Pretty Place!

No really, that's the name of the place :)

Ok, technically it's an open air chapel called Symmes Chapel at Camp Greenville, but most folks would look at you funny if you called it that.

Originally, I was just going to ride up the Caesar's Head on the twistiest road nearby, but once at the top, decided to ride on for a bit. When I neared the NC/SC border, I split to the right and headed for Pretty Place. The view there is phenomenal, and while the trees in the valleys below aren't at peak, the trees along the route, following the ridge were getting awfully close.

All of this helped contribute to my decision to return to Tennessee this weekend to ride the rest of the Cherohala and the Dragon, along with a few local roads which my local tour guide 'Calabash' has offered to reveal. Mmm. Good bakery times ahead!

Home Again

I made it home in 3.5 hours...more to tell, but sleep now.

....adding info after time and sleep has occurred...

The alarm clock went off at 4:15 a.m., and I finally dragged up by about 4:35. I'd packed most of my stuff the night before, so my main job was to wake up and get dressed. I wanted to be on the road by 5 a.m., but instead, was just leaving my room by 5:03 a.m. Down to the bike garage I crept, slightly wincing at the noise made by the electric garage door raising to give me access to Clyde. Once inside, I loaded him up and rolled him quietly outside, shutting the door, before walking up to the main building to drop off the room and garage key.

I fired the bike up and rolled away quickly from the cabins, heading out onto Hwy 68 at 5:17 a.m. The next 20 or so miles are quite curvy and the trees cling to the edge of the shoulder. Lots of places for forest rats to lurk, and I kept fully in mind that my sight distance was my braking distance. Thankfully, no large animals appeared, and through the course of the morning, I only encountered one fox (running away from me) and one cat (crossing the road).

The temps dipped to their lowest when I got to Murphy, NC, just over an hour after I left (and still dark). In addition, this is where the fog started. It would come and go in spurts, but was heavy enough, I couldn't always tell when I was out of it, since my face shield would stay misted over from the condensation. All the way to just past Hiawassee, the speed stayed pretty conservative with the fog, but shortly after leaving Hiawasee, I started climbing in elevation and the fog lifted. Oh joy! The temps stayed in the low to mid 40's until around sunrise, and finally started to edge up. My heated grips and vest were given medium duty, and both performed admirably (once the controller on the vest stopped having fits).

Once again, Highway 76 heading south into Clayton was a beautiful sight to see, and with the fog gone and the sun finally starting to lighten the sky, that road was great! I made it to Clayton right at 7:15, and filled up, back on the road at 7:30. It was such a relief to ride those roads without the clogging traffic I'd dealt with on Friday, and the overall trip ended up being 30 minutes faster on the return.

So, I've come through dark, twisty, foggy, animal infested roads, and it wasn't until going through Clemson that a student talking on her cell phone decided to change lanes into my space as I was beside her. I love my air horn. She jerked and got the car back over, but never missed a beat on the stupid phone. Rer.

I rolled into my driveway at 8:47 a.m., exactly 3.5 hours after leaving, made a quick trip inside to unpack, change clothes, make a cuppa joe, grab a quick snack and head back out to church. Someone at work suggested I could have found a place closer to Tellico to attend, and yeah, I probably could have, in hindsight. However, I'd not done any prior 'vestigating, so I just headed back home. My Sunday afternoon nap was on the intense side :)

Chasing Calabash

Update to follow, but for now...good ride today, cool sights to see, both underground and on the mountain top.

and now for the goods...

The plan Saturday morning was to meet up at a gas station in town, and then head over to a bakery that Bill (aka Calabash) frequents. I highly recommend his bakery acumen...it was wonderful! However, at the bakery, a schism was forming, with one group wanting to just ride all over the countryside, and another group taking a more leisurely approach...visiting a local tourist spot, taking local country roads to another town for lunch, heading down to an orchard for famous fried pie, and then meeting back up in Tellico for supper (Ride to Eat, Eat to Ride).

It ended up being nearly a half and half split, and I actually stayed with the more local crew. The Karl Kontingent was heading back over into SC and then up to NC, riding on Highway 28, but I'd ridden that route three weeks earlier, and it seemed a little silly for me to ride 4 hours to get to Tennessee so I could meet up with folks and ride back over to SC, yaknow? Plus, Calabash knows the area we were going to ride, and if his choice of roads were as good as his choice of bakery, I knew I wouldn't be disappointed.

Heh heh. Good deduction :)

I'm sure we took what had to be the most circuitous route possible to get from Tellico Plains to 'The Lost Sea' near Sweetwater, TN, but it was probably the most fun route as well. I made myself Bill's shadow, and chased him across miles of curves, sweeps, hills, dales, and straights. It's really nice having a bike like Clyde that will stand up and say, 'yes ma'am!' when I twist the throttle. The riding I did Saturday would have felt like I was pushing right to the edge of the envelope on the Ninja, but on the VFR, I knew I had acres of envelope to spare!

The tour itself began after you walked down a long, yellow tunnel. Our tour guide had a few forays into humor land, and kept things interesting enough. There were cool rock formations and lights that had been placed to show off the area ended up having random plants grow up around them from spores and seeds carried in from visitors. There were writings on the walls dating back to the Civil War, and Indian artifacts found inside what was thought to be a council chamber. In one room, we got to experience utter deprivation of light, and about 99% of the folks in there fell sucker to a ruse involving the generation of static electricity together. We got to take boats out on the largest underground lake in the country and see a bit of a feeding frenzy when food was tossed to the fish they stock the lake with.

Once back topside, it was time to ride off to our lunch destination in Englewood. We got there about 15 minutes before they closed, and it overwhelmed their kitchen for a bit. The last two people in our party got their food about 45 minutes after we got there (and after half of us had finished eating). Two in the party had gone to look at an antique store before going to the restaurant, and when they finally stopped by, the doors were locked. We didn't realize until later that they were locked out, and the one who went looking didn't see them, so we had a disconnect until after lunch.


Once we left lunch and were heading to Mercer's Orchard, it was after 3 p.m. and an hour ride to get there. Once again, Calabash excelled at his road selection skills so that we took some exhilarating twisties on the way. We wound our way along some rivers and rock faces. When there was a long uphill stretch, and Bill started pulling away, I tagged right along behind with him. I figured my defense would be, "Well, officer, I didn't know where I was, so I had to make sure I didn't lose that bike up there..." True enough :)

We stopped for gas in Ducktown and decided to skip the fried pie run, since it was getting late, and no one was really hungry anyway. We were supposed to meet up with Karl's group by 5 for supper, and were going to be later than 5 if we went straight back, so we started heading that way, finally making it in to Tellico Plains around 5:20 p.m.

None of the other folks were there yet (sooprise, sooprise!), so we milled about for a bit, and then decided to eat, since the kitchen could handle shifts better than a mob of folks. We ate (I had a huge meal), and by 6:30, we figured the other group was probably waiting for us up on the Cherohala Skyway somewhere, since that was the destination we were going to head for after supper as a group. The five of us who were still riding at this point headed up the Cherohala a little before 7 p.m., and made it to the first large pullout facing west around 7:15 or 7:20, just before the sun started to dip below the horizon.

We (Bill, Ty, Clay, Rick and I) stayed up there, watching the sun sink completely, washing the sky in a pink flood before the blue clouds overpowered the afterglow. For the ride back down, four of us followed in the blazing wake of Ty, who has what he affectionately calls 'barn burners' on his bike. As we rode under the tree canopy, there was a tunnel of light extending forward from his bike that was borderline ridiculous! I didn't really even need my headlight...his array was enough for all of us to thread needles and do cross stitch. I feel sorry for any oncoming traffic that was momentarily blinded while he deactivated the reactors needed to fire those babies up. I wonder if I could get some for my bike...

At any rate, we ended up back at the Lodge around 8:30 or so, where the Karl Kontingent had just shown back up and started to have supper. It turns out they had pulled off at an overlook further up on the Cherohala, and then passed us on their way down while we were still admiring the sunset. After supper, the bulk of the folks were heading back over to the campsite where the rest of the rally folks were, but I decided to call it a night, since I was planning to get up in the wee sma' hours Sunday morning
.

Three for Three

Tonight I'm in Tellico Plains, TN, winding out the third of the three annual rallies organized by folks at BeginnerBikers.org. A lot of the folks took the whole day off and got here by early morning, but some of us have wrung nearly every morsel of vacation time out of the work rag, and I only managed to get a half day off.

However, the weather has been ultimado perfecto! Sunny and low 80s were as hot as it got, and the further up into the mountains I rode, the cooler it got. By the time I pulled in at the Lodge this evening at 5:00 on the nose, it was 60 degrees outside.

There was some typical Friday afternoon traffic to deal with (trucks hauling camper trailers and the occasional motor home), and I managed to ride through Hiwassee, GA, right when school was letting out, when cops were holding up traffic on the main highway. Overall, it was a good ride, and the last 30 or so miles were quite zippy :)

Once at the Lodge, one of the regulars from the forum (Bill, aka Calabash) saw me checking in and invited me out to the patio. I sat out there and we talked until a couple of the rider's wives, Anna and Brandi, showed up, and then another couple (Stephen and Jan), and another rider (Rick), until it was just a big ol' chat fest out there. Gradually, some of the other riders came back from an afternoon jaunt (Tyson, Larry, Clay, Mike & Angie, and James & Deanna), and eventually, everyone had something to eat, although it was done in about four shifts.

There was also a jar of moonshine passed around, which I got to sample. You don't want to have your eyes open too wide when you drink it, because the fumes burn, but it actually tastes pretty good (as far as whisky is concerned). Right after I tried a sip, and pronounced it good, Angie (hostess up at the Dayton Bug Bash rally) tried some, and, um, didn't like it so much :) Good job, Brewmaster Ty!

Tomorrow, folks are going to meet up at a gas station around 10 a.m. and then head to a bakery for breakfast. I'm thinking I might get up a tad earlier and do some riding before the official gather time. There are too many good roads up here!

An Idea...

Ideas are interesting things. They start small, but grow. Larger. They start needing more attention, take more time. Require more planning.

Just like the next big trip. A thought. A place. A destination or two. Or three. A national park. A scenic byway. Or two. Or four.

For now, Clyde is getting his final spa treatment. Heated grips have been installed (original ones weren't even connected), and air horn is being figured out. Notalotta room under that fairing to fit the Stebel, but TJ is concocting something. It's a good week for him to be in the shop, since I've had a cold. Hopefully the worst is past and I might be able to ride again this weekend.

Sneezing inside a full face helmet is no fun.

Ready to Ride, Clyde?

Up until Labor Day, the only riding I'd done with Clyde was back and forth to work, to church, and to the dealership to pick up the license plate and registration. Saturday of Labor Day weekend, I was at a friend's lake house and ended up riding a jet ski like a maniac so that my legs were really sore on Sunday and still quite sore on Monday. No matter, Monday was the day to ride.

I didn't have a set destination in mind, nor an idea of how long I'd be gone. I left the house at 9 a.m., with Riley all settled in for the day, and headed out to Chik Fil A for a breakfast biscuit and then to a gas station to top off the tank and air up the tires. It was a little on the chilly side, and I was wearing sweats under my mesh pants, and two shirts (one long sleeved and one sleeveless) under my regular textile jacket. I thought it might warm up to be a little much for those layers, but since I was heading up into the NC mountains, decided I'd probably appreciate the warmth.

One of the first curvy roads I took was 276 heading up to the top of Caesar's Head. I'd only ridden this road a half dozen times on Mr. Crunchy, and only two of those times were by myself. This was a good warmup to try out Clyde's cornering ability, and man could I tell a difference! He feels very stable in the curves and engine braking is very manageable without being jerky. That road is full of swoops, curves, hairpins and decreasing radii, all with probably a 5% to 8% grade uphill.

Near the top, I got behind some Very Slow People, but the first one finally pulled off at the visitor station at the top of the hill. From this point, you're riding along the ridge, and angling slightly downhill before getting more curvy and downhill heading into Brevard, NC. If I thought I had been behind Very Slow People earlier, I now got behind someone who made them look positively breakneck in their speed. This guy braked when he saw a sign indicating a curve ahead. Whose average speed was 37 in a 55. I lollygagged behind, swooping back and forth in my lane, and reveled in the extra kick this bike has when a passing lane finally appeared.

Heading up the mountains and across to Brevard, most of the road was in the shade and I can say I did NOT have too many layers on! I only wish I already had the heated grips from the Ninja on the VFR. I can't get the brother in law job on the current, supposed, alleged, imaginary heated grips to work now. Hopefully that swap will occur this week.

Went through Brevard, and decided to keep on 276 and head up through Pisgah National Forest (I thank you again, Mrs. Vanderbilt) and hop onto the Blue Ridge Parkway for a spin. The sky was the prettiest blue, without a cloud in sight, even though the tree canopy only allowed a few glimpses on the way up to the BRP. Once up there, it was smooth sailing. There were several cars and bikes up there, but I wasn't in a hurry, and kept pulling off to get glamour shots of Clyde. As is usually the case (grr) my batteries died in the camera, so I have limited shots of the bike after the first hour on the BRP.

Still without a definite route in mind, I kept riding west (east bound had some construction ahead, so I went t'other way). I passed the exit for Highway 215, and headed on to a visitor station on the parkway that's up a big hill and has restrooms (ok, they're pit toilets, but well kept) and a store with water, snacks, posters, shirts and cool stuff. I grabbed some water and a granola bar, but balked at paying $8 for a 4-pack of AA batteries. It was nearly 12:30 at this point and I flaked there for a good 20 or 30 minutes, enjoying the view, and watching the ants on the parkway below.

Once I left there, I continued west and passed the turnoff for Highway 23, but finally took the exit for Cherokee (it's not every day you can ride through a different nation), where I filled up with gas. I'd only gone 120 miles, but figured it wouldn't hurt. That tank got me around 48 mpg, which was about right, since I always get better mpg in the mountain twisties than on the regular roads. I headed out from there and followed signs for Highway 74. I originally got on, headed east, but then remembered a wonderful stretch of 28 that was further west, so did a u-turn and went the other direction, going back towards Bryson City.

The stretch of 28 I was thinking about branched off to the south of Hwy 74, but then I got to thinking (the plumber always gets worried when I say, "I was thinking...."). If I took Hwy 74 to 28 north, I'd be on the back doorstep of the Tail of the Dragon. And since Clyde ate the curves up, and since I didn't have to be back at any particular time (well, there was a church picnic, but I'd been a little ambivalent about going), and since it was only 1:50 p.m., I decided to go for it.

I'd only ridden that stretch of road once before (and you can read about it here). Before 28 meets up with 129, there's a Pit Stop gas station, where I took a quick break, grabbed some water and took a bathroom break. I left there at 2:35 and rode on down to meet Hwy 129, one of the curviest roads in the country. The first bit of it was pretty good, but within a short distance, I got behind two cars with Tennessee plates who did not know how to take curves very well, and also did not know or appreciate the value of the 60 some odd paved pull offs on that stretch of road. For at least nine of the eleven miles, I was behind them. I would slow down as much as I could without backing up anyone behind me, but within seconds, I'd be back on the Mazda's bumper. That's the downside of going there.

Finally, once through the twisties and back on straighter roads, I pulled over, waited for a clearing and then headed back the way I'd just come. This time, there was one car in front of two bikes that were in front of me. Before it got too twisty, the car pulled over (oh, thank you! thank you!) and after a little bit more, the two bikes waved me in front of them, scooting to the right of the lane so I could pass without going over the yellow line.

For the next 9 miles, I had no one in front of me and it was divine! This was the time to bring back into play some of the riding courses I've taken, and I was using all of my lane and shifting my weight all over the place to keep the bike going through the curves nicely. I managed to scrape my footpegs on both the left and right side while going through the curves, which was a mark of personal satisfaction :) Near the NC line (about a mile from the end of the run), I got behind a black cherry Lincoln Town Car with Georgia plates, but they pulled over and let me pass, so I once again had a clear shot all the way back to the Pit Stop gas station.

I was feeling a little beat by now, since I'd had nothing since breakfast but a granola bar and some water, and it was now close to 4 p.m. I grabbed an ice cream bar and a Dr. Pepper and plunked down on the sidewalk to enjoy them. By now the day had warmed up and I took off the sweat pants and long sleeved shirt, tucking the folded up shirt into the back of my waistband and looping the sweatpants onto the grab handles, tying them tight with the waist drawstring on the pants. I'd not brought a saddlebag or tailbag for the trip, so improvising was required.

It was near 4:30 when I left the gas station, heading south on 28 to meet up with 74 again. While on this stretch of 28, I got behind another SUV who graduated top of his class from the Slow School, and finally passed him several miles down the road. The next car I came up behind was a...black cherry Lincoln Town Car with Georgia plates :) I passed them once again, but keeping my speed within very friendly terms of the limit, since there were many LEO's about. When I got onto 74, there's a short jog before you pick up the rest of 28 South, and I saw a BP station on the way. I stopped in for a quick top off so I wouldn't have to stop any more before getting home. This time, the mpg was somewhere around 56 mpg (told you those twisties are good!) and I'd gone another 115 miles.

I was out of there in minutes (never even got off the bike) and back onto 74 for a couple more miles before the sign showed where 28 headed south again. That really is a lovely road. I'd only gone north on it once before, so it's still fairly new to me. There was hardly any traffic on it, again, and the pickup truck in front of me pulled off onto a side road fairly soon, and after that, I came up behind a...black cherry Lincoln Town Car with Georgia plates. They probably were wondering how in the world I kept showing up in their rear view mirror! True to form, they pulled over within a couple of miles and I honked a quick toodeloo when I passed them for the last time.

Miles down the road was Franklin, NC, where I picked up Highway 64 towards Highlands. Minivans really can be annoying, but thankfully, the one creeping in front of me did finally pull over and I had another beautiful run on a twisty road with rock walls to the left and waterfalls to the right. By the time I got to Highlands, it was nearly 6 p.m. The picnic went from 5 p.m. to 8 p.m., so I figured it was a lost cause, and decided to head home to let Riley out, rather than try to show up across town for the last 10 minutes of the picnic.

Highway 64 is a beaut, although retirees tend to clog the roadways around Cashiers and Sapphire. It wasn't too bad, though, and I made it through to the turnoff for 183 south to 130. Ended up passing a couple of pokes that were slow, and descended down to Highway 11 around Lake Jocassee. On the scenic highway, there was a gaggle of cars in front of me until the turn off for Pickens at Highway 178, and then a clear shot until I completed the loop of the day and passed the turn off for Caesar's Head. The last bit of 276 through Travelers Rest was uneventful and I pulled into my driveway at about 7:50 p.m.

It had been a good day's ride and I'm happy with Clyde. I may have to do something with the seat...I was very ready to get off after only a 365 mile day. Time-wise, I was in the saddle for about 9 hours, and as a reference point, my two Iron Butt rides had me in the saddle for an additional 10 and 12 hours in the same day. Ain't no way in heck that could happen on that seat!

While I don't have any pictures past the first couple of stops on the BRP, I was able to get a couple of the proofs of me going through the Dragon on a couple of websites (www.killboy.com and www.us129photos.com), that are cool to see. Lord willing, I'll be heading up there in about 3 weeks for another run at the Dragon, meeting up with folks from BBO for the third rally this year. It might be early to have some autumn colors by then, but we'll see.

Mixed Emotions

I have them.

Two weeks ago, it was me and Mr. Crunchy. He still left something to be desired, but we've been through a lot together. He's been like a faithful hound who occasionally stumbles into a porcupine or digs a hole in the flower bed. Could do better, but overall a good companion.

All of which changed on a fateful Thursday night while I decided just to check the local Craigslist ads. I had a specific year, make, model and price range I was searching for on a whim, and the ad at the top of the list met all criteria. Oh dear.

I called the next day to see if I could arrange a test ride (the bike had been traded in to a car dealership). I was told I could, so I then called my credit union to see what funding options I had. Turns out, I had some pretty good options, dang it! Went by Friday night to see the bike, but they would not let me test ride it...the original person on the phone had sounded unsure, and turns out he was uninformed as well. I got to sit on the bike. Start the bike. Listen to the bike. Look at the bike. Me likey.

Monday, I called my insurance company to add the bike to my policy, thinking this would be a good ace to have when I decided to call back and hash out something for the test ride. Called the dealership Tuesday to see what could be done, and the only deal they would consider was if they were legally unconnected with the bike and released from all liability during my test ride.

Basically, I had to buy the bike on paper before they'd let me take it out. Once I returned from the ride, it was up to me whether or not I would go to the next step, and complete the title work, or if Mr. McKinney would hand me back my envelope of Benjamins he had retained in his pocket during my ride, and then tear up the bill of sale.

After a 20+ mile test ride, I got back and looked the bike over, hemmed and hawed a bit, but he said not one word to sway me hither or yon. I decided to go ahead and take the plunge but left the bike there Wednesday night, riding back home on Mr. Crunchy (who suddenly seemed possessed of very mushy brakes). On Thursday, my neighbors took me back out to the dealership so I could ride the new bike home.

It felt like one of those strangely grown-up decisions to make. I hate leaving my first bike, my first love, but I know this is a good bike for my next step, and the more I ride him, the more I like him (a good thing). When I got back home Thursday night, I was thinking about what name would be good for him, and 'Clyde' popped into my head. It's growing on me, although I'm not 100% on it yet.

At any rate, here he is. More details will follow about the smokin' deal I got, but without further ado, I present...Clyde (maybe)

The Long Way Home

Once supper was finished Sunday night, I packed my bags and laid out what I was going to wear for the ride Monday, and then got in bed for 40 winks before getting on the road. Christmas Eve syndrome hit, and I didn't do much more in those three hours than close my eyes and lie there, willing the minutes to move faster.

Eventually, the alarm went off, and I got up (feeling a little tired) and got into my riding clothes. Grabbed my bags and made my way downstairs, loading up the bike before riding it over to the front door of the lobby. I got off and dug out a hand written Start Witness form, and went inside to see if I could get a witness. Michael, Mr. Front Desk Clerk, was willing to sign up for the fun and put down his name, address and phone, signing off that it was 12:08 a.m. as I was leaving the Holiday Inn Express.

I rode down to the same Shell station that had been my ending point of the first ride, and got another fuel receipt, this time as my starting point. This ride did not have the 'energy' trail mix of the first ride, and I think that made a fairly significant difference. I'd thought about getting some kind of mix at the gas station, but the convenience store was closed, and I didn't want to hike back to Wally World, since my clock was ticking. Note to self on future IBA rides...pack the snacks.

From Dayton, it's only 45 miles or so to get to Cincinnati, and it would have been cool to get a picture of the bridge going over the Ohio River, but since it was nearly 1 a.m. by this point, not much was happening in the picture department. First stop was just after Louisville, KY, where I got fuel, had a bathroom break, got a Meximelt from the in-store Taco Bell, grabbed a Starbucks DoubleShot, and put on my rain gear as an extra layer. I had on a pair of workout pants under my riding pants, and a long sleeved shirt under my jacket, but I was starting to get chilled by Louisville. (Heated grips...mwah! I love you!)

Back on the road and I felt better with warm food and some caffeine, and started imitating a Rascal Flatts song...Praying for Daylight. I was hoping for the same light-switch effect on my body, because I was feeling this ride more than the last, for sure. Passed the National Corvette Museum in Bowling Green, KY, and my next stop was just west of Nashville on I-40, in Kingston Springs, TN. The Shell Station was named 'Sudden Service,' which seems a funny name. Whoa! That was sudden!

While at my sudden location, I suddenly decided to buy some nut and fruit mix, along with some water. I was on fumes, and having lingering thoughts of just heading east on I-40, which would get me home in about six hours, instead of the eventual 18 hours I had in store for me. At this point, too, though, I was less than 200 miles from my turning point in Memphis. I figured if I could hold out until the sun rose again, it wouldn't seem so hard.

Back on the road, it was around 4:30 a.m. CDT, so I'd been on the road for over 5 hours. Another hour down the pike and I had to stop. I just looked for the next rest area and pulled in. The dawn was starting to lighten up one end of the sky just a little, but not much. I parked under a street light with empty parking spots on either side of me and took my helmet off. Set my cell phone for a 6 a.m. wakeup call, put my feet up on the pegs, crossed my arms over my tank bag and put my head on my arms, dropping off to sleep within about three minutes.

Twenty five minutes later, the alarm went off, and I felt a bit better, albeit stiff. I headed in to the rest area facilities for a quick break and to stretch my contorted limbs. Definitely not going to make the same time on this trip as on Friday!

This time, when I got back on the road, the sun was starting to rise over the trees. However, I was riding due west, so the light show was behind me, and I was riding into a cloudy, gloomy day that shortly became rainy as well. Once again, I had to stop and put on rain gear. True to form, the rain let up within minutes of me getting back on the road and I never saw another drop before I got to Memphis.

Finally, I started seeing signs for Memphis that started to look reasonable. Of course, I arrived around rush hour, so I got to deal with the loop at 8 a.m., and by now, my bike was feeling a little gimpy with the unhappy link in the chain.

I had written directions to the branch, but Googlemaps failed me again (rer!) and had me take a wrong exit to get where I needed to go. Figured it out within a couple of miles and remedied the situation. Got to the branch at 8:28 (per my IBA log), and when I got off my bike, I was thinking that my friend Kristine (probably the main reason I stopped by for a visit) had better be at work today! I walked into the warehouse and into the office. Kristine was on the phone, but her office mate Kathy actually recognized me (it took Kristine a minute or two...we talk almost daily at work, but she's not seen me for probably four years).

Once I got off the bike and seated in an air conditioned office, my 'want to' seemed to evaporate when it came to finishing the ride. I mean, dude. I was only half way done with my ride! Duuude.

While at the branch, I knew I needed another nap, so Jon, the manager, found me a cool, dark room, and I ended up stretching out on the floor with a sweater under my head. The fact that you had to go through the men's restroom door to get there was a little disconcerting, but it was around the corner from where any action was going on, and I didn't draw any attention to the fact I was in there. Thankfully, there was only one visitor during my brief stay there. I wanted to sleep a bunch, but knew I couldn't be getting back on the road really late, since it's at least 10 hours home from there. Finally, around 11, I got up and started making my farewells. I sprayed the snot out of the chain before getting back on the bike, and got my next fuel just up the road at 11:15, barely beating the rush at lunch time.

From this point, it was a short hop to get onto Highway 78 and ride southeast toward Birmingham. I wanted a few miles behind me before stopping for lunch, and made it an hour and twenty minutes before stopping in New Albany for lunch at McAlister's Deli. It was stinking hot, and I parked in the only sliver of shade I could find, which turned out to be on the back side of the store, next to the dumpsters. Once finished there, even though it had only been 76 miles since I'd filled up in Memphis, I topped off again before pushing on.

The next 90 or so miles were the hardest of the entire weekend. Looking back, I wonder what I was thinking... At the time, about 80 or so miles gone, I started having problems focusing my eyes and started doing the 'long blink.' You know...you blink for a long blink and intermittently open your eyes to make sure you're still going where you think you're going. I actually think there might have been a split sleep moment, and when my eyes opened from that, there was the superlative 'Oh crap!' adrenaline rush of realizing how sleepy I'd gotten. Hiawatha.

Since the adrenaline hit, I got a bit of a jolt and rode in a newly focused manner. The skies had gotten progressively cloudier since crossing the Alabama line, and in the distance, I saw what looked like a bunch of fog. Even got a picture of it. However, when I rode closer to it, I realized it wasn't fog so much as a vertical wall of water. Pouring. Cascading. Deluging. (can you verbify that?) Soaking. Four wheeled traffic slowed to about 30 mph, and I kept pushing through. There was only one bridge I could have stopped under, but the rain made it impossible to see anything stopped there, and I didn't want to be in some car's path who decided to occupy the same space.

Instead of heading for an exit, I decided to push on through the storm, because it couldn't be like that forever, right? It was probably 12 to 15 minutes of riding, and I didn't have any rain gear on me or my luggage. I wasn't worried about getting too cold, but I was a little concerned about the cell phone in the pocket of my mesh riding jacket, and my netbook in the right saddlebag. Both survived, intact, thankfully, and when I finally rode into the lighter skies which gradually dried up completely, I was almost chilly. That lasted for about 47 seconds before air temps started to rise. Shortly after that, it felt like I was riding into an oncoming hair dryer, and my clothes proceeded to dry.

After 100 more miles, I was just past Birmingham, AL, and needed to stop again. Even though I'd eaten lunch 3.5 hours earlier, I was ready to eat again...I was sorely out of body fuel. I stopped at the Cracker Barrel (only one for this trip!) in Moody, AL, and found a great spot under a shady tree. The heat index then was somewhere around 102, and I went ahead and took off my boots and socks to have a flip flop break in the restaurant.

While my clothes had all dried completely, my waterproof boots had proven quite waterproof, and no water got past them. Problem is, the water not getting past them was the water that had run down my legs into the top of the boot, so for the past 100 miles, my feet had been sitting in a bath, and when I peeled my socks off, each one had probably close to a quarter cup of water to wring out.

By the time I was leaving Cracker Barrel, it was a quarter of five, central time, and I knew I was approximately 5 riding hours from home, which was going to be cutting my 24 hours a little close. Once more to the fuel pumps and back on the road by five.

The ride to Atlanta was uneventful, and that 12th wind that I'd been looking for finally showed up. Traffic was totally fine through Atlanta and I pushed on to Commerce, GA before the next fuel stop. Here, I texted my neighbor to see if she'd be my end witness for the ride, and let my mom know my progress. Treated myself to an ice cream cone and left Commerce behind around 9:10 EDT. Most of the trip back, I ran a tag team with a cattle hauler who had a cow bell on his ICC bar, and finally pulled in for my final fuel receipt at a BP that is half a mile from my house at 10:34 p.m., and arrived home at 10:41, so stinking glad it was over!

In the aftermath, I left my dog at my mom's house until the following day, so all I had to do was unload the bike and hit the bed. My feet were a little swollen from the 400 mile super soaker sauna they'd had to live through, and I took five ibuprofen before hitting the hay. The next morning, I was up around 6:30, feeling 100% fine, and at work by 8:00. It was nice to drive the truck, for a change.

Give Me a Break!

Ahh, Sunday arrived, and with it, the promise of some resting, relaxing and good fellowship. I got up a little after 8 again, loaded up my tank bag with a quick change of clothes and headed out to my bike. There was still a large contingent of folks lingering and I said goodbye to Anson and his wife who were entering the elevator I was leaving, and went out the lobby to see my bike still blocked in by yimmidibidu's scooter :) that was parked there from the night before.

Initially, he and his riding buddies were going to be heading out at 9, which was fine, since that's when I planned to ride. However, their departure was delayed so I had to go back in to ask him to wrangle his Honda outta my way. I got to say a couple of quick farewells to Dwight, Chris, Bob, and was queried by Suomi what people think when the biker chick shows up at church :) I told him I had a change of clothes, but even so, it really wasn't that big of a deal. Hard to be inconspicuous when walking in though! In the parking lot, I got a hug from Dave, who asked if I was going to take another 1,000 miles to get home, and I gave an enthusiastic NO! (Turns out I was a liar pig on that one...)

The church for this Sunday was Redeemer Orthodox Presbyterian, and was literally 9 minutes away from the hotel. The main sanctuary looked like it had been part of a much older structure, and even had some cool stained glass windows, with pews in semi circles. The folks there were very friendly, and I had someone introduce herself even before I made it into the side entrance (thanks Pam!). The service was good, and after that, I got to visit with some more folks, and even stayed for Sunday School.

After changing back to riding togs, a lady in the bathroom told me her son rode, and complimented me on having all the gear for riding. Once back in the foyer, she introduced me to her husband, and I got to tell part of my fun travels. In the parking lot, Pam came back over and ended up asking if I had a blog :) Don't know if you'll see this or not, chick, but if you do, here's a big 'hey there'!

I rode back to the hotel, glad it was a short ride, but enjoying being on the bike, nonetheless. That's always a good sign. The plan was some serious afternoon nappage, with a return to the OPC that night, but I ended up sleeping a little long, so I settled for the webcast from my own church back home.

Around this time, a seed started germinating in my brain, and when I went out for supper that evening, I started thinking about how much rest I'd gotten on Sunday. And how it would be kind of cool to do another SS1000 on the way home, that I could stop off in Memphis and surprise some folks. And that everything seemed nicely in order to pull it off again. And how boring it would be to just ride straight home!

So I decided to do it again.

To Bash a Bug

This year was the 7th annual Bug Bash rally, held in Dayton, OH, drawing a cast of thousands. Ok, maybe dozens, but still a good attendance.

Saturday morning I woke up to the absence of an alarm clock, and the distinct feeling it wasn't as early as I'd hoped. Thankfully, it was still only 8 a.m., but my phone's alarm had been set for 7:30. I found the alarm to be more helpful when I turned the phone's ringer back on. I got up a little stiffly, but that soon wore off, and I headed downstairs, hoping to catch up with Smurf and see about getting the bike chain adjusted before we were all due to meet up in the Target parking lot at 9:30.

I found Smurf outside and he walked over to the bike with me, agreeing that the chain had been in fairly significant need of an adjustment (just because the slack was enough, it could stretch up and touch the swingarm..) Whilst I had been upstairs sawing logs, he'd been busy, and with a borrowed wrench and his own tool kit, adjusted the chain, informing me he'd gotten his hands greasy before even going to breakfast. That was super nice of him to take care of that for me, and if you're reading this, sir, thanks again!

Since there was now a little free time, I walked back in to get some of the free breakfast, and sat with Karl, Tom and Catt. I'd ridden with Karl last year in the north Georgia mountains, along with another member of the BBO, Larry, so it was kind of cool to get to see them again. Breakfast was a short break, and then everyone started filtering out into the parking lot, suiting up and heading across Wilmington Pike to the Target.

All told, there were probably 35 bikes in the group, with 29 of them going on the ride through the countryside. Lots of milling and talking before Mike (Mr. Host) summoned us all for some pre-trip instructions and etiquette. A cop did act as our blocker so we could all leave the parking lot as one body, and I was up in the first four of the regular bikes, riding behind the leaders and a few other riders acting as blockers for the multiple intersections we went through.

The ride was definitely more a leisurely cruise through corn fields than a lively race through mountains, but it was still fun to get out. We managed to find a few curves and definitely were out in the sticks. A lot of areas we rode through had trees overhanging the road, which provided cool tunnels, there were hills to negotiate, both up and down, and it turns out some of those signs that indicated a sharp curve ahead were accurate.


Our first stop was at Caesar Creek Gorge where 29 bikes were counted and cold water provided out of one of the chase vehicles. At this point, I was able to bum some batteries for my camera off Smurf (good thing he came to the rally...I'd a been in sorry shape!). My original batteries had died right as we'd left the Target parking lot, which is why there are no pics from that part of the ride.

At the stop, some ladies were doing yoga stretches, while Angie, the roving photographer was documenting everything digitally. Before heading out again, we all gathered for a group shot near a bridge, but shortly after that saddled up again. This time, I was second in line behind the leaders and blockers, with Chris ahead on his Honda VLX, and Matthew (Smurf Jr.) riding pillion.

More curves and winding roads ahead. There was one curve that had a decreasing radius that snuck up on me a little, to the point I said, "whoa!" in my helmet, but I managed to stay to the right of the centerline. The guy on the cruiser behind me did swing a bit to the left, and I was really glad there was no oncoming traffic. A few minutes later, there was a left handed 90 degree turn, and you didn't see it until you were on top of it that 60% of the road was covered with loose grass clippings. I was heading deep into the curve when I saw that, and immediately slid left off the seat and tightened up my turn to stay inside of the loose grass. It came up quickly and there was not really any way to warn anyone behind of the hazard ahead.

We rode on a few more minutes, but then a couple of the blockers peeled off and headed back the way we came. Then the leader did the same, and the one outrider ahead pulled over onto a side road, and the snake of bikes followed. Once down the road, that bike turned back the way we'd come, and the rest of us are looking at each other and wondering what the hang is going on. Parked the bikes (on a side country road) and got off to find out what was up. Word filtered back that a rider had gone down in the grassy curve, so then there were anxious moments to hear of her condition. Finally, we heard she was fine, but the bike was not in rideable condition. The folks who'd gone back for the downed rider left her bike there to be gathered on a trailer and brought her back to meet up with the rest of us. Margaret looked a little shook up, and wasn't terribly happy with herself, but we were all glad the worst appeared to be knees that had been scuffed up through jeans.

A few from the group headed back to the hotel to get a trailer and truck so they could rescue her bike, and the rest of us eventually got our bikes turned around on that stinking narrow road. A word about that side road. It was narrow, but from the looks of it, it seemed like it would have to be no narrower than 'The Box' that all BRC and ERC riders have to deal with (and do figure 8 turns inside of). However, every rider that attempted a u-turn on that road ended up stopping and having to back up to complete the turn. Except me. However! When I got near the end of the arc, I was also near the edge of the road and there was a nice line of gravel on the edge. Instead of braking, I straightened up and rode off the road. Across a ditch. Up a slight incline and completed the u-turn, popping back through the ditch one more time to get to the road. The Ninja. It goes offroad :)

This time, since we all turned around in place, I was back near the very end of the line of bikes, and it was pretty cool to see the serpentine effect of the riders in front of me, going over hills and through curves. We didn't have far to ride and ended up at Miranda's Old Time Ice Cream for lunch and a break from the sun. While there, I sat with Chris, Brian (Smurf), Matthew and Emily (Smurf Jr. and Smurfette), and yimmidibidu (or Bob). After a while, when the kids were eating their ice cream on either side of me, the guys wandered off and I was regaled on one side with the formula to make an atomic fart bomb (by a very creative rising 6th grader) and on the other side got to watch a phone video Emily had made of her two young cousins participating in 'Red Light; Green Light.' The kids were good fun and were definitely enjoying their first long distance ride. Mama Smurf was riding with one of the guys who'd gone back for the trailer, so she wasn't there for lunch.

Soon enough, we all crossed the street to get back to our bikes and started heading to Mike's house. Mike and Angie live on a cul de sac, and thankfully, the neighbors seem to like this annual gathering. Good thing, too, because we all descended like two wheeled locusts in the early afternoon and parked around the perimeter of the cul de sac, filling it completely.

The next 'event' was a bike swap. Pretty much everyone left his keys in his bike and tacit permission to take it out for a spin. I didn't want to be the first one to go out, and it was a few minutes before the first person headed out. Once that ice was broken, though, bikes were coming and going for the next two hours, easy. When it was all said and done, I rode 10 bikes other than mine, and really had a blast. Everything from a big adventure tourer, to a sport tourer, to a pure sport bike, to a cruiser. While I was out riding a ZX-14, its owner was riding along on my bike, probably making sure I didn't get in over my head. At the first stoplight, he came up beside me and told me not to be afraid to open it up on the next stretch. So I did. Yeeee. Haw. Wow. That was a stupidly fast bike, and incredibly smooth. It left my poor bike in yesterday's dust, with Anson trying futilely to whip it up to pace with the machine I was on. Once we got back to Mike's, he said he had a totally new respect for me having ridden 1,000 miles on my Ninja....can't imagine why! :)

Top two favorite bikes I rode were the BMW R1150GS and the FJR. Makes me think about the next bike. One day, though not terribly soon (more on that later). Finally, after ending my riding tests on a humongorific Honda Valkyrie, I was done riding for the night and ready for some food. It appears most everyone else had the good sense to start eating while I was out taking yet another bike on a spin. Lots of good food, though, and after I loaded up my plate, I went and sat by John (Atonic) and his wife Debbie. I'd last seen him in Durango, as he was the other 'mystery guest' who'd ridden out there for the Potato Ranch Rally. Since that rally, he'd actually been quite ill with diverticulitis and had been in the hospital for an extended period. His trip to Mike's was the first excursion out of the house that did not involve a doctor's appointment in nearly six weeks. During that time, he's lost 42 pounds, although I have to say, it's a bit extreme to diet like that, John!

I stayed until around 11 again, and headed back to the hotel after the door prizes and poker run winner had been announced. Bob (yimmidibidu) followed me back to the hotel on his bike, since he'd been stuck in the cul de sac all afternoon with a bad battery, and hadn't learned the way back. Chatted for a few once back in the hotel parking lot, and then off to bed, again ending the day around midnight. I was looking forward to Sunday, which was truly going to be a day of rest. I needed it!

The Tale of a Tail of Iron

My three birds for the long weekend just passed were: completing a SaddleSore 1000, getting Michigan onto my 'states ridden' list, and going to the Bug Bash, a rally in Ohio for folks from the BeginnerBikers.org website.

After doing some reading up on the SS1000, I figured I'd need to allow at least 18 hours for the ride, and since the BBO group was meeting around 7 p.m. for supper, I decided to leave town around 10 p.m. on Thursday night.

My brother lives about 5 miles from where I work, so I went directly to his house on Thursday, and flaked out on the couch. The kids were gone and the house was clean and quiet, thanks to my sis in law, Monique. Grant had the boys with him, and they swung by to pick up Monique for supper, and I was alone in the house. I know I drifted off sometime around 4:45, and woke up at 6:30ish. From that point until 10:30, I did no more than a light snooze for maybe another cumulative hour, and laid there at 10:30 when my cell phone alarm went off, wondering if I was actually going to do this thing.

I'd wanted to get on the road by 10, but the later it got and I wasn't actually sleeping, I set the alarm out a little bit. And then around 10, a very active thunderstorm rolled through, and I wasn't about to leave in something like that. Finally, around 10:45, I decided to get up and see how I felt after getting the last stuff packed up. I wondered if my brother and family would be back before I left (they were having a laaaate supper), but they came in about 5 after 11, when I was almost finished with the last packing.

The boys started peppering me with questions about my gear, my route, my plan, and wished me well as I walked out the front door to my bike at 11:20. The rain had subsided to a moderate drip, but I was all geared up for it, so I got on the bike and headed to my first fuel stop, the receipt of which would be my official start time. When the receipt printed, it was 23:30 on the nose, and I headed out. I had a Starbucks DoubleShot before I left, and had a container of water, along with some 'Energy' trail mix (fruit and dried nuts). I'd had a huge lunch (Chipotle burrito) and no supper, deciding to keep it light for the trip.

Once out on the road, I felt pretty good, so when I had to pass within two miles of my house, I wasn't tempted at all to bail. The drizzle kept up until I got closer to the NC line, but once past that, I was done with the rain for that trip. There was a good bit of traffic out there through the wee small hours, and not all of it belonging to big trucks. My first stop for fuel was just north of Knoxville on I-75, about 180 miles and 3 hours into the trip. Bathroom break, drink of water, snack break and I was back on the road within 20 minutes of stopping. Even with the rain being gone, I left my rain gear on as a wind block layer going through the mountains, and was glad to have the ability to use my heated hand grips.

The next stretch of road was the one where I got the sleepies on this trip. Just before Lexington, I was getting worn out, largely due to having to ride through miles and miles of dense fog. Radar has to be on high alert for this, and it took its toll. I was about to pull off for a stretch break when I saw a sign that Lexington was only about 39 miles away, so I punched my leg a few times, took some deep breaths and pushed on to Lexington. I stopped for fuel on the north side of town again, another 180 miles into my trip, and three more hours gone. This time, I drank and ate a little more and didn't push the stop so much. It still wasn't much more than 20 minutes, but when I got back on the road around 5:45, I felt much better. Cincinnati was only about 90 miles away, and from there I took a left toward Indianapolis.

This is when the beautiful thing happened...sunrise. The fields were all covered in low lying fog as the sun came up, but once it rose and burned all of that off, my body started to feel awake all over. I remember being part-way to Indy and thinking, "Huh, I sure don't feel like I've been riding the bike for the past 7 hours..." Yee haw!

Now, when I got to Indianapolis, I did a little bit of creative navigation. I hadn't brought a map on this trip, although I'd looked at my route online before leaving. I couldn't remember the number of the interstate I needed to get to Michigan, but figured it was 65, since the loop around Indy is 465, and I knew it shot off of there. I also remembered from googlemaps that they did not route me on 465, but took me into downtown and then out a northeasterly direction to get onto the interstate to Michigan.

Having that thought in my head, and seeing signs that advertised a lot of construction and slow down on the NE quandrant of 465, I opted to go into downtown and just pick up 65 from there instead of looping. Within an exit or two, I decided that probably wasn't the best plan, and was about to swing back around on the loop, when I saw signs for 65. Ah well, I thought I couldn't have lost too much time, so I kept going toward 65. Now, mind you, it's Friday morning at 8 a.m. when I'm negotiating rush hour traffic in Indianapolis, after having been on the bike for over 8 hours and going on around 3 hours of sleep.

The problem shortly came up that I-65 was not the interstate I needed, because it was heading northwest to Chicago instead of northeast to Michigan. I decided to stop at the next exit where I saw a gas station to look at a map, but it was a few miles up the road before I saw one to get off. Fueled the bike, parked it by the store, went in for a bathroom break, and then came out to look at a map. Except they didn't sell maps. I asked the lady behind the counter if they sold them, and she said no. She then asked where I was trying to go, and I told her I needed the interstate going to Michigan. That would be I-69, and all I had to do was go up one more exit and I'd hit the loop (465 again). Follow that east and it would take me to 69. At least I hadn't gone way past access to 69, but looking at the map after I'm back, that little detour added, oh, about 30 miles to the day.

Finally back on my way, I headed up 69 to Fort Wayne, Indiana. Not much going on up on that side of the state. A bit of road construction, but that's about it. When I crossed over the Michigan line, I started looking for fuel again. Pulled off in Coldwater, and once again had a map quandary. They had maps, but only localized ones that didn't cover the area I needed. I asked the girl behind the counter if she knew where Albion was. Nope. Went back to the map display, hoping I'd somehow missed a map of Michigan. Nope. Asked a lady stocking milk if she knew how to get to Albion, and struck pay dirt. Twenty five more miles up 69 and hang a right on 94 towards Detroit. About 10 miles down the road is the sign for Albion.

Once in town, it was time to find the plant I was going to. I knew the address, but hadn't looked how to get there. I knew Albion was small, and was hoping to stumble across the right street. Didn't happen, so I parked, getting ready to make a phone call, and a guy was walking around a pickup in front of me. I asked him if he knew where East North Street was, and sure enough, he did. It was a straight shot up the street I was on, which ended in a T at North Street. Turn right and you're on the eastern half of the street and about 10 blocks down was the plant where I was due to meet with a co-worker for lunch.

I'd told Bill I'd be there between 11 and 12, but with my later start from Greenville, it was 12:30 when I finally got there. This was my first long break of the day to get away from the bike, and it was nice. The facility is a fiberglass plant, and I got a quick tour of the offices before heading out to lunch. Eating only fruit and nuts for the previous 600 miles had me kind of peckish at that point. It was good to go to the local dive and get a half a turkey sub. Once back at the office, I printed out directions (yes) to get to my final location in Dayton, and got back on the road around 2:30. It was a quick shot back to the interstate and more construction on the way across to Detroit.

Before the city proper, though, I headed south on 275, stopping off in Carleton to fuel up and see one of Guardian's float glass plants. I didn't have time for a tour, nor had I been able to coordinate anything like that, so I settled for a few pictures from the outside, and then rode on. Further south and I picked up 75, going through Toledo and then finally to Dayton.

By the time I was getting into the city, I was bopping along on my bike, singing and swerving and probably causing lots of consternation in nearby cars. I got off at the exit for the hotel and turned left to get my final gas station receipt (and official end time) before heading back to the right so I could check in. While I was waiting at the light to cross over to the hotel, I saw this line of motorcycles filing onto the interstate, and I knew it had to be the BBO group heading to supper. The original itinerary had them leaving for supper around 7, and it was about 7:15 at this point.

I changed lanes to get into the interstate entrance ramp and raced off to catch them. Nearly overshot the exit I needed, but got off in time, tagging in at the end of the snaky line of bikes waiting to turn onto the main road. At the next light where the bikes were stopped again, I rolled forward into the peripheral view of the last rider, who was Mel, the cruise director/event coordinator for the weekend, and I flipped my visor up. She looked over, looked at my bike and back and me and hollered out, "Krystn??!!" I nodded and got officially included in the ride to the restaurant where the 20 or so bikes parked in a back lot.

When I got off, Mel announced my arrival, and a few folks immediately asked if I was able to get the Iron Butt ride done. I gave that an affirmative and a cheer went up. One rider came over and gave me a hug, who I later learned was a guy from the BBO website (MN_Smurf) who thinks the riding I do is cool, and who I'd asked to be my end 'witness' for the ride. His wife and kids were there as well, and at supper I sat with folks that I knew by screen name, but not much else, and it was neat to match up name and person. Finally figured out this one guy's screen name (that I pronounce something like yimmidibidu), and one guy across the table (Suomi) had read about the trip to Colorado and commented some about the sights and the lovely house I stayed at in Aspen :)

The restaurant was a BBQ place and the food was good, fast and hot. I didn't have any room for ice cream afterwards, but stood outside talking with some of my supper folks. I mentioned to Smurf that my chain was sounding pretty clackety and looked loose (although I had it adjusted a week before I left and lots of slack taken out), and asked if there would be someone who might be able to adjust it among the many wrenches attending the rally. He assured me it would be taken care of (which was a relief) and we all headed back to the hotel right around dusk.

I changed clothes and filled out the witness form for Smurf (aka Brian) to fill out. Mingled outside some, meeting a few new folks, but finally had to call it a day around 11:15. Went upstairs to shower a couple dozen hours of grime off me and got the light out right around midnight.

Thus ended day one.

Oh yeah, I forgot. 1,060 miles ridden per googlemaps (including my creative route in Indy)

To name a few...

Versys, ZX-14, FJR, VRSCD Night Rod, FZ6, R1150GS, Falco, Valkyrie, Rockster. And a Ninja.

These would be bikes I rode today (plus another HD that I don't know the name of). Three standouts were the FJR, the GS and the Zed-Ex, all in different categories, scratching different itches.

I've got the tired itch now, so more details will follow. Eventually.

It doesn't feel like it's iron, but...

the Iron Butt ride has been accomplished. More details to follow, but sleep overrides all at this moment.

Make That Four...

times I've ridden the bike since getting back from CO. We had a whopper of a storm this afternoon, but the skies were clear blue afterwards, so I figured it was a good time to try to start the bike (it's been almost three weeks since starting, and last time I almost couldn't get it to start). It didn't take very long at all to get it cranking, so I decided to take it out for a stretch. Went up into the mountains and decided to eat at an Outback steakhouse in Hendersonville, NC for a treat. Got home five minutes ago, with 76 miles put on the bike. Not a bad stretch!

Not Much Gnu Here

Last year we had a hot June and a fairly mild July and August. Not so this year. The past week has had multiple days with heat indices over 100. By 9:30 at night, the heat index is still typically in the mid nineties. All of that tends to zap the "want to" out of riding to work, since there's a stop and go broiler to face on the ride home.

So instead of getting out on the weekends and riding, I totally flaked out last Saturday, but the previous Saturday, as well as yesterday, I was at my mom's house to engage in verbal badinage with the plumber/painter/electrician while helping to change out five existing ceiling fans, replace two ceiling fixtures, add a ceiling fan, and pull wire for recessed lighting that hopefully will get finished next Saturday.

Two Saturdays back, it was decent enough to take Riley to mom's and let him hang outside all day. Yesterday, the temp was forecast at 97, and it ended up being 98, with a heat index of 106, so the pup stayed home in the a/c.

Yesterday was also the day to pull wires in the attic. I didn't have a thermometer up there, but we estimate it was between 140 and 150 up there. I don't remember the last time I sweat that much. Not dampness, not perspiration, not your ordinary sweating. Three seconds up there and every pore was wide open, and it was hard to see with the drops flicking off your eyelashes. It was like being in cocoon of heat, all enveloping and all encompassing. Add to that dust from the cellulose insulation, tight spots accessible only to those who aren't claustrophobic, and stupid wall cavities filled with batts that prevent feeding wires in a civilized manner.

Today has been mostly spent in recovery, and my body hates me.

July 5 Ride

Yeah, not much on this one. A total of 60 miles, all on local roads, no pictures and my butt was sore when I got home. Yeesh.

Prolly need to get the chain adjusted. I'm hearing a crunchy noise right when I take off, that I'm hoping is slop from the chain. Hence my short ride.

Did see The A-Team, however. Definitely passable :)

The Next Road

This will be a trip to Dayton, OH in just over five weeks. I'm going to (Lord willing) be able to do a jumbo roll with this one, and kill not two, but three birds with one Ninja.

The trip itself is to meet up with more BBO folks at the second rally of the year, known as the Bug Bash (7th annual): bird the first. Ohio is one of the two states bordering the cuff of Michigan's mitten, and since that's one state I've not ridden in, and can't hit easily by itself, I plan to swing up through there on the way to Dayton: bird the second. If you look at a map, you might notice that I've got to go well past Dayton to get to Michigan, so in order to make it really fun, I'm routing the trip up to be an IBA Saddlesore 1000, probably leaving around midnight Thursday/Friday morning, which should get me into Dayton around 6 p.m., in time for a shower, supper and some sleep, before riding on Saturday: bird the third. Sunday will be a day for church and rest (shocker, I know), and Monday I'll head back down to Greenville, maybe taking a scenic route if I can leave early enough. I've not declared my intentions yet on the board for heading to the Bug Bash, because I haven't officially gotten the all clear for the two days of vacation, but I don't think they should be a problem.

The more I think about it, the more I like it. I've got a nice cushion where I can bail on the IBA if I decide I'm not up to finishing the whole route, but can still make Dayton without too much effort. This will get pesky Michigan off my map without too much extra effort, and that IBA has loomed on the horizon for a while. I'd thought about trying for one on July 5, when I'm off work, but I like the extra margin I'll have from attempting it on a Thursday/Friday with a long weekend ahead of it.

Came up with the extra two birds (beyond attending the rally) this afternoon. Not too shabby for thinking on the fly, eh?

The End of the Road (for now...)

I managed to make a decent showing my last morning, getting out of bed before 7 a.m., and having the bike rolled out of the room and ready to go by 7:15. I stopped just down the road from the Bay Inn & Roach Motel Suites (did I say that?) to get gas. My tires were reading 27 and 28 psi, and should reading 30/32, so I decided to top off the tires as well as the tank.

Got ready to leave before having to go into the convenience store one more time to get batteries. Those two last batteries were #17 and #18 for the trip...that camera positively ate batteries for the first half of the trip (probably because the shutter never stayed shut). When I finally was rolling out, it felt like it was about 7:40, and when I checked my cell phone for the time, it was 7:39. Internal clock is keeping good time, I'd say.

First off, I rolled back through downtown and continued on 31 over to Atmore (or Ratmore, as one local boy named it), before heading south into Florida. The downtown of Atmore had some really nice older houses and interesting bungalows that had been nicely restored. Not far out of town, the Florida line came and went, and I headed east on County Road 4 for about 15 miles. To my utter disbelief I managed to see a couple of curves in the roads. Of course, this was in pretty close proximity to Alabama, so I'm thinking the 'Bama vibes helped keep the roads from being as stick straight as they are in the rest of the state.

About 25 miles later and I was back in Alabama, having made a respectable foray into Florida. State highway signs directed me back to I-65 towards Montgomery. Usually, when I'm riding somewhere, unless I've got a very nice cushion of time, I don't stop for a large lunch, but typically will grab something whenever I fill up. Since this was my last day and I'd gotten a decent start, I decided to treat myself at the first Cracker Barrel after Montgomery for a nice brunch. Montgomery is where I-85 begins and exit 11 is where I got off.

My waitress claimed to be OCD and to have had about 4 hours of sleep, so she was a little jittery, to say the least. The French toast was good, although I think it's crappy they've switched to 100% 'All Natural' syrup instead of 100% "Pure Maple Syrup". The labels are deceptively similar, but the tastebuds will not be duped! I called mom to let her know I'd be later than I'd anticipated due to the chow session, filled up with gas and headed off for the last 300 or so miles just after 11.

Did get to see a cool oldie on the road (there were a couple on the trip), but also came across some seriously stupid driving by a guy in a military Humvee who'd apparently lost his convoy. He changed lanes right in front of me, started to speed up to pass the car in the right lane. Slowed down, put his right blinker on, as if to resume his place behind the erstwhile to-be-passed car, and then proceeded to come to almost a complete stop on the interstate before rolling off onto the grassy median on the left of the interstate, where other members of the convoy had stopped. The whole, 'get into the passing lane, slow down, right blinker, near stop and left fade' had me waaaaay under impressed with this guy's decision making skills. Driving skills. Knee jerk reaction skills. Hope he's not that haphazard under fire. I did at least refrain from blaring my horn as I finally was able to get my bike released from near lockdown braking once he got off the interstate. Interstate! Not podunk highway. Not Main Street near the intersection of Elm. Dude! I'm still getting irritated just thinking about it.

But there's always Atlanta! Even on a Saturday, at 2 p.m., the traffic was quite boggy on the south side where 65 was merging in with 20 and 85. It never came to a full stop, and actually the slower sections were short lived. By the time I got through the worst of it, I was pushing 175 miles on my tank. It was hot and I was ready for a break. The Shell station was a little tricky to get to, with a controlled u-turn being in the equation. There was a service station attached to the convenience store (with a pretty 'vette sitting there), and I sat in the waiting area for a few minutes, enjoying a cold bottle of water. The clerk was chatty and told me about a trip he took to Colorado one time. He drove out to Colorado Springs to visit a buddy of his at the Air Force Academy, but said he ended up spending most of his time in the hospital on the visit. Turns out his buddy is about 4'11" (from how high up he held his hand), but apparently has no filter on his mouth and got the stuffing beat out of him in a bar fight. Hence the hospital visit. Okaaay. Time to move on.

I'd been watching my odometer, hoping for 5,000 miles, and it kept looking like it was going to allllmost make it, but not quite, so as an extra bonus, I decided, ala Albuquerque, to take the scenic way back into Greenville and not just slab it. Those last 50 miles on the interstate are mind numbing on the best of days, and the prospect of going past the lakes and mountains energized me for the last leg of the trip.

Once I'd been going on scenic Highway 11 a while, I checked my trip meter for a mental calculation. There was a sign for Table Rock, saying it was 12 miles away, and the last two numbers on the odo were 62, so that would be 74...26 miles to get home from there. Still going to be stinking close!! Once I got up to Table Rock, I glanced at the odo again to see how close the sign had been. Odo now ended with ....62. Huh? I looked. Rode some more. Looked. Rode. Looked. Stinking absolute rawr!! The odometer was locked and I was going to be denied seeing the 5,000 on there. Cotton pickin'!

I wiggled the stem that resets the odometer and saw a quiver in the last number. Watched it, and it started to crawl again (no tenths, so it seemed to take forever for the next mile to pass). A few miles later and...it locked up again. By now I'm making homicidal noises in my helmet. Worthless piece of horse manure! Messed with the stem again and it rolls a little more, but finally stops with the last two numbers at 74, and rolls no more. Grumble, grumble, grumble.

At least that didn't happen on the interstate...that would have been doubly miserable. The trees on the route also helped cool down the last few miles, and I finally pulled into my driveway about 5:50 p.m. Not exhausted. Not tired. Ready for a day of rest on Sunday, but wishing I had somewhere I could ride to on Monday that was a few hundred miles away.

Once I was in the driveway, I tried to spin the stem to reset the trip meter a little more, since I could focus on it, and not worry about driving. The stem would not reset that side any more, so it appears the spring has sprung it's last sproing. The kicker? What I hadn't noticed?? The end odometer was stuck at 3,974. Three thousand, 974. The day before, I'd flipped 4,000 and 4,500. I have proof! I do! I really did!!

At some point, somewhere, somehow, my trip meter managed to go backwards. And it is evil.

(Final notes will probably follow, but I'm still bitter about the trip meter, so that's all for tonight.)