4fraziers.com

Posts Tagged ‘rocket III’

Today’s discoveries:

A Triumph Rocket III Classic will consume a full tank of gas at 187.6 miles

30 fluid ounces of premium fuel from a MSR camp fuel bottle will take a Triumph Rocket III classic 7.7 miles further down the road

The Cramp Buster is possibly the simplest, cheapest, and most convenient motorcycle accessory ever

This morning the bike was at 185 miles since the last fill up. The beast sputtered to a dead stop at 187.6 miles, at which time the experiment ensued to see just how far one might go on the 30 fluid ounces of reserve one keeps in each of those four MSR bottles in the saddle bags.

It just so happened it would take one exactly 7.7 miles before sputtering to another halt…this time right at the parking space where one is employed.

With three spare bottles remaining, one made it to the gas station at lunch just fine and filled the tank.

Then one went to RPM Cycles and bought an auxiliary power socket and a Cramp Buster, since the right hand was miserable from twisting the throttle all the way home from Corsicana yesterday. Best ten bucks one ever spent. The Crampbuster works as advertised.

Why is one writing in third person today? One has been told that one sounds more informative and trustworthy if one writes in third person. One thinks this just sounds stupid and is going back to first person as applicable after this post.

I think John Bloor should revoke their Triumph dealer status.

These guys had my bike for nine weeks. They initially ordered the old style flimsy crash bars and I caught that on the estimate (thank heavens I bothered to go up there and get a copy)…being a Triumph dealership, you’d think they would be aware that Triumph had a higher priced set to replace the first version, which owners had panned unanimously as cheap junk across the globe. Of course, the flimsy version was significantly cheaper in cost to the ones I had on my bike, not that I’m saying THAT had anything to do with it.

I called numerous times to check on the status of my bike. Every time the answer from Merrin (their service manager) was, “It should be ready by the end of the week. I’ll call you.” That was each of the last five weeks. During the entire time they had my bike I logged ONE call from them to me. Every other discussion we had was initiated by me when I felt like it had been too long since I’d had an update. And i called them on average only once per week to try to get status.

Last Friday my insurance rep left me a message asking if I’d picked up my bike yet. He said he’d been to the shop and it looked great. I called the shop on Saturday. Merrin said there was still a couple of little things to do to it and he’d check with the technicians and call me back in a few minutes. That was around noon Saturday. He didn’t call back.

I called back on Wednesday. Merrin said he had to total up the paperwork and he’d call me back in a few minutes. Yeah…I wasn’t falling for that again. I waited an hour then I called and told the guy who answered the phone to tell Merrin I was on my way to pick up my bike and to have it ready.

Merrin called back five minutes later to tell me it was ready, he was having a guy test ride it and it would be ready as soon as I arrived and “settled up”.

“What do you mean, ‘settle up’?” I asked.

“You have a $250.00 deductable.”

“Nope, the insurance company waived that.” I replied.

“Nope, I don’t have any paperwork indicating that.” said Merrin.

I told him I’d have my insurance guy call him and that I was still on my way. Then I called the claims rep and expressed my frustration at the constant delays and confusion about parts and finances. He apologized for recommending them and stated that he’d always found them to do quality work and easy to work with in the past, but maybe that was changing.

I arrived at BMW Motorcycles of North Dallas and parked the truck and trailer behind the shop. I walked in and Merrin told me my bike had been test ridden and was parked out front, ready for me to take home. He said he had not, however, received clarification on the deductible.

“Okay, I’m gonna go look at the bike while you call my insurance guy back and get that straightened out, then I’ll endorse the insurance checks for you.” I responded. I made my way out front to my motorcycle.

I was initially very pleased. The paint job looked even better than factory, since the pin striping had been done with masking and spray rather than hand painted. No raised edges, the whole tank was flawless, including the color matching.

I noticed that the new windscreen was a bit off-center, but if that was the only thing wrong I wouldn’t mind much adjusting it myself, but you’d think after having the bike for nine weeks someone would have taken ten minutes to center it up.

Merrin finally came out to tell me the insurance money was all straightened out and I didn’t owe anything.

I went back in and endorsed the checks. Then Merrin informed me that the ignition switch was upside down, because they used a newer version ignition switch and that was the only way to make the fork lock work.

Hmmm.

Well, they’d had my bike for nine weeks. If everything worked I didn’t care much that the switch was upside down. So I checked it out when he rode it around back to my trailer. Sure enough, the switch worked fine, just looked a little goofy with all the lettering upside down. I plan to relocate the ignition switch down to the side some day anyway, so I blew it off. The forks locked okay, initially.

So we loaded the beast onto the trailer and I drove home in the pouring rain. Once there, my brother in law came over and helped me roll her down the ramp and into the garage. There she sat overnight after I dried the water off those giant square Triumph saddlebags they’d replaced my curvy Castle bags with.

This morning I went out to the garage and cranked the old girl up. I took her around the block and right back in, maybe a two minute test ride after she’d warmed up a little. Steam was shooting out of the upper portion of the radiator. No leakage on the ground, but plenty of steam shooting up to form a little cloud in the garage.

I’m hoping there’s a loose hose clamp or something in there and that the radiator isn’t busted.

Did they really test ride this thing before they gave it back to me?

No way will I ever do business with BMW Motorcycles of North Dallas again. I went there for two reasons:

1. I knew Eurosport’s long time mechanic, Les, was a week away from retirement when I had my wreck.
2. My insurance rep recommended BMW Motorcycles of North Dallas

My future Triumph business will go back to Tony Lewis and Eurosport. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t let a repair job roll out of his shop in this condition.

Oh, and to fair to BMW Motorcycles of North Texas, Merrin did point out that they “went the extra mile” and re-keyed the seat lock on my bike to match the new ignition key so I wouldn’t have to carry two keys around,

Gee, thanks.

In the past I would have made these complaints to the shop and given them a chance to make good, but these guys had nine flippin’ weeks to do that. Sorry, no second chances here.

That banner photo at the top of this site, 4fraziers.com, is not just some random pic of a guy riding a big cruiser. That’s really me, riding my faithful 2300cc Triumph Rocket III Classic up the curve on the north end of the dam at Beaver’s Bend in Oklahoma last summer.

Notice I still call her “faithful” even though she tossed me over her handlebars recently…but it wasn’t her fault. I tried to make her defy the laws of physics.

My younger brother, Mike, and I took a four day motorcycle trip to our childhood town of Greenville and then up to Oklahoma and Arkansas to ride the famous Talimena Drive, which has been compared to the Dragon’s Tail. Mike rode to the top of the curve and set up my Sony Alpha 450 DSLR to snap that photo. It captured perfectly the most blissful condition I can attain on planet earth: leaning on a curve at extra legal speed (notice the 25 MPH speed limit sign I was not paying attention to?) amidst a backdrop of American woodland.

My paradise.

I can honestly say it was one of the best times of my life and I can’t wait for another motorcycle tour. Whenever I feel anxious, or angry, or fed up with the office I can look at that banner and remember the feeling I had as I negotiated those curves and fellowshipped with my brother. It makes anxiety just melt away and helps me remember that putting in time and effort at the office is the means by which I can ride the world’s largest production muscle cruiser.

I’m doubly stressed at the moment because BB (that’s my Triumph’s name) is still in the shop waiting for her repaired tank to arrive. If you haven’t been here before, see A Perfectly Executed High-Side for hilarious details on why she’s getting repairs.

It’s looking like I’ll have to wait another week before BMW/Triumph of North Dallas has her ready for me, and once I’ve taken delivery and put her through her paces I’ll be doing a write-up here with my opinions on their service and quality of work.

I am open to ideas on where to go next for a late winter/early spring ride of three or four days including primitive camping.

Anyone want to leave suggestions in the comments section for me? I want curves and scenery, as little of the slab as possible…and the trip initiates in Grapevine, Texas.

The weather is simply outstanding. For the last few days it’s been mostly sunny with fluffy, bright white clouds drifting lazily across the sky.

The temperature has ranged between 65 and 72 degrees Fahrenheit on any given day. The pavement, thanks to the previous few weeks of constant downpours, has been washed clean and traction is optimal. This past weekend was one of the finest meteorological stages ever set for getting out and cruising on two wheels.

I spent most of it lying on my back staring at the ceiling, and none of it riding. The nature and root cause analysis of my back injury is fodder for a funny story (for those of you who are not feeling my pain) to be told at a later date.

Yesterday I crawled out of bed, spent an hour and a half instead of my usual 30 minutes getting ready for work, and limped in excruciating pain to the Dodge Magnum R/T for the drive to the office, tortured by the wonderful weather and the fact that I have a gorgeous 2300cc monster of a motorcycle being neglected in my garage.

I’ve been pining for years to own another bike, and I always told myself anything that was dependable, had two wheels, and would reach 100 mph would do.

Somehow I ended up with the ultimate power cruiser, and with only one solid road trip under my belt so far I’m missing the best riding weather you could ever hope for in the Texas prairies and lakes region due to a badly injured trapeze muscle in my back.

Might as well write a review of the Triumph Rocket III since I can’t ride.

Back in May of this year (2009), Robin and the federal government both made announcements regarding cigarettes. The feds announced that they were once again hiking taxes on cancer sticks, and Robin announced that that was the last straw. She told me that smoking had become so expensive, we would be able to afford a motorcycle if we both gave it up. One condition: I had to have six months smoke-free under my belt before I could purchase a bike.

That was 28 weeks and 2 days ago, and that’s how long I’ve been smoke free.

If Robin had stuck to her conditions, I would be buying a bike in just under 15 days from now. Fortunately for me, Robin gave in to my pleading when I stumbled upon a great deal at EuroSport Cycle in Fort Worth.

But let me back up and explain how I ended up looking at British bikes in the first place (queue weird cyclical music and special visual of a spinning spiral wheel to let the viewer know we are travelling back in time):

The day Robin and the feds made their announcements I began scouring the web sites of Harely-Davidson, Victory, and Yamaha.

Harley-Davidson because it simply would be unpatriotic not to consider the most iconic American motorcycle brand of all time, especially when searching for a cruising bike.

Victory because they are new kids on the American producer block and have some really unique bikes of reputed outstanding quality. The five year factory warranty is astonishing.

Yamaha because the ancient Japanese piano company produced both my first loves when it comes to two-wheeled mechanical road-burners: My father’s RD350 two-stroke twin and my own four cylinder XS1100. The RD350 seemed like a giant powerhouse back when I and my brothers first learned to ride; today it appears almost comically tiny compared to the bikes I’ve grown accustomed to. The speed and torque of the little machine were always impressive for its size.

My old Yamaha XS1100 probably lit the fuse of doom for my first marriage (I purchased and hauled her home from California without consulting my wife at a time when we could barely afford formula and diapers), but the mutually destructive relationship I had with the that bike (we tried to dismantle each other multiple times) and the ease with which the front wheel would levitate off the pavement like a 747 three-quarters down the runway will always have a special place in my heart.

In my quest for test rides I contacted Rick Fairless’ Strokers of Dallas; a Harley, Victory, and custom chopper shop. I let Robin know I had scheduled a test ride on a Victory Eight Ball cruiser for later that week.

Robin was discussing my search for a motorcycle with a good friend, co-worker, and former boss of ours the following day, a fellow named Tom.

Tom is fond of spaghetti rockets.

When I say “fond of spaghetti rockets”, I mean Tom has multiple operable Ducatis parked in his garage. I believe Tom also has multiple Ducatis stored in pieces and parts in his garage as well. Tom’s idea of a relaxing Sunday morning ride is dragging one knee or the other in a perfect arc for a few hundred yards around a 45 mph posted farm to market road curve at 160+ mph somewhere in the vicinity of Justin, Texas. This I have seen with my own two eyes while I lumbered along hopelessly on a rented low-clearance Harley Fat Boy with its foot pegs unexpectedly scraping the pavement in the slightest lean.

I digress. Robin was trying to remember what brand of motorcycle I had told her I was going to test ride. When she told Tom the brand name had something to do with being a winner he naturally asked “Triumph?” since Ducati fanatics will always assume motorcycle quizzes must start with Europeon brands. Of course Robin said, “Yes, Triumph!”

“Well,” said Tom, “Tell Tim to go see Tony at EuroSPort Cycle in Fort Worth if he wants to look at Triumphs. And tell him to let Tony know I sent him.”

That afternoon Robin relayed the information to me, but by that time she had somehow reverted to the correct brand name of Victory.

I have heard of plenty of Harley-Davidson/Triumph dealerships, so I assumed it wouldn’t be too awful strange for a Europeon shop to also carry Victorys. I went to the Eurosport Cycle web site and started browsing.

I fond no Victorys there, but what I did find I initially thought must be a hoax.

All these years I had assumed Triumph was still barely hanging on producing a few Bonnies each year with a limited set of paint schemes and accessories. I had no idea they’d gone utterly insane and built the largest muscle cruiser ever made.

The pictures of the Rocket III were simply too large for life. I did more research and found a viral marketing video about the manufacture of the Rocket III, which only reinforced my suspicion that the beast didn’t really exist.

I emailed Tom and told him I wanted to test ride the thing….fully expecting him to laugh and tell me I’d fallen for a clever myth. Instead, Tom told me the following Saturday Eurosport was having a big demo day and I could ride over to Fort Worth with him to try one out.

Upon arrival that Saturday I stepped out of Tom’s pick-up carrying a helmet he’d loaned me. I made my way to the line under the pavilion and signed up to test ride the Triumph Rocket III. A group had just left, so over the next 45 minutes I browsed the rest of the bikes the shop had for sale…Ducatis, Benellis, Moto Guzzi, Aprilias, and of course a full range of Triumphs including super sport bikes and the latest incarnations of the Bonneville lineage, the America and Speedmaster.

Finally the time for my demo ride arrived. As I swung a leg over the black Rocket III demo bike my hands were trembling and my heart was pounding. The sheer audacity of the machine was intimidating. I had only weeks earlier ridden a motorcycle again (that rented Harley Fat Boy) after a ten year hiatus. Here I was about to ride a motorcycle hosting the largest mass production bike engine on earth. I just knew I would end up dumping it.

I barely had time to get a grip on my nerves before we were off, a band of two dozen bikes of various styles and displacements, me near the back of the group terrified to twist the throttle. The Rocket III stayed upright easily, with minimum tail braking and clutch pressure as I negotiated the slow-speed turns out of the lot and into the street.

In the first few hundred yards I was convinced that for its size the Rocket III was finely balanced. It complied easily with my every desire via the handlebars and throttle.

After the first turn I gained a little confidence and opened the throttle a bit more experimentally as I shifted into second gear. The bike launched instantly forward as if released from a catapult, and I felt that it could easily stretch my arms to twice their length if I gave the throttle more than a quarter-turn. The massive triple produced so much tangible power I was sure it was leaving some sort of physical torque residue on the pavement behind me like the trailing ectoplasm from a passing poltergeist.

My brain submerged itself in a sea of fear and I eased off the throttle, hoping simultaneously for the test ride to be over and to never end.

Arriving back at the dealership, I only had a vague animalistic memory of riding the Triumph Rocket III. But the impression that stayed with me, and grew over the next few hours to overwhelm everything else, was the brute strength of the machine. The Rocket III was the bike I had to have.

Over the next few weeks I searched diligently for a used Rocket III. I spent most of my lunch breaks haunting the Triumph dealership in Lewisville and various other used bike shops in and around the Las Colinas area where I work. It became a weekly routine for me to call Robin (my hot minister of finance) and request concurrence to make a low-ball offer on some used Rocket I would come across in these treasure hunts.

Every time the dealers would refuse flat out. I discovered that there just weren’t a lot of these machines available, and resale value was not far behind new retail. The dealers simply refused to counter offer.

I kept trying, knowing that if I could strike the right deal Robin would let me purchase one early because of the savings.

Some days I would make the drive to EuroSport Cycle in Fort Worth just to torture myself with the impossible dream of buying a brand new Rocket III. I would marvel at the turbo-charged used R3 that was parked in front of the dealership and ponder the response Tom had given when I told him I couldn’t imagine why anyone would be compelled to add turbo to a Triumph Rocket. “Well,” Tom replied, “you just don’t have the right imagination.”

Typical Ducati owner response. It’s all about the “go fast” to those guys.

On one of those seemingly hopeless journeys I walked into the showroom to behold a large green sign taped to the windscreen of a new 2008 Rocket III Classic. It was a sale tag that I had a hard time believing. After speaking with Tony for a bit to ensure I’d done my due diligence in the grand American tradition of haggling over the price of a big ticket purchase, I called Robin to inform her that I had discovered the best deal we were ever likely to find on a new Triumph Rocket III…a R3 Classic, no less, which included a couple thousand bucks worth of accessories. I illustrated to her my fear that at any second someone would likely walk in and buy this bike right out from under me. I told her how the same bike would likely cost millions of dollars if we waited until November to purchase one. This was the deal of a lifetime, but we had to act now.

Robin knew I was exaggerating, but she also knew I really was onto a pretty good deal.

I was utterly shocked when she told me to go for it. By 6 PM on July 17, 2009 I was the proud owner of a Triumph Rocket III Classic and dancing like Homer Simpson over a new doughnut flavor in anticipation of taking delivery. I spent a sleepless night imagining myself blasting down the highway on that stellar machine.

The following evening Robin and I showed up at the dealership to sign the final paperwork and I rode my new bike home for the first time. I was no longer nervous about the size or power, having read various owners forums and reviews, as well as morbidly studying every bike crash I could find on Youtube to refresh my memory about the stupid mistakes you can make on two wheels along with the devastating consequences.

As I traveled home I knew I had made the right decision. The trip there was peppered with the jealous stares and drooling of car and pick-up drivers who cruised along the highway beside me. I basked in the warm glow of their envy. With it’s sheer mass and the added sparkle of chrome exhaust pipe covers, a huge chrome bear claw over the intake, and the unique triple silencer configuration, the bike was a pure head-turner.

Over the next several weeks I had to get used to being held up for impromptu interviews about it when I was mounting or dismounting. I was approached by strangers who said they used to own a Triumph, people who said they’d never seen a Triumph, and people who thought my bike was some custom built machine. These conversations almost always included an estimate from the inquirer about the price of the machine that was double the reality.

The Triumph Rocket III came straight out of the box with a 100% satisfaction score on looks, performance, and handling. The realms of disappointment were the lack of sound (she’s way too quiet when she should be growling like a gargling Titan) and a minor failure in quality I discovered as I was adjusting the mirror one day on my ride to work. It mirror came off in my hand, leading to my discovery that the stock mirrors not only look like mouse ears and seem to not fit the bike’s style; they are made of cheap chrome plated plastic.

A set of Kurakyn eclipse mirrors resolved that issue, and eventually a set of performance pipes will give my precious the throaty growl she should have had from the start.

The only other issue arose from my familiarity with the lean angle of every other motorcycle on the planet while on a kickstand. The Rocket III doesn’t lean much when it’s on its kickstand, I discovered to my dismay one afternoon as I was washing my bike in the driveway. As I leaned against it to dry off the side panel on the opposite side I managed to push her right off the stand. I had time only to curse my own stupidity for not having it in gear as the beast rolled forward a few feet and fell onto it’s side. Again, that is fodder for yet another story that will be much funnier in the telling than it was in reality.

Damage was minor, and I’m still loving every moment I get to spend scraping the foot boards in the curves or just blasting straight down the slab on this British asphalt inhaler.

Recently Triumph announced the Rocket line’s new 2010 Rocket III Roadster with more focus on sport configuration including elimination of the forward control position. The Roadster is set to be the only available option in the Rocket III model line up other than the Triumph Rocket III Touring henceforth. It will be available in two colors: Black or blacker. Gloss or matte.

The Rocket III standard and classic are now out of production, which means resale value on my baby should be well maintained for at least the near future. There are still some new 2008 and 2009 models left if you want one.

Better hurry, though. I’m sure someone is on their way to Tony’s to buy yours right out from under you.

I didn’t think it would be too big a deal…pull out some bolts, stick the bars on, and put the bolts back in, right? Well, yeah, except for stabilizing the bike in an upright position, making sure it wouldn’t fall over, and being careful not to cross-thread or over-torque anything. Piece of cake.

The fiasco last weekend has turned me into a belt AND suspenders type of guy. Robin walked out to the driveway this evening and just started hooting like a hyena at the way I had BB (pet name for my bike) all hung up with a strap from the shop crane, the front wheel pinned in a trailer stand mounted on a full sheet of 3/4 inch cabinet grade plywood, and a 4 ton floor jack shoved under the engine with a slab of high dollar cherry hardwood in between.

I was taking no chances.

Evidently Triumph is taking no chances with the redesigned front engine dresser bars I was installing, either. The things are massive. Once they were bolted on (sounds easy, and it was, but it was also VERY scary) they were astonishingly rigid. I must admit I was a little leery before I opened the box, having read how the first version of factory dresser bars Triumph sold for the Rocket III was flimsy and disappointing to many owners via the forums.

The installation became a bit intimidating when I realized what the instructions meant by removing the front engine bolt. It is a massive hex head bolt that goes through the right side of the frame, through the entire engine, and out the left side of the frame. It pins the engine into the frame.

So, the instructions said to use a jack to lift the engine a little to put just enough pressure on the engine to free up the bolt where you can slide it out.

They said nothing about what to do should something slip in the process and the hole going through the engine becomes misaligned with the holes in the frame. I suppose that’s why the label on the box said, “…to be fitted by trained mechanic.”

So I was sweating bullets as I removed that bolt and gingerly positioned the bars. I finger tightened the four new slightly longer bottom bolts that came with the kit replacing the ones that had previously held the front of the foot board bars. The bottom brackets of the crash bars fit right on top of the front foot board bars. Every time the bike moved a little as it hung there, partially suspended by the handles bars and pinned by the front tire I said a little prayer under my breath that the frame and engine wouldn’t move separate ways.

It was time to put that monster front engine bolt back in. I shoved it in from the left side, and it stopped dead about a quarter inch into the engine. No amount of twisting and pushing would make it go any further. Finally, I gave the jack handle a half-foot pump and tried again. This time the bolt slid straight through like an ice pick through whipped cream.

Putting the nut on the other side was a bit frustrating…there wasn’t much room for fingers in the recess and I couldn’t get a socket over it because of the clutch cable and radiator shroud. After much patient and ginger twisting and fumbling I finally got it threaded on and was able to get a socket and extension on it. With Robin holding that side firm (she’d had to do the same when I took it out) I tightened the bolt and nut, then dug out the old torque wrench and carefully tightened all five bolts to specs listed in the instructions.

I can’t wait to put a set of highway pegs on those bars…but that’s another $160.00 down the road. Like they say, buying a motorcycle is nothing more than a down-payment on accessories.

For folks planning to install dresser bars on their own Triumph R3, here’s a few pics that might be helpful.

Left side upper bolt (front engine bolt) part of the dresser bar:

Right side upper:

Lower bolts over foot board bar:

Tomorrow when the sun is out and after I’ve wiped off all the fingerprints and grease smudges I’ll get a photo posted of the whole bike with the new bars on.