Sep
20

Last Ride of ’09 – The Fork At The End Of The Road

By

Welcome to Oregon.

The so-called ‘Beaver State’ is the furthest destination of not only the Oregon Trail, but also of our little joyride. In two short days it’ll be time to turn around and head for home. Of course, if we had a bit more time, and another Map-kin, we’d do what I really want to – keep heading north, all the way to Alaska. Ah well, guess that’ll have to wait until next year…

With all our quirky sightseeing the day before, we know that we’re a little behind schedule.  We’re going to have to put in a fairly long day to reach Oregon City. Once again it’s another of those get-up-and-get-ready-early mornings, Sleeping Beauty’s least favorite kind. Even with a full day ahead, we’re still tourists, and still want to see as many sights as possible along the way. That is the main reason for this ride, to see new things. We decide to make compromises on this day, stopping briefly when we can to take in a view or two. After a quick snapshot of the Battery Point lighthouse in Crescent City to add to the collection, we settle in for the journey ahead.

Oregon is absolutely beautiful, and the Pacific Coast Highway doesn’t fail to disappoint. The curvy road that hugs the rugged coastline, endless miles of beaches, the sea scented air and the serene beauty of the spiny evergreens surrounding us on both sides has me lost in a state of blissful reverie as my mind winders, trying to take it all in.

My reverie is shattered as something slams into my neck with a THWAAPPP! My head snaps back, and I feel like I’ve been shot. I check my neck for an entrance wound, and am relieved to find my skin intact. I’m not sure what it was, a rock, a bug, or something else, but whatever it was that hit me, it HURT! I pull off into one of the thousands of scenic vistas for a momentary breather.

“Are you OK?” Fiona asks.

“Yeah, just a little stunned.” I’m a little stunned the same way that molten lava is a little uncomfortable when poured in your pants.  Trying to not cry like a baby from the pain in my neck, I say, “Hey, since we’re stopped, let’s go take a picture down there by the ocean.” Fortunately, the worst pain of the impact is already starting to fade, so, I reason, we may as well take advantage of the stop.

As I get the camera ready, things suddenly get worse. I feel a sharp, needle-like pain just above my right armpit. AHHH!! OOOHHH!! SHEE-IITT!! There it is again!! AAAHHHH!!! I start jumping around, tearing at the zipper of my riding jacket. Something’s in there, and whatever it is, it’s not happy. YYEEOOOWWW!! I slap at my jacket with one hand while performing the silliest strip tease with the other.

Fiona, unaware of exactly what is taking place and  stunned by my impromptu exotic dancing performance, laughs. It must’ve been quite a sight, me flailing around and slapping myself. Fiona is one lucky girl, because I don’t perform this dance for just anyone!

Finally, the offender, a very angry wasp, falls to the ground, where I crush it with my boot. The wasp must have kamakazied directly into my neck and managed to fall, stunned but very much alive, into my jacket. When he came to, he was not happy, and proceeded to let me know in that rotten way that wasps do.

The little bastard left quite a few welts.

Welcome to Oregon.

I grumble a bit as we wait to find out if I am allergic to Oregon wasp stings. Fifteen minutes later, sore and stung three times, I grumble some more as we get back on Rain Cloud Follows and continue our trek up the coast.

We detour down a small, gravel-strewn road to stop briefly at Cape Blanco lighthouse. While there we decide that $2 each is reasonable to go up to the top, so we pay and climb up.

The oldest continuously operating and most western lighthouse in Oregon, this beacon has a beautiful first order Fresnel lens that rotates with the help of a little Home Depot looking motor, sending a beam from a 1000 watt lamp deep into the horizon every twenty seconds.

The tour guide, a crusty old salt that looks as if he was selected directly out of the Central Casting ‘Lighthouse Keeper’ book confides, “Yep, with radar and GPS and all that, lighthouses don’t really serve much purpose for ocean liners anymore. But,” he adds wistfully, “if all that stuff quits working one day, those captains will sure be glad we’re still here.”

Cool stuff.

Returning down the gravel-strewn road, another of Oregon’s creatures rushes out to greet us. As we lean through one tight turn, a huge deer decides it’s time to see what’s happening on the other side of the road, and bolts across, inches in front of us. Rain Cloud Follows anti-lock brakes pulse as Bambi comically scrambles in the gravel. The sight of the deer’s four legs pinwheeling in the sand would be funny if it wasn’t happening right in front of me. The deer and the bike maintain enough traction to avoid a collision, and we miss adding a deer head to the mantle by the slightest of margins.

Welcome to Oregon, indeed.

Always Time For A Photo Op

We wind our way up the coast, as the sun does it’s thing in the sky. After lunch it’s decision time. Break off the Pacific Coast Highway and head for Oregon City to make Rain Cloud Follows fork-ectomy appointment, or blow off the appointment and just see what happens. Surprisingly, I’m the one that is on the fence. Fiona becomes the voice of reason, saying, “We came up here to get your fork done, so let’s go do it.”

We reach Oregon City just after dark, find a decent looking hotel, and have the privilege of being those annoying people that walk into a restaurant five minutes before it closes. Dinner is good, and we toast the Best Day Ever in the conveniently attached casino.

The next morning I head over to GP Suspension while Sleeping Beauty sleeps in. Within seconds of parking in the garage, as if in the world’s fastest chop shop, my precious motorcycle is dismantled.

The coolest thing about GP Suspension is they let me hang around and watch the upgrade. I ask hundreds of questions, and am amazed at the care put into the upgrade.

Resident Suspension Guru at GP Suspension

The operation to insert beefier springs, change the fork oil and rework, repair and upgrade all the other mysterious internal suspension parts takes almost two hours, start to finish. The difference in the ride is immediately obvious as I pull out of the garage with a huge smile on my face.

Now to find some roads on the way home to really give the reworked fork a proper workout!

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