Coop's Corner: Racing, Repair, Rockton

Monday, August 24, 2020

Racing, Repair, Rockton

Friday night, my first time at Mississippi Thunder Raceway. Quite literally dozens of times driving by on Wisconsin Hwy 35, the track itself is hidden behind pine groves, hidden to the extent that when mentioned to my friends, the universal response was, "there's a racetrack there?". It's been a long time since I've seen cars go really fast on a dirt track and it was a blast.

Eric met me there, we had a great time watching some very competitive driving of some very fast automobiles. Worried that it was going to be miserably hot, it was a wonderfully pleasant evening. We both got home before the worst of the weather hit; lighting in the distance was getting closer and closer.

My Royal Enfield Bullet sidecar rig has recently had difficulty keeping the starter drive engaged but only on cold starts. Warm, the bike is running almost before I can let go of the button. Friday morning at the campsite, I was sure to park with some downhill available, just in case. It finally caught but I wasn't convinced I'd get away without going the wrong way on the one way.

Weeks ago I had Marty at GoMoto order the sprag clutch, telling him that I was in no hurry...."a December job". But these overnight camps are proving to be so rewarding, our autumn hopefully a long one, there was no way I was going to be able to wait for snow and bluster. Saturday I tore into it.

The lighting made the old piece(s) look like brass...or something but it was the light in the shop for some reason. The new primary/sprag is just above, the front side and in one piece.

Sunday I decided to do some road scouting for our upcoming Wildcat Mountain Rally that isn't a rally this year. Still, I plan to lead a ride or two of non-rally goers and some roads closed needed to be confirmed. It so happened that Eric wasn't all that far away so he did a very good job of anticipating a proper and realistic rendezvous time at Rockton for chicken. Back when I was spending time with the Sport Bike folks, we had a common route down to that part of Wisconsin. Sunday I decided to follow it since I'd not been on some of the roads in quite some time.

Blank Hill Road...not all that long ago, lots of 'farming' was taking place here. Now, some heifers in a single paddock. The buildings empty, someone's working the land, a neighbor that IS still in business.

Typical.

Through Ettrick, down Cty D, Cty T, into the town of Mindoro and on my way through the Mindoro Cut. The last time I'd been there was with Ben when he was home on Leave.

Saturday, Eric was out riding and sent a photo..."Troy...we've met before, he's the one that told us about camping in Ft. McCoy...camping this weekend up on the Flowage, has some good camping location ideas for us....".

I was as interested in the camping ideas as I was in the bike...Troy obviously a kindred spirit, putting gravel road tires on a bike they didn't belong on, just like my TranZalp.

So I was just getting up to the actual Mindoro Cut where I'd planned to stop and take a photo....

This is where Troy's saying to himself..."Who's this nimrod on a scooter??"

I had to pull in front of him to prevent his exit, introduced myself and heard, "....Eric told me about your blog, I just saw it...".

We found some things to talk about....quite a few things actually :)

It was great to meet you Troy! I like your business plan, sounds intriguing. Keep in touch.

I met these two women bicyclists coming down the north side and just before I met Troy at the 'Cut, they'd stopped and chatted with him. Now I was following them back down the south side.

Briskly and more smoothly than some motorcyclists I know!

Just as tasty as I'd remembered it!

We needed dessert, so over the hill we went. The Goose sold Eric something minty, I went with Black Cherry.

Taking the very long way back towards West Salem where we split, we enjoyed the ride through the Amish areas around Cashton and Westby, met numerous young couples going home after Services. Lots of rough roads that were a bit tough on my license bracketure. ROK strap to the rescue!

It was a good one, other than a broken license plate mount. 303 miles for the day and warm, I lost track of how many liters of water I had on the trip home. It was good to get out of the sun.

6 comments:

RichardMAugust 25, 2020 at 2:20 PM
Doesn’t the RE have a kick starter?
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mohessianAugust 26, 2020 at 9:28 AM
Uff da, fida! Apparently nobody at all has the plague in western Wisconsin. I would turn around and run away if I saw that crowd.
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motormikeAugust 27, 2020 at 5:44 AM
As for RE kicker... machine up a jackshaft... brackets.. bevel gears.. run it under the side car.. use a handle crank.. al la Model T.. Ta Da.. YES ! I'm a genius
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mohessianAugust 27, 2020 at 8:33 AM
Yeah, Doug. That's all!
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)