Life Cycle of a FARKLE Tester

(Edited Version available in the 2014 Fall issue of Iron Butt Magazine)

 

 

 

“You can park right here. Man, you look really hot.”

 

“I’m flattered by your compliment, and I must say those bicycle shorts really accent your boyish figure,” I volleyed back as I unsprung my kickstand. “Actually, I’m very cool.”

 

“I can see that; ’cause you got a lot of stickers on your bike.”

 

“No seriously, I’ll bet you an umbrella drink I’m the coolest guy here.”

 

I grabbed his hand and shoved it through the zipper of my Roadcrafter.

 

“Feel my breasts.”

 

I forgot I still had my earplugs in and apparently I was shouting. A flash mob of English, Italian and German bikers slowly danced towards my Yamaha, arms stretched out in unison hoping to cop a feel. One of the Italian guys made it to second base before I was able to unleash my wedding ringed hand.

 

 

 

It was my first time being invited to give a presentation at the Northeast European Motorcycle Rally in Maine and I was sure it would be my last. BMW, Ducati, Aprilia, Triumph and Moto Guzzi riders gathered around my bike gawking at my pre-production temperature controlled cooling and heating system. I have a couple of different shirts I can hook it up to, but on this hot July day the insulated tubes were connected to a vest made by Veskimo. Although I did not design it or have any financial stake in the device, I was proud of the CTC 100, and I glowed much like the father of a newborn baby; before he sees the paternity test results.

 

 

 

 

For over a year, I had been Columbus; sailing the seven seas aboard the Mayflower, bushwhacking a path for other Americans to reach the gold in California. I was the lab mouse infected with Gonorrhea, I was Vince, the crash test dummy.

 

“Test the hell out it. Give it all you’ve got, I want to make sure it holds up. Put it through the wringer, Paul.”

 

It sounded like he wanted me to do what ever it took to find the weak spot, the point at which it would fail. I was to test the CTC 100 prototype durability in every way, and I did. Even though it was just a prototype and not waterproof, I accidentally repeatedly forgot to cover it during multiple downpours. I fumbled and dropped the unit, I ran it dry and I ripped the hose barbs out from the temporary plastic housing when I fell over in the mud, and yet It still pumped cold water keeping me cool. I left it out on the bike during freezing temperatures before adding the coolant like I was instructed, and ice formed in the lines. As soon as it thawed, it started right up and kept me toasty through the winter. I lost the controller somewhere on the East Coast, and never found it. He made me a knew one. FARKLE testing was hard work, but I was no quitter.

 

 

 

 

When I finally broke it and called John Sims the inventor, he wasn’t as excited as I thought he’d be.

 

“I did it this time John! I got it to stop working!”

 

“You broke it, Paul?”

 

“Yes sir, real good. It’s freaking awesome, it’s spewing out green coolant like a squished bug.”

 

“Did you drop it?” He asked.

 

“Sure, lots of times, but this time I actually drove my bike over it”.

 

“You realize that was my last working prototype?” He questioned.

 

“Uh, no, I didn’t. Can you build me another one?”

 

“Not sure, we are so close to production, I really don’t have any more hand built circuit boards, and it doesn’t make sense to build one from scratch again.”

 

I hung up the phone and sobbed uncontrollably like a 2014 1200RT owner. The summer season was just around the corner, and after spending 12,000 miles using a device capable of cooling me off or warming me up to any temperature I could ask for, I just couldn’t ride without it.

I had also had just received the Veskimo vest and was looking forward to a full test.

 

 

I rode down to Virginia to see if there was anyway to fix my bleeding prototype.

The diagnosis was terminal. I had successfully accomplished what I had been tasked to do, yet I felt so horribly hurt inside. I couldn’t bring myself to stay for the cremation.

 

A few weeks later, on a very hot June afternoon, my Triumph riding doctor and I rode to a speaking gig 120 miles away. We hit an hour of stopped traffic, and by the time we reached our destination, I was unable to complete full sentences or walk without my left leg buckling under. I struggled with remembering how to remove my gear and whether or not to store it on the bike. Multiple Sclerosis fatigue and heat induced cognitive symptoms were fully recognized by my doctor who briefly poked fun at me, then immediately herded me into the air conditioned hotel and sat me down in the lobby. It only took 15 minutes to reclaim the working parts of my brain and laugh at his earlier attempt at humor, but we spent a lot longer worrying about the next time. My medically trained friend was serious when he stressed how staying cool while riding for me was not a gimmick, it clearly was life or death.

 

 

I decided I needed to build my own system. I scoured Al Gore’s invention for the answer, instructions to make my own cooling system. I ordered hundreds of dollars worth of thermo techno gizmos from China, took stock in Home Depot and waited for the slow boat to reach New Hampshire. Over the course of two weeks and about 60 hours, I attempted to make my own personal cooling system. It was a test of math and solder, watts and heat paste, amps and blown fuses, dead batteries and burned out TEC plates. I left more wet spots across the house than a new puppy. I knew I would not have any ability to regulate the temperature like my long lost prototype, but I thought I could at least create something to allow me to ride cooler through the July and August heat. I finally got it wired and pumping fluids and it did actually work, in a placebo sort of way.

 

 

A week after building my redneck room temperature-izer, I received a chilling phone call. Production was in full swing. I was being sent a pre-production CTC 100, identical in almost every aspect to the final production models. The news gave me goose bumps in inappropriate places!

 

 

 

 

Being able to ride comfortably in any temperature from 0 to 120 degrees while wearing leather or full riding gear greatly increases safety, endurance and the hours, days and months people can ride motorcycles. I’m guessing by the crowds It draw everywhere I go, this FARKLE will soon find it’s place along side Garmin and Aerostich in long distance riding history. The CTC 100 may be one of those products we eventually wonder how we ever rode without. Maybe it will be an option on the next Honda GoldWing. Rest assured, whatever bike I’m riding, it won’t be an option.

 

If they listened to their FARKLE tester, they would have named the damn thing  Sliced Bread II.

 

– Longhaulpaul

 

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