Its just not possible...is it?

         It was the summer of 2012 (I think), June, hot and humid.  Arkansas was the destination, the STFU Run to be specific, and I was riding with a '72 shovelhead.  Upon this vintage steed was a fine fellow by the name of Justin Cope.  Justin has been a very good friend of mine for a long time so when he told me he wanted to ride to Arkansas on his '72 I put my fears aside and agreed that it was a great idea.  Not only would this offer us the opportunity to crush some miles together but the destination would land us amongst more good friends such as Wes (the creative master mind behind the STFU and Ride party) , Zac, Jay and the other Oklahomies.  The fear I had was directed towards Justins motorcycle, certainly not his riding ability.  With an extensive background in professional motocross racing and freestyle motorcross there isn't any lack of riding ability.  In fact, I'd dare to say that he's got more skills on two wheels then anybody I know.  

        I'm sure this next part will ruffle a few feathers but lets face the facts.  Vintage motorcycles are awesome but they tend to be slower and have more problems.  Basically, you spend more time sitting on the side of the road repairing who knows what.  Virtually every long ride I've taken with somebody on an old bike at some point involved an hour on the roadside fixing something.  But, then I rode with Justin on his '72 and my opinion changed a bit.  

      The first couple days of the ride were reletively uneventful, simply heading east across kansas with an eventual right turn to make Oklahoma.  In fact, the only problem we had on the way out was with my bike...I lost a bolt that held the clutch pedal in place.  Luckily, a local farmer unknowingly loaned us a piece of his barbed wire fence to help me repair it, hope he's not mad about that.  Meanwhile Justins '72 is rolling strong, no problems at all which I found very strange.  When he wasn't looking I would snoop around his bike looking for signs of a Honda motor disguised as a vintage Harley.  This just wasn't right.  My '03 Twin Cam is losing nuts and bolts and his '72, well, its just going.  I figured if I kept rolling on the throttle and making him push his bike a little harder that it would eventually explode into a glorious ball of fire along i-70 giving me the opportunity to point and laugh and say things like "I told you so!"  But no, this bike just wouldn't break down.  So, we made it to the party.  Happy to see friends and confused by what I had just witnessed.  "How could this be?"  I thought.   Theres no way that bike should have made it from Colorado to Arkansas in two days without a single problem.  It's just not possible.  

      Deciding to push my concerns about being tricked aside for the night, I joined the party...all night.  If you haven't spent much time in Arkansas in the summer I'll tell you this about it - it's humid, really humid. We're talking hard to breathe kind of humid.  Then throw in the heat and you resign to jumping into the local stream to try and survive.  Arkansas is beautiful though, and riding the Pig Trail to the party site was a real treat.  In fact,  Arkansas is packed with incredible roads, check it out if you get a chance.  

       The next morning, after a solid hour of sleep, it was time to get going.  We didn't have a lot of time for this trip so today we had to throw down some miles to get home before our curfew expired.  This worked in my favor though.  Today was the day, I could feel it.  There was no way this shovelhead was going to home get under it's own power.  So off we went.  Mile after mile, faster and faster that damn thing just kept going.  300 miles in, nothing.  500 miles in, nothing.  What was going on here?!  I asked Justin how is bike was running, "good" he said.  I was skeptical.  600 miles in, nothing.  700 miles in, we stopped for gas.  Finally!  I hear Justin say "uh,oh" - this was it.  My negative opinion about traveling with old bikes would finally be supported!  "whats wrong?" I ask with a half cocked grin.  "my chain guard fell off" he replies.  Chain guard? seriously? You lost a chain guard?  You gotta be kidding me.  He just pushed that '72 Harley, at 85 miles an hour, 700 miles across Arkansas, Oklahoma and into Texas and all he lost was a damn chain guard!  

        Ok, I guess it was time for me to change my opinion on the reliability of old Harleys.  So, for the next 100 miles to Amarillo, Texas I did just that.  We rolled into Amarillo tired, hungry, filthy and trouble free I might add.  We immediately went to the Big Texan Steak Ranch, had a steak of course and found a place to sleep.  That was a long day, 800 miles eastbound on I-40 to be exact, so it was time to get some shut eye.  

          The next day, the bike once again proved to be a quality machine all the way back to Denver.  The point to this whole story is that I was completely proven wrong about old bikes.  If built correctly they can handle the rigors of everyday riding, that bike proved it.  In addition, this trip also showed me how much fun it can be to travel with others.  Justin is just a down right good dude, somebody I would trust in any situation and I know always has my back.  That was one hell of a good ride, and look forward to more with him in the future.