I've waited for years to have a type of bike that could fit into a ADVrider forum and one that I could call my own, instead of just lurking around. The time has come. CHEESEDOG is my new 2012 KLR and the latest of a long line of about 20 two-wheeled contraptions and companions that have infiltrated my life since 1974. Practically every motorcycle up until this point has been entirely relegated to pavement travel and operating in any environment that would even remotely contain rocks, dirt, lions, tigers, and bears was purely unintentional. Dirt scratches paint, dirt sticks to chain lube, and dirt makes me take more showers than I was really planning on taking. Basically, in the nut-shell, I believed dirt bikes were designed for riders that are incapable of being precise on the street. In the last 5 years or so, I've owned a BUELDOG (a XB12R Buell), TRPLDOG (a 2007 Speed Triple that was a Loud Lime Green Power Ranger and great fun to ride, but quite frankly, it was getting to be same ole, same ole. Look cool, make noise, pull wheelie, drink coffee, run the canyons - repeat. And now - CHEESEDOG. I was going to name him KLRDOG, but with so little HP on tap, that wouldn't really work. Since the KLR doesn't do anything really well, it's kinda like it can't do Jack Cheese as compared to the other Adventure monster bikes out there. Hense, Cheesedog. So, please meet Cheesedog. I know the name works because when I tell my wife I am taking the Cheese out, she understsnds me perfectly. So, as bad as it may be, and as boring as it is, I humbly submit to you the following (slowly evolving) - THE ADVENTURES OF CHEESEDOG - as told and experiened first-hand by Cheesedog himself. Here I am wearing my latest (and first) new attire - designed and crafted by a Mr. SW MOTECH, I believe he lives in somewhere in Southwest Germany. I have covered about 2,800 miles with my Idiot in about 4 weeks since my birth. The day I was born at the dealership, my Idiot was so happy, he handed out quarts of Castrol GTX to everyone in the place. It still chokes me up, seeing 10-40 dribbling down the filler caps of all my friends on the floor I would soon see no more. Oh well, such is my lot. This is the Idiot. My Idiot is a total adventure bike greenhorn with over 200,000 miles of streetbike riding under his belt. This Idiot and I have finally started to bond after a really rough get aquainted process. Just look at the Idiots' gear. Pray for me. I thought I'd show you a picture of my vitals as we made our way up the road... Boy, these reports take some time. I'm going to take a break. Talk to ya later. Cheese.</SPAN>
I heard my Idiot telling his friends about how he was going to ride to Ojai, California from Rancho Cucamonga, CA. His first away from home trek with me. Oh joy. Ojai is only about 150 miles away from home, so I figured I could sleep in on that particular Friday morning, then we could slowly make our way to the Shell station for a drink, then on towards Ojai at a nice easy pace. Right. The first thing I know, the Idiot is shoving the key into my nose in the dark at 5:00AM, fumbles around trying to put on his sorry excuse for adventure gear, and leaves me running in the garage for what seems to be hours while he gathers up what he feels he needs on such a long(!) ride. He doesn't have even have a tank bag, so he is shoving packs of beef jerkey into his leather jacket, wiping the faceshield of a helmet whose interior smells like tuna fish, and all the while my hoses are getting swollen and ready to burst from endless hours of idling in the Idiots garage. I figure, if this is any indication of what this "adventure" is going to be, I'm going to take up the offer to elope with the VFR that I met at the dealer 2,800 miles ago. Anyway, the Idiot stopped and snapped the above picture in Morepark, CA about an hour from home as the sun was just coming up. He kept running back and forth across highway traffic with his iphone to get the "perfect shot". I think he's about a quart low - if you get my drift. I was just barely able to catch my breath after he was playing tag on the freeway with 18-wheelers and drafting at 85 MPH. I just give him the best mileage of my life, and this is how he treats me. I just have to keep a stiff upper fender and hope for the best in this budding relationship. Wish me luck. Cheese.
Well, we made into the town of Ojai safely, much to my surprise. I think my Idiot is an early model - he kept stopping at rest stops and disappearing into small blue buildings. Don't ask me for what. After he would shut the door, I would hear something that sounded like hot engine oil draining into a tin pan - and that sound would continue on for many minutes every time. He's either topping something off or draining excess. I'll have to see if there is a shop manual for my Idiot's make and model and look into it. Anyway, I have no clue as to what the above picture is. I've dodged that kind of stuff on the road before. I couldn't see much through the window from my vantage point in the parking lot, but believe it or not, I think he ate it. I'm not sure. I was just glad to take a break. By the way, I gave him an honest 62.5mpg on the way up to this road kill museum. You can't say I'm not trying to give this Idiot a chance. Gotta go, here he comes. Cheese.
I'm so glad that I studied English in Taiwan. After throwing me all over the twisty paved road for about a half-hour we stopped at this little building in Wheeler Spring, California. I thought for sure my Idiot would dissapear into it and start his draining ritual, but he didn't. I believe this is some kind of stop-over for communication items. I understand it is the smallest building of it's kind in the USA. I wasn't impressed. He mumbled something about having pain in the area where he pulls his wallet from, and I heard him mention the name of some man named Corbin. Strange. He always talks to himself out loud like that. As much as I try, I'm finding it very very difficult to warm up to such an irrational fellow. He even left one of his hands on my seat while he was walking around talking to himself. Why me, what did I ever do? Cheese.
My Idiot appears to be enjoying himself on this deserted Hwy 33 above Ojai. He's walking around without a care in the world taking pictures with his silly little red camera, talking to himself all the while. He's funny to watch because he's blind as a bat without his face lenses on and he's continually fiddling with the settings on his camera. If I had arms, I'd throw that silly camera into the weeds just to see him get upset. It's weird, I can't explain it, but in spite of me trying my hardest to dislike this bald-headed buffoon, I guess I could have done worse. or, maybe not. Cheese.
Cheesedog, get that idiot to ride you off road and show him why you're dressing in SW MOTECH gear for crying out loud. Surely he's ready to get a little dirty now that he has 200k of street miles under his belt! I'm sure he'll be so satisfied with your performance that maybe he'll twiddle with your doohicky a bit if you know what I mean.
In fact, if my Idiot can find his way to San Diego on Nov 10, he's signed up for a KLR tech day. I didn't even know I had a Doo, but it appears it's getting changed whether I like it or not. I hope they put me out for the operation. I get lightheaded at the smell of RTV. I'll keep you posted - i'm already getting nervous. In regards to more serious off roading, I concur. There is something happening with him every time he takes me off road, especially in sand - when my front tire starts to do its weaving, I feel a suction on my seat. I can't quite figure it out. I'll have to check his owners manual if I can find one. Weird sensation for sure. If you have any idea what it may be, be sure to let me know. I certainly don't want to show up on a ride with a hickey. Cheese.
We rode on and on from Ojai on Hwy 33. There was quite a bit of twisty road coming right out of Ojai and Idiot thought he was Valentino Rossi - my feelers were scraping and my tires were squirming everywhere. Funny, in spite of being thrown all around on hard pavement, I didn't feel the Idiot pulling a seat hickey - but off road, sometimes I think all the seat material I have to my name is going to be suctioned off! But once out of apex city, the road got straight, straight, straight. I could tell the my Idiot was getting tired of riding pavement, because I saw him in my mirrors repeatedly scanning the landscape for dirt roads. I sure love dirt roads! I just wish Mr. Puckerbush could hold his own there. Maybe he'll learn something looking at ADV. I just hope he doesn't come across these ride reports - he may not like my observations and frustrations about having him as my owner. Mums is the word - thanks. Cheese.
The smell of dirt, the feel of warm gravel between my lugs - Hoo Doggie! I was so excied when My Idiot turned off onto this road! This is what the my Taiwanese Dunlops were made for! I could smell ADVENTURE, EXPLORATION, WONDER, WILDERNESS, VASTNESS ----- but mostly I could smell - him. I once again felt that small centralized low pressure area on my seat begin to materialize. Will he chicken out? I was hoping not, because half of me lives for this stuff. Cheese.
Very entertaining, with a unique writing style. Thanks for sharing. I'll be looking forward to reading some more. I like that color scheme btw, good choice. (My 09 is red/black but I like these colors better, especially the black engine).
Bad news. (I think!) Cheesedog had to stop writing. The rumor is, Cheesedog got a total writers block and is completely unable to continue these reports from his viewpoint. The Idiot will attempt to take pen in hand henceforth. We all thank Cheese for his attempt at carrying the load as long as he did. Idiot
