From: ryang@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu (Robert H. Yang)
Newsgroups: rec.motorcycles.dirt
Subject: Fort Valley 100 (long)
Date: 12 Oct 92 10:24:54 -0500
Reply-To: ryang@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu
Organization:  

The 2nd Annual Fort Valley 100 Dual Sport Ride
----------------------------------------------

"Sunday, October 11, in the Massanutten Mountains and Shenandoah Valley.
120 miles of backroads and trails, featuring scenic fall foliage.
Sponsored by the Northern Virginia Trail Riders, Inc, and the AMA."

	Well, I wanted to go on this ride, but I had no way of getting there,
besides riding my XT there from Pittsburgh (6 hour drive).  I don't
have a truck or trailer hitch (yet).  But as it happened, that Saturday
I had volunteered to cornerwork at Summit Point Raceway, in WV (about 80
miles from the start of the ride).  Also Butch Anton was thinking about
racing his EX that weekend.  So me, him, Mark Andy (also a racer, but not
this weekend), and Danny (another member of the Riding Club) got a truck
and off we went.

	I had only bought this bike, a '79 XT500, about a few weeks ago,
and started dirt riding a few weeks before that, so I had just managed to
pick up enough equipment to avoid major injury.  That and a new IRC GP1
rear tire to replace the worn-down Bridgestone Trail Wing it came with.
Not to spoil the story but I gotta say now, that tire sucks, sucks, sucks.
But it was all I could get on short notice.  

	But anyway, Saturday proceeded without incident.  I went to sleep
early, planning for an early start Sunday morning (about 5:30), as the
rider's meeting was at 9:30 at the Twin Lakes Campground, and I had no idea
how many times I would have to stop for gas, etc.  It was cold, and I got
lost once or twice, but I managed to ride my XT there and arrive about at
about 9.

	I checked in, chatted with a few people, looked over some bikes,
and listened to Bob Hammond give us our send-off.  The routes would be over
some paved streets, some gravel trails, some gravelly roads, and some serious
trails.  Everyone had the option of avoiding the serious trails (there were
a lot of people going two-up).  People could start at their leisure.  There
was a poker run also, with punching stations at various stops.  Lunch
and rest/refreshment stops were also planned into the route.  No inspection
of bikes for street-legality, if the cops stop you, you're on your own.
We were off!

	The first routes were pretty easy, streets, shallow gravel, and
more streets.  The gravel got deeper, though, and I was definitely wishing
for actual knobby tires.  I decided to pass on the first set of trails.
The foliage and scenery were strikingly beautiful, always rising to the
greatest crescendo of color (hey, check that aliteration :-) when I found
myself most tense about the state of control I had over my bike.

	Lunch was ok, voluntarily served by the Ladies Auxiliary of a
local fire hall.  Real nice folk.  I talked some more with my fellow
nutcases.  One guy suggested that I get some real knobby mud terrain tires
and scrape off the "Not for Highway Use".  Maybe I'll just backorder some
Pirellis.

	About three people asked me if the exhaust on my XT was home-made
(I guess you'd just have to hear it :-)  I saw one woman with a KDX that she
taped mirrors to.  This caught my interest, as Mark had thought about
bringing his KDX along, but I thought it the ride was for street-legal bikes
only.  "As long as you're using hand signals.  If the cop stops you, you
can just say that the light has just gone out."  Obviously the sun was out.

	Off through hill and dale again.  I decided to go through the
first trail.  In-sane.  Too many rocks for my weak knees, forks and
not-knobby tires. I though I was going to die.  Rocks the size of footballs,
and sharp, too. A nice big rock-covered hillside to fall over.  Umm, umm,
good.  But I got out of that by staying on the rear brake and kind of
coasting down the rocky hills.  I think I should have shut the engine off.
I may have burned up a lot of my oil though overheating the engine (maybe).
Maybe just fouled the plug with all the stop and go.

	Then it was through the woods, doing the dirt.  That was ok,
except for the streak of wet red clay I came upon, as it just started to
rain.  I slid and fell, the bike landing on my foot.  Ouch.  I was glad I
had worn the boots that I had.  This was getting to be a pain, and the XT
was getting harder to start.

	Back out on the street again, for an hour or so.  That and various
gravel roads that they give route numbers to in rural VA.  The sun came out
again.  A cold front had come through, I think.

	At about 2:30 I had my poker card punched five times and was
contemplating breaking for home.  But I saw the final trail option, and
decided to go for it.  "Now I know I'm definitely insane" I though to myself
upon entering the trail.

	It was ok, for most of it.  I learned some more about how to
stand up on the bike, steering it through the rough terrain.  I'm still
afraid of those big rocks, though.  Going uphill is a lesser deal with me
compared to descending with rocks like that.  But the trail continued, more
or less level, more or less easily.  But suddenly, the Rocks From Hell (tm)
appeared again, I was going uphill (that meant I would eventually have to go
downhill), and I was still in the middle of this !@#$% trail!

	Somewhere near the crest of the hill, I stalled and sat waiting for
the engine to cool down.  Talked to a few Serious Enduro Dudes (tm), and
they explained the awful fate that awaited me.  Also they told me about
actual enduro races, where 100 miles of this strewn rubble would be, like,
a course.  In addition, it seemed that this trail was the one I had avoided
that morning, except they had gone uphill on the big rocks that lay ahead.
Damn!

	But we started our engines, and we were off.  They went down the
hill fairly quickly, as I never saw them again.  I was terrified.  More big,
sharp rocks, going downhill, and a stream running in the middle!  Bad tires,
no traction at all, and an engine that was stalling, overheating, and
probably burning oil big time by now.  I dropped the bike a multitude
of times.  I was cursing God, myself, Yamaha, NATO, the prince of Sweden,
everybody.

	By the time I got out of there, it was about 4:30.  I could have
gone back to camp fairly easily, but I did not have time.  Hell with the
poker run the awaiting doo-dad prizes, goodbye 50/50 raffle.  Sheah, right.

	I got on 81, discovered I couldn't go North, so I crossed the
median, and discovered the Weeds From Hell (tm).  Got back on 81 N.
I was doing 70, revving the engine around 5.5k (redline is 6.5).  This
with not a lot of oil (not that I was thinking about that possibility at the
time).  About two hours later, I was on 340, heading towards Charles
Town, two miles from a service station, when the engine sputtered and died.
I thought, this is just great, they were expecting me by 6 at the latest,
and now I'm sitting dead on the highway.  So I put out the ol' thumb.

	I got a ride to the gas station from the archetypal good ole boy
in an ancient Chevy pick-em-up truck.  He told me stories about his old
Harley, and knowing how it felt to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere.
A construction supervisor, he worked in DC 7 days a week, and had lived
in Charles Town all his life.  "You're lucky you've broke down in a place
where people take care of each other"  I noted the empty six-pack in the
truck bed, and the beery state he was in.  I thanked him for his kindness
profusely, however.

	The gas started the engine, but it would just blow thick oily smoke
for a few minutes and die again.  So we stuck it in the back of the truck
and were back to the station.  Checking the oil, we noticed that very little
oil was left in the pan.  But adding oil and topping off the gas tank seemed
to help in a big way.

	I'm not sure that the piston/rings are worn, as the odo reads
3500 miles.  I wonder if it's possible that the stop-and-go in the woods
just fouled the plug a lot.  Or maybe the engine wasn't boken in properly.
I wonder if the engine was designed to run leaded fuel, and may have valve
recession.

	I think I'm going to put 30W in the forks, get knobbies, and do a
complete tune-up.  Maybe leak-down and compression tests wouldn't be such
bad ideas, either.  Yeah, I know it sounds like a major pain of a bike
compared to my '92 Goof2, but the XT is sort of a project for me.
Something challenging to work on in the garage.

	Anyway, I got onto Summit Point Road after almost being squashed by
an old lady in Charles Town, and blasted off to the track.  I got there
about 8:30, where my compatriots were truly pissed.  After all, they had been
ready to go for, what, 3 hours ?  We loaded the XT, Mark and Butch started
off in the truck, and I drove my Laser back to I-70, where I got Danny to
drive the rest of the way.  I slept for most of the way home, and sunk into
my pillow about 2 AM.

	I had a blast.  It was almost just too insane for words.
Rob
--
Rob Yang (Pittsburgh, PA, U.S.A) RYANG@DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU
'92 CBR600F2 (Hon) "It hisses on snakes."   AMA 642916   DoD 0593
'79 XT500 (The Bitch)        '90 Plymouth Laser RS (Sweetie)

Newsgroups: rec.motorcycles.dirt