Brian A. Hopkins
Will Work for Motorcycle Tires

Rocky Mountain High
21 - 30 June 2007

PREPARATION (skip all this if you just want to get to the riding part). First thing is tires ... always with the damn tires. My annual  tire budget is freakin' ginormous! My favorite tire, the Avon Azaro, has been replaced with the Avon Storm. "New and improved," say the Avon folks. Cool beans. Let's mount up a set. I can get 6,000 miles out of a rear Azaro on the Mighty ZZR. The Storm should be just as good ... and adequate for this trip, which I'm estimating to run about 4,000 miles (an estimate that will prove to be low). Gregger ran Avon Storms on his CBR in Arkansas last month and loved them.

My front tire isn't all that worn, but the ZZR hasn't been turning like I think it should. Last time I took it to Arkansas, I damn near ran off the road and into a concrete barrier (just ask Charlie "Eyesonly" who was behind me at the time) cause the bike absolutely would not hold its line through a tight left-hander that featured some nasty ripples in the tarmac. Granted, I was taking the curve at an insane speed, but, hey, that's what I normally do, right? After checking everything imaginable, my technical advisor on all things moto, Rich Desmond, and I finally decided the tire was wearing funny, out of round or something. So, the ZZR's front tire is getting replaced, too, even if it does have tons of tread left.

First thing I noticed as I removed the Z's rear wheel was that it didn't bounce right. The tire pressure must be off, but, ya know, I just rode this bike to work and back the day before and I would have noticed in the handling of the bike if the tire had been low on air. As I rolled it, something shiny caught my eye.

Sumbitch! Good thing this tire was on its way to the trashcan anyway. Talk about perfect timing. I mean, if you're gonna get a flat tire, the time to do it is right before you're replacing the tire, right?

In short order, I had the new Avon Storm mounted up and ready to rock and roll. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: there ain't nothing quite as sexy as brand new rubber. See what I mean?

I had some trouble breaking the bead on the front. Did quite a bit of sweating and cursing over it, jumping up and down like a crack addict, enough that the wife was even prompted to come see if she could help, but then I finally remembered an old dualsport rider's trick. I used the sidestand on my BMW to break the bead. I mean, I weigh 170 pounds these days. The Beemer weighs 425. Worked great! (For a discussion on tire changing philosophy, check this blog entry and this one.)

With new shoes on the ZZR, I tore the bike down to do an engine oil and filter change, clean and oil the air filter, and go over her real good, making sure nothing was working loose. I installed a new magnetic drain plug (to gather up any odd metal filings that might be rolling around in the old girl's powerplant). My Beemer came with one of these plugs and it seems to actually work. I replaced the front brake pads with some that I hoped would perform better than what I had been using. And I installed a Throttlemeister (throttle lock, a.k.a. cruise control) because my damn right thumb's broken (dirt bike accident from four weeks ago -- just ask Cricket) and liable to hurt like a mother on the long ride we've planned. (For a discussion on throttle locks, check this blog entry.) Of course, the bike also got a very thorough cleaning. I never start an adventure with a dirty bike, even though it makes no sense whatsoever to go to all the trouble.

For this trip, I would also be using a comm system for the first time, a Midland CB radio piped into my helmet with a J&M headset. (More info on the setup is available in this blog entry.) It would allow me to talk to Gregger and Elaine on their Wing, taunt truckers, and monitor the weather feed from the National Weather people.

With all that done, the bike was good to go. I packed and loaded her the night before...

...and tried my best to wait patiently until it was time to hit the road ... failing miserably, as I always do. Patience is not my forte.