If you don’t know the 24 hours of LeMons racing event, it is a 24 hour endurance race, where each team must have at least 4 and no more than 6 drivers, and each car must be proven to cost less than 500 bucks.

Yup, you read that right. Five hundred bucks. A really fancy dinner. A decent Digital Camera. An iPad. Or, typically, the cost of two tires for a “real” amateur racecar.

I have joined the “Absolute Lemon Motorsports (ALMS)” team (follow our progress at the link), and our car is a very wrinkly e30.

I am so excited!

Check out the car!

It was unbelievable there, and looked more beautiful than anything can. The sky alone was perfect. Here’s an example as we approached the North rim:

This will be updated as time allows!

More pics are in my Flickr album.

The leather “wiper” on the index finger of my left glove was no longer wiping my face shield clean. Admittedly I was making some pretty weak wipe-attemps, as every time I removed my hand from the heated grip, my fingertips went instantly from stinging cold to aching cold. I could see a hazy red dot ahead of me – either Dad’s KLR650 taillight, or the mouth of Hell – and where my shield wasn’t totally fogged, I could see snow pouring down.  Illuminated as it was by 200 watts of twin PIAA 910s, and coming at me at roughly 60 miles an hour, the blur of flakes made it look like I was entering light speed in the Millennium Falcon. I bet Han Solo’s hands never hurt this bad.

After the 300th time trying to clear my face shield, it hit me: I can’t get this water off, because it isn’t water anymore. My shield has frozen over. Oh hell, my GLOVE has frozen over.

My life was about to end at 9,000 feet, crossing the frozen Sierras, and my Dad was going to have to explain to my Mom and Incredibly Understanding Wife that I had ridden bravely, but ultimately not quickly enough to clear the Sonora pass before the storm came and froze my arms and legs off, leaving my torso to balance precariously on a rock-hard, freezing cold Sargent saddle, and my bike then careened into the woods behind Strawberry.

I needed some dry clothes, a hot shower, and an evening with a beautiful woman. I made do by thawing my gloves on the jutting cylinders of the GS as I pounded a slushy Red Bull.  After four straight days of riding, and in blistering cold, I wasn’t sure that that Red Bull was going to be enough to get me home.

When we left, I knew there was a risk that we wouldn’t make it back by Tuesday.  On that last day, I was confronted wit the possibility that if the weather got worse, or I stopped paying attention, I might not make it back at all…

What had started as a four day pleasure cruise with Dad had become a full-on race against time. We had decided that we’d “try to make it to the Grand Canyon,” but if we saw that we were not going to be able to do it, we’d just turn around after two days and head back. Yeah. Like that’s gonna happen.

Dad and I had managed to get Friday and Monday off, making a nice long weekend for a fun fall trip. Maybe a little camping, maybe a little dirt, maybe see some sights and explore. Then we both realized we had explored everything nearby. And everything that was near that, too. If we were going to go anywhere, we were going to have to really GO somewhere. In four days. With the first good winter storm of the season coming in from the North.

So, South it was. Baja seems cool, but I had never seen Zion National Park, and neither of us had seen the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. How far can it be? We have FOUR WHOLE DAYS. That’s a lot, right?

Well, it was nearly enough. So we cheated and left our jobs at 3:00 on Thursday to get a head start and beat the traffic out of the Bay Area.

Keep checking sundaybender.com for more updates here – you have to read the part about the Clown Motel. We stayed there. It’s for real. And it is worth a visit…

Five days, ~1,671 miles
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Day one – 226 miles

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Day two – 471 miles

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Day three – ~ 121 miles

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Day four – 449 miles

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Day five – 404 miles

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When I got back to SFO on Thursday, I got in the E30, and drove down to bottom of the parking structure. Since I had lost my ticket (clownish move) I had to park in the 15 minute spot, and talk to “the guy.” The guy was efficient. He found my plate on the entrance camera, checked the timestamp, and we were done. Exit ticket issued. Sweet. Easy. Unusual.

Back to the e30, whistling a little Bill Champlin, and the car doesn’t start. Cranks away enthusiastically, but no payoff. I turn the car to the “run” position and strain to listen over the roar of passenger jet takeoff. No fuel pump noise. Damn.

I’m a little handy with cars (read: obsessed and stupid about taking them apart), so out comes the back seat. Tappy tap on fuel pump, no noise. Open the hood, tappy tap on the relays, no noise. Well, lots of noise from me muttering and swearing, but no fuel pump noise. Called AAA. Tow coming in 40 minutes. Nice.

Sitting and waiting is not for me.

I continue to fiddle around, and suddenly the car springs to life. Hurray! I am a hero. I leave the car running, and then go about canceling the tow, getting another new card to exit since the previous card has now expired (you have 20 minutes to leave the garage). Again, easy. Surprising.

I am on my way, feeling a little proud – almost smug – having repaired my car with nothing more than a phillips head screwdriver, some ingenuity, and a little percussive maintenance. Smug doesn’t last long when you have less than an eighth of a tank of gas, and a car that doesn’t like starting. Uh-oh.

I need gas. Badly. I stop at the Woodside Chevron (which I choose because of the nice slope to the lot, which will allow me to coast the car into a parking place if it won’t stop after filling up) and get 12.7 gallons of gas. In a 12 gallon tank. That’s low fuel.

Car cranks away again, but no joy. Damn it. having planned for this, I coast away from the pump, park, and start reading the Internet on the trusty iPhone, looking for fuel pump prices. No one has one locally… how much for overnight shipping? Man, the 3G is fast in Woodsi…

The car is rocked violently from side to side, and I look up to see a horse trailer filling my window. I have been backed into, WHILE PARKED, by a diesel Dodge, towing roughly 13 horses.

Argh.

The rear quarter is smashed, the rear bumper broken, just like my dreams and spirit, respectively.

There is only one solution. I must have a paintless guy remove the dent. I must get a new bumper. And, of course, the ol’ fuel Pump needs to replaced. Easy enough. But what will I drive in the meantime?

Again, there is only one solution. Rent a car. Maybe an altima, or some other Japanese sedan that will run no matter what, and prove to me just how reliable cars can be.

That’s what a reasonable person would do.

So I bought this (bad pics – from PO. I will take some good ones after the rain stops):

2003 540i M-Sport 6-speed. A car for old men. Like me.

290 HP and 326 Lb/ft of torque is a lot. So are six gears. I can’t stop smiling.

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.

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

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…

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.

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!

Installing an upside down fork and radial calipers on a 2006 SV1000s is something many owners are interested in doing. Having just completed this swap myself, I can say with complete assurance that the actual work is quite simple, providing you start with the correct parts and tools.

I have read a lot of different processes for swapping a late-model GSX-R fork onto a SV1000, but most of those seem to contain misleading or inaccurate information. When I decided to do this swap for myself, I decided to write a clear (albeit a bit long) process, with a clear parts list, based on my recent ‘05 GSX-R 600 fork and caliper swap. I apologize for the length, but I hope it will serve others looking to do this same swap.

Materials:

Starting with a fork and brakes from a 2004-2005 GSXR 600 seemed to me to be the easiest route, because many SV parts could be re-used.

Here is the complete list of parts I used for the swap. If it isn’t listed, you don’t need to buy it. The reasoning behind each part is included where needed.

• 2005GSXR 600 fork
• 2005GSXR 600 radial calipers
• 2005GSXR 600 upper and lower triples
• Speed Research carbon fender fender
  A stock GSXR 600 fender would, of course, work as well but the SV fender won’t work with the new fork.
• Custom machined spacers to fit the GSXR calipers to the SV rotors
  The calipers were designed to work with 300mm rotors. The brakes on the SV 1000 are 310mm.

  Dimensions:
  Outer diameter: 24mm
  Inner diameter: 10mm
  Thickness: 5mm
  Cost: 60 dollars for 4 at local machine shop. I am sure I could have got these cheaper, but I wanted them done the next day, and 60 bucks is cheap compared to a new front wheel and rotors.

• LSL “offset match” 50mm clip-ons with a 1.5 inch rise, and LSL bar ends
  The stock clip-ons will not fit around the larger fork tubes, and stock GSXR clip-ons do not preserve the comfortable riding position of the SV, and leave very little room (read: not enough) between the stock fairing and the grips.
• Race Tech springs
  I weigh 175 lbs with no gear, and the SV weighs at least 40 pounds more than the GSXR 600. The added weight of the bike alone necessitates a stiffer spring to get the intended performance out of the fork. The stock GSXR 600 springs are around .85s). I factored the extra weight of my bike in to the Race Tech spring rate calculator (i.e., 175+40 = 215 lbs “rider weight”) to figure the correct rate. Plus, the stock spring rate on the SV is .98 anyhow, and it was sprung pretty well for me, just not damped well enough.
• Redline synthetic fork oil
  Lightweight/Medium cocktail mixed 65/35 to achieve about 6.5w
• A new left grip
  I bought a new one so I could cut the old one off rather than wrestling with it and fighting grip glue.
• Some small strips of rubber
  From a bicycle tire inner tube, for example (see process below).

Time:

• Budget one weekend day. I spent about 6 hours, including cleaning and bleeding the brakes, re-springing and oiling the fork, etc.

Difficulty (one bleeding knuckle to five bleeding knuckles):

• Two bleeding knuckles for just the swap, three bleeding knuckles if you re-spring the fork. This ain’t rocket science.

Process:

1. Re-spring and oil the GSXR fork.
   You will need a fork spring compression tool, such as this one sold by Traxxion Dynamics. The tool comes with excellent instructions. Follow them, and take your time. I added 6.5 weight oil to a height of 115mm. This is the hardest part of the job. When you are done, take a break and have a beverage.
2. Raise the bike with a front stand, and support.
   I used jack stands on cinder blocks to support the innermost part of the frame sliders.
3. Remove the fairing.
4. Remove the ignition assembly (held on with loctited 40mm security torx bolts).
   I bought a security torx bit for a ratchet at an auto parts store.
5. Remove old forks, clamps, and clip-ons.
6. Remove the controls from the old clip-ons, and tie/hang them aside with stiff wire or zip ties
7. Remove the brake lines from the SV calipers, and get brake fluid everywhere.
8. Clean up the brake fluid mess.
9. Remove, clean and grease the old bearings, then re-use them.
   The Stock GSXR 600 bearings can be used if you prefer, they are the same.
10. Install the GSXR fork, triples, and new clip-ons.
    I ran the tops of the fork caps flush with the top triple, for maximum length.
11. Install the ignition assembly into the new triple clamp.
    Note that it fits perfectly, and the steering lock works just fine.
12. Install the controls, grips, and end caps onto the clip-ons.
    The starter and turn signal assemblies have plastic locator pins which seat in a matching hold drilled into the clip-ons. Rather than jigging and drilling the clip-ons, I dremel-ed off the locator pins, and used a very thin strip of rubber between the assemblies and the bars to prevent them spinning when installed. Works fine.
    I bent and re-used the brake fluid reservoir bracket by mounting it to the LSL clip-on bolt.
13. Install the GXSR Fender onto the fork.
14. Install the SV wheel with SV axle.
15. Attach the brake lines to the new calipers.
16. Attach the calipers to the forks, with the spacer mentioned above.
17. Remove the bike form the supports using the front stand.
18. Bleed the brakes.
19. Replace the fairing.
20. Take a picture and have a beer.

That’s a lot of steps, and many are simplified, but aside from re-springing and oiling the fork, there is really nothing tricky about it.

Just a quick update for posterity:

Brakes:

• Replaced front and rear rotors with Zimmerman (non-drilled) items
• Rebuilt front and rear calipers, and removed all traces of once-red paint
• Replaced PBR Deluxe pads with PBR Ultimates
• Bled brakes and replaced fluid with ATE Typ 200
• Replaced rotor and caliper bolts
• Replaced front wheel bearings (check the pic – they take a lot of torque!)

General:

• Changed oil (Mobil1 0W-40) and filter (OEM)
• Replaced rear and side///M-blems (rear was absent, sides were faded)
• Replaced hood switch to fix the over-eager alarm
• Replaced rear trunk struts
• Replaced weird Kragen-style rear view mirror with OEM auto-dimming “M oval” mirror
• Lubed door hinges, handles, and hardware
• Checked for code faults (looked very good) and cleared codes

Tires:

• Shod the stock Roadstars in Kumho Ecsta SPTs – 235/45/17 and 255/40/17

I love this car. It now stops at least as well as it goes, which means I can make it go a lot better before I stop. And it goes better than I do, which is a lot of fun.

What?