Fred’s Urals
Being a Region 2 member identifies me as a resident of Beautiful Northwest Indiana. One of the things I find difficult to deal with is our relatively short season. Years ago, I decided to do what I could to extend it. One of the first things tried was simply wearing a helmet. The difference a warm head makes is absolutely amazing. Next on the agenda, was some heated gear, again, creating a substantial increase in comfort.
Now that I was warm, I found myself pushing deeper and deeper into winter. It was as if it were a personal challenge to see how little I could drive my car. But inevitably, along with the cold comes snow and ice. Now I was getting caught on the road in dangerous conditions all too often. Something had to be done, or I was going to die. That something ultimately took the form of a bike with a sidecar.
About the time I discovered cold doesn’t have to shut down the riding season, I noticed Russian Ural sidecar rigs were being imported. I checked them out and found they were a crude product, much like the AK-47. For me, it was love at first sight for the bikes and the guns. A purchase,though, was an entirely different matter as we were raising four daughters. And as always, priorities . . . Still, I was hooked on the three-wheel concept, and knew that one day I would have a rig.
After a few more sometimes terror filled winters, circumstances began to change. One by one the kids grew up and moved out. The steel industry where I am employed, reorganized and recovered to the point that I was once again living in the mill. But in contrast to the past, I was actually seeing an improvement in finances. For several years I had monitored Ural’s steady “evolutionary improvement process” and felt that the time was right to take the plunge.
A little incident, though, tripped me up. One night I was riding home on my Yamaha FJ 1200 after a ninety- plus hour week and got rear-ended. I was on the pavement and back up before I knew what hit me. A quick inspection revealed minor damage to the bike and no apparent major injuries to me. After the required police report was filed and optional ambulance ride declined, I set out to limp home on the FJ.
“Limp” is an apt description, for I soon discovered I could not operate the shift lever. Hmmm, it must have been damaged in the crash. When I got home, I made a second discovery; I couldn’t stand on my left foot. It had definitely been damaged in the crash. The verdict at the ER was a broken ankle. The individual that hit me, along with being apologetic, thankfully also carried adequate insurance. And although I missed about a month’s worth of work, the settlement made me whole, monetarily at least. The physical recovery took slightly longer.
The up side was now I had funds to buy the bike I had long had my eye on. I put a deposit on a 2005 Ural Patrol and waited for delivery. Interestingly enough, through this decade long process, I had never so much as even sat on a running sidecar rig.
When the bike was delivered, the dealer instructed me in the intricacies of three wheeling. I will state for the record driving a “hack” is nothing like riding a two wheeler, or operating a car for that matter. Sidecars are a beast all their own. But with some practice in a nearby church parking lot, I was good to go.
I quickly learned the good old communist engineering that brought the Urals to life during WW2 is not without its limitations. There were times during the teething process that tried my patience and caused me to question my sanity. This was mostly due to buying from an out of state dealer. Consequently, I was on my own repair wise. My advice to anyone considering one of these machines is to research the prospective shop. Some are definitely better than others.
Many of us take for granted the feeling of freedom that can only be found on a bike. To me, it is as precious as the air I breathe. However, there are people who for various reasons will never experience the thrill of riding on their own. Nursing homes are full of them. Ditto for the kids with muscular dystrophy, the reason for the MDA rides we support. Also the “stars” to use the term coined by the Pediatric Brain Tumor Association’s Ride for Kids surely qualify. Not to mention even Santa sometimes needs to be delivered to the biker party.
So, with this in mind, the bike that lived for years in my mind’s eye found a much more important purpose. Several years ago I was invited to a “Harley Day” at a local nursing home. One thing led to another, and soon a large number of residents were in line and waiting for their chance in the “chair.” At these facilities, the real heroes are the staff who painstakingly load the residents into the sidecar, a very tough job. My part is easy. I just show up and drive.
I guess what I’m trying to say is there are people that need help. I didn’t set out to provide this type of service, I just got pulled in. If you ever look at my Ural, on the windshield you will notice a small blue sticker that says “I Was Blessed in 2005.” This is an accurate statement, since that was the year I acquired the rig as a result of circumstances that could have turned out quite differently. What I have learned is rather than being a tool to promote my version of what a rider is, its true usefulness is to help me to be a blessing to others, the prime reason I was placed on this earth in the first place.
