Three Wheels of Love

Today we had some crazy warm weather in Maine: almost 70-degrees. A crocus came up in my yard next to the snow drops and, they know as well as I do, it's just as likely to snow two feet next month as it is to have the nice weather stick around. So, while they poked their heads up towards the golden orb in the sky, I threw a leg over my Patrol T and hit the road.


Ural Ride 3.18.12 -1

I'm not known for rising early. I'm a musician. More specifically, I play mostly Celtic-inspired folk music. Needless to say, I was busy yesterday. I avoided a hangover, but we played two sold out concerts in a row — a 4pm and an 8pm. I didn't get home till almost one. I fired up the bike at 2pm after a bagel and a couple cups of coffee procured in downtown Portland. My first destination was my Dad's house in my hometown of Buxton. When I got there at 2:30pm he was washing his Gold Wing in the yard. After a short visit, I remounted and visited the cemetery where my Mother currently resides. But the gates were locked. I forgot, they don't drop the chains till the first of April. Passing the church, I noticed they are trying new techniques to draw a crowd.


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I had a pleasant ride from Buxton, over the Saco River to Hollis. From there I proceeded through Limington, Limerick and into Parsonsfield. This is a hilly, old part of York and Oxford Counties. Stone wall line the back roads, which are studded with old farmhouses and barns in various stages of dilapidation. There's lots of apple orchards, too. I spent years wandering these roads in my old CJ7. I was great to be back. My mother's, mother's family came from out this way.


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I took a break and drank some water near the Old Town House. I looked through the windows. Looked charming except for the ugly forced hot air furnace and associated duct work hanging from the ceiling.


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There was yet another cemetery outside. You can't hardly ride a half-mile without running into one out here. Just think how many are just off the road, overgrown and hidden. According to Wikipedia:

From the Old Town Hall, I made my way west, towards the state line, passing Carolyn Chute's house. For those of you who don't know her, she's a novelist, militia enthusiast and character who lives the way she wants to live. This NYT article is written in an annoying, city-slicker-at-the-zoo style. But it paints a fair picture. http://www.nytimes.com/2008/11/04/books/04chut.html

Anyway, I took some dirt roads and came back to the pavement in Effingham, New Hampshire, near another cemetery I used to visit often when I was younger. Some friends and I used to hang out here. Don't ask me why. It seemed like the thing to do.


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I had a sandwich, soda and a bag of chips in sales-tax-free New Hampster. While eating on the steps, in the setting sun, a man pulled up, rolled down his window and said, "Sweet rig," while giving me the thumbs up. Before I could swallow, he'd gone

I took Route 153 back to Maine. For a short stretch, it runs along the shore of Province Lake. The state line runs along there, too. But, oddly, instead of following the road around the curve of the lake, it runs straight, carving off a curve of the road and a crescent-shaped wedge of the lake for Maine. I don't know if my bike is Maine or New Hampshire in this pic.


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I circled back to Route 160 in Parsonsfield and pulled up to the old Parsonsfield Seminary — known as ParSem to the locals. It's now a Head Start. My great aunt (who died last week) went to high school in the building. Classes first started in this building on the first Monday of September, 1832. It ceased operating as a seminary in 1947. The big dormitory building still stands next door.


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Just down the road a bit is a nifty covered bridge. Built in 1876, this double-span linked Parsonsfield with Porter. My Great-Grandmother lived just down the street when I was a kid. They closed it to traffic in 1960 when they built another bridge. Luckily, they didn't tear this old beauty down. Some info I read says it was build in 1859. Maybe that's the date on the original, and this one was built in 1876.


Ural Ride 3.18.12 -8

The new bridge is far, far less elegant.


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I walked the bridge and found it was decorated with graffiti, just like I remember it.


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Ural Ride 3.18.12 -10


Ural Ride 3.18.12 -11


Ural Ride 3.18.12 -12


Here's a short video...
http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/6995352261/



Ural Ride 3.18.12 -14

I crossed the ugly bridge, grabbed Route 25 and rode it through Porter, Kezar Falls and into Cornish where I noticed an ice cream shop open. I treated myself to a small sugar cone topped with cookies n' cream. When I came out, two older gentlemen were looking the rig over, pointing thoughtfully to where my crank breather had been depositing a protective layer of oil all over the left carb. I ate my cone in the little park across the street.


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From there, I took 25 into Limington, through Standish. When I got to the Gorham line, I detoured through Buxton before going through Gorham, Scarborough and Westbrook and getting home to Portland at about 8pm.

All in all, a fun time. It was nice to re-ride some roads I'd not been on in several years. Lot's of memories.

Total: 185km

Nice NE RR.
What year is your Ural?

It's a 2010 Patrol T.

I like bridges, sidecars and icecream.

Saturday found myself and a few fellow Uralistas on the road and in the woods around Bridgton, Maine.


Before getting far from VT Cycle's in Poland, where I got an inspection sticker, a brake spring let go on Thomas' bike. Luckily, there were spares on hand.


Thomas removed a pin with elbow grease and magic words.


The dastardly spring emerges from the hub, somewhat mangled.


Consulting the lignocellulosic, manually operated GPS system before heading into the woods on the old Sandy River narrow guage railroad bed out of Bridgton.


The Sandy River narrow guage railroad used to run right through here.


Later, we wound our way around a gate and down the still closed Hemlock Bridge Road and came upon the Hemlock Bridge. Built in 1857, it is a 109 foot Paddleford truss strengthened with laminated wooden arches. The bridge was reinforced to carry local traffic in 1988. It is located three miles northwest of East Fryeburg over an old channel of the Saco River.


Sadly the far end of the bridge was blocked until after mud season — even though it's been very dry. Thomas tried to fly the chair to fit, but no dice.


My bike on the bridge.


So, we backtracked up the "dry" closed road. Well, it looked dry anyway.


I hit the soft stuff in the one-wheel-drive and third gear. I got bogged down pretty quickly.


You could smell the clutch just a smoking.


Thankfully, my companions had rope and a come-along.


I'd still be there if it weren't for their help. Thanks guys. This was my first off-road adventure via Ural and my first time getting stuck.


I should have bought them dinner.


After we went our separate ways, I took the bike to the Bridgton Twin Drive-In.


The Drive-In has been operated by the same family since the 1971. It was built in 1957.

Good times!

-T

I left my house in Portland Friday at the crack of noon after packing and tying up some loose ends with work. I was to meet a couple of fellow sidecarists (Thomas and John) at the Phillips Memorial Preserve near Oquossoc later in the day. But first I had to ride to Bath to pick up a banjo from a luthier. It's a custom instrument he made for me. He carved a special, long five-string neck for a 1928 Vega Tubaphone rim. Anyway, it's a wonderful instrument and he was doing some tweaking for me after its sea trials. After I got the banjo, I had to swing by my old employer in Brunswick to tie up a final batch of details. I hit the road for the preserve at 3 p.m. First, I swung through L/A via Route 196 in and Route 4 out.

<a title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-1 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239182894/"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7075/7239182894_8c3c9ab404.jpg" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-1" width="500" height="333" /></a>

My next stop was a bite to eat at the Buckfield Mall. As I ate my turkey sandwich from the food court, I guy pulled up, rolled down his window, and asked, "What the hell is that?"

I said, with my mouth full, "A motorcycle."

As you might guess, that answer was not specific enough and the Ural Delay Factor ensued.

<a title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-2 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239183786/"><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5446/7239183786_9856ab81e7.jpg" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-2" width="500" height="333" /></a>

After leaving Buckfield I had a pleasant, traffic-free ride ride on some back roads via Worthley Pond, through Peru, Rumford Point and then to Rumford: Rhinestone of the Androscoggin River and birthplace of U.S. Senator, Secretary of State and lead author of the clean water and clean air acts, Edmund Muskie. His real family name was Marciszewski, but his father changed it when he came to this country in 1903. But I digress.

I saw a Maine Forest Ranger pull into the parking lot of a store where I was looking at a map. He strode directly over to me and handed me a card with a picture of himself and his wife on their Ural. Turns out he has a Dneper, too.

<a title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-3 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239184684/"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7242/7239184684_5f2a15d980.jpg" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-3" width="500" height="333" /></a>

I crossed the river into Mexico — without seeing a single customs or border patrol agent — and made my way up Route 17. I was looking for the Bemis Track, a dirt road following an old railroad line that would take me almost directly to the campsite. The problem was that it wasn't marked well. I found what I thought was the right road, but I wasn't sure. As I stood there wondering, a truck came down the path. I flagged them down and a nice guy with an electrolarynx told me it was indeed the Bemis Track. I answered a few questions about the bike and he drove away. It was then that I noticed his truck had Massachusetts' plates. I laughed out loud. Here was a switch: the native Mainer getting directions from the out-of-stater.

The Bemis track was a pretty well maintained road with a few nice views and several bridges over chattering streams.

<a title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-4 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239185562/"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8020/7239185562_5017e66518.jpg" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-4" width="500" height="333" /></a>

<a title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-5 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239186414/"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7071/7239186414_916ba4f73a.jpg" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-5" width="500" height="333" /></a>

The road eventually wound its way to the shores of Mooseloomeguntic Lake and to the Stephen Phillips Memorial Preserve. I arrived just before dark. My companions were already there. The site was a quarter mile down a wooded path on the shore of the lake. It took three trips to get my tent, backpack, banjo, cooler and camping stuff to the site. I was ready to relax and enjoy the last light of day and a well-derved malted beverage.

<a title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-6 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239187102/"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8015/7239187102_f4471b5f15.jpg" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-6" width="500" height="333" /></a>


Thomas and John are, it turns out, early risers. I am not. But they seemed to be eager to get riding — plus they wanted my coffee — so I got out of my tent at six-something. I made the java and Thomas planned the route.

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239187928/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-7 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5467/7239187928_7049990990.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-7"></a>

We headed to Oquossoc for gas. It quickly turned into a warm, sunny day. We hit the Morton Cutoff Road just up Route 16, plunging into the working forest. The dirt road was well-maintained and just a bit dusty. We hit some nice views and took our time, stopping for pictures here and there.

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239188910/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-8 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7221/7239188910_aafc62727d.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-8"></a>

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239189800/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-9 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7101/7239189800_f40c457c86.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-9"></a>

Then the trouble started. John's steed was losing power. The plugs were black, but not wet. They also seemed to be putting out low, yellowish spark instead of a bright blue snap.

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239190698/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-10 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7219/7239190698_9e3603a1b8.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-10"></a>

He limped it back to Route 16 via the Lincoln Pond Road, and there we sat, scratching our heads and checking random bits. Eventually, it was decided around noon that Thomas would head down the road to Wilsons Mills where fellow Ural rider Alan lives. Alan came with his truck and a tow strap, but only after helping Thomas fix his muffler which came loose due to a broken bolt on the way.

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239192398/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-11 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7085/7239192398_a7c1e2dff0.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-11"></a>

Once at Alan's homestead, armed with a wiring schematic and parts from Alan's bike, they went to work solving the mystery.

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239193036/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-12 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7233/7239193036_7158c911cc.jpg" width="333" height="500" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-12"></a>

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239193712/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-13 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7223/7239193712_7aa2cdd4b4.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-13"></a>

The hours ticked away, Thomas puffed away and I waved the bugs away, but to no avail. It wasn't the Hall sensor, the spark plugs, the coil, the ignition, a chafed wire or a bad ground. Defeated, we ate dinner at the only joint in town, which is next to Alan's house. And, he works there, too. John made plans to come get the bike sometime soon and he piled into Thermos' sidecar, which had only half a seat and we went back to camp just before dark. A lovely sunset helped salve a frustrating day.

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239194296/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-14 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7211/7239194296_1c72b7fbe3.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-14"></a>

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239195496/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-15 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm6.staticflickr.com/5445/7239195496_d5293a07b6.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-15"></a>

In the morning (they were up at 5 a.m. or so) we packed up. Thomas put John's stuff in his sidecar with his own gear and I let him ride in my sidecar which has a seat. We went back to Alan's house where John was going to get a ride home from Bill at VT Cycles in Poland. I left my things at the campsite. When we got to Wilsons Mills, Alan had good news: it was fixed. Turns out it had a dirty air filter. The engine wasn't getting enough air and the plugs were black from unburned fuel. That's all. John had peeked at the filter right off the bat, but the Ural filter, drawing from the center, instead of the outside like most motorcycle intakes, is hard to judge without taking the lid off and pulling the whole filter out. Doh! He'd been riding third, behind me and Thomas, sucking up all our dust.

Lot's of handshakes, lot's of head shakes and a sandwich at Oquossoc later, all three bikes were back at the campsite. I loaded my gear and we took off for the South Arm Road, a long dirt track running along Mooselookmeguntic and Richardson Lakes before reaching Andover. It was dusty and bumpy but fun. We split up at Rumford Point. I took the long way home via Route 113 and Evan's Notch. It was a great day to be riding.

<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/69574113@N06/7239196488/" title="ural ride 5.18-19.12-16 by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8144/7239196488_073542d8fa.jpg" width="500" height="333" alt="ural ride 5.18-19.12-16"></a>

So, how was your weekend?

I grew up in that area, well in Greene but close enough. Actually my mom moved a few minutes from that building down center street.

No kiddin'? Cool.

I took a ride with some folks who are gaga over vintage bikes. My Ural isn't vintage, but the technology is. Read all about it and watch a video here...

http://bennetttheredonethat.bangord...-cycleshop-ride-for-a-fish-sandwich-and-back/

My editors at the Bangor Daily News graciously allowed me to leave the confines of the Pine Tree State Monday. I rode my Ural Patrol T to the neighboring Granite State to see some local riders compete on vintage motorcycles. Steve Baker and Scott Vile of Freeport, as well as Kerry Smith of Portland were kind enough to let me in on a slice of their lives. I’m very grateful.

PHOTO STORY
http://bangordailynews.com/slideshow/vintage-motorcycle-racing-an-escape-from-real-life/

BLOG POST WITH VIDEO
http://bennetttheredonethat.bangord...g-to-escape-real-life-on-vintage-motorcycles/

I've got some sidecar racing pictures, too, on the way.

good stuff Troy!

Hey, I know you. Thanks!

good stuff man!

Glad to see the Ural is treating you well...My wife misses it dearly...

Ride safe and keep the hack in the air

Jeremy

Tell your wife, I'm doing my very best to take care of it while racking up the KMs. Rode it all winter. Thanks again!

The clock said 9:30 a.m. when my wife set the coffee on the nightstand and asked if I was going to sleep all day. So much for the early start.

I was mounted up and rolling west out of Portland by half-past ten. It was starting to get warm, but there was a breeze and the stifling humidity of Saturday was gone. My destination was map 10 in my hen-scratched 1994 Delorme Gazetteer. I often browse it like a bedtime story before turning out the lights, hoping to dream of the road. A few weeks ago I noticed how Routes 5 and 93, along with the Waterford and Sweden Roads, form a loop around Lovell. In the middle are some tangled dirt roads, Kezar Gorge and Sabattus Mountain. It looked like prime frolicking grounds for my Russian sidecar motorcycle...

Do a fellow ADVenturer a favor and click here for the rest of the story, pix and video:

http://bennetttheredonethat.bangord...9/of-mosquitos-mountains-motorcycles-and-men/

The more hits I get, the more likely my editors will let me keep doing this on company time. Thanks!

<a href="http://bennetttheredonethat.bangordailynews.com/2013/02/11/motorcycle-camping-in-the-blizzard//" title="video_thumb by Mystery Jig Studios, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8102/8481454224_c24933d68d.jpg" width="500" height="330" alt="video_thumb"></a>

The roads leading west into New Hampshire were slick last Friday morning. The leading edge of the snowstorm the TV weather folks were calling the impending “Snowpocalypse” or “Deathstorm ’13&#8243; in their typically understated fashion, was already dumping snow on me. I was astride my Russian-made Ural sidecar rig headed from Portland to Fryeburg. It was cold. My breath was freezing on the inside of my helmet shield, making it tough to see. Each time I passed a truck, whiteout conditions ensued for a few moments in the billowing powder. I was careening toward the state line to meet up with three other three-wheeled cyclists. We were going camping.

That’s right: camping.



To be fair, we planned the trip last fall when no one knew the biggest storm in years was on its way. We’re a loose-knit group who hang out online at the Soviet Steeds collective and, as of the middle of last week, we had upwards of a dozen fellow sidecar riders committed to the New Hampshire trip. But, one-by-one, they dropped out as the sounds of panic began to emanate from sweater-wearing forecasters on the tube. By Thursday night, only four were left: myself, Thermos, Keith and Mike.

We decided to go anyway.

To read the rest, watch the video and see more pix, click on over here:

http://bennetttheredonethat.bangordailynews.com/2013/02/11/motorcycle-camping-in-the-blizzard/

It'll take you to my blog at the newspaper where I work. The more hits I get, the more likely they'll let me keep doing this. Thanks!

You should put a link to this in the Hack section.

Do you know how many views your video has now?

-T

Over 10,000 now.

That is fantastic!!

-T