Jimmy-Rigged
Sometimes I just laugh. It happens all the time, mostly when I’m driving my 10-year-old Dodge truck loaded with three brand-new bikes priced in the $7000-$9000 range. Counting the gear, there could be at least $30,000 worth of motorcycle stuff in the bed. Yep, beat Dodge truck; I couldn’t even get $3000 for it-spray-painted rims, dented tailgate, faded paint, 180,000 on the odometer and still rolling strong, peeling clear coat and all. Every dirt bike rider has some way of getting the bikes to the riding area. And we become attached and constrained by that fact, if not outright defined by what we drive, no matter how you slice it.The bed of my truck is a Rubik’s Cube of tiedowns, attachment points, loose bottles of two-stroke oil, chain lube and smashed aluminum cans held in by a tailgate that’s been shaped by frame rails. There’s the mounted wheel chock, a toolbox, the folding ramp, the 3×4 sheet of plywood and the bed mat, the latter two of which hardly go noticed unless I need to get unstuck from mud or sand, or maybe I need a makeshift table. Yep, my bed extender and that sheet of plywood make a table, throw the thick rubber bed liner down and grab traction where there is none. Add bikes, coolers, gas cans, gear bags and stands and it can get pretty crowded in the back. But I have a system for making it all work and no one else but me understands how it all fits together. The last time I had some help loading at the track (after a crash rendered me less than capable of loading my own stuff) it was more painful to watch my friends fill the truck than it would’ve been to do it myself. Once home and figuring out how to unload the mess of straps, piled-in stuff and now partially-strapped-in motorcycles, while in pain, was almost not worth even trying. I thought of just cutting the straps, getting up to a pretty good clip in reverse and slamming on the brakes. What I’m trying to explain is that my system for loading and transporting bikes is the best one known to man, but I’m the only man who understands it. The bed of my truck is a foreign land, I’m the only one who speaks the language or understands its customs.And if you think that’s bad, I dare you to visit the front part. Yes, the cab. It may not be pretty, but almost everything you’d ever need for your day-to-day life is there-if you were me. Which you’re not, so I’ll explain. Most importantly, there’s at least a spare set of clothes, since I tend to get dirty. Make that clothes for every season, because out here in California there are a few days every year where we can’t wear shorts. Then there’s a set of tools for the truck, spare belts and a tire pump. I carry a tow strap and a small first-aid kit. Since I never know what I’ll forget in my gear bag, I tend to cache an almost complete set of riding gear behind the seat, too. And then there are all of the miscellaneous jackets and shoes that end up there because it was an easy place to stash the stuff I hardly wear. I have spare tubes, some levers, knives and flashlights. Yeah, I’d only have two levers, but since I never know what brand of bike I’m riding, I tend to have an assortment. Same for tubes. Then I also have my running junk, mountain bike junk and skateboard junk, all of which stinks. Really. There’s an assortment of wires that charge things, convert power and make the XM Radio blast Zoltar on “The System.” But if you can get past all of that, you can usually find some food, too, so you won’t starve when the truck breaks down. I once found a piece of pizza underneath my seat. But I know it didn’t stink as much as the open can of tuna I put under the seat of my friend’s truck. He thought I’d never find the pizza.Whether it’s a truck, van, SUV with a bumper rack or a trailer, maybe even a subcompact with a bike in the trunk, we all have our way of getting our dirt bikes where they need to go. Your ride could be some pimped-out oversize Tonka truck look-alike with the bling wheels and chrome roll bar, not a stray speck of dirt on it, or the complete opposite. But for me, I sort of don’t care. It’s all about the ride I’m going on, and I laugh because it’s the ride in the back that I’m really excited about.
Sometimes I just laugh. It happens all the time, mostly when I’m driving my 10-year-old Dodge truck loaded with three brand-new bikes priced in the $7000-$9000 range. Counting the gear, there could be at least $30,000 worth of motorcycle stuff in the bed. Yep, beat Dodge truck; I couldn’t even get $3000 for it-spray-painted rims, dented tailgate, faded paint, 180,000 on the odometer and still rolling strong, peeling clear coat and all. Every dirt bike rider has some way of getting the bikes to the riding area. And we become attached and constrained by that fact, if not outright defined by what we drive, no matter how you slice it.The bed of my truck is a Rubik’s Cube of tiedowns, attachment points, loose bottles of two-stroke oil, chain lube and smashed aluminum cans held in by a tailgate that’s been shaped by frame rails. There’s the mounted wheel chock, a toolbox, the folding ramp, the 3×4 sheet of plywood and the bed mat, the latter two of which hardly go noticed unless I need to get unstuck from mud or sand, or maybe I need a makeshift table. Yep, my bed extender and that sheet of plywood make a table, throw the thick rubber bed liner down and grab traction where there is none. Add bikes, coolers, gas cans, gear bags and stands and it can get pretty crowded in the back. But I have a system for making it all work and no one else but me understands how it all fits together. The last time I had some help loading at the track (after a crash rendered me less than capable of loading my own stuff) it was more painful to watch my friends fill the truck than it would’ve been to do it myself. Once home and figuring out how to unload the mess of straps, piled-in stuff and now partially-strapped-in motorcycles, while in pain, was almost not worth even trying. I thought of just cutting the straps, getting up to a pretty good clip in reverse and slamming on the brakes. What I’m trying to explain is that my system for loading and transporting bikes is the best one known to man, but I’m the only man who understands it. The bed of my truck is a foreign land, I’m the only one who speaks the language or understands its customs.And if you think that’s bad, I dare you to visit the front part. Yes, the cab. It may not be pretty, but almost everything you’d ever need for your day-to-day life is there-if you were me. Which you’re not, so I’ll explain. Most importantly, there’s at least a spare set of clothes, since I tend to get dirty. Make that clothes for every season, because out here in California there are a few days every year where we can’t wear shorts. Then there’s a set of tools for the truck, spare belts and a tire pump. I carry a tow strap and a small first-aid kit. Since I never know what I’ll forget in my gear bag, I tend to cache an almost complete set of riding gear behind the seat, too. And then there are all of the miscellaneous jackets and shoes that end up there because it was an easy place to stash the stuff I hardly wear. I have spare tubes, some levers, knives and flashlights. Yeah, I’d only have two levers, but since I never know what brand of bike I’m riding, I tend to have an assortment. Same for tubes. Then I also have my running junk, mountain bike junk and skateboard junk, all of which stinks. Really. There’s an assortment of wires that charge things, convert power and make the XM Radio blast Zoltar on “The System.” But if you can get past all of that, you can usually find some food, too, so you won’t starve when the truck breaks down. I once found a piece of pizza underneath my seat. But I know it didn’t stink as much as the open can of tuna I put under the seat of my friend’s truck. He thought I’d never find the pizza.Whether it’s a truck, van, SUV with a bumper rack or a trailer, maybe even a subcompact with a bike in the trunk, we all have our way of getting our dirt bikes where they need to go. Your ride could be some pimped-out oversize Tonka truck look-alike with the bling wheels and chrome roll bar, not a stray speck of dirt on it, or the complete opposite. But for me, I sort of don’t care. It’s all about the ride I’m going on, and I laugh because it’s the ride in the back that I’m really excited about.
