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Old 02-13-2011
OhioTed OhioTed is offline
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Default Great, fun Vintage Event!

How's about a fun, casual ride off-road ride, through beaootiful countryside? Well, look no further than the Ohio Valley BSA Owners Club's Spring Reliability Run.

The whosa-whatsa-Run-what?? Hey, don't let the name throw you. The Ohio Valley BSA Club are a wonderful buncha people, who put on this great, laid-back weekend event, twice a year. They've got a lovely little piece of property down in the pitcher-purty green hills near Stuebenville, Ohio, just floodin' distance from the Ohio River.

So, they have this great weekend event, which features dirt-cheap camping, lotsa cool vintage bikes of all kinds, a swap meet, themed road rides through awesome, scenic countryside, Trials events, and best of all - The Reliability Run, baby!!!!

Listen, if you have any kind of bike, which even LOOKS street legal and/or can handle riding down a gravel driveway, bring it, and ride this event! On one hand, the ride aint boring. I help lay it out, and make sure there is more than enough dirt to keep anyone interested. On the other hand, I rode the event one year on a stone-stock Yamaha SR500 street bike - and finished. Modern or vintage, European, Jap, British - it don't matter. Just come out and ride! You'll have fun, I ga-raun-tee. Check it out, and drop me a line if'n you have any questions. Hope to see you there.

Here's a link to the BSA club. Just scroll down & click on Coming Events - Spring Classic, and Reliability Run. http://bsa-club-ov.hailwood.com/.

http://bsa-club-ov.hailwood.com/imag...lity_run_1.jpg
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Old 02-13-2011
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Redtrk Redtrk is offline
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Sounds like a lot of fun Ted.
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Old 02-13-2011
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Thanks for the invite Ted!
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Old 02-13-2011
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Originally Posted by Redtrk View Post
Sounds like a lot of fun Ted.
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Old 02-13-2011
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I stopped by last year. Well worth attending!
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Old 02-13-2011
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I also stopped by and it really is a fantastic event!
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Old 02-13-2011
Wingjammer Wingjammer is offline
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If any of you attend and see 4 sale a BSA 125cc D1 Bantam, or 175cc D7 Super Bantam, please get the info & pass along to me.
Thanks!


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Old 02-13-2011
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Going to have to think about sealing the tank on the Bul and trailering down there. Hmmmmm.......
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Old 02-14-2011
OhioTed OhioTed is offline
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Thanks for the positive responses, folks. To add even more interest, here is the account of my first-ever experience in the Reliability Run. Enjoy.


The OVBSAOC Reliability Run (part 1)


“Are you going to the BSA meet this weekend?” asked Al Buehner. “Sure!” I responded. The Ohio Valley BSA Owners Club’s twice-yearly meets, held at the group’s club grounds near Toronto, Ohio, are always high on my list of priority events for the year.

“If that’s the case,” Al went on, “what do you think about the riding the Reliability Run?” “The what?” “Oh, there’s nothing to it.” my friend continued, “They just run us up and down some back roads. All you need is something that’s street-legal.” Of course, to Mr. Buehner, “something street legal” would be along the lines of his vintage Penton 175 Jackpiner, equipped with an Enduro Kit. I really should have known.

However, I always enjoy attending this Brit-bike get together, as it represents the right kind of laid-back, low-key, casual event, which you just kind of drift in and out of. No pressure, no stress, merely a fun way to get a nice ride in, enjoy the company of some neat folks, and see a bunch of cool, old bikes.

Actually, this year was going to be a little different for me, as I planned to compete in my first-ever Trials event. The OVBSAOC hosts a round of the Mid-Atlantic Vintage Trials Series at both of their two meets each year, and I had been wanting to take a shot at this feet-up sport for a long time. So, I figured I’d just roll one more bike into the truck and get in a little more riding.

I arrived at Cable’s Creek Campground, home of the club, early on Saturday morning, just as the place was coming to life. The CCC is a beautiful place, located in a picture-postcard-pretty valley, right alongside of a clear-running stream, several miles west of the Ohio River. Lots of folks were already there, as the meet had gotten started mid-week, and followed the International BSA meet, held two weeks prior in Massachusetts.

Al had just pulled in, and was really excited. Actually, that’s a given, because anyone who knows Mr. Buehner at all is aware of just how much he loves the sport of motorcycling. I never saw anyone who gets a bigger kick out of being around bikes as Al.

Combining work with pleasure, Al came prepared to do some business, as he had parked in the swap meet area and now began unloading tables and parts. It was when I pitched in to help him that I noticed his Jackpiner was in the van. “You’re gonna ride that in the Reliability Run?” I asked. “Sure!” Al said. “It’s street legal.” I noticed a twinkle in Al’s eye when he said this, and his mustache was twitching. That’s when I began to get a little suspicious. It was that mustache-twitching thing.

We then wandered over to sign-up, and were provided some details of the event. Quoting from the official OVBSAOC program, “Reliability Run – 9 trophies for this event, but not for the feint of heart. A 40+ mile ride over a mix of paved, dirt, and unimproved roads.” (So far, so good.) “No deer trails, however, but some mud and water here and there.” (Uh-oh.) I re-read the program details several times as we walked back to our trucks, then watched as Al rolled out his Penton, and started climbing into his off-road gear. It was at this point that I began to have some real concerns because you see, given Al’s (ahem) description of the event, I had brought along a street bike to ride. Yep. “Molly”, my 1981 Yamaha SR500 single was my mount for what was supposed to be an easy back-road jaunt. Yeah, Molly, with her cheapo, vintage (and near-bald) tires, turn signals and mirrors sprouting everywhere, and totally blown-out rear shocks, was now expected to go off-roading. Yikes!

“Aw, quit yer whinnin’.” Al said. “Look across the street. What do you see?” I followed Al’s pointing (and very pointy) finger and saw an old motorcycle. A very old motorcycle. A very, very old motorcycle. “That my friend, is an original, unrestored, stock, 1918 Indian, and he’s riding this event, so what do you have to be concerned about?” Unbelievable, but true, this amazing antique of a motorcycle was gearing up in preparation to ride.

So Al did have a point, but it was still with mixed emotions that I lined up with the rest of the entrants. Looking around, there was indeed a real mixed bag of machines around me, all getting ready to hit the trail. There was a whole bunch of old, British single and twin-cylinder bikes, many of them looking no more off-road worthy than Molly. I also saw friend-of-POG and BMW specialist, Bruce Williams, sitting on his 60’s-era BMW twin, which he has fitted out as a BMW ISDT replica. Bruce looked very calm however, and had a relaxed smile on his face. Hmmm. I also spotted a Zundapp, and a Ural sidecar rig, and what looked like a WWII-surplus thingie of some sort. Wow, what a bizarre gang of bikes. I had never experienced anything like it before.

Then there came the sound of a two stroke at high revs, and POG president, Paul Danik, suddenly appeared, astride his ISDT-veteran Penton 125 Six-Day, the very bike on which he competed in the 1973 Berkshire Six Day Trial. Paul slid to a stop, and a crowd immediately gathered around the bike, ooh-ing and aah-ing all over it. Paul answered numerous questions, while his Six-Day basked in the attention. I considered suggesting an 11th hour bike-trade with Paul, but figured I didn’t have enough cash on me for a reasonable bribe, so I dropped the idea.

Soon enough, our “minute” came up, and Paul, Al, and I were waved off. Actually, considering the rather loose timing schedule of the event, we weren’t too worried about exactly when we left. You see, although the run follows a 24 mph speed average, and times were being kept, we had no route charts, none of the turns were marked with mileage, and so exact timekeeping by the participants would be pretty tough.

However, that’s not really the point in this event, as it’s mainly for fun. Good thing too, ‘cause we three each had our own challenges. For one thing, the only course markers are red dots painted on the road, and Paul happens to be colorblind, so he’d have to be watchin’ the road real close for marked turns. Al was running an odometer, but it was the old-style and not instantly resettable to zero. Al didn’t feel like spinning the knob for 15 minutes and so left on 833 miles. My handicap was, of course, fear of the course, and what it might inflict on poor Molly.

As soon as we cleared the campgrounds, Paul took off like a rocket, and just how fast are those little 125’s geared for? Al was up on the pegs, lookin’ for a trail and throwing a ton o’ dust in the air, so I pushed past him and got up by Paul. We soon turned onto a gravel road, which climbed out of the valley, but about half way up the hill, Paul slowed so suddenly that I nearly ran him over. He fumbled with the fuel valve for a minute before the bike refired, and Paul told us later that the fuel line had come off. I had wondered about the strong premix smell in the air while I was following him.

Onward we went, and just as I was beginning to hope that the whole “trails and mud and water” thing was a hoax, there were some dots on the road next to a gate leading into a field. Paul did indeed miss the dots, and although I chased him for a while, blowing Molly’s horn, he went boogying down the road to who- knows-where. Finally, I turned around and honked it back to the turn, where Al was waiting. What a nice guy (actually, I think he was just waiting to see me crash).
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Old 02-14-2011
OhioTed OhioTed is offline
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Default Reliability Run - part 2

We turned into the field and the first thing I did was hit a big hole, hidden by deep grass, and nearly clobbered the big, metal gate we were skirting. Good start. It was then across the field, with Molly’s front forks bottoming out on virtually every hit. Oh well, at least she kept going straight, and her old four-stroke engine just puts out buckets of torque. Al hung back, obviously still waiting to see me go arse-over-tincups, but I nonetheless managed to find my way over hill and dale and eventually we came out onto another road section.

This wasn’t going to be too bad after all, I thought. That field was a cruise. After all it was nice and dry, and, . . . oh, there’s another turn marker. Hmmm, this looks like a real trail, and friends, it sure was. I wisely waved Al by as we began a serious descent down a rutted two-track, laced with big, sharp edged rocks. At this point I began seriously to fear for Molly’s tubeless tires. One hard hit on a rock and we could have popped a bead, and then I’d a had a heck of a time getting outta there.

However, despite my concerns for preservation on behalf of both Molly and myself, the old instincts began to take over. I was really starting to push it, especially when I saw slower riders ahead. Molly and I bashed our way past them, and so what if the guys were riding 60’s-era BSA twins. We were still passing ‘em! Yahoo! Of course, Paul went tearing by at this point, as he had apparently found his way back onto the course, and was now making up some serious time.

We eventually worked our way down to the bottom of the valley, and the trail began to crisscross a pretty respectable-sized stream. Molly just kept thumping along, and I was amazed at how much traction her old “rim-savers” were providing. Of course, a very steady throttle hand was critical, but we just kept fording the stream crossings, and moving right along.

We also continued to pass other riders, including Bruce Williams on his big, BMW twin, although Molly hiccupped and died (for no good reason whatsoever) just as we slipped by Bruce, then had to do it all over again after kicking Molly a good 13 times before she finally refired.

I was starting to really get into the ride, as I hadn’t done any kind of off-road riding for some ten years (egad, can it really have been that long?), and all the fun of it was coming back to me. I then came upon a pair of riders stopped at one of the stream crossings. One was a young lady, riding a CSR305 Kawasaki street bike (made me feel pretty bad about being such a whinner), while her male friend was on a 60’s Honda CL90. Zowee! They were “dead in the water” so to speak, but the lady waved me on, saying they were ok.

Just as I was becoming real proud of myself for makin’ it down the trail at a respectable pace, that WWII thingie I mentioned earlier went flying past like I was standing still. Turns out the gent piloting the low-flying Spitfire, or Hurricane, or whatever it was, was in fact Bob Wark, who gained fame within the Penton Owners Group for having created the KTM Duke sidecar rig that Bob Kent rides. Anyway, Bob Wark’s machine is in fact a WWII-surplus BSA, and let’s just say that Mr. Wark has enough years on me to justify me callin’ him “sir”. Regardless, he was flat gettin’ it down that trail.

Amazingly, Molly and I made it through that section of mud, creek crossings, and ruts, without crashing, and once more came out onto another road section. I wicked it up at this point, hoping to make up some time, but nonetheless didn’t expect to see anything more of either Al or Paul. However, just as I crested a rise, there went Al, going in the opposite direction. I looked him right in the eyes, and his response was a wave so casual, I thought possibly I mistakenly identified the rider as Al, and that there must be another guy out here on these back roads, with a 28” waist, wearin’ full off-road gear, and riding a vintage Penton Jackpiner. Yeah, sure.

I concluded that one of us must to be going in the wrong direction, and since Molly had a full head of steam built up, we just kept truckin’ down the road. Finally, we came upon some more dots, which I promptly blew by - a process I had performed about 10 times so far in the run. Hey, spotting those dots was harder than it sounds, considering that we were also dodging traffic, trying to make time, and watch out for the po-lice. Actually, with Molly’s full complement of street-legal equipment, we had less to fear than Paul on his ISDT Six-Day, for example, or the guy with the Indian. I mean, that old v-twin was running no plate, no mirrors, no rear light of any kind, and a gas lamp for a headlight, for cryin’ out loud.

Even though we were back out on pavement, this was still some of the best riding I had ever done in my life – on road or off. The wife and I frequent this area on our street bikes, and I’m always on the lookout for roads like this, but these were better by far than any I’ve managed to find. Along this time, I came up beside Dave Kirk, one of the BSA club members. Dave was riding one of those huge and fabulous late-model, BMW G/S twins. I slowed to holler hello, and noticed that Dave had a large clump of greenery stuffed in behind the windshield of the Beemer. Either the two of them had performed a very well-timed back flip while crossing a field of wild flowers, or Dave is just a nature lover.

Either way, he grinned, pointed ahead of him, and yelled, “That’s amazing!” I looked ahead, and saw that Dave was running about 50 yards aft of the rider piloting the 1918 Indian. The old machine was really moving down the road, too. I gassed it then, and eased on up past the incredible, old v-twin, giving a big-ol’ thumb-up over my shoulder.

More great secondary roads followed, then we once more left the pavement and followed a fantastically scenic dirt road, downward, until we were running parallel to a river. This section, as had most of the run, was virtually devoid of traffic. I did however at one point come upon a pickup headed in the opposite direction. Because of the scarcity of route markers, and with the old dirt biker’s inherent fear of being somewhere I shouldn’t be, I slowed cautiously. The pickup driver, however, pulled to the side and waved me by. I passed by slowly so as not to unnecessarily dust the guy, and gave him a big return wave and a hearty “thanks”.

Next, we passed through a great big, but thoroughly manageable mudhole, and I found myself laughing out loud, such was the tremendously good time I was having. The day was gorgeous, my little Molly-bike was running like a champ, and we were enjoying some of the best durn trails and back roads I had ever been on in my life. How can it have been ten years since I had done this? Time is so merciless. It never lets up, and never gives us a break, which is all the more reason to make time for totally fun events such as what the BSA group has provided.
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