Automotive Blog

On August 7, 2008, I posted the first blog in this series about buying a rebuilt-salvaged motorcycle. Now, just over a year later, I'll complete the series by discussing my first ride.

Initially, I wanted to conclude by riding my bike to GlobalSpec headquarters (home of most of CR4's Blogging Team) in Troy, New York. But it was back-to-school time for me even before the anti-theft inspection. The additional two weeks that it took for the bike's title to arrive also made a trip to Troy a no-go.

My next plan was to take some pictures at the end of June 2009 – right at GlobalSpec HQ - on my first day back at work for the summer. But 11 days before my second stint at GlobalSpec, I ruptured my Achilles tendon. This injury will keep me off the bike until at least the end of September. That makes two Augusts and at least one September where all I can do is look at the bike. Ouch! But enough of that. Let's talk of the ride.

Initial Reaction to 18 Years of Technological Advancements

Tom Petty, how right you are. Waiting was the hardest part. After getting home from registering my motorcycle, I immediately clamped on the license plate, added the registration sticker, and hit the road. The weather was iffy, but I wasn't going to let that stop me. After eight weeks of waiting, I probably would have ridden in hail.

Immediately, I took to some back roads and enjoyed the much more comfortable Corbin Gunfighter seat. The bike's handlebars were much wider and the increased length of the bike, albeit only six inches, made riding far easier on my large frame. My feet were now more in front of me than beneath me, and my elbows were out instead of tucked into my sides. The motorcycle handled so much more smoothly, truly rolling through turns. It absolutely purred when I accelerated.

How Maggie Became Stormie

Almost every Magna owner that I know refers to his or her bike as "Maggie". But my new bike would have a different name. Defying the weather gods and the darkening skies, I decided to take a tour around Saratoga Lake, New York. Unfortunately, the gods noticed. They opened a deluge on the road just as I passed the point of no return. I changed my course (based on the sky) to try to stay away from the storm, but had uneven success.

Even in the downpour, the bike handled beautifully. I was happy that I had decided upon a new rear tire, even though I could have gotten away with what I had. And every time I thought I had the storm beat and hoped to dry out, I was pummeled. Eventually, I gave in and took my medicine. It was a slow, rush-hour ride home. Of the 60 odd miles of that ride, 45 of them were in the rain. I didn't care, though, as I pulled in and wiped down "Stormie" (as I now call my bike) with not a care in the world that I was saturated.

I was soaked, psyched, and already waiting for the next morning's ride to school. It felt like Christmas Eve in October. Oddly enough, four of my first five rides ended up with me getting caught in the rain. Since that first ride, I've traveled about 1600 miles - including a 24-hour, 600-mile trip through central Pennsylvania in sub-freezing temperatures. No matter how hard I push her, however, "Stormie" is always willing to respond.

Related Readings:

Part 1 - The Salvaged Motorcycle Odyssey
Part 2 - Good Economics or a Midlife Crisis?
Part 3 - Taking the Plunge is Not for Everyone
Part 4 - On the Road
Part 5 - Show Me the Money
Part 6 - Series in Review
Part 7 - The Anti-Theft and Salvage Inspect Unit