Get Lost

My last day on the road

Blue Ridge Mountains. It was a bit muggy and hazy up there.


The Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP) should really be called the Blue Ridge Trail or something like that. It is twisty and windy all along this two lane road. Very slow going. The fastest I ever went on this thing was about 40 mph. On the curves you have to slow down to 35, 30, 25 mph. After a few hours I knew that if I ever wanted to make it home on this day I would have to get off this thing. As my friend, "El Jefe" Dave Ball, mentioned to me in an email, I would probably be mountained out by this point. Frankly, I wasn't really mountained out. I can't get enough of this stuff. But I was a little antsy by now, knew I had to get moving, and had a long day of riding ahead of me. This constant nagging in the back of my head really didn't let me fully enjoy a peaceful and relaxing ride up here. I also couldn't make the Sky Line Drive further up north on this road. I think I can take a weekend trip down here and just target this ride by itself.

I have to give mention of this couple I found riding up on the BRP. This fellow, he was a big boy. I would guess easily above 300 lbs. He had his wife or girlfriend on the back and she was no lightweight either. Anyway, he was riding this big bike, a full bagger. But the thing that got me was the skills this guy had on these winding roads. Who knows, maybe he's up here every week but he was flying on this thing. I certainly couldn't keep up with the guy. He was smooth and effortless, a motorized ballet of sorts. I was just trying not to fly off on one of these curves. So with the stops and all we passed each other a couple times. The last time I just waved him past me 'cause I didn't want to hold them up. He waved thanks as he took off.

Riding these kinds of roads requires intense concentration. It's not anything like riding on the highway or in town. At once you are speeding down this straightaway only to brake hard at the bottom and make a hairpin turn followed by another hair pin turn going the other way and then a turn that seems to take you around almost 360 degrees. This kind of stuff goes on and on and on. It is stressful and take a lot out of you after a while. Naturally, when you are riding like this it becomes difficult if not impossible to be sightseeing or just take any meaningful amount of time to be looking at the scenery.

I have ridden mountain roads many times before but not so much in so little time. For a recreational rider like myself, you sometimes forget, forget the importance of taking time to remain measured at all times. Back in West Virginia on leg one of this trip I almost took a spill. After a 500 mile day I was tired, hungry and anxious to get to eating and then back to sleep. Leaving the hotel, which was atop a hill, I zoomed down the winding road and went too fast into a curve. West Virginia doesn't invest too much capital into little things like shoulders on the roads or even proper design of these local roads, I think. I sped into a sharp curve, almost ran into a rocky gully on the side of the road, but managed to stay on the gravelly rim of the pavement. My rear tire was starting to slide out as I was pumping my brakes ever so slowly and then not at all but just riding it out. A bit of a scare. But lesson well taken.

I almost ran into a turkey on the BRP. A huge bird. Thing took flight as I almost hit it. It was flying about 10 ft. right above me in the same direction I was riding. We kept this up for about 20 seconds. Dumb thing must of been scared out of it's wits. I eased off and it flew into some trees. Very interactive moment. You don't get that in a car.

Later on I got lost a bit trying to get out of the BRP and onto the interstate. But on the way I found the James River and this lovely spot on the side of the road. There were some families picnicking, a couple sun bathing, a kayaker .






Thought this guy teaching his little girl how to fish was worth capturing. Reminded me of my own daughter when she was a bit smaller and we used to go fishing. She used to like to eat the plastic worms.




Even though I had a long day of riding ahead, something was telling me I had to spend some time here. Decided to relax a little bit and grab a little bite.





Lunch









This kayaker stopped here to have lunch himself.


Attracted by the laughter of the young girls, I approached this family that had been tubing down the river and were packing it up. One of the guys had a parent in NJ. Everybody along the way was connected to NJ someway or another. But these folks were very nice, wanted to know where I had been and where I was going. They wished me a safe ride home. I felt the sincerity.

It's hard to find quiet spots like this back in NJ. There's so many people in the northeast that moments like this one hardly come along. So I reveled in the moment. Day dreamed a little about kayaking, fishing with my daughter, picnicking, laying out on the grassy banks of the James River, napping under a tree. Ahhhhhhh. It was a good stop. Glad I got lost.

Made it Back

What I'm looking like after Coast to Coast and back again.





Made it back home last night. Took off Dublin, VA 10am and got home 9:15pm. Almost 12 hours on the road. Did about 2-3 hours on the Blue Hills Parkway midday. Had to get out; got lost getting out. That's OK. put in 550 - 600 miles. Made it home. Didn't recognize home. "This is not my beautiful house and this is not my beautiful wife" ('cause I don't got one). Ha.

More to come. More blogs. More comments and pictures. It ain't over yet!

Duckies & Brothers

"This is a Rubber Duck and I'm about to put the hammer down." "Ten-four."







I've got to say that most truckers have been treating me right on the road. Except the Fed-Ex guys with two trailers hitched up trying to pass on the left lane going up a hill. They's I could do without, y'hear?. But all and all they're OK. I'm amused that some are women. Not that there's anything wrong with that; I'm aaaallll for it. I'm pulling up to this truck one time and it looks like a little kid is driving it, little head barely over the steering wheel. Then she steps out at the rest stop and smiles like, "What did you expect? Mr. T?" Many of them ride Harleys themselves and just come up to me to start talking MC.

I use the truckers to pace myself on the highway a lot being my speedo is still out. Oh, yeah. Been to two HD dealers and the thing is still broke. Either the first dealer in Kansas misdiagnosed the problem telling me it's the speed sensor or the Las Vegas Dealer didn't fix it right after I ordered it and they installed it. Guy at Vegas says I need a new speedometer itself. Something just ain't right. And what am I gonna do? I'm on the road far from home. Basically, I think I'VE BEEN BAMBOOZLED.











So I'm riding somewhere in Oklahoma or Arkansas and I find myself in the midst of a few of these fine fellows you see here. It's like the traffic was forcing me onto them, like a higher force was pulling me into this group (tongue in cheek). At first, I didn't know what Seed of Abraham J/C M/C was. I figured enough it was a motorcycle club. And I stay away from those generally which is the proper course of action. But I had no choice here and I kinda went with it and joined them from the rear, staggered formation, like I was cool, don't mess with me.

Later I noticed that there were many more behind and closed up behind me. It was a goddamn caravan with trailers and everything. Turns out they're a Christian biker club. Must have been a convention of some sort they'd had. Dear Lord. So I'm trying to remember all the scriptures I can from my bible days. And I'm practicing in my head. And then it comes to me, "what if they ask me if I'm saved?" How do you answer that?

They were cool though. Once there was a clearing I jetted out and they waved. I waved too: the sign of the cross. We passed each other a couple times throughout the day. Peaked my curiosity though. A novel and, I think now, probably effective way to minister the gospel.

Tennessee mountains sunset from the hotel
Gordon, TN

Nice way to end the day -->








I was set back for hours with a truck accident which shut down the Interstate for hours in 96 degree heat. Hell. Found an underpass parked the bike and shut it off to keep it cool. Guy came by and offered me a Coke. Truckers stopped to talk to me. Ladies smiled and waved at me. Trooper came by and told me I couldn't stay there. You starting to see a pattern here?

Mighty Mississippi River. Not all of it just an arm.





After I crossed the Mississippi River I felt like I was close to home again. Felt like I could almost walk home if I had to now. Funny, after all the miles I've travelled.

Gordon, TN is a cool but tiny place. Had dinner at the Timberloft. They actually had satellite radio. Hallelujah. The bartender Andrea and this fellow I met at the bar Gordon from Kentucky, he farms and raises cattle there, were a pleasure to meet. I'd return here if I'm in the area again.

The King

While in Memphis, I had to stop by Graceland and pay my respects to the King. It's quite a bit touristy there and I had my second thoughts since it was going to set me back at least a half a day. But it was worth it. Uh- huh....

Some of the Harleys he owned.

Electra Glide 1200

Custom Chopper 1200 he had built


I'll upload all the pics to FLICKR when I get a chance. Right now gotta get on the road. I'm falling way behind schedule.

Pink Cadillac. Nice.

Deliverance Shmeliverance

Somewhere in the Ozarks, Arkansas









I hate when these small towns advertise fuel and food on the highway and you exit only to find out you have to travel another ten miles somewhere to find said goodies. Classic bait and switch. So I found myself in this eerie place of a town in the Ozarks. Credit card didn't work at the fuel pump and the poor girl working the cash register, while not bad looking by Ozarks standards, probably didn't have a fourth grade education in her. She couldn't tell me where the hell I was in relation to any place anybody knew. People outside looked hard at you; never a congenial smile.

For such a poor place, everybody seemed to have a sooped up pickup and they were in a hurry peeling out to go somewhere. Guys pulled up on a hot rod pickup, the passenger said "pretty shinny reems" as he smiled from ear to ear showing me how many missing teeth he had. The driver said something I didn't hear and they laughed hard. I laughed harder to appease them (thinking to myself they are either both retarded or have evil intent). All the time I had this gut feeling saying "boy... get thyself out of this hick place!"

Funny. This is same gut feeling I had back on leg 1 of my trip when I stayed overnight in West Virginia. I had asked the Holiday Inn Express girl at the lobby where to eat locally. She told me of this Rutt's Butt place and then I set out and got myself lost in those back woods hills. It was beautiful hills and tightly winding roads curving around a snake river, the sun going down fast. Nothing out there but small shacks with wood burning stoves. Spooky. After about 20 minutes of this I backed outta there, the pickup behind me looking at me like I had two heads on me.

I finally found the place, pulled up slowly looking at the people loitering up front. The car behind musn't have liked that I was about to hang a U-ey. Maybe they didn't like the FU sticker on my helmet. They passed me, the passenger waving the standard middle finger salute. OK. Maybe I'm not that hungry. So I head to the local service station for a sandwich, plan B. As I exit the place there's this pickup just standing there and I can see peripherally that I'm being stared at. I don't let on but just take my time, real, real slow. They finally get tired and take off. I think it was the guy from the back woods coming for a good look.

So I passed the girl in the lobby. I think she was surprised to see me back. I smiled, yeah I'm alive and well honey. I even got dinner.

I slept a little uneasy that night my bike parked between all those picups out there. I chained it to a post, put on the alarm, locked the steering column and threw a cover over it. There was a convention of Haliburton people there. Their pickups littered the parking lot. I think this is where the company comes to recruit their peeps. That's their dark secret.

Mothership Storm

How big is your love?

This behemoth of a cross I encountered in Oklahoma reminded me of a probably even bigger one I passed back on leg 1 of my trip in Kansas. Amazing displays of faith in middle America.





Ever since northern Arizona there hasn't been anything worthwhile for me to take notice. Just a lot of nothing really. I'm sure if I had more time I could find some interesting points to visit somewhere, but I would be hard pressed. So I'm just trying to cover lots of miles right now to get me home. Just get in the zone and zoom down the road.

Back in New Mexico I did ride through my first thunder storm. That was exciting. The dark weather system I encountered was massive. After it was over, it took me well over an hour to cross at 70-80 mph. So it was huge. When it started raining and winds got gusty I pulled over to put on my rain suit. There was nowhere to hide since I said to heck with the last rest stop. But it looked like the road ahead was pulling to the south of the storm and I wanted to get to my hotel before nightfall. I started out always noticing the lightning strikes to the left of me and monitoring the direction of the road in relation to the strikes. Right in the middle of this thing I was overtaken by the claustrophobic feeling from that darkness down on me. It looked like a big black mothership looking to take me to hell. Where there were some cars on the road before this thing, now there was just me and a rare straggler. Did these people know something I didn't? Got through it all right but I should've stayed at the rest stop in retrospect.

Ah. The smell of manure in the morning. Oklahoma City.

Goldwingers

Bumped into these good 'ol boys from Nashville in New Mexico. They were looking at me kinda puzzled whilst I did some minor surgery on my slowly deteriorating saddle bags (thank god I brought a roll of duct tape and plastic tie wraps). So we got to talking and they were impressed I made it out to the West coast all the way from NJ. They admired my ride, I theirs.

They each had loaded up Honda Goldwings, arguably the state of the art in motorcycle touring. Yeah, the fellas were proud to show me all the bells and whistles, the GPS, the satellite radio, the helmet radios, heck, I think I even saw a hot tub on the back of one. So they asked if I liked country music. I said I do now. They laughed and recommended I stop by the Opry in Nashville. We said our goodbyes and I said I'll see ya's down the road. They took off in their shiny Goldwings looking like a band of transformers (that's what those bikes look like to me).

I've got to say that throughout this whole trip, I've met a lot of nice people. Some people are attracted to the motorcycle and start up a conversation, some just want to know what the heck I'm doing, curious kooks. Some are just eager to talk about their rides, old rides they used to have, or plans for future rides. Like the guy working at the Shell station in Williams, AZ. I knew it was going to be cool place when I heard Bruce over the loudspeakers singing "My Home Town." The guy was nice and soft spoken. Started admiring my ride and told me about the motorcycle he built himself, all Screaming Eagle parts. His EX now owns it, he told me while frowning and sighing. Too bad paley. I tried to cheer him up. Told him things happen for a reason and he'd get a better ride soon and get out there on the saddle again. He agreed. Gave me some good riding tips for the area and told me about Ponderosa Pines (pictured here, I had to take a shot of one) and how this Northern Arizona area is the largest population of them . I don't know how he treated his old lady but he was nice with me. Sometimes useful information is traded with people, equipment, weather, road conditions, etc. Oddly, I've met an unusual number of people originally from NJ who now live out West. Hmmm.

So about 20-30 minutes after leaving that rest stop in New Mexico I'm jetting down the highway and I see the signature tailights of the 'transformers' attempting to pass some tractor trailors in their way. I kept my promise about seeing them down the road, the Nasville Boys. In fact I passed them by waving to each one as I gave them a dose of Vance and Hines Short Shot exhausts via a 1550cc V-twin Harley engine. Sweet.

Lone Wolf

No cross country trip out the south west would be complete without a visit here. Le Gran Canyon. It is a truly amazing place meriting more time and attention than the cursory ride through. There are National Geographic tours, hikes, drives, etc. with a naturalist who'll tell you about the geography, history, indian life.

Back to riding solo. Enjoying it very much. The temps were just perfect since northern Arizona is pretty much at elevations of 3000 ft and above. While the sun was strong, the wind was cool and comfortable while moving along.

Stayed at Flagstaff, AZ. Ate at a local place, nice college atmosphere and there is a historical side; it lies on Rt. 66. I am tempted to spend some extra time to explore. However, I'm physically wearing out by now.

My hands are swelling from holding the handlebars, joints are hurting, muscles all over are sore, I can't walk without pain because of a pulled hamstring from several days ago clowning around with my friend, senses and mental focus are dulling. I know it's fatigue.

It was hard to get up out of bed this morning. Just had a little breakfast, some coffee, popped a few Advil. It will get better once I'm out on the road and shake off these cobwebs. Trying to make it out to New Mexico along I40 East and if I get crazy maybe Texas.

Sin City

Personally, I did not get much out of the Vegas experience. I'm not much of a gambler or partier at this point and everybody is trying to hustle you here. I'd much rather be experiencing something real somewhere out there.

This side of the trip was somewhat incompatible with the motorcycling. When you party hard and drink and stay up late it is hard to get up early the next day to ride hundreds of miles. Sometimes we do this back home but then the rides are much shorter and we're recuperating much longer. There's also little time for planning your rides, preparing your motorcycle gear, and coordinating with others as needed.

I think most everybody is just shot right now and looking to Leaving Las Vegas, including me.

Hell Ride

Heading back to Vegas from LA we hit historic Route 66 in California for a while. The temperature outside was over 100 deg so we needed a little break. Food was not too shabby at Emmajean's Holland Burger Cafe. I don't know how long that place has been serving truckers and motorists along this route but it looks like it's been there forever.

This is a tiny joint with a counter and a few tables. The locals eating there look like something time forgot and the few outsiders stopping in for a quick bite look out of place. The blonde girl behind the counter was young and petite but packed a walloping voice as she yelled orders back to the cook. She later told us that her step father Mike had just passed away two weeks earlier. He was a Harley Davidson fan and she requested that we rev our engines as we left in a homage to him. We were more than happy to comply with the request and tore it up on that dusty spot of a place. Mike, I hope you heard us. RIP.

MC TIP. Avoid the desert during midday hours. Perhaps avoid altogether.

As we headed back out to Vegas we were riding again throug the Mojave Desert and temperature shot up. We rode and we rode and we rode throught that. These air cooled Harley engines run hot and in this heat they were starting to make chattering noise, metal expanding, stuff melting and fusing. The wind was hot. The air you breathed was hot in your lungs. It felt like you couldn't breath. After a while you became dehydrated. You started losing it. A few of us were getting very tired and sleepy. It was hellish heat. We had to stop at gas station just to rehydrate, shelter and rest for a while. I hate to even think what would happen if any one of us would break down in that. On some stretches there is nowhere to hide or shelter for many miles.

When we got back to Vegas and the hotel, we looked like something the cat dragged in. We were shot. Caput. Greg tells me, "I feel like I got hit by a truck." All this riding is wearing us down. The hellish heat is the cream on the cake.

The desert did not treat me too well. Somewhere along Rt. 66, big Greg tells me that something blew off my bike. After pulling over, it turned out to be the air horn. The metal snapped right off, fell to the pavement and shot into pieces. Later on highway 15, Frankie shoots past everybody and pulls us to the side; he had been riding behind me. He points to me to look at my saddle bags. Sure enough, a heavy motorcycle chain I had been carrying in my right saddle bag was breaking though the bottom of the bag, a hole cause by rubbing on my brake rotor, and dragging on the pavement. If that thing would've got caught in the rear wheel it could've been disastrous.

Good thing Frankie was there looking out. That is one good thing about being in a group. You look out for each other, the motorcycle, what you can't see, traffic, road conditions, etc. There are down sides as well which I'll get into later.

Los Angeles

I didn't take photos in LA because I was running around with the guys so much and we only spent 2 days there. So all I got was the hotel pool here. I liked LA (better than my preconceived notions and the people were surprisingly nice for the most part) and would return for a longer stay. It's true what they say about the traffic though. It is horrendous. All the time. I mean bad. Worse than NYC and Miami.

Also shown are Manhattan Beach, Frankie's tat, and Long Beach Marina.

Stop on the Coast.

San Luis de Obispo was our stop along Highway 1. It's a nice place; a college town. So there are plenty of bars, restaurants, and some nightlife. I heard good things about Santa Barbara as well but we didn't make it down that far the first day on the coast.


MC TIP. By the way, I should mention that previously, while we were riding from Vegas to Monterey, we went through desert with all that heat. In the same day, while we were shooting up to Monterey from Bakersfield, temperatures dropped sharply with high winds. We had to quickly pull over on the side of the road and throw layers on along with our leather jackets. One thing I'm learning, or reconfirming with greater force, is how you constantly have to be adjusting from one climate zone to another. You really have to come prepared for everything on a trip like this.

CA Highway 1 & PCH

If I was stopping every 5 minutes in Utah to take in the views, on California highway 1 from Monterey on south we were stopping every 1-2 minutes. We would look at each other and just say omg....

From a spiritual angle, I found myself speaking with the divine on several occassions. The divine told me, "ride this road." I replied, "I will ride this with all my heart," in emphatic bursts of emotion and lulls of peace, calm, and a general state of well being. I also cried. I do that rarely and not very well. But this was one of those moto moments that just captures you and you can't help but go with it.

The fellow holding the antenna turned out to be a really cool guy working for Ventana Wildlife Society. He monitors young condors which are slowly being repopulated on this coast. How cool of a job is that? He took our pictures and gave us a pamphlet explaining the differences between a condor, golden eagle, and turkey vulture, all living in that area. In fact, while having lunch at a nice roadside cafe overlooking the cliffs, we saw a golden eagle catch a snake, fly way up and release it over the rocks. Amazing display.

Motorcycling down CA Highway 1 has to be one of the, if not the, most beautifully scenic rides I have ever done. It is highly recommended. I will do it again. I spoke to riders along the way who also strongly recommend San Francisco and up North along the coast, Tahoe and up. There is one consideration. The twisty, winding curves require skill and concentration. After a while on a stretch I noticed one of the riders just ahead of me becoming a little bit erratic, or maybe just not as precise as usual. That is because the constant weaving becomes mentally tiresome. I later confirmed this with him. Take breaks as needed. It pays.

Coast 2 Coast

Roadside stop. Met up with the group somewhere on the road to California. But we split up into two groups. Will explain later.

Made it to Monterey. This was a cause for celebration. Exuberance. Really, this is a milestone in our lives. In fact we are celebrating right now. Will write later when I'm more coherent.