DR-650 Build Thread Part 1

[Flyin6]

Well, as this knee of mine comes back together, the bike and SquareD will also

So to that end let's install some stuff

First the richochet plate...well I changed colors...

[Flyin6]

Here's where action central is for the next 30 minutes

[Flyin6]

The hardware is simple. The welded in place nuts are the locking type so I gave everything a light coat of red grease first

[Flyin6]

The plate slips right up in there with little or no fuss.
Just get a couple of the J-Clamps started and you're off to the races

[Flyin6]

Then the other two bolts and some tightening and I have a partially protected crankcase!

[Flyin6]

OK, that project is in the bag...Next...

[Flyin6]

Next, since the previous owner who is a bit shorter than the bike was designed for, the triple clamps were slid down about an inch
For a big guy like me, they're going back up

Loosen a few bolts and those suckers moved right back where they ought to be

[Flyin6]

Man, I wish that lifting trucks was that easy!

While the triple clamp bolts were loose, I installed the aux LED light mounts

[Flyin6]

Then I discovered the turn signals will occupy the same space as the new LED's
OK, quick check with sir Issac Newton and I came up with this: Two chunks (well maybe not chunks) of matter cannot occupy the same place at the same time.

OK turn signals have to move...How bout here?

[Flyin6]

Well, seems Newton's laws were still in play...turn signal limited the front wheel from turning

OK, bad idea

Know what success is

It is one good idea on a pile of bad ones!

[Flyin6]

So I found a better place for them...Here:

[Flyin6]

Next up, while access existed is the simple install of the 3600 Lumen LED headlight bulb
We're talking going from 60-90 watts down to 20 something

[Flyin6]

So the battery in the camera failed, so not as many shots from here onward. But here is how I solved the turn signal problem. Using a big fender washer to spread the load, I mounted up the lightweight turn signals to the fairing

[Flyin6]

Then the fairing went back on and that completed the job, task, and day...an end to build   day 3

[JR]

Surprised this hasn't found its way to you yet;

http://shoraipower.com/

[BobbyB]

So when's the "oil change" happening...

[Mrwoody]

The hardware is simple. The welded in place nuts are the locking type so I gave everything a light coat of red grease first

[moto123]

Don't get too carried away mounting the LED lights until you have installed some aluminum hand guards.  They can't occupy the same space.  Plus the hand guards might actually give you a better location to mount the lights.

Other thoughts, upgrade to 1-1/8" handlebars (renthal fatbar or protaper).  These bars are much stronger than the one you have currently on the bike, plus they will allow a larger flat space on top of the bar to mount GPS and other items.  But you will want to do this before the hand guards so you get the right size hand guard mounts.

Yet more thoughts, I believe the DR wiring forces the headlight and tail light to be on when the engine is running.  You will probably want to wire in some sort of override circuit that can allow the bike to run without lights - thinking night stealth.

[Flyin6]

You're on!

Good thoughts

I see you too have the TBC (Tactical Brain Circuit) and are similiarly afflicted as I am...I know a good doctor, BTW...

Bummer...Ordered the hand guards yesterday from ProCycle. Ordered the new aceribs or whatever that greek name is...
So you just told me I screwed up

BTW, the handlebars on the bike are upgraded...Dunno if they are 7/8", 1" or 1 1/8".

Copy on the lights thing...

[Flyin6]

Surprised this hasn't found its way to you yet;

http://shoraipower.com/

Looked at them JR
I'm concerned about circuitry in a lithium battery (Doesn't it have some??) vs dirt floor simplicity of lead acid
I noted that they did not have a battery for the 2012 DR, only the 90-19 model...misprint possibly

[Flyin6]

So when's the "oil change" happening...

Happening now!
List of mods:
Forks:  Done
Headlight:   Done
Rear shock:   Parts on property
Gas tank:   Ordered
Rear rack:   Parts on property
Case protection:  Parts enroute
Handlebar:  Installed
GPS:  Partially installed
Aux lights:  Parts on property
Camo:  On order
Exhaust:  Parts on order
Seat:  Parts on property
Windshield:  Parts on property
200Watt stator: no action yet
Skidplate:  Installed
Tires: Awaiting decision
Aft fuel tank:  Parts on property
Bags: Selected, not ordered yet
40mm Mikuni carb:  Selected awaiting ordering
790 cc Big bore kit: Parts selected, awaiting ordering
High-performance head and cams: Parts selected awaiting ordering
Oil Change: Not even considered:  Yikes!

[Drunksailor]

Just a thought, being a guy that spends more time on two wheels than four, instead of having your bike bag strapped to the bike have you considered strapping it to you. Not only does this drastically improve your COG issue (doing any trail riding you will be moving the bike under you and you can control the weight better if you are the weight), also if you have to opt out from your bike or get thrown from it during evasion you might not have time to grab it. This is a situation i believe you Don call being up a creek and your paddle is still on the bike, not to mention this might add slight protection for your buttocks if someone threw little chunks of lead at you as you drive away.

[Flyin6]

Well, I was thinking of wearing my lightweight kit on the bike, same-same as we used in haji land...

[JR]

I had the light kill switch on my 350 with an indicator it was off.

Wearing what you need vs what the bikes needs is a good balance. Strap basics on the side racks, forks and tank. Your needs around your waist leaving the top of the rear rack clear for whatever pops up or a quick grab bag for you.

[Flyin6]

Hmmm,

Plan was to add one roto-pack 1.75 gal tank
On top of that a Wolfman large H20 proof duffle
Two sizeable, but maybe not full saddle bags, a small case for a laptop somewhere, bag of spare stuff on the fender, took kit under the left rear cover, and a tank bag for quick stuff

Now hear this:
Every piece that I am going to wear or carry is going to go through the weight test thing
All light weight high tech clothing. light weight tent, stove, bag, ground mat, light, this/that...everything

[moto123]

Bummer...Ordered the hand guards yesterday from ProCycle. Ordered the new aceribs or whatever that greek name is...
So you just told me I screwed up

BTW, the handlebars on the bike are upgraded...Dunno if they are 7/8", 1" or 1 1/8".

The TAG bars that are on the bike as of the last picture are definitely an upgrade over the stock ones.  But since they have a crossbar, I believe they are still 7/8" diameter.  If you already ordered the hand guards to match the 7/8" bar then I would just use it like that.  Upgrading further to the 1-1/8" bars may be over kill for this application.  The larger bars would also require an adaptor kit.  One advantage to the 7/8" bar is that since it was historically a common size, finding a spare set on the side of the road when needed in an emergency could be far more likely than finding a 1-1/8" set.

[Flyin6]

I am told these tag bars taper to 7/8" which I think is stock.

I'm just going to work with most of the things I have to keep it all fairly simple and save a few dollars.

I am still awaiting the camo sheet to arrive

There seems to be aproblem with the CamoSkinz folks with knowing where my stuff is. All we know is that I paid for it. The big teardown will happen when that stuff shows so that I can apply it to all the body parts.

And I have an order inbound from Pro Cycle of more parts. With that order I will be past the 50% point with respect to mods

[JR]

Uh, have you changed the oil yet????????????? (OK we need smiley links!!!)

[Flyin6]

Uh, have you changed the oil yet????????????? (OK we need smiley links!!!)

Nope, waiting for Mr.Manners (Willie) the Amsoil man to show up here!

[JR]

Don, ref the "laptop have you though about a tablet instead? Fingertip control and gps, mapping,  plus you get the camera and long battery life. Biggest bonus is the lighter weight or lack of.

[Flyin6]

JR,

Meant tablet
Own a Lenovo tablet touch screen or old school wood pecker keyboard
Weighs like 1 gram, really small
It's going traveling with me!

[JR]

Throw a little solar panel on and you are topped off and ready to go.

I have an Acer, solid little thing but needs a real USB plug.

[Flyin6]

I was going to run a USB off the bikes battery to the computer's storage case

I think Pro Cycle sells a kit

[turn_one]

Chief!

Couple of thoughts now I've read through your 650 build:

-moto123 has some sound advice, I like his thinking.

-You raised your triple clamps to flush to the fork caps. Is this the stock location?  I'd find out but of course if those forks have different springs and valving stock location won't mean a lot.  Point is, the bike will turn radically slower now with that much decreased rake. Lower front end = faster turn in but to a point can be unstable.  Higher front end = slower turning but more stable.

-I know a lot of your stuff is built to be burly, most people on this site will champion this approach.  As we've discussed there's a benefit to being light and fast...since you've already screwed yourself by buying a DR650 I guess my point is moot.

-Check out this as a cool option to carry stuff.  https://www.rockymountainatvmc.com/p/1409/16178/Ogio-MX-Flight-Vest  A lot of guys I ride with talk highly of it; there's a spot for everything...and I'm guessing you may know a thing or two about a 'flight vest.

You guys need some non-Suzuki shots in here from the PNW:



Well sorta, the puke yellow bike in the back is a DR650:

[Flyin6]

Just so everybody knows:

1. This guy is my son...the tallest one

2. He secretly confided in me that the Dr650 might arguably be the best 'round the world bike...just sayin...

3. I don't know any triple clamp, turn in nonsense...

Now, let's see a thread on that 690 and that trip up to B.C.

[turn_one]

In response to pops:

1.  The ugliest one

2.  True, will last forever, made form steel and strong stuff.  But not the most fun on a RTW trip.

3.  Ride a few figure 8's in the driveway as the bike sits, then lower the bikes triples 15mm and do the same...should be a noticeable       difference...modify this difference with speed.

TR upcoming.

Looking forward to this DR build...

[Flyin6]

You think you're the ugliest?

OK, 15mm...

I can't ride now...all gimped up still...

[Flyin6]

BTW, his name is "Little Don"

Why?

Well, I am "Big Don" so it was natural to call him LD

Funny, when we were first in the regular Army at Ft. Campbell, I was the SIP which is like the chief pilot, and everyone called me Big Don and everyone knew Little Don.

There was another pilot in the unit called Don

The guys named him "Medium Don" and the name stuck

So in getting to know this illusive sorta outward bound son of mine, here's a story I wrote about his childhood for a book I was writing, but never completed:

Chapter 1

Dad The Trash Blew Up!

By

Donald Harward

Raising a family was and continues to be a source of fun and amusement for me. Kids do the craziest things and we as parents are wholly unprepared for the daunting task at hand. Having a family while knee deep in a career is all the more challenging. There always seems to be a fine line one has to walk between career and family needs with the balance in constant ebb and flow. With my family that career was one in the military, specifically, the US Army.

Throughout this story and the many which will follow the focus will center around the exploits of a young boy with my namesake, Don. I will attempt to detail his many experiences while growing up in the surreal world of the military while living in a family that moved around the world and was very near ground zero for a number of historical occurrences.

This story will not take place in the beginning of his wildly fantastic adventure but about one third of the way to him becoming a young man and finally leaving. He would have been somewhere around thirteen years old and in the sixth grade. I am a bit foggy about the exact timeframe, but not at all on the incident that gives its name to this story. No that is a very vivid memory indeed. This story takes place in our home, our very first house tucked away in Rural Tennessee on Lannom Road in Clarksville. If you have ever heard the Elvis song, last train from Clarksville, that’s the same place!

We hadn’t been there at our “new” house all that long, I had purchased it a few months earlier and was enjoying having Don live there and adjust to his new life. We had recently lived in Main Sondheim, Germany where we occupied a smallish apartment for the previous several years. We felt a loss from having left that friendly village where we were one of only two American families in a town of about a thousand. While there, over the months and years we had worn ourselves into the very fabric of that town and into the hearts of many of its residents. We had grown to love them as much as they loved us and in those early days in Clarksville the thoughts of lost friends and of that place was never all that far away.

When I first came back from Europe I had been assigned to a classified (secret) unit in the Army located at nearby Fort Campbell. Because of the difficult and demanding training requirements I had to endure, there was literally no time for anything else other than training and some badly needed sleep. Because of all of that Little Don could not accompany me when I first reported to Ft. Campbell and for many months thereafter. Instead he stayed with my father and mother in Maryland.
 
He was many hundreds of miles away and my off time was nearly nonexistent, so we saw each other very little for the first few months after we all left Germany. I sort of liked the idea, however, that he would get to live with his grandparents for a time and get to know them much better. From all reports, things were going well for all concerned but we wanted to be back together once again.

I didn’t really have a plan for where to live when I first reported to that new unit. I had never owned a house before, only lived in various apartments during those early years. To own a home seemed like an unobtainable dream to me, still a young officer with limited financial means. But as time went by I thought more and more about living in the country, in a real house that we could call our own.

I had grown up in a rural setting in a very old town, Abingdon, in Harford County, Maryland near the shores of the Chesapeake Bay. My memories of that place were thick enough to slice with a knife. There was the church I occasioned, Cokesbury, which was the site of the first Methodist College in the colonies. On nearby Ha-Ha Branch, a small community a couple miles away, some of our family still lived on land which had been granted to them by Lord Baltimore, the first British Ruler of that area of what would become the United States. I had lived a youth of outdoor adventure replete with almost daily hunting, fishing, sailing, or similar activities. My brother and later my sister had known real freedom and we did not know of the widespread crime and concerns of our modern America. No, back then a child was free to roam the country as he saw fit, and the next adventure was waiting for the adventuresome just on the other side of the large Oak tree or around the bend.

Having enough maturity at the time to realize the importance of all of that as it pertains to the development of a young man’s character, I wanted that for Don also. That was the spark and motivation for the decision to seek a proper house in the country where he would learn and grow. That house, as it turned out was very easy to find. I must say and give due credit here to a certain divine spirit that in retrospect has been at the root of a great many of my decisions which I have made along the way. When we are young we have a strong belief in self. We are strong, fast, fleet of foot, and seemingly on top of our game. It is complete folly though for one moment to think that we actually did any of that in our own power. Actually (and in my opinion) that it is only with a great effort from somewhere else that actually contrives to connect all the dots and get us through to a good decision and outcome.

That good decision for me began with selecting a realtor of local distinction and by paying him a visit on one of my rare Saturday’s which I had off. I even remember the office. It was a brownish affair with cedar plywood panels adorning the sides and a rather average awning and single glass door. More like a home actually than an office in appearance, it had the immediate feel of being “right.”

Inside sat a husband and wife team who listened patiently while I went on about our particular needs and circumstances. They asked the pertinent questions, politely interrupting me only on a couple occasions while they scribbled a couple notes and nodded. I thought I’d try to make an impression, and while describing exactly what I wanted, also make me look like something other than the complete novice which I was at that time.

“We are looking for a three bedroom on some land out in the country with a wood burning heater and we want it to be brown!” The last little bit of my statement elicited both a raising of the eyebrows and a smile. The gentleman realtor answered immediately, “I know the exact house you want, but I’d suggest we look at two others first then visit the one which I believe will fit your needs perfectly.

He owned a large Cadillac Coupe Deville. Powered by a 500 cubic inch V-eight and looking like the Queen Mary with its somewhat faded aqua blue paint, we all got in and drove away. The first stop was to a home in a nearby community which had the proper size and number of bedrooms. That house was in fact brand new and had a price tag of some sixty thousand dollars. Back in nineteen eighty four that was big money. Especially for a junior pilot struggling with various payments including a new car. Further the home had many other homes built all around it. I couldn’t picture little Don leaving the house on a hunt for squirrels with his trusty twenty-two rifle, so we moved on.

The next home was a similar design. This second house was a ranch of about fifteen hundred square feet with three smallish bedrooms and a couple bath rooms. It too, would meet our basic needs, but was a little bit too much money and didn’t have open ground on which to roam.

Those two homes were located in the suburbs of Clarksville which exhibited the typical urban sprawl of a growing bedroom community. Mighty Fort Campbell was the economic engine of that place where it housed the mighty 101st Airborne division and my secretive unit. Over twenty thousand hardened combat troopers worked and trained there and supported a town of fifty thousand just outside the gates of that one hundred forty five thousand acre base. All of that is situated on the northern side of the Cumberland River which flows up from Nashville to the south and empties into the huge Kentucky Lake area to the north west. On one side of that river was suburbia and a wonderful old town, on the other side was near wilderness.

Driving along riverside drive on the south side of Clarksville we turned southwest in that giant Cadillac. Not far away and looming ever larger was an ancient narrow Iron bridge that looked like it had already lived its better days. We made a right turn and started up a long, climbing ramp that led directly toward that bridge. Pulling onto it I wondered if it was even two lanes wide? Was it groaning and creaking as we made our way across? It led to a rampart of hills overlooking Clarksville to the north east. The area we were entering was known as Cumberland Heights, but locals referred to it as string town. I never was quite sure why the name, but I can attest that it was like a different country by comparison to nearby Clarksville. Only hardened locals lived “out here.”

The road wandered from turn to turn as it meandered along the crest of the ridge ever farther away from Clarksville and from civilization. I wasn’t paying that much attention but in about two to three miles we slowed and made a hard left turn onto an oil coated  dirt road. A crooked green and white street sign sticking out of the ground in a honey suckle patch said “Lannom Road.” We would learn later that the road had been named for our very neighbor, Mr. Lannom who had actually pushed enough dirt around to create the road in the first place when he built his house many years earlier, literally out in the woods.

At the very end of Lannom Road a gravel driveway on the left curved around gracefully back to the right, first downhill then back up and ended right in front of a single level brown ranch house. It was deep in the woods positioned on the top of a spur overlooking what locals called a “holler,” which was a valley. At the bottom of that “holler” flowed a perennial stream which worked a crooked path down to the Cumberland river not too far away.

Planting a foot on that gravel, I knew this was the place. Don could make a good run from here. The woods would teach him, the locals would harden him and teach him country ways, and together we would grow and experience many things here. The tour of the house’s interior was almost inconsequential as I just had that feeling that this was going to be our home. The master bedroom was small, as was everything else including the asking price. That was a very affordable $45,000 and it even had a wood burning stove augmenting the heat pump which droned in the back side of the house. For the added sum of only one thousand dollars, I could purchase the adjacent six acres of land making out total property a little over seven acres.

Mr. Realtor was very adept at reading his customers and he had done his job well with me. He saw the look on my face and I think he could see my mind’s eye visualizing my watching Little Don run through the woods on a day of discovery. “Do you want to make an offer” he asked? “I believe the seller is very motivated.” While looking over the expanse of the “holler,” I replied, “Yes, this is the place, this is our new home.”

The process went very well and also quickly, as does nearly all things that are of divine origin. In no time we had an agreement with the seller and a contract, and a willing bank to loan me the money. I called little Don the next week to tell him the good news. He would soon be coming to Tennessee to live in his new home and lay claim for the first time to his very own bedroom. Maybe it meant more to me than him, you’ll have to ask him that question, but I recall it a sure felt right at that time.

Before long, Don had come and life was settling into a familiar pattern. He had quickly found new friends, been integrated into his new elementary school, and even gotten a dog. I was very pleased with how he seemed to be assimilated into the local southern culture and before long, we had the feeling as though we had lived there for a long time. I was surprised at just how fast Don was developing. Before when living in that tiny third floor German apartment, he was somewhat limited by what he could do, but not here. In these rolling hills and thick woods was a life unfolding and exploding in all directions. I was still very busy with the Army and was often gone on some training mission or supporting this organization or that. The world was a very dangerous place at the time, as it remains to this day, I suppose, and my new outfit was a sort of nine-one-one force policing all of it. The calls would come unexpectedly at all hours and I’d be off for an undetermined period of time. But after returning I’d get another snap shot of my son’s continual development.

While constantly expanding the horizons on what he could do, and what I would allow him to do, he attained more and more responsibility. I was allowing him to venture out to who knows where for hours on end. He was shooting, playing sports, chasing the dog all over creation and just having a run of it. While allowing the growth outside of the home to continue, I was also encouraging more and more responsibility in the home. Don was very receptive to the idea, always eager to please and continually seeking more and more responsibility.

I had a lively hobby of working on cars at that time. It seems we always had some car project going and on some of them, Don was very much involved. The garage we had at the time was actually in the basement below the first floor. There, one tiny bay was the site of engine builds, body repair and repainting and hot-rodding of all sorts. Following any project, the mess created was usually considerable. Afterward or periodically during a project I would clean up the mess and bag the cans and other plastic and metal items for disposal in a nearby dump. You see, we did not have the luxury of a trash removal service so the accepted technique was to burn the paper products, compost the food and organic items and haul the metal and plastics to the dump. To those ends we all had compost piles and burn barrels.

We owned a fifty-five gallon barrel and thirty gallon trash can for that purpose. About two to three times a week, I would gather up the bags of paper and Don and I would haul them a short distance down the hill to a leveled off spot we used to burn the trash. Don seemed fascinated by the power and the mystery of the fire thing and as time went along, I would let him do more and more to help. Eventually, I let him start the fire and monitor it as was required to prevent accidental spreading to the nearby grasses and trees.

On the fateful day, I seem to remember it was an autumn day. I was relaxing on the couch watching TV following a long “day at the office.” My eyes were heavy and I was looking forward to supper and an early night. I had left the house around five AM to go to PT (physical training) on post and had flown some during the day. The cold weather had taken a toll and all in all, I was toast. Little Don presented himself and asked if he could burn the trash. The question was presented in such a manner as to suggest, that he wanted to burn it himself without my presence. I thought about it for a moment. This was one of those decisive moments and a chance for me to show him that I trusted him with something potentially dangerous. There didn’t seem to be all that much risk, a recent rain had dampened the leaves and grass so the risk of a fire spreading was low. “Sure Don, go ahead, have fun.” I could see the slight change in posture as he crossed into a new realm of trust between him and his dad.

It’s funny, but you are just never prepared for all the folly that is always waiting patiently just out of sight to erupt onto your placid landscape and smack you right in the forehead. I believe I was somewhere between sleepy land and the conscious world when I heard the first in a series of explosions.

I came wide awake instantly, but my mind was not there in my house. Nothing fit just right at that moment. I thought I just heard a volley of 2.75 inch rockets slam into the earth producing that muffled “Whump, whump” sound. Then in an instant I knew it wasn’t that at all. I jerked my head around toward the window just in time to see a ball of black smoke spreading outward from where the burn barrels were. I got an instant sick feeling of doom as I flew out the door and turned downhill toward where Don should be. I didn’t know what I was about to encounter, or how this had happened, but I was scared, real scared. In a flash I saw him staggering uphill walking toward the house. He was covered with black soot from head to toe! He looked just like Wiley Coyote who had just been blown up while holding a handful of dynamite. His black stained cheeks had two trails of pink skin where the tears were washing away the soot. His hair was full of tatters of paper and everything else imaginable, but I could see no visible damage. He was shaking and crying as I walked the last couple feet to him but no blood. Through those green tear filled eyes he looked up at me and uttered those words I will never forget, “Dad, the trash blew up!” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry!

After some inspection I could see he was not harmed at all, just startled and scared. Behind him beside a trash barrel which had been partially blown apart were the remnants of some shattered spray paint cans. I immediately knew what had happened. While grabbing the bags of trash he had collected one or two which contained paint cans from where I had cleaned the garage earlier. Those bags were intended for the trash dump and obviously, not for the burn barrel. In his zeal, born from his newly found trust, he had collected all the trash in the spirit of doing a good job and impressing his father. But as with all things the result is not always what we might expect. The outcome from this little “learning experience” was not a bad one, but certainly was a memorable one. As it would go with many of the things which would happen to Don over the years, he would survive intact and in good spirit. He would as we say in the Army, “live to fight another day.”

[moto123]

You sir, are certainly not at a loss for words.  Still, a pretty amusing story!  My own son is 3-1/2 years old currently, so I expect to have many similar stories to tell in these up coming years.

[moto123]

turn_one, I agree.  We needed some pics of the "fun" style of adventure bike.  Here is my 2007 KTM 525EXC in my front yard early this spring.  This was the first year these came as street legal.  Which opens up another whole can of worms on the discussion of why are there tons of awesome bikes available in Europe that we are not allowed to purchase in the US..... crazy!



And some pictures as it currently sits in my shop today.

[Flyin6]

I like it!

Couple of years ago I was on the warpath to buy one of those. Bunch of guys my age around here go for day long adventure rides. We have so much off road available. But it never came about...
I'll make the dr a 790 all ported and cammed and maybe be able to keep you guys in sight

[Flyin6]

Got a box of parts today

[Flyin6]

Contained these cool Aceribs hand guards

[Flyin6]

And an exhaust and a tank...

[Flyin6]

So I decided to bolt on the exhaust system

[Flyin6]

The factory system came off very easily

It weighs sooo much more than the aftermarket FMF system, like maybe 2-3 times more

[Flyin6]

The head pipe with the power bulge device which I hear controls noise just a bit went right on. It's so easy working on these simple machines

[Flyin6]

The fit was spot on

[Flyin6]

Look at all this catalytic converter business:

Weight upon weight, upon heat...

[Flyin6]

Next the muffler band clamp bolts to the stock location