Subject: RCR VII Date: Mon, 8 Jun 1998 19:43:59 -0400 (EDT) From: "J. Fielek" Reply-To: east@dnrc.bell-labs.com To: Multiple recipients of list I think the defining moment for the RCR came at a stop sign somewhere on a Maryland backroad as Dave Petke rolled up next to me on his red Bandit 600. As he rolled to a stop, I leaned over and said "I have no idea where we are." His reply -- "Who cares?" We'd just been over a giggly tight section of twisties somewhere near the Potomac, about a half hour after lunching at Harper's Ferry, well into saturday afternoon. We had the option of left or right at this particular junction, and I had precious few seconds before the remainder of the small crowd caught up and we had to go somewhere. I think we went left... The RCR weekend started as any ride always does -- with a long slog up the Peninsula, trying to escape the flat, crowded "cities" of Newport News and Hampton and get into the hills. I'd had a little aid this time -- Street Atlas 5.0. If you don't have it, get it. It's not perfect, but it's pretty good. With SA5.0 I'd been able to plot a route that completely avoided the Interstate (well, mostly; it's still better to lab the first 20 miles than to deal with the local crap). The backroads were fun -- not only did we avoid any major burgs, we had a somewhat interesting route. Unfortunately, the weather decided to be non-fun, and we aborted the latter portion of the ride up in favor of speed -- it had started raining, and the temps dropped rapidly, making the journey less than pleasant. We made Wetmar (sic) at about 1930 (the time of day, not the year... though that would be a 'way, way, back roads' ride), and discovered that everyone else was at dinner. We decided to skip dinner and warmed ourselves in the cafeteria. We ooh-aahed a few bikes, gabbed, and waited for everyone to get back. Eventually they returned, and the bull did his business about the campfire. We discovered two things that night -- never leave Reto alone with camp fuel and a match, and never, ever bring less than three cases of Newcastle Brown. Are you listening, Oompah VIII? Morning dawned with a chill -- the same one as last night, but it had become a little deeper. The rain had moved on and the clouds were spares. Ian's Magickal Mystery Brews woke the dead, and the daytime zombies trundled slowly to life in small groups, leaving their warm nylon and fleece crypts to reluctantly face the morning light. Donutboy made his run, returning with boxes of donuts and bags of warm bagels -- it probably saved his life. The donuts and bagels didn't last long -- the Dawn of the Dead had less rending and tearing and smacking of lips. We zombies like it when the corpse of the bagel is still warm. Fat pills and coffee turned the zombies into bikers, and by about 0930 the rides began. Dave Lawrence left for the fast covered bridge tour, another group left to follow Kadis' Mason-Dixon Shuffle, and at about 1000, I led a troupe of five off to Monacacy National Battlefield Park. We mostly followed 17 south, until we hit 340, which took us to I70 and Monacacy. Melanei chose to stay in camp and relax -- this weekedn was the first riding for her since sometime last summer. Monacacy is called "The Battle That Saved Washington." It should be called the Forgotten Battle. It was a pivotal moment in the Civil War that never seems to get mentioned. In 1864, when Grant pushed his way south and began to conquer Virginia, Lee sent a force north to attempt to take Washington -- a high-risk gambit. Lee had his back against the wall -- he was getting boxed in in Petersburg and Richmond, and he could see that his campaign was failing. Sherman was consuming the Gulf states, and Grant had been the first Union General to actually hang around the South after fighting across the Potomac. Grant had beaten back Lee with superior force at Wilderness and Spotsylvania Courthouse in May of 1864, doing something no Union General had dared to do after crossing into Virginia -- hang around. the previous two attempts, in 1862 and 1863, the battles of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, respectively, had resulted in retreating Union armies. Fredricksburg the Union lost, Chancellorsville they gave up after a marginal victory. Grant recognized that he had a superior force; he would make Lee drive him out of Virginia. Lee couldn't, despite a superb bit of Generalship on his part. You see, a year before he'd lost his best lieutenant when "Stonewall" Jackson had been shot by his own men at the battle of Chancellorsville. It was a freak battlefield accident, but it lost Lee his friend and his best field general. The absence of Jackson hurt Lee in more ways than one -- Jackson was a force in the field, a General of mythic proportions in both the South and the North, brave and toughtful, clever and strong. His men loved him, his enemies respected him. Without the superb field leadership of Jackson, Lee's brilliant strategies faltered somewhat. Facing the stubborn might of General Grant, Lee had to fall back. Pressed back into Richmond and Petersburg, he tried a diversion -- attempting take Washington. He sent a force of 18,000 north under the command of General Jubal Early. Early was met by General Lew Wallace of the Union, and his 5800 men, at the Monacacy River. The battle raged for a day -- in teh end, the Union force had to give up teh battlefield -- a tactical loss, but a strategic victory. Early's force was so damaged adn tired now, and they lost several days, allowing the union to ship men from petersburg to help defend Washington. Early was forced to retreat to Virginia, ending the last invasion of the North. >From Monacacy we slabbed over to Harper's Ferry. Harper's Ferry is another neat palce -- it was a major junction for river traffic in the 1700s, a premier arms manufacturing facility in the 1800s, the site of John Brown's attempt at a slave revolt in the 1850s, and a battel field in the 1860s. The town itself is a quaint little village situated one the slopes of the hills overlooking the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers. We had planned to meet Bill Jenning and his bike (That's no moon, it's a Goldwing!), and his date at Harper's Ferry. We were early, so we hit the museums as we waited. The Industry Museum is pretty cool -- a guide demonstrated all teh machine tools of 19th century gunmaking. It's amazing to see the tools, nearly perfectly automated, chewking away at metal and wood to make rifled muskets. BTW, Pratt & Whitney made a few of those tools... After watching the tools do their thing, we wandered back out to look for Bill. Amazingly enough, we ran into him on the first try. It's hard to miss that Goldwing... Bill was accompanied by Martyn and Sherry, on their Guzzi California and Bandit 1200 respectively. They went to park and we waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, we went and got lunch. After lunch, we came out to see Martyn, Bill, etc. across the street at another cafe, finishing up lunch. They had decided to act like total pricks and blow us off, visiting a museum or two before coming up. After they finished lunch, Bill joined us and we went exploring. I led, and we meandered about on roads that weren't on my maps. Eventually, we returned to Camp Wetmar. Upon our return I hunted up reto and we went for a spin -- he on my Ducati, me on his T595. It took a bit of getting used to -- the 595 puts you up on top of the bike, amking it a biut awkward to get used to. it's also got the highest seat of any bike I've ever ridden -- I had trouble backing it up, and I have a 33 inch inseam. Once you get used to that, the bars are at an odd angle. They're not the stockers, but slightly higher aftermarket peices. They're wide, too, putting the hands about fifteen inches apart. That makes for good leverage, but the godrotting things are angled poorly making for wrist ache and a really weird arm angle. Reto had the levers in about the right position for me, so it wasn't as bad as it could be. The bike is good -- the motor rocks, although it sounds like a rock tumbler at idle, and the chassis numbers are about right. It hides its weight pretty well. The wide bars give the illusion of quick steering, but the way teh bike drops into dorners belies the light feel. It may feel better with narrower bars more suited the wheelbase -- get a little more feel and have a little less leverage. The high up seating position makes body input less critical and somewhat more effective, although the 'perched' feeling takes some getting used to. Front end feedback was a little light -- probably due to the wider bars -- but not too bad. rear feedback was excellent, although the shock could use a little tweaking to optimize it. The seat wasn't bad, although I think it would suck after a few hours. Exhaust note was excellent, somewhere betweeen the rumble of a twin and the shriek of a four. It wheelies pretty well, too. After dinner and beer swilling, Reto started another fire. We all gathered around, and since I had been nominated as Master(bater) of Ceremonies, I stood on a picnic table and presented the various awards. Ooooh, aaaaah. Then we drank beer and bullshat for the remainder of the evening as another notably chilly night descended upon Wetmar. The tiny amount of Mewkie was gone, but in an ambitious moment I discovered some hidden Spaten Dark. I was happy... The next morning was again chilly, and we packed up everything but the few warm bits we had for the ride back. Rick McMullen, normally of Charleston, SC, but temporarily of Chesapeake, Virginia, asked to join us for the ride back. No problem, said Melanie and I. We rolled out, following a near reverse of the route we'd taken up -- except that this time we did all the back roads. We got to Newport News by about 1930 (hour, not year), and went for sushi. It was a good weekend... Other items of note -- the dreaded clutch slave seal failure has started on the Ducati. 96's have this happen sometimes. It's a minor problem, but annoying. The D205 front that I put on a week back isn't up to my standards. It feels loose when you start to get over, and I had several instances of small slides or drifts in a couple different corners. D204s didn't do this, rain or shine. Back to a D204, then on to D207s. The fork seals on Melanie's Hawk started to go towards the end of the way up. Oh well... All in all, it was a very, very good weekend. Good folks, good rides, etc. Thanks for doing it, Mike, even if you couldn't be original as to location... ;-) Joshua J. Fielek DoD#385 AMA#517381 WERA#968 The Garage of Xanadu: jjf@inri.com 96 900SS-SP #A19 (Belldandy) 82 XV920R(Boomer) Wrench Early, wrench often. 75 RD350 71 T120R 77 R100/7(Slash) Happiness isn't getting what you want; it's wanting what you got.