I continue to have bad mileage with my GL1100. I consistently get 30 mpg while pretty much everyone else who has chimed in on the topic gets upper 30's or 40's.
I changed the plugs. I have checked the brakes and they are not dragging. I ran techron through the fuel system. I made sure the tires are properly inflated. They are.
I have plenty of power.
I have original stock exhaust. I have an after market K&N sponge-type filter that the previous owner installed. I'm wondering whether anyone has experienced a drop in fuel efficiency with an air filter like that?
If this isn't it, I guess I'm gonna have to do something to the carbs. Could the fuel mixture be too rich?
I'm gonna balance the carbs as soon as I buy the 4-carb balancing tool from JCWhitney. Could the carbs be so far out of balance that I get crappy mileage?
Or am I looking at opening up the carbs and adjusting them leaner? (That would be my first carb adjustment job. I've swapped carbs before, but not adjusted them. )
Honda Advertisements
Honda: Isn't it great when things just work?
There are no computer graphics or digital tricks in the film. Everything You see really happened in real time exactly as you see it. The film took 606 Takes. On the first 605 takes, something, usually very minor, didn't work.
Honda: This is how a Honda sounds
Just another cool ad.
There are no computer graphics or digital tricks in the film. Everything You see really happened in real time exactly as you see it. The film took 606 Takes. On the first 605 takes, something, usually very minor, didn't work.
Honda: This is how a Honda sounds
Just another cool ad.
Devlins Travels
Devlins Travels
One of my fellow sabmaggots is doing the coolest thing I can imagine. I haven't met her, but I am intrigued by her blog. She and her husband are taking off work and traveling the country by motorcycle.
I floated this idea past my wife. She said she'd rather take a month every year to travel by bike -- I think that's a great idea too.
One of my fellow sabmaggots is doing the coolest thing I can imagine. I haven't met her, but I am intrigued by her blog. She and her husband are taking off work and traveling the country by motorcycle.
I floated this idea past my wife. She said she'd rather take a month every year to travel by bike -- I think that's a great idea too.
I'm Alive
Lost in thought on my commute home, I failed to notice the car speeding toward the red light as I lined up to turn left in front of him. I failed to notice that he had no intention of stopping. If I had been fully focused, I would not have been
surprised by the squealing of brakes (his).
Thankfully, he did not swerve. He slowed in a straight line. I swerved to miss him; turning sharp left, sharp right, and sharp left again to snake past him mid intersection. It happened so fast I couldn't even tell you how I did it. He could have as easily swerved in the same direction I did, but he didn't. In a flash it was over, he went on his way, and I went on mine.
I'm lucky.
I gotta get my head in the game.
This is my wakeup call.
surprised by the squealing of brakes (his).
Thankfully, he did not swerve. He slowed in a straight line. I swerved to miss him; turning sharp left, sharp right, and sharp left again to snake past him mid intersection. It happened so fast I couldn't even tell you how I did it. He could have as easily swerved in the same direction I did, but he didn't. In a flash it was over, he went on his way, and I went on mine.
I'm lucky.
I gotta get my head in the game.
This is my wakeup call.
Father-Son Ride
"Can we go for a motorcycle ride, Dad?" he asks.
"Sure," I reply. It doesn't take any persuading to get me out on the bike.
Sunday morning, skipping out on church. Singing hymns while riding past church parking lots packed full of cars. Rolling on the throttle and zooming past. Twisting through the hills, twists and switchbacks, the tree-lined streets of the Fall Creek area.
"Do you like twisty roads?" I ask.
"I ... don't know yet," he replies.
"Fair enough," I shrug.
"Do you like going fast?" I ask.
"I like going as fast as we possibly possibly can," he replies.
"Okay," I reply. Rolling on the throttle and pushing toward the redline. Rapid acceleration is the desired sensation. It matters more than top speed. It doesn't matter to him that I travel the speed limit; it matters that we reach the speed limit in under 3 seconds.
"Are you doing okay back there?" I ask.
"I am doing good," he replies.
"Slug-bug blue!" he yells, pointing at a passing VW Beetle.
"Are you getting hungry," I ask.
"Kinda," he replies.
"Would you like to stop for something to eat?"
"Yes," he replies.
"Would you like to eat our picnic lunch or just a snack," I ask.
"Just a snack," he replies.
Stop at a park, eat our snack. Explore. Find a baseball in the outfield. Play catch.
"Good throw!"
"Thanks, Dad."
Lots of time spent exploring, tossing a ball, exploring some more.
"Ready to go?"
"Yeah"
"Okay, let's gear up," I say. "Do you need help with your helmet?"
"No, I can do it myself," he replies.
Then, after a moment, "Is this right?"
"No, here, look at my fingers when I do it ... see?"
"Okay," he tries again, "How's this?"
"Good job!"
"Thanks, Dad."
"Sure," I reply. It doesn't take any persuading to get me out on the bike.
Sunday morning, skipping out on church. Singing hymns while riding past church parking lots packed full of cars. Rolling on the throttle and zooming past. Twisting through the hills, twists and switchbacks, the tree-lined streets of the Fall Creek area.
"Do you like twisty roads?" I ask.
"I ... don't know yet," he replies.
"Fair enough," I shrug.
"Do you like going fast?" I ask.
"I like going as fast as we possibly possibly can," he replies.
"Okay," I reply. Rolling on the throttle and pushing toward the redline. Rapid acceleration is the desired sensation. It matters more than top speed. It doesn't matter to him that I travel the speed limit; it matters that we reach the speed limit in under 3 seconds.
"Are you doing okay back there?" I ask.
"I am doing good," he replies.
"Slug-bug blue!" he yells, pointing at a passing VW Beetle.
"Are you getting hungry," I ask.
"Kinda," he replies.
"Would you like to stop for something to eat?"
"Yes," he replies.
"Would you like to eat our picnic lunch or just a snack," I ask.
"Just a snack," he replies.
Stop at a park, eat our snack. Explore. Find a baseball in the outfield. Play catch.
"Good throw!"
"Thanks, Dad."
Lots of time spent exploring, tossing a ball, exploring some more.
"Ready to go?"
"Yeah"
"Okay, let's gear up," I say. "Do you need help with your helmet?"
"No, I can do it myself," he replies.
Then, after a moment, "Is this right?"
"No, here, look at my fingers when I do it ... see?"
"Okay," he tries again, "How's this?"
"Good job!"
"Thanks, Dad."
Wussi
Someone at my place of employment has been riding a yellow scooter to and from work. No joke, the brand name is "Wussi".
Don't know where it is made, but the website is in Spanish.
Us biker types at work have been having a field day with it. Just because the name is so fitting; it matches what a biker thinks of a scooter rider.
Today I was thankful to the Wussi rider for saving my parking space. There is a little oblong triangle of parking space in the garage where cars don't really fit, and are not supposed to park. These little triangles are just about perfect for motorcycles. Most of the motorcyclists in the company park their rides in these little triangles. There is one Hummer who parks in the motorcycle spot because he is too special to park where he belongs. He crams his SUV in a spot not designed to hold it. If I am not at work by 8:15 he takes "my" spot. Without fail.
(I am very self-conscious about calling it my spot, cause really, it doesn't have my name on it. But it is at the very least, very specifically not his spot. His pig does not fit. He parks at odd angles, encroaching on the neighboring car's space, making it difficult for everyone else. I would still think he's inconsiderate, even if it wasn't "my spot" where I "normally" park.)
Today I was later than 8:15 but there was no gleaming pig of a Hummer in "my" spot. Instead, there was a Wussi.
Nice thing about motorcycles (and scooters) is you can fit two or even three in the space of one Hummer.
So today I parked next to the Wussi, and was thankful for it.
Don't know where it is made, but the website is in Spanish.
Us biker types at work have been having a field day with it. Just because the name is so fitting; it matches what a biker thinks of a scooter rider.
Today I was thankful to the Wussi rider for saving my parking space. There is a little oblong triangle of parking space in the garage where cars don't really fit, and are not supposed to park. These little triangles are just about perfect for motorcycles. Most of the motorcyclists in the company park their rides in these little triangles. There is one Hummer who parks in the motorcycle spot because he is too special to park where he belongs. He crams his SUV in a spot not designed to hold it. If I am not at work by 8:15 he takes "my" spot. Without fail.
(I am very self-conscious about calling it my spot, cause really, it doesn't have my name on it. But it is at the very least, very specifically not his spot. His pig does not fit. He parks at odd angles, encroaching on the neighboring car's space, making it difficult for everyone else. I would still think he's inconsiderate, even if it wasn't "my spot" where I "normally" park.)
Today I was later than 8:15 but there was no gleaming pig of a Hummer in "my" spot. Instead, there was a Wussi.
Nice thing about motorcycles (and scooters) is you can fit two or even three in the space of one Hummer.
So today I parked next to the Wussi, and was thankful for it.
Stumbling In The Rain
This bike never rides rough, except, twice now, when caught in a downpour, and sitting at a stoplight, it starts to falter and idles rough. Idle drops and it dies.
Any ideas? Plug wires are fine, plugs are new, and symptom only occurs in heavy rain.
Any ideas? Plug wires are fine, plugs are new, and symptom only occurs in heavy rain.
Pish Posh
Larry's borrowing my car again.
"No problem," I say.
"But how will you get to work tomorrow?" He asks.
I point to my GoldWing. "Same as always," I reply.
"What if it rains?" He asks.
"Pish posh!" I say.
He grins.
"If you don't ride in the rain, you don't ride," I say.
"No problem," I say.
"But how will you get to work tomorrow?" He asks.
I point to my GoldWing. "Same as always," I reply.
"What if it rains?" He asks.
"Pish posh!" I say.
He grins.
"If you don't ride in the rain, you don't ride," I say.
Riding Music
I tried using my MP3 player and some earbuds to listen to music on the way home from work on the bike. First time ever.
I don't like it and probably won't do it again.
In order to hear, I had to crank it to the point of hurting my ears.
I safeguard my hearing as a rule: music means too much to me for me to squander my hearing. I want to be listening to music when I get to be a hundred.
So I had to turn it down, which meant I couldn't hear it except at stoplights.
I did enjoy hearing music at stoplights, with my toes tapping. But even there it didn't sound as good as it does in a car.
I guess music is one plus I can see about driving a car versus riding a bike.
Okay, so that's one.
Not enough. I'm gonna keep riding, and save the tunes for when I arrive.
I don't like it and probably won't do it again.
In order to hear, I had to crank it to the point of hurting my ears.
I safeguard my hearing as a rule: music means too much to me for me to squander my hearing. I want to be listening to music when I get to be a hundred.
So I had to turn it down, which meant I couldn't hear it except at stoplights.
I did enjoy hearing music at stoplights, with my toes tapping. But even there it didn't sound as good as it does in a car.
I guess music is one plus I can see about driving a car versus riding a bike.
Okay, so that's one.
Not enough. I'm gonna keep riding, and save the tunes for when I arrive.
More V30 Parts
My son and I took more parts off the old bike, the V30. I snapped some digital photos of them and I'll try to list these parts on eBay in the next few days.
I had a vision of me having boxfuls of V30 parts hanging around in my garage two years from now, and I don't like that vision. I want to make sure it does not come to pass.
I had a vision of me having boxfuls of V30 parts hanging around in my garage two years from now, and I don't like that vision. I want to make sure it does not come to pass.
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