Mendocino, The Sequel: Monica, mickey, and Guth

[VLJ_imp]

A couple of weeks ago I chronicled my trip to Mendocino in my "Magical Mystery Tour" thread. As a result of a plumbing snafu at my hotel, I was forced to grab another room at the last moment. In recompense, the original hotel offered to comp my next stay there.

The weather forecast yesterday looked relatively promising, I had two days off from work, and Monica and I still had a score to settle with Skaggs Springs Road, so I decided to take the hotel up on their offer and head back up the coast.

First things first, while using my new bungee net to secure my tailbag to the bike, I noticed that it seemed mighty cold outside. I checked the temperature, and sure enough...twenty-eight degrees.

Ugh.

I went back inside and dug out my heated jacket, which I hadn't used for a couple of years. I plugged it into the bike, and...nothing. The switch wouldn't light up. No heat.

Serious ugh.

I thought about taking the car instead, but then, as most of us would do, I thought, WWmD? (What Would mickey Do?)

The answer was obvious. No way mickey pusses out, so neither would I. Monica would just have to soldier through, hopefully suffering no worse than a case of the sniffles from being out in the cold too long.

I do need to find out whether my heated jacket crapped out, or is it a bad connection on the bike? I used the same battery tender lead that was on my bike when I initially picked it up from the dealership. I know the connector worked for that application.

Anyway, I was sure to freeze. I threw on a balaclava, layered up, and headed on out.

Right off the bat, thank god for those factory Honda grips. Hooo-weee, are those things a lifesaver. I immediately set them set to Full Nuke. Between the balaclava, the warmth of my winter gloves, and those toasty grips, I was serviceable.

Anyone who read my first report will remember that Skaggs Springs Road gave me pause last time. I was noticing the tires beginning to squirm, and didn't have enough faith or gumption to stuff the front end in hard in the faster downhill corners. This time, I was determined to go for it.

Basically, WWUD? (Substitute Ulvetanna for mickey this time.)

Well, of course it was no problem. This time, however, just as I was really starting to go for it, I did drag a peg, but that was no biggie. The scarier issue was all the "Icy Road" signs I kept seeing, which normally mean nothing up there. On this day, however, I was genuinely worried about black ice, so every time I came upon a shaded stretch of road I rolled out of the throttle and played it cautiously.

Before long, I realized that I was no longer attacking the road. I'd surrendered to the fear of the conditions.

Okay, it's time for Plan B, I thought.

I didn't have a Plan B, so I made one up, on the spot.

For the rest of this trip, we're going to go Full mickey Mode. As best as possible, we're going to ride exactly the way mickey says he rides his CB. We're going to try to keep the RPM below 3K, and we're going to do our mickey-approved diddly-darnedest to stay within ten miles per hour of the posted speed limits. Let's see how this goes.

That last bit lasted all of, oh, three minutes. I'm sorry, but there is simply no way to ride a modern motorcycle anywhere close to the posted speed limits, so that idea immediately went out the window.

I did try to do all the twisty roads at 3K RPM or less, though, mickey-style, which proved downright freaky. The bike handled it, no problem, but it felt absolutely bizarre to me. Zero engine braking, zero sound from the motor, running wide everywhere, it felt like I was riding a runaway Soap Box Derby contraption.

It was a laugh riot!

Eventually I just sort of melded into the bike's preferred cadence, and the miles quietly ticked off beneath my beauteous spoked wheels. Even though I've owned an ST1100 and ST1300, I can't recall any Hwy 1 ride ever being as relaxing as this one was, once I settled into mickey Mode. There was simply nothing to notice, bike-wise. There was no sound, no vibration, no jarring bumps, no slowing down, no speeding up. Gently arc through this corner, gracefully swoop through the next, and float over hill and dale, the tires hardly seeming to touch the asphalt. It was nothing less than a first-class ticket on the Coastal Monorail.

Before I knew it, I was rolling into Mendocino, scarcely aware that I'd just covered a few hundred miles. I was colder than a witch's, errr...bosom...but that was it.

Dinner in Mendocino was fantastic. I ended up sitting beside a family from Humboldt, in a quaint, two-story converted house. The grandfather was a professor of linguistics at Humboldt State University, and he was holding court there in our charming little upstairs alcove. He was explaining how the Saxons and Angles brought their Germanic languages to the British Isles, which ultimately formed the foundation for the English language. Specifically, he was earning laughs from his family with his description of how the Angles got screwed, as only a scant few of their words survived, while the Saxons ended up contributing upwards of a thousand words that stuck around for good.

A wonderful dinner with strangers at a charming Italian bistro. It was all so very civilized. I half expected Woody Allen to show up, film crew at the ready.

Anyway, following My Continental Evening With Gandalf and Family, I was blasted out of blissful slumber at 5:00 a.m. the following morning by my friend in Chicago. As gorgeous and fun-loving as she is, apparently she still hasn't grasped the concept of a two-hour time difference between Illinois and California.

More importantly, as her sweet "Good morning!" voice filled one ear, my other ear caught the frightful sound of heavy rains lashing the windows of my little room.

Not good. Thirty degrees, and now it's raining too?

Eeeeash.

Forget that nonsense. After we concluded our call, I went back to bed. I was going to wait out the rain.

A few hours later, following an insanely fantastic home-made breakfast at the B&B—pancakes infused with mango? Awesome!—I went outside to check on the weather, and also to see how Monica had managed her first night sitting outside in a northern coast storm.

Not too shabby, if I do say so myself...



"Upon us all, a little rain must fall...." - R. Plant

A far cry from the 5:00. a.m. happenings, this is the morning scene that greeted me...



Stairway to Heaven

Taking a little hike, I couldn't believe it, but I actually ran into Guth...



He didn't say much, as is his wont. His entire demeanor was rather wooden. He does have that whole Thousand-Yard-Stare thing down cold, though. He was seemingly standing guard over this place...



...which I thought was nice of him. It was almost as if he felt sorry for all you poor saps who are locked away in your igloos for the winter, dying to see and feel a bit of warm sunshine.

Eventually it was time to head home, and I moseyed on back up the hill to check on Monica again...



She was doing fine, just chillin' in the morning sunlight, working on her tan.

The bungee net worked out great, so no dramas there. The tailbag never shifted, and Monica's fine bottom remains unscathed.

The ride home was more mickey 'Tude, and eventually it dawned on me that I hadn't thought about my lower back at all during the entire trip. I guess my body has already adjusted to this new seating position. I'm still splitting time between my car, the XSR, and Monica, but in just over three weeks of ownership she already has a tick under two thousand miles.

Here is what I now know for certain about her...

For one thing, I almost never think about her power, or lack thereof. She always gives me whatever I need. Oh, sure, there are still times when I compare her giddyup to the XSR's, and I have to admit that the XSR would have torn apart that just-completed stretch of S-bends with much greater alacrity than Monica ever will, but that's it. Those are the only times I ever consciously think about her lack of power. Otherwise, I constantly find myself thinking that her motor is basically perfect for her intended mission, which is to be the coolest, most sophisticated retro standard ever assembled.

She zips, she sings, she purrs, and she has a sexily coquettish growl. Effortlessly, seamlessly, utterly untroubled, she transforms time into space.

It's all about total control, with her. Every element is imbued with a calming composure, a certain poise, which transfers directly to the rider, providing a feeling of confidence that is truly inspiring, and downright surprising.

While no motorcycle can be all things to all people, this one comes about as close as possible to covering the most important bases. All things considered, she's nearly flawless.

I'm not sure, and I'll double-check tomorrow, but I think her brake squealing is gone now, too. If so, there goes her only flaw.

One thing about her that certainly is not flawed is her ability to lane-split like a champ on the freeway. Besides her perfect throttle response right off the bottom, which makes her the ideal weapon for slow-speed maneuvering, her headlight catches people's attention like nothing else I've ever experienced. Cars jump out of her way so often now, it feels like I'm a CHP motor cop.

Man, I love that.

[Cormanus]

Excellent post, VLJ. What’s to add? Great bikes, CB1100s. And, you were lucky to catch Guth on one of his more animated days!

[VLJ_imp]

Dude is a regular chatterbox.

[redbirds_imp]

Love the post VLJ. Glad you and Monica have built a fine relationship.

[the Ferret]

wow 28 degrees is brisk in anybody's book. Glad you were able to soldier thru. Great story. Yep 2500-3500 rpms and speed limit +-10 is mine and my CB's bailiwick.

Love the Led Zeppelin references lol

You know this reminds me the story about 2 bulls, we will call them XSR and CB. XSR is young, full of testosterone while CB is a little more mature, and wiser to the ways of the world. They are up on a hill over looking a herd of cows. XSR says to CB "hey let's run down and diddle one of those cows" (instant gratification being the mark of the young and impatient) and CB says "Why don't we walk down, and diddle them all" ( knowing long term gratification is ultimately more satisfying).

Nice report VLJ and good to see you are getting along with Monica. Never thought you'd be happy. Truly, pleasantly surprised.

[emptysea]

Great Seat Time report, VJL. Enjoyed the photos and their captions, particularly.

[Cormanus]

Dear me, Ferret! What on earth is happening in Ohio? [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=605&pid=197094#pid197094]Confessions of excessive speed and risqué stories.

What next?

[Banned_imp]

Dear me, Ferret! What on earth is happening in Ohio? [url=http://cb1100forum.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=605&pid=197094#pid197094]Confessions of excessive speed and risqué stories.

What next?

Perhaps a name change is in order?

The Ferret becomes known as The Outlaw?

[the Ferret]

Another thread perhaps. THis one belongs to VLJ and Monica.

[VLJ_imp]

Rode to work today without my earplugs. The brake squeal is still there. There isn't much of it, but when I come to a very slow stop it squeals a bit right at the very end.

Crap. I'd hoped it was finally gone.