The destination for day two was Lakeview, Oregon. We chose a route that would get us there in just over 300 miles. We had a very uninspired breakfast at the hotel restaurant that included some type of breakfast muffin for me and a breakfast burrito for Tony. Tony said it didn’t agree with him, and it was probably a good thing he was driving alone. So, all gassed up, we headed south.

South of Maupin, we connected with highway 97 but again, only for a short while. We decided to turn southeast at Madras and head towards Prineville, where we would catch another of my favorite roads, the Crooked River Highway, which follows, of all things, the Crooked River. It is a great twisty section of road that terminates at Bowman Dam at the western end of the Prineville Reservoir State Park. At that point, there is the option of the more direct route south on a gravel road or a paved road a little to the west. We probably could have ridden the gravel section, but I wasn’t sure how much Norton abuse I wanted to chance, and Tony certainly didn’t want to tow a trailer on that route.

Once I hit Oregon Highway 26, it was high-speed riding the rest of the way—east to Highway 395 and then south toward Lakeview. I felt like I was really pushing the Norton, holding 70-plus miles per hour for stretches of nearly a hundred miles at a time, all while battling a steady headwind across the high plains of Oregon’s backcountry.

Originally equipped with a small 2.5-gallon tank, the vintage Norton wasn’t exactly built for long-distance cruising. Twice I had to flip over to reserve after less than 100 miles. Both times, rather than risk running completely dry, I chose to pull over and get gas from Tony and the chase truck.

Just outside of Lakeview, we finally reached the first gas stop in a long while and pulled in to top off before calling it a night. I glanced under the bike—and there it was: a six-inch puddle of oil beneath the primary chaincase.

Wait—was that from me?

I called over John and Tony to take a look. Yep, oil was dripping from the vent holes in my primary case. There is only one way for oil to get into my dry belt-drive primary: the main seal. Arrg.

I had been pushing the 50-year-old Norton hard for the last two days, and maybe this was what I deserved. I pulled off the saddlebags to remove the seat and checked the oil. I saw I was down about half a quart, which verified the pool of oil under the bike was indeed mine, and I didn’t just happen to park over someone else’s leak. Concerned and a little dejected about my previously great-running machine, I put on my helmet and hit the magic starter button—nothing. The starter just spun without catching. Really? Now the starter isn’t working? Great. Fortunately, I am highly experienced in using the kick starter since that was the primary way to start the bike for 40 years before installing the electric start aftermarket kit. So, in the heat with all my riding gear and helmet on, I commenced with the manual starting procedure. Center stand down, transmission in neutral, gas on, key on, locate the pistons in the right position, look around to see if anyone is watching, jump up and smash down on the kick starter with all my body weight and a slightly bent knee in case of a kickback. Because everyone was indeed watching, I had to repeat the procedure… but only twice before the mighty Commando roared to life. Whew.

Lodging options were limited in Lakeview, Oregon, and somehow months before, I picked the Neon Cowboy as the place to stay based on internet pictures and reviews. It was overpriced, but the rooms were recently remodeled, and there was a steakhouse and bar on site. Just what we needed after a long day’s ride. We scoped out the pool fed by the nearby hot springs, but it didn’t look appealing enough to jump in. Besides, I wasn’t in the best mood because of my bike problems and decided to go for the steak dinner instead. My GPS stats for the day said 307 miles in 8.5 hours. The moving speed increased to 62.1 mph, and the max speed dropped from yesterday’s 135 to 133 mph! Ha, I didn’t think that Norton could even go that fast.

The oil leak had slowed to a trickle at the Neon Cowboy Roadhouse

Sunday morning, we met at the steakhouse for a hearty breakfast and reviewed the plan for the day. It was 229 miles to Quincy, CA, the rally destination. We decided to ride 40 miles and then pull over to check my oil, and hopefully, we could gauge what the flow rate was and figure out how often we would need to stop. I took up Tony’s offer to put my saddlebags in his truck so I could easily remove the seat to check the oil. Soon we were packed, suited up, and prepared with extra 20w50 oil containers, ready to roll. I fully expected to have to commence the kick starting procedure, but I took a chance and pushed the magic starter button, and to my surprise, it roared to life. Oh, yea, let’s roll!

We stopped after the first 40 miles and checked the oil. It was full, and there were no drips underneath. Weird. Forty miles later, we repeated the process, and again, full oil and no drips. Okay, well, let’s go 100 and see what happens. We picked up our speed down highway 395 towards Susanville, and my thoughts were consumed with what could have caused the leak and why it seems to have gone away. We got gas in Susanville, and once more, there were no drips under the bike, and the oil tank was full. No complaints from me, but this was strange. The route from Susanville to Quincy was excellent as the road climbed into the mountains with light traffic and an easy road with great curves. We followed the east shore of Lake Almanor before turning south on some more excellent mountain roads into Quincy.

Deby and I spent the rest of the week tent camping at the Pulmas Sierra County Fairgrounds in Quincy, WA. The Norton was parked on a concrete section where I could easily see any leaks that might develop. I rode it every day on the various organized rides with the groups, and the underside of the Commando was dry as a bone. As an additional bonus, the starter started mostly working. Were those two things related? Hmmm.

Campsite at the Quincy fairgrounds

The rally was attended by around 200 Norton motorcycle enthusiasts from around the country and even the world. I thought there might be someone in attendance who would know what happened with my oil leak. I probably bothered almost a dozen people with my question, but the best answer I received was from Jim Comstock, who was camped right next to us in his tent. I won’t bore you with his technical explanation but basically I have a leaky main seal on the crankshaft that also impacted the operation of the starter.

Just some of the Nortons on display at the rally

Altogether, I added about 1,200 miles to the odometer on the Norton, and Deby never had to pull out her chair on the side of the road to wait for repairs. The only other thing that happened to the bike was when I hit a severe pothole hiding around a corner in the shadows of a leafy tree. The jolt was bad enough that my glass headlight lens popped off of the bike and was swinging by the wire. By the time I pulled over, the glass was smashed, and the “beauty” ring was no longer very beautiful. No worries, I always carry some duct tape for just this possibility, and we were back on the road before Deby could get her book out. Oddly enough, the LED bulb still worked, so I was even legal on the ride back. I did notice when we got home that I had a pretty good bend in my rear wheel rim. Ouch, I’m glad I didn’t blow a tire! That would have been a roadside wait for sure.

Slightly (?) bent rim

The trusty—but clearly road-weary—Norton made the trip home on a trailer, courtesy of our friend Gary. At the last day of the rally, I swapped it out for my modern BMW so Deby and I could enjoy a relaxing ride together for the return leg. Another INOA rally was officially in the books—1,200 hard-earned miles, a mysterious oil leak that vanished as quickly as it appeared, and a headlight held on by duct tape. It wasn’t flawless, but it was undeniably memorable. With the next rally likely two years away, I’m already thinking ahead—and starting to ask around. Who’s in for the next adventure?

Below is an interactive map of the whole route down and back if you want to zoom and see the details.

Thanks for following,

I hope to do another short post about our ride home soon.

Donn and Deby