MadMyk’s Firefighter’s Motorcycle Blog

When buying a motorcycle, it’s best to think about what you want to use it for first. Bar hoppers, touring bikes, customs or sport bikes, they all serve different styles of riders. Choppers and customs are great, but not for five or six hours riding across Utah. I had touring in mind when I bought my new Smokey Gold FLHRI Road King in 2004. My buddy Tom and I have been across the US and Canada twice, covering about 20 States and 5 Provinces in his 96 Vet. Like so many of us that owned bikes growing up, we had to give them up when marriage and family came along. The corvette filled the gap and we traveled thousands of miles when we could get away for a couple of weeks. On some of those long stretches of highway, we often talked about getting bikes again. We thought retirement from the fire department would be a great time to buy another bike and start touring. When my Grandfather passed away a few years ago, he left our family a little bit of money. Len had owned a BSA and my Dad rode a Triumph when they were younger. With a little money from Len’s inheritance, at age 46, I pictured myself back in the saddle. It was a great opportunity to buy another bike.

Madmyk’s Dad in Vancouver. Probably around 1954

After riding over to Tom’s house a few times, I knew it was just a matter of time before he couldn’t take it any longer and he’d be down to Barne’s Harley in Langley to ‘just look’. Three months later, it was no surprise when he took delivery of a 2005 Harley Davidson Firefighter Special Edition Road King. What a beauty! Like myself, Tom had the open highway in mind, and ‘Let’s Ride’ has been our motto ever since.

Mike and Tom with new Harley’s at Cultus Lake in 2004

What an exhilarating experience it was to get back on the road again. We could now afford a bike like the Road King but quickly realized that the bike was the cheapest part of our new-found freedom. The bling that’s for sale on every dealership’s walls costs us a small fortune. They sure didn’t have chrome like this in my teens. The most I ever spent on aftermarket parts with my last Harley was 8 bucks for two new tank decals.

30 years later, we’re now firefighters, working a 4 on, 4 off schedule. Two 10-hour days and two 14-hour night shifts give us 4 days off after a tour. Tom and I were soon taking advantage of that and riding every chance we could. All to the delight of Captain Ron Henze who has owned a 1980 Electra Glide since he rode it off Deely’s lot brand new. Ron was the department nomad, riding mostly by himself because no one on the job could afford a nice bike back then.

Captain Ron and his 1980 Electric Glide

Now that the prices of these freedom machines has dropped dramatically, it seems there are more and more firefighter’s in our department and many others in the Lower Mainland that are buying all sorts of different makes and styles of motorcycles. This was one of the main reasons I started my own website “Madmyk.com For Firefighter’s That Ride’ – www.madmyk.com the site now gets about 25 – 30,000 hits a day.

In June of 2005, our International firefighter’s union voted to start a bike club for all IAFF firefighters in the US and Canada. Being somewhat an artist, I sketched out a few designs for a logo/colours for the new club. I was kind of worried about what they would come up with for the logo and colours so I decided to draw up some ideas that would be suitable for a Firefighter’s Bike Club. I e-mailed the artwork to the organizers and to my surprise they accepted one as the official logo! It would be used as the logo and the official colours of the club, which in the end, would be called the ‘IAFF Motorcycle Group’

International Association of Firefighters Motorcycle Group Colors by Mike David

The inaugural ride for the new group would be held in Las Vegas in June of 2005 and I was invited to participate. Tom and Ron were excited about the event and figured they couldn’t miss it so they both made the trip with me to Sin City. The Inaugural run started at Las Vegas Harley and after a few speeches and presentations, about 200 bikes headed out into the desert and rode north to Mt Charleston. The three of us rented an Electra Glide and two Heritage softtails.

Renting bikes is a great idea when you don’t have the time to ride there. It’s nice to rent something different from your own bike. That’s why Tom and Mike rented Heritage Softtails.

We had lunch on the summit and headed back down the hill after the short thank-you’s were over. We were now on our own for 48 hours. There was a lot of area to cover in the two days we planned on staying in Nevada, so we turned left and headed north on 95.

Above; Firefighter Special Editions at Mt Charleston

The new colors designed by Mike David Surrey BC Canada Local 1271

With no map or idea where we were going, we just started riding until we saw a sign that would let us know what our destination was. 24 miles ahead, Mercury Test Facilities. Wow, a lot of history here I thought. This is where they tested the Atomic bomb. The guard said no Canadians allowed. Nor Mexicans, Scots, French and not even Americans, were allowed in. What the hell could be so secret? They don’t even make atom bombs anymore. Dejected, we turned around and kept heading west and it wasn’t long before we saw the road sign….Death Valley 80 miles.

Madmyk Somewhere in Death Valley, California

Death Valley is one of the hottest places on earth. Air temperature readings over 120 degrees Fahrenheit are common during the summer months and we were just heading into July. The hottest-ever temperature recorded in Death Valley was 134 degrees F (56.7 degrees C), on July 10, 1913. This reading was made at Furnace Creek, where we found ourselves at a gas station gearing up before the ride south through the valley. In 1995, I traveled to Australia and South East Asia for two months. I found myself on the Island of Borneo, trying to find relief from the intense heat. I was staying at a place that backed onto the jungle so I thought I’d take a walk through it just to get some shade if anything. The heat in the jungle was somehow worse. The red cord attached to my glasses was now dripping red sweat down the front of my shirt. It was literally like walking through fire. I was melting. I remember saying to myself, this is the hottest place on earth. This is the hottest place I’ve ever been or probably the hottest place I will ever be…. until I rode the Harley into the bowels of Death Valley.

Badwater Basin. 282 ft below Sea Level.

Approaching Death Valley one would wonder why anyone would want to visit this barren place, devoid of vegetation, searing heat and no bars. With signs along the way pointing to places like Furnace Creek, The Funeral Mountains, The Last Chance Range, Badwater, Deadman’s Pass and Devil’s Hole, one conjures up images of Hell or Purgatory. If those places aren’t enough to scare a sane person away, there’s more. Burned Wagon Point, Chloride City, The Devil’s Corn Field. What the hell, are we going to ride through I thought? I found some solace however, when we passed a sign restricting firearms, air guns, bows and arrows and slingshots. At least I wouldn’t die at the hands of a maniac with a slingshot. We descended down into the valley towards Furnace Creek, soon to find out why the places here were named the way they were. I don’t think Charles Manson and his gang picked this place as a hideout in the 60’s for nothing. It’s not exactly Club Med.

Scratch that, Club Med is like going to Hell.

Lots of water stops.

The three of us rode into Furnace Creek where we found the visitor left quite quickly. Not because there were a lot of cars parked outside either, it’s because there were only 2 buildings visible. A gas station and another building that looked like a Recreation left back home. It had a pool. At least someone had a vision in the planning department. Being Firefighters, we are quite adept at preparing for the worst. In Death Valley, this meant running out of water. The gas station sold plenty of it – frozen. The owner must work for the planning department. Not that this frozen water lasted very long, it didn’t, but we did fill one of the saddlebags with ice and bottles of water. If I was going to die, it wasn’t going to be from thirst, or being struck in the temple by a slingshot. The gas station provided us what we needed, food, gas and water and it was no surprise to learn that they were a rare commodity in Death Valley and they charged for it accordingly. You must be prepared for the worse, not only in fighting fires, but riding into the hottest and lowest place on earth. With water, ice and fuel topped off, a little bit of food and our cell phones, we were ready. Let’s Ride.

Tres Hombres at the bottom of Death Valley

We headed south and found ourselves on ‘Artist’s Drive’. For a geologist, this would be heaven. For bikers, it wasn’t that bad! The road is very twisty, snaking along the base of the mountains and blazing with rocks that were bright red, flamingo pink, striking yellows and many shades of purple. The mineral deposits were like a painters palette, splashed with many different colours. What a surprise to ride upon a sign naming the area ‘Artist’s Palette’! It doesn’t matter where we all ride, there is always something to look at. In Death Valley there are surprisingly, many different things to see. We soon found out that riding a bike through this desolate, yet beautiful valley could be pretty harsh. The temp gauge on the E-Glide was buried at 120 f. and it was getting harder and harder to hold onto the handle grips. The hot wind on my hands was becoming so hot, I found myself switching from left hand to right with the opposite hand held behind my back for relief. Tom noticed that the temperature of the bike was cooler than the searing heat blowing in our face. I have since found a very good comparison that I tell people when trying to relate how hot it was. It’s like taking a hair dryer, turning it on high heat and the blower on high and holding it 2 inches in front of your face. That is exactly what I felt riding through Death Valley.

Tom and Ron at Badwater Basin

We pulled over and stopped after an hour under a big sign two thirds up the mountainside that said ‘Sea Level’ Wow, I thought, this place really is low. The lowest point in the Western Hemisphere, Badwater Basin is 282 feet below sea level. We parked the bikes and walked out onto a wooden walkway that took us out to the hardpan dry salt bed. It was very similar to Bonneville for all of you that have visited there. As we continued on the serpentine roadway along the bottom of the valley, I found myself looking for the next pass out. Every turn around the next curve, I was hoping there’d be a road that lead us out. It was just too bloody hot for me. We suddenly came across another rider heading north that told us they were going to Furnace Creek to call a tow truck for another biker broken down a few miles ahead of us. He had been broken down for a while and was starting to go downhill from the heat. Luckily for him, a motor home came along and sat him down in the air-conditioned rig and hydrated him. After that I couldn’t stop thinking about the wheels melting off the Heritage Softail I was riding. In the scorching heat, I had visions of the tires bursting or the bike overheating. After about 2 and a half hours, I was finished with Death Valley. I wanted out. The never-ending turns finally yielded and exit. There was a first! Happy to get on a straight 4-lane highway!

We ended up doing 800 miles on the bikes in the two days we had in Nevada. We could have done more but we had to come back to Vegas each night.

Besides Death Valley, we would also see the Hoover Dam, stretches of Route 66, the donkeys in Oatman and London Bridge in Lake Havasu, Arizona.

Above; Ron at the London Bridge in Lake Havasu, Arizona

Above: Oatman - where the Donkeys roam free among the tourists and locals. That’s Ron and I in the photo above, not a couple of Donkeys

All in all, Death Valley would be one of the places I’m happy to have visited but probably won’t go back to again. It’s a fascinating place and we really only saw a fraction of it but it’s a place that has to be seen. Just not on bikes. If you go, take a big motor home with air conditioning and a fridge full of beer. Just remember to leave your slingshot at home.

Any comments? You can e-mail me at madmyk@shaw.ca