, not Ford. But hey, if you are not a car guy, how would you know that without asking? Also, I forgot to mention that the Geo is on engine and transmission number two as the first one took a dive last year and I had to find a replacement. But that’s a whole ‘nother blog story all by itself.
I thought that the mention of my bluegrass band, Down Home, was a nice touch as well.
Anyway, if you’re reading this and want more info on the Geo-trike or any of my other mechanical mis-adventures, you can order a copy of my book. It’s available at or if you want a signed copy just shoot me an email at: Cost is $19.95 plus tax. I will even pay for shipping. There are not one but two chapters dedicated to the building and driving of the Geo-trike project in there, plus a lot of other good stuff.