The Plans of Mice and Men...and Biker Babes

Did I say I was getting on the road early? Hmm. It's almost 8 now, which is an hour later than I'd wanted to be on the road, but I'm having to wait. For the thunderstorm. To quit.

Did I mention I was going cross country through Woodward, OK and Dodge City, KS? The forecast for severe weather has a big orange swath across the panhandle of OK, and the southwest corner of Kansas. Interesting thing is, there's a red blob in the middle of that orange, indicating strong winds and hail. Right in the middle of the red blob are the words 'Dodge City.' I believe I'll be staying the heck outta Dodge on this one.

I still need to go out and check the bike to see if the tank has any dings from last night's hail. We had a kicker storm around 11:15 that lasted almost an entire hour. At one point, I was thinking the bike might fall over in the wind. Thankfully, it didn't, although it wasn't for lack of the wind trying. I'll post a video in a bit, if I can. (edit - the video's too much of a pain to add. Use your imagination.)

I'm about to go dodge some rain drops now. See you on the flip side.

(and the side has finally flipped...)

Monday morning, I'd hoped to get a good breakfast at IHOP just down the road, but those plans were rained out, and I waited until there was a lull in the rain before going outside, wiping the seat of the bike down and riding it over under the portico by the lobby so I could load the bike out of the rain, if it decided to start up again. After lugging the luggage, I went in to the area where you get your 'Super Start' breakfast at the Super 8, which consisted of a donut, a piece of toast with cream cheese, some coffee and orange juice. Sugar, fat, caffeine and protein, and I was good to go. I put all my rain gear on again, since the radar still showed patchy stuff to the west, and I headed out, glad to be leaving behind the dark blue solid wall of clouds to the east.

Once outside of OK City, the road had a nice section that made me feel like I was in a martini shaker. There've been several sections of construction, even getting down to one lane in either direction on 40, and these lanes were beat up enough, they were beating me up. The suspension on my bike isn't great on any given day, and I think lately it's been getting worse. The last few times I've had to go over speed bumps, just crawling, I've scraped the bottom where the two header pipes join up. Some of the boings in the road are taking an even greater toll on me if my boing avoidance radar is on the fritz. Add 35 pounds of luggage to the mix, and it's even rougher.

I rode on I-40 until I got to Elk City, where I took Business 40 through town (passing by a Route 66 museum), and then hopped onto Highway 6, to 152, to 87, which took me over to Interstate 25 at Raton, NM. When I'd decided to change my route to avoid Kansas, due to weather, I was a little bummed to have to go over to I-25, because I thought the extra interstate riding I would have to do would be a drag, as compared with all of the state highways through Oklahoma and Kansas. However, I was on 6/152/87 for a solid 320 miles, and that was some prime riding. For probably 80% of that time, I was the only one heading west and north on those road, while there was a lot of traffic heading the other way, and especially a lot of bikes.

I learned the importance of the wind on this route, not only for the sake of mpg, but also for whether I was upwind or downwind when I passed some feed lots. The first one I passed, I was upwind, so it was just a big plant with hundreds of cows in the corrals. The next one I passed was on the other side of the road, and I didn't think anything about it until I was getting closer and the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. A very smelly ton of bricks, at that. Yowza!

I went through several little towns (according to the map), but some of them were summarized by a four-way stop sign. I passed one place called Skellytown, and if it had been directly on the road, I would have had to get a picture for posterity, but it was a few miles down a side road, so I rolled on by.

Once I crossed into New Mexico, I finally started seeing some little buttes cropping up more and more. Did see a sign that advised against picking up hitchhikers in that area, since the Northeastern New Mexico Correctional Facility was in the vicinity. Good tip. I stopped for fuel fairly often on this trip, and snacking occasionally (Chex mix, ice cream sandwich, wasabi pea trail mix), and drinking water at every stop. One of the coolest things was coming around a curve in the road, and seeing an opening appear between the buttes, with a view of the snow capped Rockies in the distance. It was their first appearance, and it was a dramatic one.

From there, the road wound down to Raton, which looked like a pretty neat place, and I finally was able to get onto I-25. Once out of town, the interstate started climbing, going past the Colorado border, and the first decent stop with facilities was up in Trinidad, about 12 across the line. Once there, I saw a guy filling up a small Hummer, and he recognized me from the trip across the panhandle of Texas, and we talked for a little bit. I filled up, having gotten some pretty stinky gas mileage for that leg (probably in the 45 mpg range) due to the headwind, and went inside for a bathroom break, and to advise my host for the evening that I was about 90 minutes away.

And that's when the bike started complaining. Nothing terrible, but a little hesitation, similar to getting some bad gas, or some little bit of goo in the carb. He kept running, and I figured I'd push on and see if it would work it's way out of the system. Got to Pueblo, and at the bottom of the exit ramp, when starting up from a stop, the bike died, and I had to rev it up pretty good to get it going. At the next light, it was sputtering pretty good, but I got it going again, and made it to my house for the night without too much more fuss.

Brock and Sharon gave me shelter for the night, along with a chance to meet their six (right?) dogs :) Sharon has worked with show dogs, and has boxers that she shows, along with an old bulldog who sits outside in the sun and barks at what she can't see or hear, and the 'upstairs' dog when I was there was Tickles, a French bulldog and one of the most spastically friendly dogs I've ever met. She was fun and was thrilled to death that there was someone new to meet when I got there. I made decent time, and was in Pueblo right around 6 p.m., so I had a good evening to unwind and chat with both of them, enjoying a large plate of nachos. Bedtime comes early in that house, since they normally get up around a quarter of five in the morning. When 9:15 rolled around, and they both headed off to sleep, I settled in to the couch and dropped off like a rock, looking forward to the next day's ride, which would mark off a major goal from one of those lists that I have...the Big Thompson Canyon!

A Day of Rest

Sundays are wonderful, and this one was no exception. I woke up from a solid 10 hours of sleep, feeling somewhat rested, and looked at the map on how to get to the church. If I took the turnpike, it estimated 10 minutes, or 20 minutes if I took regular roads. I opted for the turnpike, but when I got going down the road, it turns out you can't get there from here :) There was a sign for 44 East, but I needed 44 West.

I hopped onto I-35, and took the next exit, which was Memorial Drive, and started heading west on that. I knew the church was on North Western Drive, and was pretty sure Memorial would intersect it. A few miles and stoplights down the road, and there was Western Drive, big as life, and I turned left. I realized within about two blocks I should have turned right. My mental map had Memorial on the north side of the church, but when I turned left, that put me back under the turnpike, and I knew the turnpike was south of the church. Did a quick u-turn, and about four blocks later, pulled into the parking lot. The worship service was good, followed by an interesting Sunday school. The interim pastor there went to college with my senior pastor in Greenville, so it was nice to bring greetings from South Carolina.

After changing back into riding togs, I headed back out and explored a couple of side roads in the area. It amazes me how straight and long the roads are, coasting up and down hills. There are a lot of trees in the area, too, which is nice. I've not exactly hit the 'dust bowl' area I thought I would. Perhaps that will be tomorrow, when going through Western OK, or perhaps it only remains in the pages of Steinbeck. Tomorrow will tell the tale.

One other cool sight for today was the Memorial Park Cemetery. It's bounded by a brick wall that is very interesting looking, and the design extends to the buildings that bound the area as well. I didn't go into the cemetery but did want to get some shots of the brickwork outside.

Pueblo is the goal on Monday, and I'm hoping for an early start. I'm also hoping for some of my sadly out of shape muscles to stop protesting quite so loudly. It's about 550 miles (might have to write some directions down this time), which will be another long day, but once again, after Monday and Tuesday's ride, I've got a two day break in Aspen. I just looked at the map, and I'm going to stick to the state highways instead of interstate, which will run me through Woodward, OK and Dodge City, KS. Turns out I recently had business dealings at work with someone in Woodward, OK, who it turns out rides a BMW 800 FST. Small world, indeed!

Ooooke-lahoma

Day 2 is done, and so am I (for the night). Details and pics to follow when I'm more cognizant, but suffice it to say, Oklahoma City is accomplished.

update...

Since I didn't turn the light out until 2:30 a.m. (3:30 to my EST accustomed body), I didn't set any alarm clock for the morning. I knew I only had about 400 miles to ride, and could afford the sleep. At 7:30, I woke up, feeling pretty decent, overall, and decided to get up and get things together. There was a little continental breakfast in the lobby area that I visited, and was back in my room shortly after 9.

I didn't have any plans in place for where I was staying when in OKC, and last week had asked my pastor's wife if she thought she knew anyone from there who might offer a spare bedroom or couch, since they were from this area. I called her Saturday morning to see if she'd found any takers, but everyone she'd tried was either going to be out of town for the long weekend, or hadn't gotten back to her email or call. For a church, she recommended Heritage Presbyterian Church, so I looked for motels in that area, and settled on the Super 8 closest to it. I called ahead for reservations, and once those were lined up, I started the whole 'haul the luggage downstairs' fun. There's not a lot (any) spare room in my luggage right now, so there's no room for sloppy packing and everything has a specific place it must belong. Once the beast of burden was loaded again, I lubed the chain, hit the body with some Plexus and headed back onto the interstate.

This time, the weather decided to play nice, and it was sunny with puffy clouds sailing around. Nothing looked rainy or tornadic in any shape or form. Whew! I was only about 65 miles west of Little Rock when I started, so that was too early for a lunch stop. If I'd had my camera out, though, I'd have snapped a shot of the hugely ornate First Pentecostal Church when I rode by (and since I didn't, I just linked the church name to some photoblog shots of it). Another 75 miles up the road was Russellville, which had my first Cracker Barrel stop of the trip. I was feeling the wear of the previous day's trip, combined with a five hour night of sleep, so the chance to sit down at a restaurant was very nice. Their parking lot was kind enough to have a shady spot for the bike to wait for me, and I went in to eat my standard BLT and fries on grilled sourdough bread. Once fortified, I then fed the bike at a Shell station before getting back on I-40.

Further west, and I started to see some rolling hills in the distance, as the Ozarks were getting closer. I saw a sign for the Pig Trail Scenic Byway, and wished I'd had time to explore, since that is supposed to be some fun motorcycle pavement. If I'd known it was only 19 miles, as I now do, I probably would have jumped off for the short trip! Ah well. I did end up taking one side excursion 100 miles down the road when I saw the sign for Sallisaw, OK. There is a picture at work in our department known as the 'Sallisaw Man.' He's on the side of a building, and when I saw the exit for Sallisaw, and knew the nature of the picture, I thought I'd make a quick search to see if I could find him. It was a sweet feeling of success when I saw him waving at me just before I was going to turn around and go back to the interstate. I had to get a picture of the bike with him, since this truly was a once in a lifetime event. Here you go Greg and Andrea...this one's for you!

My last fuel stop was 90 miles out from Oklahoma City in Henryetta, and the Shell station was adjacent to Huckleberry's Pig Out Palace (sounds like your kind of place, Greg!) I did not stop in to eat, but did have to take a quick pic of the drum piggies outside. At the gas station, a guy in a minivan on a family trip asked me if I hit any bugs with the helmet when I ride. I handed him my helmet to inspect the encrusted face shield and asked him what he thought. He was grousing about riding in the van with his little brother, and I told him he should enjoy the luxury of stretching his legs and getting to lean back on a seat. The family was from Page, AZ, and the dad commented on how humid it was, wondering if it made riding any tougher. I told him it felt about like home, since I was used to humidity in SC. It was about to make them mop up, though.

I left Huckleberry behind, knowing and glad that I was on the last of the road before a nice break. I got to the Super 8 right around 6 p.m., and this time got a ground floor room, with parking for the bike right outside my door (hooray!). The a/c is positively polar, although the shower is somewhat anemic. After I emptied the bike, I went back out for a quick trip to Target for some Gold Bond powder...the armor in my pants makes my knees sweat and chafe somewhat, and then to the Cracker Barrel (twice in one day!) just up the way from the motel for supper. Sourdough bread topped with mashed potatoes, pot roast and gravy? That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! I was back in my room by about 7:45, took a shower, and got settled for the night. When I went to do the blog update, I found out the internet was acting up on my computer so I called it a night and was asleep by 9:36, welcoming the oblivion.

There's Something About That First Day...

This is just a quick note that I'm in for the night, but I'm actually too tired to do justice to today's ride, so details will follow after a few hours' sleep. Suffice it to say, I made it well past Birmingham.

now for the goods...(updated 5/30)

Thursday night I collected all of my stuff for the trip, loaded the dog up in the truck and hauled him over to mom's house where he is spending the duration of the trip (for those of you who have asked about him). Once everything was offloaded, I headed back to my house to drop the truck off and bring the bike back to mom's, where I spent the night. She's been visiting family in Iowa, so I had the house to myself, and Friday morning, I headed in to work for the last half day.

I'd had two big bears of projects that had to be done before I left, and 99% of those were finished on Thursday, so most of my time Friday was sorting out what was left that would need attention in my absence. It was kind of fun recording my voicemail message to say 'don't leave a message.' Once work was done, a friend treated me to lunch, which was a fitting beginning to a nice vacation.

I headed back to mom's to load up the bike and bid my furry buddy adieu, and hit the road right at 2:15. I decided to go through Atlanta and Birmingham, up to Memphis and over to Oklahoma City for my first big leg of the trip, which would take Friday and Saturday. My options were either to go through Atlanta, or to take I-40 through the recently fixed rockslide area, that still only had one lane open. I decided on Atlanta, for variety's sake, I guess, because my timing put me going through there right around, oh, 4:45 p.m. on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. Really smart. I'd put Atlanta probably at the 2^nd worst I've ridden the bike through, barely edging out Boston rush hour. The top one in my books still remains Chicago. Seems like I always hit the big cities around the evening rush hour.

At any rate, I tried the HOV lane for a while, since motorcycles are allowed, but I didn't like being hemmed in to one lane with only limited access to the other lanes, so I got out of it closer in to downtown Atlanta (no bypass for me, thank you very much). I knew I needed to go to Birmingham from Atlanta, but wasn't sure the exact road I would need, because I hadn't printed or written any directions out for this first leg (and I loathe GPS devices, in case you were wondering). I think my pioneering spirit decided to just aim west and wing it for a while . The road signs were terribly obliging and told me I-20 was what I needed to get to Birmingham, and I-20 is what I took.

Once I got off I-85, the traffic finally started to breathe again, and I was able to notice what the skies looked like, and ominous is the word I'd use to describe them. When I was riding through Atlanta, it was 91 degrees, but as I continued to ride along I-20, the temperatures dropped enough for me to be glad I was wearing jeans under my mesh riding pants. A few more miles down the road, and there was evidence of some pretty strong rains having just passed through that area, with standing water in the medians and in the interstate. I rode on to the Oxford, AL, exit, near Anniston, before I stopped for fuel and food. Inside the restaurant, I heard the tail end of a weather advisory for strong thunderstorm warnings to the west and to the north. Once I finished my sandwich from Arby's, I took a few minutes to put rain covers on my luggage and myself. I felt a little silly in my moon suit (big booties for my riding boots included), but once the rain started coming down about 30 miles west of Anniston, I was glad to look silly, so long as I was dry. My original semi-goal had been to make it to Birmingham before calling it a night, but I felt really good at that point, and figured since I was all suited up for it, I'd continue riding in the rain until I got tired of it.

Once again, I knew I had to make some turns around Birmingham to start the meander to Memphis, and I knew there were some familiar names in the route between B'ham and Memphis when I'd looked at a map earlier, but couldn't remember exactly what they were. I saw a sign for I-65 heading to Huntsville, so I hopped on that, reasoning that I was heading north, so I'd eventually run into I-40, right? I stopped in Dodge City, 40 or so miles north of Birmingham, because my smoke shield was getting too dark for the approaching dusk and occasional drizzly weather, as well as to top off my tank. While at the pump, an old cooter from inside the station came over to shoot the breeze and ask where I was heading. When I told him Memphis, he asked which way I was going and I told him I'd have to look at a map to decide. Inside the store, I grabbed an Alabama map and consulted with him about my options. He advised that I go a few exits north on I-65 to Highway 157, a 4 lane that would cut cross country and get me to Highway 72, which would eventually get to Memphis. I thanked him for his advice, memorized the exit and highway names and headed out of there just after 8 p.m.

Mr. Cooter Man's estimate for me to get to Memphis was 4 hours, and he wasn't far off. I stopped once more for fuel between Dodge City and Memphis, in Corinth, MS, and when I swiped my MasterCard at the fuel pump, the transaction was denied. Both times that I tried it. I used an alternate card, and when I called the MasterCard customer service, I was connected to the fraud alert division. They had noticed the fuel transactions in different states and frozen the card as a result. I explained what the situation was and told her to expect similar stuff for the next two weeks, from Colorado to New Mexico and Texas. All the while, I'm having to use the speaker function on my phone because the handset isn't working, and the battery is also about to die. She straightens everything out (before the cell phone dies, thankfully) and I headed back out into the rain, shooting for the last 100 miles to Memphis.

There's not a whole lot of traffic when you go through Memphis at midnight, and I decided I wanted to get on the other side of it before stopping for the night. I managed to get about a 9^th wind at this point, and the rain finally let up. I hopped onto 240 and then to 40 west into Arkansas, keeping company with a bunch of truckers and only a few cars. I was aiming for a Super 8, and kept drawing on my 'feeling fine' reserves until I was almost an hour outside of Memphis, when I decided I was really, really ready to be done for the night.

There was a big billboard for a Super 8 at $39.99 in Wheatley, which I opted for. I was a little leery of that price, but the motel turned out to be a more recently remodeled one, so that was good. What wasn't so good was the fact that they upped the rate for the holiday weekend. When he told me my total would be $74 for the night (what was left of it), I asked about the billboard. He gave me the song and dance about the holiday, so I asked what the best rate was that I could get, especially considering the fact it was 1:20 a.m. He gave me a $59.00 rate, which was better, except it had to be upstairs. They didn't have anything as exotic as an elevator, so at 1:30 in the morning, I'm lugging my saddlebags up the stairs. It took a little while to wind down and sort things out, and it was nearly 2:30 CST when I turned out the light. It was the end of day one, and I'd had a decent day's ride accomplished, with 640 miles under my belt, so I slept well. Very well.

The clock. It ticks.

I will shortly be heading home to start preliminary packing. The bike is about as done as it can get aside from a quick bath, but the luggage hasn't even begun to be organized. Riley's going to start moping when he realizes I'm packing. Poor pup. When I ask him if he's going to miss me, he gets this, 'wait, you're not leaving yet are you??' kind of desperate look.

Actually, it's been a little tough lately to touch my toes, not due to flexibility issues, but to my back acting out. It's recovered fairly well at this point, but I had to make two visits to Dr. Mike for adjustments to my lower back. The last time I went in, he asked about the trip and told me I was crazy (which has been confirmed numerous times), but then he went on to add that I was actually his hero in an odd sort of way :)

The quest for the perfect mesh jacket? Well, I found one that's going to be decent, but would be much more satisfactory if the sleeves were two inches longer. I'd even settle for one inch, actually. There were a sum total of four jackets within the city limits of Powdersville, Greenville and Taylors that I got to try on, and I got the best of the four for fit and quality, but the perfect jacket? It still eludes me.

IF (and that's a mega IF) the forecast for this weekend is accurate, I'm liable to be testing the whole 'you won't melt' theory that I keep hearing. Forty percent thunderstorms all the way to Birmingham, which is my 'it would be nice to get that far' stopping point on Friday night. We'll see how adrenaline and Atlanta traffic on the Friday before Memorial Day decide to treat me. I might decide to hole up around Commerce, GA.

Dude. I better make it farther than that!

Can You Touch Your Toes?

Talking about flexibility here. Like, the fact that I may be revamping the first half of the trip almost completely.

• Originally leaving on Memorial Day, now, it looks like I'll head out after work on the Friday before.
• Originally making a bid for a Saddle Sore 1000, but now saving that for another day.
• Originally (originally, originally, that is) spending one night in Pueblo, two nights in Estes Park, one night in Aspen and three nights in Durango. Now, spending one night in Pueblo, swinging through Estes for lunch and ending up in Aspen for the next three nights before going to Durango.

New shoes are scheduled to be put on the bike Friday, along with a pre-trip oil change. Still looking for that perfect mesh jacket. My window of preparation just closed down by 2.5 days, which is pretty significant, but I think it will come together. If I can just touch my toes...

And if you're reading this Mary...or any other BBOer, for that matter, keep a lid on me heading to Durango...it's a big, fat secret! :)

Prep Ride

Hoo boy. Today was this year's first ride that was a.) not commuting to work or going to church, and b.) longer than 40 miles. I took the bike out for a 40 mile spin on Thursday after work, and decided to venture a bit further today, since it's almost my last weekend to find any last bugs that need to be fixed before the trip. The forecast was for scattered showers and thunderstorms this afternoon in Greenville, but only about 40%. Up in Brevard, NC, the forecast was 60% for the same (speak of the devil, a severe thunderstorm warning just popped up on my screen), but down to the south at Lake Greenwood, it was just going to be partly cloudy.

Ever the bull headed one, I went north, figuring I'd keep a weather eye out. Left Greenville at 10 a.m., with a vague northerly route in mind. Took 288 out of Marietta, which is one of my favorite roads close to home, and connected over with 178 going up into NC, stopping in Rosman for a bathroom break and a root beer. At that point, I was in sunshine and had only been gone an hour. It's a short hop from there up to US64 which is nice and twisty, and I was behind a pickup truck that knew how to drive! It can be very frustrating to go through those countless curves behind someone who rides their brakes uphill through every section of road that isn't absolutely straight. We ended up catching up behind a tractor pulling an empty open topped trailer like you see at road construction sites, loaded with blasted rock. That boy wasn't letting the asphalt grow under his tires either. I'm glad I didn't meet him coming the other direction, because he was straightening a few curves.

Around the town of Sapphire, there is a turnoff to the right for 281 that I explored about a year and a half ago, and have been itching to revisit. Today I scratched the itch and confirmed it as another one of my favorites. Last time I rode it, there was a detour for the first few miles, as they were resurfacing the road, and it dumped me out a few miles up the way with loose press pea gravel in the road, but once you got past that section to the regular road, it was wonderful. This time, I actually rode on the section that had been redone, and it would have been much more enjoyable if there wasn't an evil little pile of gravel in just about every curve. I think the next time I do the road, I'll take that alternate route again to avoid having the bike do the Watusi while leaned over in a curve. As before, however, the road cleaned up and became a blast to ride. In the direction I was going, I had one vehicle merge on behind me and never had another vehicle in front of me, which is part of the enjoyment. I was puzzling over the seeming isolation of the road, when a biker passed me going the other direction. I felt conspiratorial, since there were now two of us who knew the great secret of 281. About three minutes later, the conspiracy increased, as I passed a group of about 12 bikes heading the other direction. I still much preferred my direction of travel and was content to be in control of my entire 26 mile stretch of the road.

The road ends in a T at highway 107, which goes south into Cashiers, which is where I headed. So far, the weather had cooperated, but the clouds were starting to loom in a little closer, and just outside of Cashiers, the rain started. Had I packed rain gear? Nah. In the middle of Cashiers, I picked up 64 again, this time heading back east. I knew east was where dry skies were, and I planned to push on until almost where I'd started my 281 loop, where I knew there was a gas station with an overhang. The only problem was just the getting there. I had two cars in front of me that I followed, not leaning too far on the wet curves, and alternately opening and closing my visor to alleviate the fogging due to the cooling temps outside. I was thankful I was wearing my textile jacket, which is supposedly waterproof (more on that in a minute), but I could still feel the needle-like points of the rain on my bare arms under the jacket. It was pretty miserable going for a while until things got ramped up a notch and a bolt of lighting streaked over to my right, immediately followed by that ominous thunder you hear in the mountains. I think my comment at that sight was, "Oh no." It's not bad enough that I'm fairly well drenched and fogged up, with soaked gloves and water running off the tank into my lap (mesh pants), now I've got random electricity going off. Along the way, I passed several bikes going the other direction, into the storm (including the group who'd been on 281), and saw some pulled off and waiting under trees. (did you see the lighting, hoss?)

When I got to the gas station I'd planned to stop at, it was easing up some, so I decided to keep going, rather than wait for the rain to catch up. Not far after that, the rain tapered off and the pavement was stinking dry! Woo hoo! Of course, the root beer I'd had 1.5 hours earlier was needing to be dealt with, so I started thinking about what the next stop would be. I'd gone about 110 miles since filling up this morning, so I didn't need fuel, but figured I'd top off somewhere before heading home, and sudden visions of coconut shrimp from Outback started dancing in my head. I've only had it twice, and the last time was probably two years ago, but it sounded like a divine rest stop and lunch break. Only problem, it was in Hendersonville, 30 miles away. I thought I could make it, so I settled in to ride, noticing that the clouds were swinging around a little. The further I rode, the more I didn't want to ride that far for a bathroom break, and I finally decided to stop for fuel just before I-26, and was much refreshed when I left.

Since the clouds had continued to encroach, I decided to pass on Outback and head for home to beat the rains that were due all the way down to Greenville. That turned out to be an excellent decision, because when I rode past the Outback, their parking lot was completely empty. Either they don't do lunch on Saturdays or they don't serve food any more at all. Dude, I would have been ticked if I'd ridden all the way in there and been denied my shrimp!!

Interstate 26 to Highway 25 down to Greenville was a straight shot, and I got home at 2:15, only 15 minutes past my desired time to be home. Not bad, considering the thunder and lightning factored in there. Total mileage for the day was 186 and I felt pretty worn out. In fact, the first thing I did after letting Riley out was to go in and lay down for an hour :) In the meantime, my socks were drying out and my feet de-pruning. My boots were upside down over the a/c registers (and they're supposed to be waterproof), and my wallet was laid out on the kitchen counter, the drenched leather trying to dry. That one puzzled me, and I wonder if I didn't have the storm flap down on the pocket it was in. My phone, in the other pocket did get wet, but it didn't look like it had been sitting in a bowl of water, as the wallet did.

The fun part is that it was a 4 hour ride and 185 miles. My first day on the trip west is aiming to be about a 19 hour day, covering 1,000 miles. I think it's a good thing I took today's trip to remind me how physical this stuff is! Of course, going on straight interstates takes nowhere near the mental or physical toll of dodging lightning bolts on off camber decreasing radius wet asphalt curves. But it ain't gonna be a cakewalk!

One More Thing? Arg!!

Last year, before the trip to Fargo, it seemed there was always one more thing to get for the trip. I'd think I was done, and one more thing would suddenly become indispensable. A similar OMT syndrome is manifesting itself this year, but it's applying to things needing to be fixed on the bike. From the new engine, to the carb kit, to the petcock valve, it seems like the bike is never gone from TJ for very long. The past week has confirmed that another trip will be necessary, because the choke is not choking. Even though the mornings have been mild, Mr. Crunchy starts like an absolute pig because I can't choke down the carbs. I'm thinking it's one of those things that was affected when the carb kit was put on, and will hopefully be an easy fix, but TJ is gone this week to Niagara Falls with his wife for their 10th anniversary, so I have to wait until next week.

So then...

Last night, riding home from my sister in law's birthday gathering, I'd flipped the lights on to the brights while going through a slightly sketchy area where folks like to stroll across the road in nonreflective attire (or apparent concern for traffic). When I flipped them back down for oncoming traffic, I noticed something wasn't quite right. There seemed to be a larger than normal quantity of darkness in front of me. The main beam on the headlight conked out completely (!), so I had to go back to the high beam to see anything. Thankfully, I was only a mile from the house, so I didn't have to blind too many oncoming vehicles. All things considered, I'd rather have my headlight go out on me a mile from the house instead of half way through Arkansas, so I was thankful for that.

But still!

28 Days And Counting

So at last check, I'd dropped the bike off with TJ to get some smells and hiccups looked at. Simple, right? When I was about to take the pipes to have them powder coated, he called me at work, which is never a good sign. This time was no different, and he told me I might want to hold off on doing the pipes, since he was 95% sure I had a burnt valve in the engine. No compression in one cylinder (which explains the rpm problems and white smoke in the exhaust) and not exactly a cheap fix.

I asked him how uncheap the fix would be, and the word 'hundreds' kept being applied to different parts of the repair (tear down, parts/fixing, reassemble). I told him I'd get back to him, and went a-searching on ebay. I ended up finding an engine off a bike that's the same everything as mine, but with probably only 1500 miles on it. The bike that the engine came from still had the OEM tires on it (and the bike is stinking 8 years old!), which means it had hardly been ridden in those eight years. By the end of the day, I'd bought the new engine and it was shipped the following day. Arrived in town by Friday and I picked it up a week after I'd bought it. Another week and a half went by before it was all assembled, but TJ couldn't get any oil pressure. A couple more days, more tinkering, and the oil pressure was back. Once the oil pressure was back, then the carb kit could be installed and adjusted, and the bike was finally ready to be picked up after six and a half weeks.

I rode it to work for a week, listening to it, feeling how it rode, and trying to notice any oddities. One hundred and thirty miles later, I took it back to TJ for him to look at the carbs, because there was a pretty strong smell of gasoline when idling. Quick fix, right? Umm. He called again. He'd found where one of the carbs was spitting a little gas out the back of it, and the fuel line from the tank to one of the carbs wasn't keeping a vacuum and needed the petcock valve rebuilt. Sigh.

Yet another week to wait, but that too was done, and the bike dropped back off at the house a week and a half ago. I'm happy to report that Mr. C smells MUCH better at idle now, and seems to roll on the throttle more smoothly than before. I ended up riding a couple of days last week before some of this crazy rain set in. Tomorrow's forecast is looking nice, although we've gotten a small deluge today. I've lots to do at work in the next four weeks, so I'm sure time will fly until I leave. I'll still need some tires, and I might splurge on a white mesh jacket for the ride through Texas.

Yee haw.