A fresh-off-the-showroom look at Honda's XR650L, back in the days before dead batteries and trickle chargers were necessary.
One would think that after years of putting myself through such torture that the pain of witnessing one my beloved brood leave the stable for a final farewell wouldn't hurt so bad. Unfortunately, as I got to relive that very sensation today, I can report that this isn't this case.
Let us back up for a moment before I'm liable to get tear salt in my keyboard (again). As die-hard Ramblings fans will most certainly recall, I spent a good deal of the summer scheming, plotting, then finally acting on my dirt-driven desire and purchased a 2006 ATV late in the season. The quad, I'm pleased to report, has been nothing shy of spectacular. My cousin and I have been logging many weekend hours in blissful trail exploration that will likely suffice as memory material to last well into the long winter months.
So what's with the tears, you ask? In a rare act of maturity, I had actually been kicking around the notion of reducing my stable by one model ever since I picked up the quad. Please don't mistake this to mean I feel I had too many toys. Au contraire, there can never be too much of a good thing. There can, however, be too much bike-related maintenance for one individual to keep up on. And so this suspicion became a reality the day I pulled the battery off the charger and went out to start my 2001 XR650L. I turned they key and got nothing from the battery. Not a dim headlamp, not a click from the starter. The effect would have been no different had I mounted a log in the battery box.
An optimist by nature, I wasn't about to let something so minuscule as a dead battery slow me down. The jumper cables were quickly retrieved and the Ford Explorer pulled into position behind the big Honda. With a battery boost, the XR blasted to smoky life, and thoughts of ditching the ol' girl were quickly replaced by the steady hum of its symphonic exhaust note. I stepped it into gear and was instantly reminded of the 650's tractor-like low end. I looked up at the gray skies in silent deliberation; it was really too wet and cold to be blasting around on the XR, but then again this battery wasn't about to charge itself. A dozen laps through the cold and rainy New York afternoon and the gloom and inhospitable conditions were nearly forgotten. My moments of bliss were short lived, however, once I pushed in the kill switch. The battery was yet again lifeless, and, yes, I had made certain that I hadn't inadvertently mounted a log in the battery box.
What would follow were several evenings that must have appeared to onlookers like a poor rendition of Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory. Battery chargers of various design and intensity were each given a nightly opportunity to spark life back into the tiny black battery. Cords crisscrossed my basement floor, alligator clips were attached to anything metal, and I was half expecting to witness a high voltage arc of electricity dance across a Tesla coil. After several days of this girlfriend disapproving display, I had accepted defeat. Nothing shy of the 1.21 jigawatts Doc Brown needed to send the DeLorean through time in Back to the Future were going to rejuvenate this lump.
No wonder parting was such sweet sorrow - the XR650L demonstrates its prowess with some aerial maneuvers.
The local Honda shop wanted $68.99 for a replacement, and to make matters worse, all of my trickle chargers were busily keeping my LT400, KZ750, and GS500's batteries percolating at present. I glanced around at all of the oil changes that were overdue. In a quick mathematical calculation, I ran down the list of needed items: A new battery, another trickle charger, eight quarts of oil, four filters, and factor in a dealership screw job. Ouch.
In a blend of guilt and premeditated relief that can only occur through downsizing, the wheels of ridding myself of my loyal dual-sport bike were already in motion. Out came the digital camera for some eBay-worthy photographs. The XR650L was posted last Monday as a seven-day auction and was just picked up moments ago.
I would like to tell you that I had no regrets in loading up the big XR a final time, but the truth of the matter is, as any true motorcyclist will attest: The highest highs and lowest lows come on the day of pick-up and the day of removal (not always in that order).
I did, in fact, end up having to bite the bullet and sink $70 into a new battery, a parting gift to the next owner if you will. Needless to say, once the new battery was installed, the bike fired up within a millisecond of touching the starter button and ran just perfectly enough to instill thoughts of bailing out of the auction contract at the last minute and escaping with the derelict 650 down to Mexico. Perhaps the sleet bouncing off its bright red fenders made me reconsider.
I watched with that same mix of sadness and relief mentioned earlier as the new owner drove off with the bike strapped down to the bed of his F350. I would like to think I managed a smile due to the excitement in his eyes as he glanced in the rearview at his new acquisition, or the promise of endless adventures that he and my former XR would have on the horizon, but the truth of the matter is that I had oil to change and trickle chargers of my own to check on.
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