This month's Way 2 Go was written after a ride to the Brass MonkeyRally in Lukeville. If you go there this month, you won't find sidecars, however, if you take Ben's dfrections along with his musical instructions, you're sure to find an enjoyable ride along the way.
The first long weekend after the holidays is Washington's Birthday, or President's Day or whatever, a February twenty something. The event that made this weekend special was the annual Brass Monkey Sidecar Rally. On alternate years, the event is held in either Arizona or California. This one took place a couple of years ago in Lukeville, Arizona.
Lukeville is about 80 miles south of Gila Bend, right on the ,Mexican border. I don't have a sidecar, although my son Mike has one. He couldn't make this trip, but it sounded like an excellent destination, a perfect weekend ride. I pulled out the maps, gathered up the camping gear' and planned it down to the last detail.The very last detail was the work on the Honda. The V45 Sabre already had a $600 custom paint job. I toothbrushed out all the nooks and crannies, waxed, armoralled, and rubbed till it gleamed. Why that paint job didn't look a nickel under $600.89 now. After checking the air pressure in the tires and suspension, 'and changing the oil arid filter, the bike was ready. Friday night, bike all packed, I was in bed early. Up at 5 AM sharp, so far so good. But what's that noise. ' It sounds like - aaah RAIN!
Sure enough, it's coming down in buckets. Back upstairs I give Nancy, my normally compassionate wife" the news. She wasn’t nearly as sympathetic as I thought she would be.
She summed up, her opinion 'Of, my mental health, my parentage and my ability to tell time in one breath. I decided to let her go back to sleep.
Back down the, stairs, I made some. Coffee and tried to be philosophical about the whole thing: A nice rainy weekend' at home might be a good thing. Think of all the work I could get done around the house. I could fix the ceiling in the utility room, or wallpaper the downstairs bathroom, or paint the ... Before I knew it I was in the garage plugging
in. my Widder Lectric Vest. '
Dress would be the key to this cold rainy morning. Over the Lectric vest went a nice warm jacket followed by a nice "almost" waterproof rainsuit.
Notice, I didn't mention putting on the Totes. For those of you lucky enough not to know about Totes, they are thin rubber appurtenances from Hell. They are to be stretched over your motorcycle boots, thereby keeping the more expensive foot gear dry. I owned a pair once. The first time I tried to use them, I spent several minutes hopping on one foot in the pouring rain , until I finally got them on. Leaning back" against the bike gasping for breath, , I noticed it had quit raining. It was
then that I discovered getting them on had been the easy part. Getting them off was the real test. So, here I am splashing south down the 405 with my motorcycle boots doing unaided their job of keeping my feet dry. It's not really so bad. In fact, since I've stopped thinking about the wasted effort spent detailing the bike, I'm really enjoying my wet ride. The snug feeling inside my gear, and the rain drops sliding across my face shield are very pleasing. I've even started feeling a little heroic. This is probably how Lindbergh felt when he took off from New York that morning in 1927: The Lone Wolf, that's me. Yeah, that's the ticket. .
Before I can remember most of the words to the first verse of "Wild Blue Yonder," the 405 has turned into the 5, and I'm fast approaching San Juan Capistrano. Time to make a decision. I had originally planned to take all back roads. Starting with 74 to Elsinore, I'd continue on the 15 to Temecula. The 79 would get me to Warner Springs, and the S2 to the 78 which would put me in Brawley. From there the 86 to Interstate 8 and Gila Bend, and then 85 to Lukeville. In view of the weather conditions a prudent rider might choose to stay on I 5 to I 8 and Gila Bend, Interstates all the way. So I turn off -on route 74 at San Juan. Nobody's calling me a prude. Ortega Highway (74) is even better than the freeway. The trees are dripping and it smells good. One of the most pleasurable things I can imagine is riding through a forest in the rain. If only I could remember the words to "Raindrops Are Falling On My Head," it would be perfect.
It's Temecula and I'm ready for breakfast, so I swing in to the Swing In Cafe. I'm feeling quite courageous as I peel off the layers of clothing. At the next table are two couples. One of them says, "Nice day for a ride."
"Oh, it's not so bad if you dress for . it," I respond in my most gallant manner.
"I know," he says. "We're on bicycles."
"Bicycles! Bicycles!! You're riding bicycles in this weather?
"Sure. We Hke to ride in the rain." Crazy damn bicyclists.
After breakfast the Lone Wolf takes off once more, continuing on down Route 79, battling the elements in his quest for rain drenched forests, Brass Monkeys on the Mexican Border, Totes that actually fit over motorcycle boots, whatever. No damn bicyclists are going to screw up my fantasies.
Passing through Warner Springs, I make the turn onto S2 and shortly after that, the connection with 78, Many of the highlights of this area were covered in Free 2 Wheel's Way 2 Go in June 1988.
I'm almost across the Anza Borrego Desert when it suddenly stops raining. As I approach Ocotillo Wells, cresting a little hill, I'm amazed to see what appears to be a miniature city comprised of motor homes and campers. The hills around the campers were crawling, (wrong word), buzzing with ATVs.
At the station where I stop for gas, one of the A TVers comes tearing in for fuel. He and his machine are so covered with mud, the attendant has to hose off the gas tank in order to find the filler cap. For all the mud, the enormous grin was still visible behind the helmet. Seeing that grin, I can certainly understand why our governmental saviors are so anxious to ban these terrible machines. Anything that offers so much fun must be made 'illegal. Thank God for the A.M.A. That's the American Motorcyclist Association, of course.
Now that I've passed through the recreation area, it's starting to rain again. What gives here? It's raining everywhere in Southern California except where these ATVers are playing. Could be these folks are really tight with the Big Cyclist in the sky? Last night while I was innocently drifting off to sleep, anticipating my trip to Lukeville, these guys were undoubtedly into some friendly supplication. I can hear it now:
"Say, God, we ATVers were thinking of hauling our machines out to Ocotillo Wells this weekend and tearing up and down the sand hills. What sort of weather were you planning?"
"Well, my child, I was planning to have it rain all over Southern California. There are a lot of utility room .ceilings that need painting. But, I suppose I could let Ocotillo Wells go this time, not many utility rooms in . those motor homes. I know what I'll do. I'll have it rain in Lake Havasu. That Honda Sport Touring bunch is having a campout there: I haven't heard from them in a while." Still, 1 feel that requests sent to on high should be saved for more serious matters, such as a dry track the next time I take Reg Pridmore's CLASS.
Perhaps I should reconsider my back road route. But, it's too late. Up ahead is a torrent' of water rushing across a low spot in the road. The water must be 100 feet wide. I'm momentarily stymied. If I make a detour, it's going to be a long one. As I mull this over, a car comes through. I can see the water is only hubcap deep and the road beneath appears to be intact.
Oh well, nothing ventured ... my rendition of "Old Man River" is a little sketchy, but then it's hard to do that song justice with your teeth clenched and water running over your untoted boots.
Soon after, I connect with route 86 and head south for Westmoreland, joining Interstate 8 at El Centro. An Interstate is an Interstate. Compared to the events of the day, this one is especially uneventful.
Gila Bend is just up the road, and it has stopped raining. I was honestly enjoying my wet ride. I hate to see it end. Gila Bend will be a dinner stop ..
Wise decision to have dinner in Gila Bend. Route 85 to Lukeville is pretty barren -in the way of facilities. It's dark now. Passing through Ajo, I discover a pleasant little town with several motels. Of course the Lone Wolf brought a tent. But even the Lone Wolf hates to set up a tent in the dark. A motel looks pretty good.
The next morning, I discover the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is on the way. It Is well worth the stop. There Is a self-guided tour through the park on about twenty miles of good gravel roads. The many examples are outstanding, but even If you're not interested in cacti, per se, the desert terrain Is worth the wonderful viewing.
Finally, I arrive at the Campground where the Brass Monkey Rally is held. The people were amicable, the bikes and sidecars were beautiful, the whole weekend was great entertainment. Once, in a game of UNO, a kid's card game we played for a penny a point, the play got so spirited with yelling, laughing and banging on the picnic tables, some people from the other side of the campground asked us to keep it down, They were having a little trouble hearing their ghetto blaster.
Any motorcycling trip, regardless of the weather or terrain, can be fun. A ride that culminates with a congregation of other motorcyclists is the best. The Brass Monkey Rally is scheduled again for February 18 - 20 in Death Valley. That ride is, of course, a spectacular one. Death Valley was the subject of a Way 2 Go by Bill Stermer in the January 1985 edition of Free 2 Wheel. So, why the name "Brass Monkey?" No one would say for sure. However, if you take this February ride, even with your Lectric Vest, you might discover the answer.
For information on this year's Brass Monkey Sidecar Rally, contact Dave Tenpenny at 2671 W. Polos Circle in Tucson, Arizona 85746, or call (602) 883-8275.