Todd W, a fellow I've met through the auspices of a couple of OBRs (Old Bike Rides) and the BMAC (British Motorcycle , recently rode quite the ride on a vintage motorcycle through some of the more beautiful parts of Northern Colorado and Southern Wyoming. I give you his story, enjoy:
Well..... I made it. On a 1967 Bridgestone no less.
Each year the Phantom Canyon Chapter of the Antique Motorcycle Club of America has a vintage only, two-day ride through Colorado and Wyoming. This was my first go at it and when it was all over I had clocked 613 miles in two days and it was some of the best (and hardest) riding I have ever done.
We started in Ft Collins, Colorado and headed west into the mountains with 43 vintage motorcycle riders. A few people cheated and had modern bikes but overall it was mostly vintage. Among others, we rode with two old Harleys, two Indians, a Velocette, a raft of classic Triumphs, some BSAs, two Vincents, a bunch of Nortons, several BMWs and you guessed it..... one Bridgestone. I had the only two-stroke and the smallest engine by a wide margin. Most riders had at least a 650cc bike and many were over 1000cc. I had a 350.
It is not practical or even possible to ride in a group that large. Riders always break into smaller groups determined often by friendships, riding style, skill or speed. I rode with my friends and pushed limits that I never my Bridgestone or I would ever see.
We rode southwest into the Rockies on awesome winding mountain roads and picked up a few of our other vintage buddies from Southern Colorado before heading north towards Wyoming. One of the best things about riding in the mountains is that it is considerably cooler and you can ride comfortably in the Summer. There was quite a bit of snow in the higher elevations but all the roads were clear.
We stopped for lunch in Empire, Colorado and regrouped. As the riders finished eating I went ahead about a mile to take photos of the riders as they entered the Arapaho National Forest. In my haste to get a few pics didn’t realize my friends and the chase vehicle had all passed me and I was left on my own (with my Bridgestone).
After I hyperventilated a while, I scratched my scruffy sideburns and decided since I had a map ( a lousy one) I would either ride until I broke down or I caught up with the group. On the journey to reconnect I missed a critical turn and was well on my way to Steamboat Springs. Thankfully another rider ahead of me made the same mistake but realized his error and turned back. He flagged me as we passed each other and we rode together until we caught up with the group as they were taking a break in Rand, Wyoming.
Rand is where the mountains end and the open road begins and the plains are where I really struggled. This is where the riders really stretch it out and open the throttle. I chose to ride with my friends (with mid-70s BMWs) rather than a more speed appropriate group and I paid a heavy price. The Beemers with their weight and 900-1000cc engines easily powered through the significant headwinds and up the gentle grades. We generally averaged around 80 mph but I routinely fell behind when we hit a rise in the road, however, I always managed to catch up when it flattened out.
Most people consider me a guy who takes care of his stuff but I'm embarassed to say I abused my bike for two hard days on the plains. The mountains were easy but I really wrung it out on the long straight stretches. There were a hell of a lot of guys who were impressed that I kept up. One guy in our group had a beautiful 68 Triumph 650cc. He pulled ahead on the gentle up-grades but I could take him pretty easily on a flat stretch. I generally topped out around 85 mph. Keep in mind we're running at 7000-12000 feet and everyone's performance suffers a lot.
On the way to Riverside, Wyoming where we would have our overnight stop, the bike shut down on me while going up a grade in the road! I was running wide open at that point and was afraid I had blown up the motor. The chase vehicle picked me up and we trailered it for the last 20 miles to Riverside. I had to do a short “walk of shame” and explain to everyone that my ride was cut short. After a beer and some mechanical pontifications we discovered that an ignition wire had given up its last strand and separated. Fortunately one of my buddies is not only a superb rider but an equally skilled electrical engineer and we were back in business for the next day’s ride.
Day 2 was shorter and we left Riverside for the Snowy Range in Wyoming. The scenery was some of the best in the whole United States. Just Stunning. Especially in Summer! As we climbed to about 10,000 feet the temperature dropped dramatically and we found that they had cut through about 10 feet of snow to clear the roads. Leaving the mountains also meant riding back through the plains which seemed to go on forever as we headed into Colorado. Once again we tackled headwinds and I had to flog my bike for all it was worth to keep up with the Beemers.
I learned a lot on this trip and it turns out that I have a 75 mile butt. When we pulled in for fuel we had gone well past that and I was pretty ragged out. If anyone is wondering, I can assure you that going that far and that fast on a 350 two-stroke is pretty demanding. In order to keep up I had to stay tucked way down on my bike like a café racer for very long stretches to cheat the wind.
I was so beat that when I pulled in for gas I just fell over with the bike on top of me. The bike wasn’t damaged and I wasn’t hurt but I felt mighty silly. Maybe I went into auto pilot from riding a sidecar bike these last several years where you don’t have a kickstand. You just stop and get off. Who knows. No question though, I was in a bit of a daze when we stopped. Thankfully we took a break and re-hydrated.
I led our group through the last stage as we headed east into the mountains. We wound our way back through one of the state parks into Ft Collins for a short after-ride party.
All in all it was a great time and there is no question that I’m a better rider for it.
My only regret is that I didn’t take more photos but sadly the pace of our group just didn’t allow for it. Maybe next year I’ll putt-putt-putter along with the old Harleys and Indians.
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