Alright, I’ll confess, the title picture featuring my Type R was total clickbait to reel you in! Since this is a car-focused blog, I figured a title suggesting motorcycles needed to also have a cool car in the picture to lure you into reading about a motorcycle story, something we never talk about here. But trust me, you don’t want to miss this! Before you hit the back button in a fit of rage, know you’re about to dive into an incredibly intriguing tale designed to entertain and, as always, teach you something new. Stick around, read, and enjoy the wild story of how I accidentally fell head over heels in love with motorcycling.
It all started way back in 2013, my little brother enlisted in the Navy and was headed off to boot camp. But before sailing off into the unknown to serve our great country, he bestowed upon me two of his most prized possessions: 1. his Ridgid impact driver, which is still currently in use in my garage and has likely assisted in more VTEC-related builds than the robots at Honda’s Suzuka Factory, and 2. his 1996 Kawasaki KLX 650, which was a street-legal dirt bike he had used to blast around the South Bay.
However, in 2013 I was already nearly 15 years deep into the Honda (car) game and didn’t really think motorcycles were that cool or could ever replace the way irresponsibly driving Hondas made me feel. Boy, I couldn’t have been any more wrong. When I took ownership of the KLX, there were, of course, some issues: wiring gremlins, mechanical work needed, and since I had no desire to ride it off-road or make it an adventure bike, I needed to ditch the knobbies and get some street tires. You see, since 2003 I had already done my fair share of off-road stuff; I had a Prerunner Ranger with Camburg, blah, blah, blah, and quite honestly, I’m just not down enough to be a bro.
Luckily for me, my longtime neighbor, Lisa, a woman I’d barely said two words to despite living next door for years, worked at Sportsman Cycle Sales, a Las Vegas institution founded by Casey Folks that has been a sanctuary for dirt bikers since 1968. At the time (2013), she ran the register and handled sales, while her husband, the master mechanic, brought over 50 years of combined motorcycle know-how to the table, both of them legit riders who lived and breathed this stuff. The shop was a hidden gem, slinging high-quality dirt bikes like GasGas and Beta, and schooling every other shop in town when it came to dirt bike service quality. But here’s the kicker: Sportsman Cycle wasn’t just any shop; it doubled as the headquarters for Best in the Desert (BITD), the legendary off-road racing association also founded in 1984 by Casey Folks, the godfather of Nevada off-road racing. BITD’s a big deal, running epic races like Vegas to Reno, the longest off-road race in the U.S., and the Parker 425. Back in my Prerunner days in the early 2000s, I was all about BITD, hitting up their races and sneaking into the pits, so chatting with Casey himself felt like meeting a rock star. Too bad I’d ditched off-roading for good, otherwise, I’d have been begging for pit passes and BITD swag.
Sportsman Cycle worked their magic on the KLX, sorting the wiring, fixing mechanical issues, and swapping knobbies for street tires all while allowing me to pay in installments (she knew where I lived anyway). I skipped the full supermoto 17-inch wheel conversion, cash was tight back then. When it was ready, I hit the streets of Vegas, and that bike changed everything. The raw, unfiltered feel of the KLX made me eat my words about motorcycles. There is just something you can’t explain about riding motorcycles, a thrill and rush of adrenaline I hadn’t felt since my wildest Honda nights. Life hasn’t been the same since.
Not only did Lisa help get that KLX roadworthy and reliable, but she also taught me about riding and how to avoid being a squid.
squid (noun): A “motorcycle squid” is a slang term in the motorcycling community for a rider who displays reckless, irresponsible, or inexperienced behavior on a motorcycle. The term is typically derogatory, reflecting a lack of common sense, safety awareness, or riding skill).
One day, I came home riding the KLX with nothing more than a helmet, hoodie, and shorts, for which she immediately scolded me. She explained that anytime you’re on a motorcycle, you have to wear pants. If you don’t, you look like a total kook, and real riders will recognize that you have no clue what you’re doing. She also took me out riding and taught me the fundamentals like proper body position, foot position on the pegs, always warming up your tires before aggressive riding, using your front brake 95% of the time (when on pavement), and how to navigate turns properly.
Just like that, this woman, to whom I had barely said more than a few words over the past eight years of being neighbors, took me under her wing and taught me the ways of the motorcycle world. She gave me the foundation I needed to create an amazing motorcycle lifestyle, and without her tough love and teachings, I would have likely ended up being just another squid destined for target fixation, most likely resulting in death.
After completing boot camp and settling into the military lifestyle, my brother got the hankering for another motorcycle. Armed with my newfound moto knowledge and a motorcycle enthusiast neighbor to answer questions, I pushed him to buy a brand-new 2014 Yamaha FZ-09. He snagged it in November 2013, just as the ’14 models hit dealerships. He rode that motorcycle for a few months before inevitably having a small mishap that tore up his shoulder internals a bit, almost getting him in trouble with the Navy because he couldn’t use his arm for heavy lifting for a week or so.
A few months after my brother’s accident, he still hadn’t climbed back on his bike and was prepping for an overseas deployment. Meanwhile, I was so deep in the bike life I needed a snorkel, tearing around town on the KLX, a scrappy bike perfect for short rips but not built for long freeway hauls or high speeds. Knowing my obsession, he decided to pass his FZ-09 to me (which I later paid him for) in early 2014 because he wasn’t going to be using it for a while. My bestie, Ever, and I borrowed an S10 pickup from a friend and drove clear across the country to Washington, D.C., to pick it up. We turned right back around, making memories that’ll stick with me forever as we hauled that bike back to Las Vegas.
With that acquisition, I was officially hooked. Of course, the FZ09, an 849cc three-cylinder, had gobs more power and precision on the street than the KLX could ever have. So, for two more years, I rode that FZ09 everywhere, amassing nearly 35,000 miles in those two years. It was my daily; rain or shine, hot or cold, I was all about the bike life. I honed my skills in local canyons and twisty roads throughout the greater Las Vegas area and even frequented famous places in Southern California like “The Snake” (aka Mulholland Hwy) R.I.P (wait now it’s back open again)., other roads around Malibu such as Encinal Canyon, Decker Rd, and pretty much anything else off Kanan Dume Rd, as well as places more inland like ACH or GMR. Being this into motorcycles also introduced me to two of my now lifelong best friends, whom I’m so lucky to have come across.
Over those two years, I made several upgrades to better suit my FZ09 for a larger rider like me, 6’2″ and about 225 lbs. The stock suspension wasn’t designed for someone my size, so I decided to upgrade the rear shock. Below, you can see I’ve torn the bike apart to install a Kawasaki ZX10R rear shock, which comes from a larger liter bike. This was a huge improvement over the stock shock. The ZX10R shock offers adjustable rebound and compression, plus a coilover-style threaded body that lets me precisely set the sag for a better ride.
You’ll also notice in the background, my brother’s EG sits in the garage, its DC5 K20A swap nearly complete, a mechanical heart transplant fueled by late-night wrenching and dreams of VTEC glory. Tucked to the left, another K20 waits patiently, destined to roar to life inside my own EG, proof I was still knee-deep in Honda hustle. You can take the guy outta the Honda scene, but you’ll never tear the Honda from his soul. Oh, I fell hard for motorcycles, those two-wheeled hussies promising speed and adrenaline, luring me to carve corners and chase highways. They were my fling, my wild sidepiece, and I’d ride ‘em with a grin, wind in my face, plotting my next lap. But even as I talked a big motorcycle game when the boyz were around, my hands were still grease-stained from rebuilding my Civic’s suspension or installing rare JDM parts on that K20 swap. Honda, my first love, knew she had me for life. She’d catch me sneaking back to the garage after a ride, wrench in hand, whispering apologies to her K-series soul. Motorcycles had my adrenaline, but Honda? She had my heart, my toolbox, and every late-night build session, always and forever.
I had also done some other small things along the way, like upgrading the FZ09 with Ricky Carmichael Pro Taper bars, which have a slightly higher rise than the stock ones. This tweak dialed in my body position (BP), letting me ride more naturally and with less tension.
On a motorcycle, BP is everything, get it wrong, and you’re fighting the bike, never tapping its full potential. Get it right, and you’re flowing through corners, feeling like you could give The Doctor himself a run for his money.
Fun fact: I met The Doctor once (LOL)
By 2016, I felt I had pretty much reached the limits of the FZ09 and was ready to move up to a liter bike. After having great success with the FZ09, it was a no-brainer that I was now devoted to the Yamaha brand, and that naturally meant I was looking at getting an R1, which honestly turned out to be an amazing bike that would age incredibly well. I decided to go all out and purchase the R1M model, which was the premium, more track-focused model. Just after reaching the break-in mile period, I signed up for my first-ever track day (on a bike), thus igniting a flame that burned brighter than the sun.
It wasn’t long until I worked my way up to the advanced group, fitting slicks and using tire warmers.
I still had the FZ09 and was still using it as my daily, really only using the R1M for track days and spirited trips out to Northshore Rd, Red Rock Loop, or Mt. Charleston.
Then, one day in February 2017, as I was on my way to work on the FZ09, I was rear-ended by an uninsured motorist. The crash didn’t put me on life support, but it kept me out of work for three months to fully heal. I ended up getting a lawyer, but ultimately, the way the legal system works, it took nearly five years to finalize my case. The bike wasn’t totaled, but I was advised not to ride it while it was involved in an active lawsuit, so I never rode that bike again.
I still had the R1M and, after fully healing, took it out for a few more track days, but ultimately, the R1M just ended up sitting in the garage right next to the FZ09 because it had slicks that were too heat-cycled and dried out to inspire any confidence while riding on the street. I did try taking it out a few times on warmer days in Vegas to help make me feel more confident about their grip, but I just couldn’t trust them and ended up always taking turns like a beginner.
Then randomly, around the middle of 2018, after putting the Honda scene in the backseat, I somehow found myself jumping headfirst back into it. I picked up the cheapest 1997 Civic 4-door (EK) that I could find and just sort of fell out of love with motorcycling and ended up crawling back to my main bitch.
My R1M went on to sit on the trickle charger for the next three years while I went so hard into Hondas that nothing else mattered. If you’re an avid blog reader, then you would have definitely seen it in the background of many pictures, dusty, neglected, and forgotten.
Pat’s aforementioned Paradise Blue Green Pearl EG That I K swapped
Below you can see the stacked garage. Both motorcycles are just out of frame behind me.
Admittedly, the EK did get a bit out of hand.
Especially considering that I had a fully built K swapped EG track car too.
In 2021, I realized I needed another dedicated track car, so I did what any reasonable person would do: I bought a brand-new 2021 Honda Civic Type R. By this point, I rarely even acknowledged that I had two amazing motorcycles rotting away in my garage. I would see them but always tried to block them out of my mind as I was so focused on modifying and hitting the track in both my Type R and EK.
Later that year, I sold off the EK 4-door and my Ranger because I already had a K20 EG, the Type R, and my 2009 Civic EX daily driver, oh, and two motorcycles. Unfortunately, I mainly sold those two vehicles because I didn’t have anywhere to store them. I rang in 2022 with a slimmed-down vehicle inventory, but because the FZ09 was still wrapped up in the lawsuit, I couldn’t sell it, and because I still had some deep connection with the R1M, I never let that one go either. I think mainly because I knew I wouldn’t be able to afford another $25,000 motorcycle anytime soon, and with the R1M being fully paid off, there wasn’t really any harm in holding onto it.
Let’s now jump to 2023. My lawsuit finally came to a close with lackluster results. I definitely wasn’t a $200,000 boy like some people thought my case would bring in, but more to the tune of less than $10,000. By this time, the FZ09 had been sitting for nearly six years; the gas had all but turned to water and varnish, the brand-new Dunlop Q3 tires (Dunlop is up to Q5s now) were completely flat-spotted from sitting in the exact same place for almost six years, and despite keeping it on a trickle charger for all that time, that’s just too long for any battery to maintain its health. Not wanting to deal with all the work of refreshing it, I just let it sit even longer. I knew that if I sold it, I would take a huge loss since technically it wasn’t running, even though I knew it would with some TLC that I just didn’t want to invest in it.
That same year, a coworker had gotten a motorcycle and was really into it, and we got to talking. I told him that I used to be all about the bike life. I showed him some pictures and videos of me on the track, and it sort of rekindled that flame. Since the R1M had been sitting for almost 5 years, I drained the bad gas out, flushed the brake fluid, and flushed the coolant because, to pass tech in the upper-level groups, you need to have a non-glycol-based coolant, which doesn’t last as long as regular glycol-based coolants. Lastly, I had to order a new battery since my Aliant lightweight lithium battery wasn’t known for lasting very long under normal circumstances, let alone sitting on a trickle charger for almost 5 years.
Despite doing all that, I just couldn’t bring myself to buy new tires. For those of you who don’t know, high-performance tires for a motorcycle are very expensive. So, I couldn’t justify spending $700 plus another hundred to get them mounted and balanced. I just rode with the five-year-old slicks that were so dried out and hard that it was sketchier than a tweaker prowling a parking lot with a cordless Sawzall searching for catalytic converters. I rode it a handful of times throughout the summer, but inevitably, due to the fact that I just had no confidence in the tires, I never really fully got that moto flame reignited, and the R1M would get parked again for another two years, which brings us to the present day.
I finally made the decision to sell the FZ09. Well, actually, I really wanted a Spoon Wing for my FK8, and I struck up a deal with my best bud, Ever. I would give him the FZ09 for what it would cost me to buy a Spoon Wing through RHDJapan.com (which is notoriously cheaper than what they go for here in America) and his was also pre tariff era too, so things were still really cheap to import.
If you’re at all interested in the post about installing the wing, you can click the link below.
Then, one day in April 2025, after putting it off for nearly 7 years, I finally decided that I really missed motorcycling and was ready to completely refresh, once again, the R1M, which also meant this time, I was finally going to buy some new tires for it too. I’ll admit that over the past year, I probably added tires to my RevZilla cart a handful of times but without fully committing each time because I simply couldn’t justify spending all that money on a vehicle that I wouldn’t ride frequently.
Keep in mind, by now the R1M is nearing ten years of age (purchased in April 2016), and it still has less than 10k miles on it. I had to ask myself, why was I trying so hard to preserve this thing by not riding it or exposing it to the elements? Motorcycle tech has changed so much in the last ten years that, despite my 2016 R1M still being incredibly capable, they have improved rider aids, electronics, and aerodynamics so much that my low mileage 2016 R1M wasn’t going to fetch big money, or money making it worth selling for me, at least. So this past April (2025), I decided I’m going to start riding it… a lot! No need to worry about resale value; I was missing out on the thrill of riding motorcycles.
So naturally, since the R1M is a “superbike,” it needed super tires. I wouldn’t be caught dead putting Dunlop Q5’s on it; what a downgrade in performance compared to the Bridgestone Battlax tires that came stock on it. But I wouldn’t be fitting the stock Battlax tires, no way. This bike deserved better than that. I opted to go with the brand new Pirelli Supercorsa SP tires, and not the V3’s, nope… the brand new V4 model.
These tires are the equivalent of the Yokohama Advan A052’s. And the catch… because they offer such exceptional grip levels, when paired with a 200hp superbike, these bad boys are only going to last ~2,000 miles! But with a bike of this caliber and capability, I didn’t want to hinder performance from a subpar tire.
The V4 uses advanced compounds from WSBK, with the SP featuring a dual-compound layout (Cap & Base) for both front and rear tires. The front tire’s narrow center stripe enhances high-speed stability and stress resistance, while the SC3 racing compound on the shoulders provides exceptional cornering grip. The rear tire’s SC3 shoulders ensure full thrust exiting corners, with an adaptive base compound for thermal stability.
The patented FLASH tread pattern optimizes water drainage when upright, reduces groove deformation for consistent thrust at various lean angles, and features a slick shoulder area for enhanced grip at extreme leans. Fewer lateral grooves increase rubber-to-road contact, improving cornering grip.
And since I was fitting new tires, I might as well replace the valve stems. See, unlike a car where, when you get a flat, you still have three other tires to help safely get you off the road. On a bike, if you get a flat, it can lead to disaster much easier. And for peace of mind, what’s 30 bucks?
90 degree valve stems are a must for avid motorcycle enthusiasts. There are a few small advantages to them, but mostly they allow more easy accessibility to add air or check tire pressure, especially on the front tire where the large front rotors make accessing the valve stem harder. They are also a bit more aesthetically pleasing in my opinion.
I randomly landed a Tuesday off work, and while Angie and Madison went to gymnastics, I headed straight to the Motorcycle Tire Center, located on the southeast corner of Charleston and Eastern. MTC is the only place I trust for replacing tires on my magnesium wheels. Believe me, you don’t want the young, inexperienced folks at Cycle Gear or the fly-by-night mechanics at Ride Now mounting your tires, unless you enjoy scratches in your paint or, worse, irreversible damage to your wheels. Plus, I know when I leave MTC, my wheels are balanced perfectly. Nothing’s worse than slightly off-balanced wheels when you’re tearing down the highway at speeds well above the limit.
Here’s what the wheels look like removed from the bike just before thtrowing them in the trunk of the car to run down to MTC.
As you can see, the slicks that are on there are pretty well dried and heat-cycled.
Once I arrived back at the house It was time to dig in and begin the refresh process needed to get this thing road worthy again.
To ensure my motorcycle was in good health after sitting unused for several years, I removed the gas tank and seat to access key components. My goals were to clean and re-oil the air filter and to service the secondary fuel injectors located atop the airbox. These injectors, which engage only during heavy acceleration and high RPMs, were likely clogged with varnish-like fuel residue, a common issue in port injected internal combustion engines left unstarted for long periods.
Unlike the primary injectors, which support idling and are easier to diagnose if clogged, issues with the secondary injectors could lead to performance problems under load. To prevent this, I planned to remove and clean each secondary injector individually, then test them with a power probe to confirm they were clicking and not sticking. This thorough approach would help avoid potential engine issues and restore the motorcycle’s reliability.
My focus on the secondary injectors stemmed from a cautious, perhaps overly meticulous, mindset. If these injectors were clogged or misfiring, the engine could run lean, risking catastrophic failure at 13,500 RPMs, a scenario I wanted to avoid at all costs. Cleaning them provided peace of mind, ensuring the engine’s safety during aggressive riding. Though I might have been overthinking the risks, confirming everything was in order allowed me to ride without hesitation and sleep soundly, knowing my bike was ready for the redline.
Most 600cc and liter-class sport bikes, including the R1, use two sets of injectors. The primary injectors operate during idle, low RPM, and specific throttle positions, while secondary injectors activate at higher RPMs or throttle openings to meet the fuel demands of these high-revving engines, giving these bikes a total of 8 injectors.
Shown below are the secondary set of injectors that spray directly into the individual throttle bodies, allowing for better fuel atomization at high RPM. They are bolted to the top of the airbox.
With the airbox removed, the velocity stacks are visible, sitting just above the individual throttle bodies. One standout feature on the R1, beginning in 2008, is that they came standard with electronically adjustable variable-length velocity stacks, which adapt based on throttle position. At lower RPMs, longer stacks enhance torque and low-end power by increasing resonance and airflow. At higher RPMs, shorter stacks optimize airflow for top-end power and higher revs, delivering a broader, smoother power band. This is a prime example of the exceptional engineering in these machines. With my aftermarket tune, this motorcycle produces nearly 200 wheel horsepower (whp) from a 1000cc engine. For comparison, most DOHC VTEC B-series engines, which are 1600–2000cc, typically produce less than 180 whp. Basically, these things are wound tighter than a snare drum head, which is why they usually require a lot more maintenance and at much shorter intervals than a normal car.
Here you can more easily see that injector tips sticking out of the bottom side of the airbox.
Here you can also see the primary fuel rail and injectors hidden under a fuel line, a support bar, and a few other things.
Here you can more easily make out the #1 and #4 injector, and if you look a bit harder, you can see the two electric plugs for the #2 and #3 injectors behind the fuel line that twists through.
Again, this is just a different perspective with the airbox on, and it clearly shows the 8 injectors. The 4 on top of the airbox are the secondary ones, and the 4 more hidden in between the frame of the bike are the primary ones.
Way back when I first got the bike, I bought a BMC aftermarket air filter, which, at the time (and still is), was pretty much the best you could buy. There are a few that are “race only,” but they are not advised for street use because they don’t filter as well, and, quite honestly, I didn’t need the extra 1-2 hp they offered.
This kit came with a cleaner solution and new oil. You just add some of the cleaner solution to warm water (in a bucket or similar) and let it soak into the element, breaking down dirt and debris. Then, with some light agitation, the filter should be good as new and ready for an oiling.
Make sure you allow for the element to completely dry, and then you can apply the oil.
BMC uses oil on their air filters to enhance filtration efficiency and performance. The filters are made of multiple layers of cotton gauze soaked in low-viscosity oil, which gives the material a “sticky” adhesive quality. This oil traps dust and dirt particles as air passes through, preventing them from entering the engine while maintaining high airflow. Unlike paper filters, the oiled cotton allows for better air permeability, improving engine performance by reducing air resistance. The oil also enables the filters to be washable and reusable, extending their lifespan and reducing waste. Proper oil application is critical, too much can damage sensors like the mass airflow sensor, while too little reduces filtration effectiveness.
All oiled up and reinstalled.
Airbox lid back on.
and all screws refastened.
Now it’s time to jump into the oil change process.
On the regular R1 model, to gain access, you need to remove the small aluminum fairing by unbolting the two Allen bolts.
On the R1M model, I need to go a step further since the carbon fairings are slightly different in design than that of a regular R1. As you can see below, I now have access to the filter, but that little carbon bit of fairing is preventing me from spinning the filter all the way off.
This meant I needed to loosen the two small hex key Dzus-style fasteners that come factory-installed on the bike.
A Dzus fastener is a quick-release, quarter-turn fastener invented by William Dzus in the 1930s, widely used in aerospace, automotive, and industrial applications for securing panels that need frequent, tool-free access. Consisting of a stud, receptacle, and spring mechanism, it locks panels tightly with a 90-degree turn, offering vibration resistance and durability in materials like steel or aluminum. Available in slotted (tool-operated) or winged (hand-operated) designs, Dzus fasteners enable rapid assembly and disassembly, making them ideal for aircraft access panels, race car panels, or machinery enclosures where speed and reliability are critical.
With those two fasteners removed, you can see that I am now able to pull the fairing out a bit more, gaining me just a bit more access to allow for the removal of the oil filter.
But before loosening the oil filter, I loosen the oil drain bolt, which on this bike happens to also be a hex key.
Once cracked loose, I can then place the drain pan under the bike and manually loosen the drain bolt by hand.
As the large stream of oil turns to a trickle, I can now move on to removing the oil filter.
Because I use the K&N filter, I can use a 17mm wrench to initially break loose the filter, which makes life much easier, especially considering there isn’t much room to squeeze my hand in there.
With it broken loose I can now squeeze two fingers up in there to spin it off.
Unfortunately, oil from the filter does drain out directly onto the header and could potentially stain the header when the engine is fired up if not thoroughly cleaned off. There really isn’t a great way to prevent this. Some have suggested using aluminum foil to wrap around the header, preventing the oil from coming into contact with it, but over the years, I’ve just found that using brake cleaner is the easiest solution.
Time to slap on the new K&N 204-1 filter.
Now clean the entire area by generously spraying brake cleaner.
Reinstall the 2 Dzus-style fasteners to secure the carbon fairing, and then the 2 hex head bolts that secure the lower aluminum panel.
There is also one other small thing to notice in this picture. Quite honestly, though, you’d have to be an R1/Motorcycle aficionado to notice. (Hint, it sets apart the men from the boys)
Fresh Motul 300v.
The oil that came out was just about as green as what just went in.
Sure, OEM-equipped Öhlins, much like OEM Brembo brakes (on cars), may not match the performance of actual aftermarket ones, especially the Öhlins TTX systems, but they sure look cool with that premium branding. Electrically damped shocks, like the Öhlins ERS on my R1M, can feel a bit gimmicky compared to the precision and tunability of manual TTX dampers, which racers love for their consistent feedback. That said, electronic suspension tech has come a long way. My 2016 R1M had the first-generation ERS (Smart EC 1.0), which was great but needed some tweaking for track use. In 2020, Yamaha introduced the ERS (Smart EC 2.0) with a gas-pressurized NPX fork, a faster processor, and smarter software, making it about 10-20% quicker to adapt—think milliseconds faster when adjusting to cornering or braking. This makes the 2020+ R1M’s ERS more capable on the track, feeling almost as dialed-in as a pro setup. Still, we’re talking tiny time differences here, and for hardcore racers, nothing beats the hands-on control of a TTX.
So far I have:
- Cleaned and oiled the air filter.
- Cleaned and ensured the seconday injectors are properly functioning.
- Changed the oil and filter.
Now it’s time to move on to the gas tank itself. Over time, gasoline stored in improper conditions (e.g., in a tank exposed to air or moisture) can absorb water from the environment due to its hygroscopic nature or through condensation. Even though the tank is sealed up pretty tight, specifically on motorcycles, there are still two small vent hoses that prevent the tank from being sealed up airtight.
- Fuel tank vent hose. This allows air to enter or exit the tank to equalize pressure as fuel is used or expands due to temperature changes, preventing a vacuum or overpressure.
- There’s also a “fuel tank overflow hose” (or “drain hose”), which handles excess fuel if the tank is overfilled, directing it safely away from the engine.
The fuel tank breather and overflow hoses on a Yamaha R1 typically run from the tank to near the kickstand area, allowing small amounts of air to interact with the fuel. This isn’t a problem if the motorcycle sits unused for a few months or even up to a year, depending on your area’s humidity. However, after years of inactivity, like my R1M, water can accumulate in the fuel tank, diluting the fuel and reducing engine performance. This can cause starting issues or rough running. Worse, water can rust steel components like the fuel pump bracket, fuel level float, hose clamps, or even the tank itself if it’s made of steel. Rust particles may flake off, clogging the fuel pump, filter, or lines, leading to immediate, intermittent, or future problems.
Luckily for me, not only the R1M but all 2016 R1 models have aluminum fuel tanks, which don’t rust. This meant I only needed to completely drain the old fuel from the tank and, after a quick inspection, I was good to go.
As you can see below, on the bottom of the tank there are three ports. The white plastic one is the fuel pump outlet, and the other two are the breather and overflow that drains to the kickstand area.
After it was all drained and inspected for cleanliness, I bolted it back on.
Everything is starting to come together now.
Got the rear wheel installed with that fresh new Pirelli tire.
Seat and gas tank trim pieces installed.
Chain all cleaned and waxed.
Front tire on and front stand removed.
Unlike gasoline, which is only mildly hygroscopic, brake fluid is incredibly hygroscopic and pulls moisture from the air over time. This water lowers the brake fluid’s boiling point, risking brake fade during hard riding, and can cause a spongy lever feel because water forms compressible vapor bubbles when heated. That’s why you shouldn’t neglect changing brake fluid in cars and especially motorcycles, where the smaller fluid volume makes water contamination more critical.
Since my motorcycle has been sitting for years and given how much easier it is to flush than on a car, and quite literally your life depends on it, I’m choosing the Motul RBF 600 over the RBF 660. RBF 600, with a 594°F dry boiling point, is great for street and occasional track use, lasting ~6–12 months. RBF 660, with a 617°F dry boiling point, suits intense track sessions but absorbs water faster, needing flushes every ~3–6 months. Since I don’t plan on hitting the track anytime soon, RBF 600 seems the better balance for performance and maintenance.
There it is! All back together and looking sick as.
Riding a motorcycle is a raw, spiritual dance of freedom and focus. You straddle a tank of volatile liquid, balancing on two wheels without a seatbelt, fully exposed to the open road. It demands your complete attention, guiding you into a meditative state where distractions dissolve, leaving only you, the bike, and the present moment. You’re not just passing through the world, you’re immersed in it, feeling the air cool as you climb a hill, sensing the road’s every dip and rise, and noticing the shift from city to countryside. The thrill of speed and vulnerability surges with every twist of the throttle, a controlled rush of adrenaline as you lean into turns, guiding the bike in a finesse-driven partnership with the pavement. In an era of cars with driver assists and safety systems, this anachronistic ride, perched atop a roaring machine with nothing but your skill to keep you steady, offers a profound, sensory connection to life itself.
It truly is a feeling that is rarely replicated but can so easily be felt without having to spend big money. You can simply get on the bike, fill the tank with gas, and then, bam, you’re reaching an inexplicable state of euphoria. People who have never ridden a motorcycle (like old me) don’t understand what that feeling is, but for those who ride, you don’t even have to mention it, they know exactly what you’re talking about.
In conclusion, I can’t pinpoint exactly what made me fall out of love with motorcycles, but I do know that I hope it never happens again and that I continue to ride for the rest of my life.
I still distinctly remember falling all the way in love with motorcycling after acquiring my brother’s FZ09 in 2014. I was angry I hadn’t been exposed to bikes earlier or had the chance to ride them in my youth. I felt like I’d shortchanged myself by missing out on motorcycles for the first 30 years of my life. I used to think they were dangerous because that’s what society, especially parents, wants you to believe. Most parents didn’t want their teens riding, fearing they’d kill themselves. I justified avoiding motorcycles by telling myself my souped-up Honda was fast enough or handled well. Let me tell you: cars are cool, but nothing… nothing compares to a bike.
If you’re on the fence about getting a motorcycle, DO IT! It’s the best thing ever. It cures your depression the moment you hop on, filling you with joy. That said, I’m glad I didn’t ride as a kid or teenager. At that age, I was too young and reckless, a liter bike might’ve killed me. Riding a powerful motorcycle requires willpower, respect, and maturity. As Stan Smith from American Dad says, ‘Real strength is having power and choosing not to use it.’ That’s the mindset for riding a fast bike.
One warning: don’t go too small. A 250cc or 400cc sport bike might leave you underpowered, stuck in risky situations. They simply don’t have enough power to accelerate out of dangerous situations, like when a car is going to cut you off. Start with a 600cc sport bike or a 750-900cc naked bike. Within a few weeks to a month, you’ll get acclimated, grow comfortable, and crave more power, thankful that you didn’t opt for a smaller bike.
I hope you enjoyed the departure from our norm here on Functiontheory and found the tale told very intriguing and hopefully even motivating. I’d love to hear what you thought—love it, hate it, should I stick to cars, or are you a moto bro! Let me know by commenting on the post below, emailing me at Billy@Functiontheory.com, or DMing me on Instagram @Functiontheory.