I am not sure what impresses me most about the pictures I just took (below). It’s either how badly fouled the plug is (there is NO gap at all. It’s no wonder my car was running poorly!), or how good my new camera is (that’s a pretty decent quality picture!).

I’ll let you decide.

Regardless, don’t run platinum plugs in a 20-year-old motor that burns oil like Richard Simmons does calories. They get crap-ified.

After a (fairly long) performance hiatus of sorts, I apparently became so grumpy and difficult to live with that the Incredibly Understanding Wife (IUW) assigned to me the task of finding a band to satisfy my musical jones.

What the IUW didn’t plan for, was that my first step would be to recruit her!

And so it was that Certifiable was formed. With the IUW on backing and lead vocals, Stand Up Eight alumni Mikey T and Tony on guitar and saxaphone, and a host of musical geniuses bolstering the grooves, we are the movingest dance band ever there was. Hire us for your parties, weddings, or other dance-oriented activities. We love it.

With the cover band angle, well… covered, I still needed a creative outlet for improvisation and songcraft. Enter The Wildwood Brothers. Part Americana, part Jam, these fellas needed a bass player, and that’s me. Super great guys, really fun tunes, and a nice musical direction to boot. Someday I’ll even appear on the website. Unless they can me first for trashing the hotel room and crashing the Bentley into the mayor’s prized gardenias. Or whatever it is that rock stars do these days.

Check the websites linked in this post (and in the “Links” section of sundaybender.com for you facebookers) for gig schedules, new tunes, and related musical business.

2010 is the yeah of the Blog! Well, okay, who knows. Maybe it’s the year of the dog? Call it poetic license.

In any case, I hereby decree I will be posting crap on sundaybender for all seven of you who care. Well, for you seven, and the thousands (okay, dozens) of random strangers who seem to have found the site useful for breaking, er, modifying their cars and motorcycles.

To that end:

I have another new car. It’s rad. It’s red. It’s old-ish. Any bets on how long it lasts?

I have more trips planned on the GS, and a write-up from the recent Grand Canyon blast (see the pics) coming.

In any case, stay tuned. And thanks for reading!

It wasn’t always this way. At one point I had a Subaru GL hatchback, and I didn’t know an alternator from alternative medicine. And then everything changed.

I bought a little red BMW. I had no idea it would lead to this. That BMW, a 1991 318is, should never have left my care. With the passage of time that car has become something of a legend to me, “The one that got away,” as they say.

Of late my pining became unbearable, and thanks to an incredibly fortunate series of events involving what amounts to an auto philanthropist from Arizona, a flatbed truck, and a handshake deal that harkens back to the days when a man’s word was his bond, I find myself in possession of the spiritual successor to my first BMW.

It’s Brilliantrot, it’s a 1991, and like the 318is of yore, it makes me smile every time I see it. It’s packing a little something extra though. Like two more doors, and two more cylinders. That adds up to a few more pounds of road-hugging weight, but after all these years, I too have packed on some extra doors and cylinders of my own, if you’ll pardon the stretched metaphor, and overlook the stretched pants.

And so the E30 has returned to me. Red and Brilliant.

If you can’t ever go home again, you can sure get damned close.

Updated with more in-process pics below – though still not current…

I have always had a knack for collecting stuff. Not useful stuff, mind you; things like baseball cards, comic books, vocational skills, and manners were never things I was interested in having. No, I collect things that are likely only valuable to me, and are usually very awkward to store.

Bass guitars, drumsets, car parts, tools, motorcycles and debt are the types of things I seem to amass without really even trying. It’s pretty ridiculous, especially when you consider that I live in a 600 square foot house with no garage.

The solution? Move into a grownup house with a garage! Perfect.

Instead I built a shed. Well, my dad and Megan and Kevict and I built a shed. It will house the bikes, and the tools and helmets and leathers and gadgets and whiz-bangery attendant thereto, as well as a full set of race wheels and tires for the E30, and whatever other business I can cram in there.

The process? Dig a bunch of holes, fill ‘em with concrete, measure and set piers, build a floor, raise some walls, and roof it. Simple, right? Well, as long as you have a dad who’s a biulding genius and knows how to do all that, and has the tools and skill to get it done right, it is at least not impossible.

Check out the progress below.

		“Siding phase” pics follow below

The Incredibly Understanding Wife (IUW) is more “I” than ever before! Well, okay, she isn’t more incredibly. That makes no sense. She is more incrediBLE.

Why, you ask? (Do it, ask.)

Because she got on the back of the GS, and let me pilot her from La Honda out to the coast, down to Pescadero for a sandwich (which was awesome and a half, by the way) and down Pescadero Creek road back to our house.

For non-natives, imagine the second half of the Matterhorn ride at Disneyland. We basically did that, but on a bike. With no abominable snowman or whatever.

She’s awesome! She waved to fellow bikers, she leaned into turns, she made me laugh inside my silly looking helmet. F-ing amazing. I didn’t even crash! Come on!!

Next up – Chile. Or maybe Mexico. Or maybe Woodside.

Check her out! Sweet BMW jacket, huh? I am jealous. I may have to remedy that soon…

With Kevict’s new-to-him 1988 KLR 650 and my new R1150GS both screaming out to see some dirt, Kevict and I set out in the coastal mountians near my house in search of some unpaved pathways.

Seems that Gazo’s creek road turns dirty and leads to a secondary entrace to Butano state park. Nothing too challenging, just a good old dirt road, with a couple of sections that were “paved” way back when, but have over time been reduced to gravel and chunks.

Shiny new R1150GS and lack of dirt riding experience be damned – I was gonne give ‘er a try.

The bike was impressive. More impressive than I was, to be sure. That said, we made it 5.9 miles up and 5.9 miles down without incident, ABS-ing along the way, and bouncing around a bit because I forgot to lower the pressures in my Tourances to a more dirt-friendly level.

Kevict and the KLR went bounding up and down without issue, as expected from a veteran dirt guy and a “real” dirtbike, and I impressed the hell out of myself by puttering up and down without scaring the life out of myself even once. A little clutchwork, some balance, juducious braking and looking far ahead served me very well… Hm, sounds almost like track riding to me…

I don’t think I have ever had more fun going eight miles an hour. I am addicted. This GS is amazing. The KLR is amazing. Touring is awesome. I had no idea. I can’t wait to actually go somewhere! I wonder how much a good GPS costs? What about knobbies? Do I have a tent? How much vacation time have I accrued? how many clif bars fit into the side cases luggage?

Oh man. Trouble.

2001 BMW R1150GS – 43,000 miles, 43,000 pounds, 43,000 times more fun than sportbikes

As I tend to do, I have recently become preoccupied by the idea of a new BMW. This time however, the manifestation of my longing has only two wheels instead of four. I don’t know how it happened, but I decided that I’d really like to take the Incredibly Understanding Wife around on the back of a motorcycle and see this fine nation. Or at least, this fine area very close by our house. Or maybe I would just commute to work on it by myself. I dunno, something. Whatever. It was a romantic notion.

If I was going to force the IUW onto the back of a bike, It couldn’t be the torturous pillion accommodations afforded by my track-prepped SV1000s. I needed something more grand. More luxurious. More appealing. More German.

An K1200RT would be the right bike for sure. Knowing that, I decided to become preoccupied with an R1150GS instead. Tall, rugged, strong, black… it’s everything I wish I was. I began dreaming about it, and what started as Internet research snowballed almost overnight into full-fledged obsession.

The IUW, seeing my compulsive buying behaviors begining to surface, tried to nip this whole process in the proverbial bud.

“Honey, we can’t get one.”

“Of course not, I know.” I reply as I surf craigslist and email a seller to ask for more detailed pics, “It’s dumb.”

“Seriously, honey, we can’t afford that.” the IUW, now clearly vexed, strains to see the laptop screen.

“I’m not gonna buy it. But check it out – Ohlins shocks front and rear! And full luggage! This is really a deal!”

“We’re not buying one, honey. We can’t.”

“I know. We’re not.”

“Okay, I hear your words, but it feels like we are buying one. You just emailed the seller!

“That’s just because I am curious. Because even though we aren’t buying one, I might, you know, have to buy this one.”

“You need to stop looking. Are those heated grips?”

“I am not looking. Yes, they are heated grips! Holy crap this thing is awesome!” I reply, and then I email a dealer to ask when I can test ride the perfect bike I have just found.

The dealer says Tuesday. I say perfect. I email on Tuesday to confirm, and the bike has sold. I weep. Just a little. Like a man, though. A rugged, tall weeping. The dealer says that another bike, very much like the one I am pining for, the one I never even saw or touched but that had somehow become part of my very soul, the one whose sale severed the only link I had to true bliss and eternal enlightenment, the dealer said another bike like it would be coming into his shop in just two weeks. This other bike belonged to a regular customer whom this dealer knows well and trusts and who takes good care of his bikes. Would I like first right of refusal on that similar bike?

My heart skipped, my stomach leapt to my throat. Could it be? Could fate be so clearly forcing me to buy an R1150GS? Even when the one I need so badly has sold and left me hopeless and gasping for breath, another emerges on the distant horizon, staring mistily at me, pawing the ground gently and tossing its wild mane as the rising sun glints off its dewy sweat-soaked coat. I cannot argue with destiny. I agree.

And then it’s my birthday. The IUW gets me a little box, wrapped beautifully. In it, another box. In that box, another, like a series of Russian dolls, each tightly packed inside the other and gaily decorated.

And in the last box, a funny-shaped key.

Thanks entirely to the IUW, Kevict, my mom, and a very clever salesman from BMW of Santa Cruz ,there, outside of my folks’ house (only recently PUSHED to that place of rest by Kevict himself, who had sneaked away under the guise of visiting his own parents who live nearby and fetched said bike, whose key was wrapped and waiting for me to find it and thus he bike was not able to move under its own power) was the R1150GS. The very one that had sold the day before I was able to see it. The very lifeblood that I thought had been sapped from me! It was there in my parents’ driveway, magnificent and regal, big and scary, clean as the proverbial whistle and as real as the nose on my extremely surprised and seriously confused face.

When the dealer told me the bike had sold, I never once thought it might have sold to Kevict and Megan, my IUW, who bought it for me. And unbeknownst to them I had been trying to buy it for myself, nearly ruining the surprise. What a heel! What a fool! What a lucky lucky sonofabitch!

They did it all without my even beginning to know anything was afoot. I have never been more surprised. I really am the luckiest boy ever, to have people who care about me so much.

It’s better than I ever imagined. And look – Ohlins shocks front and rear!

After 8 track days this year with Speed Research, and I have learned a ton. Primary amongst those lessons is, “Don’t open the throttle all the way when you are still fully leaned over.” My scratched fairing, broken shift lever, and scuffed leathers will remind me of that learning experience for some time.

Another key track lesson that I was surprised to learn is, “When riding in the paddock, you may get T-boned by a passing rider.” Yup, some jackalope took the SV and me down in the paddock. I was probably only cruising at about four miles an hour, but despite that slow pace, the collision broke my carbon muffler, the slip-on flange by which it connects to the mid pipe, and my shifter. Sweet.

With bike thusly out of commission, I had some time to wander around and watch riders. I even remembered my little point-and-shoot camera, and I pointed and shot some grainy, tiny videos of Kevict riding around in the A group. Check it!

(Save locally, please.)

Turns, 6, 7, and 8 (tiny Kevict, but check the acceleration!)
The back side of 9 into 10 (again, check that speed!)
Turns, 11, 12, and 13
The back straight

After swapping the stock fork from my 2006 SV1000s for a 2005 GSX-R 600 unit, I took the bike to the track and had it professionally set up by a track-side suspension expert. The spring rate and oil weight (described in the swap article linked above) were spot-on, and the shorter overall length of the fork was not a problem at all on track.

The fork is noticeably stiffer over choppy bumps, but not by any means harsh. Cornering is completely free of any wallowing and therefore feel more stable, though the stock fork did an admirable job as well in my opinion. Turn in is not dramatically improved, though transitions do seem to require slightly less effort.

The major difference, and it is a night and day difference, is during braking. The fork feels like it has nearly no dive at all, and the bike now tracks straight and true even under extremely hard braking. I could brake significantly later and much harder into turns, and the bike felt totally composed and confidence inspiring. I was not expecting this much of an improvement, and I am very pleased.

Lever feel is incredible and positive as well, and I am not using a radial master, nor braided lines yet. I tried fitting the radial master from the GSXR, but with the LSL raised clip-ons, the brake lines would interfere with the clip-ons. The radila master simply did not fit and I was initially concerned that would mean reduced braking power, but the performance with the stock SV master has proven to be fantastic, and I feel no need to use a radial master at this point.

For a tracked bike, I feel the braking improvement alone is worth the expense and time of this swap. After two track days, I have managed to take 5 seoncds per lap off of my previous best times. However, I still feel the stock fork and brakes were more than up to the tasks of street riding, including very spirited canyon carving.

Overall, I was not sure if I would notice an improvement over the stock system, which I believed to be very good, and in most respects the improvements are not dramatic. However, if better extreme braking is what you are after, the GSXR 600 fork’s combination of more aggressive damping and stiffer overall structure serve up what you need in spades.

Plus, they look the business!