Garage Grumblings

Spending time in the garage is definitely not my favorite. It's too often boring and/or frustrating, and always ends with dirty, chewed up fingers and grease stains on my arms. But when I get a new part or accessory, it's not that hard to motivate myself to run down to the garage and start wrenching away. It's like a new toy that you can't wait to play with, so even with the busted knuckles and black fingernails, it's worth it the next day.
There's a certain time of year, however, that makes me reluctantly drag myself into the garage, more demotivated than ever, for a painful day of turning wrenches. That time of year is when our long-term bikes have to be returned to the manufacturers. Before we hand them back we have to put all the stock parts back on, clean it and service it.
I knew it was coming. My phone buzzed on my desk and it was Tim Olson from Yamaha. I knew why he was calling... and that's why I didn't answer. Two hours later he called again. Damnit. There was no denying the inevitable. It's time for the WR250 to go back to Yamaha.
Of course, it could be seen as a good thing since this means that we'll be getting the new models soon. But it's never easy to give up a bike you've grown comfortable with and had so many good times with. This WR in particular has been in my possession for two years. We've been to the desert, the mountains, the track, we've done endurance races, we've tumbled down rock piles, we had silly days where we just spun donuts until we fell down. We rode rock faces in San Diego, we nearly burned up the clutch trying to climb sand hills in Cudde Back, we splashed through streams in Arroyo Grande and sat atop incredible mountain tops in Arrowhead. This was even the bike I took on my legendary Malcolm ride!
Sure we had some rough times. We had busted fork seals, plenty of smashed levers and some substantial front fender damage from going over the bars on more than one occasion. Okay... more than four occasions. But I also had some of the best two-wheeled times on this WR in the last year and a half. I had my best race EVER on this little guy at last year's VCMC Enduro Qualifier in Gorman. I still enter the intermediate class in off-road races, and this time, not only did I win my class, but I overalled the women's expert class too! The first woman expert rider finished over ten minutes behind me. Smack down!!!
But like all things do, good or bad, my time with the WR has come to an end. My only time left with "Papa Smurf" would be in the garage putting all the stock parts back on. It's like moving day, or cleaning up the morning after a party. It's like moving the morning after a party. It sucks that much. Yesterday was that day and I reluctantly washed, serviced and tore down the WR250. I took off the steering stabilizer and mount, hand guards and the Motion Pro variable rate throttle kit. I remembered all our good times together as I inspected the battle damage - bruised plastics, bent radiators, busted hot start lever perch (that was from last year's Glen Helen 12 Hour). The chain hung in there really well. It was definitely beat, but still spinnin'... ah the miles on that chain.
We skipped through meadows, we climbed Paiute Mountain Peak, we weathered the craziest flash flood I've ever witnessed, we soldiered through dusty races in triple-digit heat and icy cold mornings which made us both grumpy. But our time was up.
Parting with this little guy wasn't easy. He peered at me in my rear view mirror as we headed down the 605 toward Cypress. "Where we going today?" he asked. I hadn't the heart to tell him it was all over for us.
Phil Collins' touching ballad "Against All Odds" came on the radio and I could no longer hold back my sorrow. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I approached the Yamaha warehouse. (Okay, I made that up, but it was still a sad moment.)
Goodbye my little WR. I will always remember you and treasure our time together. At least until I get a new one and have even better times.