Friday July 5th, 2002
Start: Scottsdale, Arizona
End: Scottsdale, Arizona
186 Miles
Friday morning, we wake up and I've got some
phone calls to make. Clean up, have a snack,
and start calling.
I explain to Sharon that I think I'll
be
able to find a place to get us right
in,
as July is the slow time for motorcycle
shops
in Phoenix - it's just too hot for
the locals
to ride, mostly.
I call Kellys Kawasaki, and they have
the
parts in stock for my petcock. They
have
time to do the steering bearings, and
I have
the bearings with me, so we're set.
I bring the bike in around 1:00pm, and as
agreed they get it right in. Should be about
2-3 hours to do the work. Besides the steering
bearings and the petcock, I ask for an oil
change. While waiting, I make myself at home
in the showroom. I browse the sales floor,
look at posters, and look at parts and accessories.
There's a new 2003 Concours on the
floor,
just assembled. A very pretty color,
a deep
red - I'd call it a wine red. Very
classy!
I talk to Ginger, the parts manager, and
explain that I worked there long ago. I give
dates, and ask if she knows any of the people
I worked with. None of them still work there,
but I wouldn't expect them to 20 years later.
Ginger tells me that:
Mark, one of the best mechanics I've ever
known, got a divorce and now works for Allied
Signal.
Tom C. went into real estate, made good money,
and moved to Boulder about 8 years ago. A
very charming (though brutally blunt) guy,
Ginger tells me that they still miss having
him around.
Bill S. the service manager that introduced
me to BMWs by loaning me his smoke-gray 1976
BMW R90s for most of a day, went into real
estate as well. As did his replacement, Bill
K.
John the owner comes around now and
then.
His son Jeff is the general manager
now,
in that office over there....
Oh gosh! I remember Jeff, when he was riding
around on a little KX Kawasaki motorcrosser,
when he was smaller than my own son is now.....
About that time the service manager comes
up to me to tell me that I have 2 sets of
bottom steering bearings. Shoot..! They'll call
around to find another set, OK? Sure... not
much choice, the bike is apart and I don't
want to take a taxi to Scottsdale or a bus
to Pemberville.
After a while, the service manager hunts
me up again. They've found the bearings,
a full set of Kawasaki bearings, and they'd
prefer to put in Genuine Kawasaki Parts.
OK, that's fine.... I'll be able to use both
bottom bearings if I simply keep the bike
for another 120,00 miles or so.
The good news is that the petcock is rebuilt
and the oil is changed. And if need be, the
tech will stay after a bit to get me back
on the road. I can't complain, they're doing
their best and they are getting it handled.
I go back to visiting up front - I
talk with
Jeff the manager a bit. He's the owner's
son, and he does remember me though
barely.
We talk about the past, and about the
present
motorcycle market. Talking shop, though
this
isn't exactly my field anymore, is
fun.
I let him get back to work, and I browse
the Indians next door. Not my style, but
what the hey - somebody buys them. Other
than maybe style reasons, I'm not sure why...
The tech gets my bike back together
just
a few minutes past closing, and I'm
on my
way. I take the old bearings with me,
so
that next time around I'll be sure
to get
the right ones. And so that I can double-check
and see if I screwed up or if Bryan
Moody's
parts chart on the Net is wrong. Could
be
either one, I'm certainly not infallible...
Back on the freeway headed to Scottsdale,
and I notice a strange thing - the bike is
smoother than it's been! I wonder if the
bars have to be free to move (no detent),
and when they move they damp out some small
amount of vibration? No matter, I like the
improvement in any case. Nice to know I didn't
bend a rod when the petcock failed!
I pick up Sharon just before sunset so we
can cruise the town, i.e., ride to the top
of South Mountain Park. We get to watch a
beautiful sunset while zipping south on the
freeway toward South Mountain Park. I tell
her that the sunsets aren't normally that
good here, I suspect that the forest fires
are helping the sunsets a bit by adding particulates
to the air.
We only get a little lost this time
on the
way to South Mountain Park. Finally,
we're
there.
|
Author aboard a Kawasaki KZ-650
South Mountain Park, Phoenix
Circa. 1982 |
Background is that when I lived in Phoenix,
I considered South Mountain Park to be my
own private race track. Other riders I worked
with at Arizona Kawasaki considered it to
be more of a paved motocross track - you
could triple the 25 mph speed limit in a
lot of places but you'd best know exactly
where you were - or the road would turn while
you were still airborne. I have a picture here
somewhere of me on my KZ-650, both wheels about
a foot off the ground. It doesn't look like
much, but I was going about 70 mph at the
time - I can sort of guess why steering bearings
on my bikes only last about 60,000 miles...
The other reason I used to like to ride to
the top of South Mountain Park was for the
city lights. I learned photography while
in Phoenix, and one thing I photographed
a lot was the Phoenix skyline at night. A
small tripod that I carried in my tank bag,
a couple of 35mm cameras, a cable release,
stopwatch, and a Thermos of hot tea and I
was happy - quietly sitting in a corner of
the open-air observation building at the
top, sipping my tea on a winter night, nearly
alone with my thoughts and my gear. Each
exposure took about 4 minutes; I have the
basic exposure time memorized still: 4 minutes
at F5.6 on ASA 25 slide film.
Other hobbies as well as life in general
have kept me away from cameras too
long,
so this trip I carried three - a digital,
and the same two 35 mm cameras I owned
and
used when I lived in Arizona way back
when.
Anyway, we enter the park just after sunset.
No problem, I used to zip to the top in maybe
10-15 minutes.... I should be able to do
so tonight too. We might even be able to
see just a bit of the fading sunset from
the top.... Except that we're the last vehicle
in a line of about six vehicles. And they're
all cars. Old cars. Old American cars. Low-budget
cars, from the bario I think...
So OK, no problem... we'll pass them all
in one fell swoop the first chance we get!
Ancient low-budget cars are simply slow-moving
impediments to traffic, right? I'm just so
happy to be here, to be riding again in South
Mountain Park..!
And then we hit a speed bump. The first speed
bump.
After 500', we hit another.
And another...
And another...
And another....
And another.
After about the 6th one, reality hits:. I
wasn't the only person using South Mountain
Park as their private race track, and they've
nuetered it while I was away. Sigh...
Stuck behind a half-dozen ancient American
cars, clunking over a series of big speed
bumps at low speed, and now we're going to
climb a long twisty desert grade in the dark.
Think sand, think cars that don't run veryl
well, think of overheating... I used to really
enjoy the challenge of riding this road quickly
at night, having to know where all the curves
were in my mind because you couldn't see
them ahead of time... but maybe it's safer
to go slow for now. We wind our way up out
of the valley.
South Mountain Park is basically an east-west
ridge of mountains that form the southern
boundary of Phoenix. I don't know if it's
still true, but in the 1980s when I lived
there it was claimed that South Mountain
Park was the world's largest Metropark. And
here in 2002, it's absolutely amazing to
me just how slowly you can crawl up that
long curvy grade in the world's largest Metropark.
And what a tease it is to realize just how
much faster you could get up it, given the
chance.
We arrive at the big parking lot at the top,
and it's pretty much full. The place is crowded,
even! Mostly older American cars, and Spanish
seems to be the dominant language. What a
change - there were many nights when there
were just 3-5 people at the summit enjoying
the view, and several winter nights where
I was the only one at the top, period.
We get off the bike and get out of our gear.
It's warm at the top, but not hot. We walk
over to the observation building, and oh
my...!! The city lights are as beautiful
as ever, twinkling, spread out horizon to
horizon below us. Here and there a black
void right in the middle of the sea of lights
- a mountain with no buildings. And far off
in the distance in the northwest, I think
I can see I-17 heading north out of the city.
Sharon and I talk a bit; I point out landmarks.
I point out the Phoenix business district,
I point out cars making their way up the
road we were on, I point out other mountains.
After a bit, Sharon walks down the mountain
just a tad and I take a seat in the observatory,
just me and my cameras.... just like the
old days. A beautiful scene below, and mine
to capture if I can get everything just right...
I set up the tripod and the camera. I have
a stopwatch, but no flashlight - so I figure
on opening up the aperture and decreasing
the exposure time to about a minute. Exact
time isn't real critical on long exposures,
so I can count the exposure time in my head
and on my fingers. I don't really care what
people around me think of a guy huddled in
a corner with cameras mumbling "One-thousand-one,
one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three...."
|
Phoenix Skyline
South Mountain Park |
I take maybe a dozen shots, bracketing the
exposures and trying a couple different compositions.
The thing about night photography is that
you never know what you've got till you get
the film back from the developer - and as
often as not there's an airplane's landing
lights streaking across the shot, or worse
yet people... At some point you simply say
"I've done my best, time to put it away
and go home." I reach that point, and
then walk down the mountain to sit with Sharon
for a bit. As a younger man 20 years ago,
I've set out here till midnight watching
the lights twinkle and enjoying the company.
It's about 9:20 PM, so we've got all the time
in the world to talk quietly about the scene
in front of us, and life in general.
Then around 9:25 PM, and a park ranger pulls
into the parking lot and announces that the
park closes in 5 minutes...
What...?
Another change, and not for the better. I'm
fumbling with my camera gear while all the
people are leaving. There are maybe 5 cars
still in the lot when we get to the bike,
and by the time we're fully dressed we're
the only private vehicle at the top and the
ranger is right there with us, telling us
to move it along, lighting the way for us
with his spotlight - I'm not impressed.
We pull out of the parking lot, with the
ranger escorting us down. Bit by bit, he
drops behind... and each time he's out of
sight for a few seconds I gas it while he's
gone. Finally he veers off on the side road
to the backside of the park, and we're the
only people on the road down from the top.
This is more like it, this is the way I remember
the place... and for a little bit, it's very
good to be home again, taking curves in the
dark, enjoying South Mountain Park on a motorcycle.
We catch up to the local traffic just before
the entrance, and follow them out into the
real world.
Sharon wants to see downtown Phoenix,
and
I want to see some of the other sights
such
as my other old apartment in north
Phoenix,
or Motorcycle Mechanics Inestitute,
so we
compromise - stay out late and see
both.
Not to worry, we're not going to freeze
-
and we're on vacation, we can sleep
in if
we have to.
So we meander around downtown, in the
main
business district. I'm completely lost
now
- many streets are now one-way, and
I don't
recall any of these tall buildings.
So I
kick back mentally, and we play the
part
of tourists.
For a big city, it's.... well, it's a big
city. Phoenix didn't used to have such an
aura of worldliness. In the 1980s, many major
streets still crossed the dry bottom of the
Salt River, and when water would flow they'd
get washed away. There were citrus groves
scattered around the outskirts, cotton and
alfalfa to the west, and in places the rural
feel was very similar to farms here in northwest
Ohio. There was just one freeway, I-17, and
that didn't even go around the city - instead,
it went south to the Durango Curve and then
directly east, then south again just past
South Mountain Park.
But now, Phoenix is a modern big city. New
buildings. A brown haze hanging over the
town by day, and a modern freeway system
belting around the entire metro area. Ethnic
neighborhoods to the south. Urban sprawl,
an endless stream of businesses along the
Interstate. And the exact same brand-name
stores that we have back in Ohio. It appears
Phoenix grew up while I was away, and it
seems to me that something special was lost
in the proccess.
Having seen downtown, we head north on I-17.
Again there's much I recognize, much I've
forgotten, and much that's brand new. I'm
not sure what to think of all that I'm seeing....
where does it end? What will this all look
like 40 years in the future, when the past
20 years have been so full of growth?
We exit at Greenway, and look up my
other
old apartment. We pull into the parking
lot....
This one was nicer than the other place,
and still is - this looks like the
kind of
place I wouldn't mind living in even
now.
Nice clubhouse, nice grounds, buildings
in
good repair. I'm glad both places still
exist,
otherwise I might feel as though all
traces
of my having lived in the Valley were
gone.
It's late, time to head back to the hotel,
so we take Greenway east. Forever, it seems.
It used to be that the town just more or
less ended in that area, and me and my roomates
could hop in a car and go driving in the
desert looking for parties / bonfires put
on by the locals about our age.
Now, the area where we used to party is very
nice housing. And shops. Miles and miles
of relatively new construction, in an area
that my mind still remembers as being just
desert. And I do mean miles and miles...!
My mind reels - how many people did it take
to build all of this? Even given the fact
it's been 20 years, good gosh... it must
have been an army of construction workers.
We take Greenway all the way into Scottsdale,
across what used to be the northernmost edge
of Phoenix. It's not the northern edge anymore,
not at all. It's late, we arrive back at
our hotel room exhausted. It's been a long
day, and a full day.
But the room is cool inside, the sheets are
clean and smooth... we talk a bit and go
to bed.
Best,
Doug Grosjean
Pemberville, Ohio |