The beauty of Northern Wisconsin is hard to beat, but it’ll sure get under a motorcycle rider’s skin. We only get five or six months a year to get our kicks in, until it’s time to winterize the bikes and prep for an unending winter. But what if there was another way?
After experiencing two years of record-low snowfalls, ruling out the conventional forms of recreation, we needed a way to blow off some steam. And when I’m feeling bored, my pit bike is always the answer.
This story likely needs some context, so I’ll reveal that my friends and I have a fleet of janky pit bikes. Instead of dropping real money on KLXs or CRF 110s, we sought out the seediest SSR dealer in our area and bought six 125s. His prices were the best because the bikes were still disassembled in the crates.
The bikes have held up pretty well over the last few years, and other than several plastics sets, drive chains, and roughly 10 sets of levers (all from Amazon), they’re damn good for the price point. We’ve used them as legit pit bikes at the races, held races of our own (of which I am the reigning champ), and had a good time goofing off. It’s been a refreshing reminder of how a motorcycle should make you feel.
But like our dual sports, the pitties sit all winter long. I’m aware that studding dirt bike tires for the ice is a thing, but I just can’t bring myself to invest in a bunch more gear to just beat up my 450RL on the ice. But with the pit bikes, the stakes are low, so I came off the top rope with a $120 card swipe at koldkutter.com and dared my friends to do the same.
If, like us, you’ve arrived at a chapter in your life where you’re considering intentionally putting a screw in your tire, know that there are a bunch of different ways to go about it. There are legitimate methods the sanctioning bodies use, and also ways to get it done with a trip to your local hardware store. We’re complete noobs, but sensible ones, and opted for the easiest semi-legit method.
This isn’t a tire studding guide, and I’ve already admitted that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, but a web search revealed a method to the madness beyond going ballistic with the impact. Our 3/8-inch screws would be installed into the lugs from the outside, paying specific attention to the angle and the orientation of the screw head.
Screws are installed at a slight angle depending on their function, accelerating, braking or cornering, and the slot of the screw is clocked as well. Since I’d hate for any more ignorance to shine through, I’ll leave it at that for now. And speaking of covering my ass, it should go without saying that this is dangerous and probably unethical in a lot of places, so shred with discretion.
All of our pit bike tires had reached the end of their standard-duty lifecycle — perfect for blasting fasteners into. You will want some sort of liner for your tire though, to serve as a barrier between the tube and any screws that breach the tire carcass. The pros use an old tire or a legit off-the-shelf offering, and they make sure the screws go into the liner as well for peak stability.
We are neither pros, nor are we stable, so we used some random foam we had lying around.
The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry, and most of the science went out the window the second we started drilling. You can’t blame us, and if you can get through this whole job on a pit bike without goofing off, you may be taking this thing a bit too seriously.
By the end of the installation, everyone had different stud patterns — a couple intentionally — most by sheer ignorance. Oh, and also every one of the SSRs had its sprocket side rear wheel bearing fall out of the hub. (I guess that’s our first critical failure on these bikes if you’re keeping track at home.)
Since this won’t be nearly as entertaining for you to read as it was for me to experience, I’ll get to the point of the story — riding bikes on the lake is f*cking awesome. The bite these screws have is unbelievable. It’s hard to trust at first, but you get used to it — and then you high-side.
Accelerating and braking are amazing, far better than on dirt, and the cornering is pretty good too. You’ll want to keep that inside foot down, though, because as you lean the bike further over, it starts to give more. Eventually, those cornering screws will let go completely and the back end starts sliding, so it pays to have that inside foot ready to take some weight.
Ripping around our plowed track on the ice was a riot. You get into it, banging bars and throwing elbows, and then you remember the screws. Thankfully every time one of us high-sided, the guy behind had left enough room so no one got screwed — heh.
As much fun as the track was, free riding the lake and trails was even more entertaining. There’s seemingly no limit to what these bikes will go through, and even when you get in deep enough that the low-hanging engines bottom out, all you need to do is move your butt back on the seat and they climb right out.
With the sun going down and Busch Light diminishing, we packed up the pitties and headed home, content that we’d avoided a noise complaint and that no one had been seriously maimed. The pit bikes would see similar action several times through the winter, with each outing prompting child-like grins on the faces of dudes on child-size bikes.
I guess it just goes to show that some of the best things on wheels are contradictions. Adults on kid’s bikes, bikes on the lake, etc. All I know is we’ll never suffer a throttle-less winter again, and for that, we’re thankful.
