So, Friday morning, I got up with about 6 hours of sleep behind me (my body prefers 8), loaded up the bike and met my mom for breakfast across town. This time, instead of heading to work from Mimi's, I went to the gas station for a clean starting tank, and hopped on the interstate. It was 32 degrees when I got up that morning, and the first few miles were pretty chilly.
A hundred miles into the trip, it had warmed up to 45, and I had my first (and only, really) stupid driver interaction, while going through Columbia. A college student (it appeared) was merging onto the interstate and wanted to immediately move left through two lanes, and the fact that I was in her line of travel didn't bother her too bad. Even when I laid on the horn, her response was a bit of a shrug and glance in her rear view mirror, as if to say, "What else was I supposed to do?" If she'd had a pen and paper, I could have given her a list.
Once I got off I-26 and onto I-95, I stopped for fuel and a bathroom break in St. George. No dragons in sight. I was about 160 miles into it, but was feeling pretty good. Kept the heated gear going (have I ever mentioned that I love my heated vest?) and layers on. Past the Georgia line, Savannah wasn't that much farther, with the next big town being Jacksonville, about 120 miles
further. By Savannah, it was noonish, and had warmed up to 55 degrees. During this stretch, there was a pretty good crosswind to deal with, which was very noticeable on this bike, as compared with the nearly naked Ninja.
I got to about 174 miles on the tank before I was down to the dreaded 'flashing bar of doom' on my fuel gauge. I made it to the Kingsland, GA exit, had a bathroom break, and grabbed a Skor bar and citrus Sobe drink. The bike was thirsty, taking 4.969 gallons (it hold 5.5 gallons), and I was starting to need something more than breakfast.
I kept doing mental calculations to try to figure out when I needed to be heading down to Daytona from St. Augustine, if I was going to check into my room there first. I knew I was making good time, and was keeping a pretty, um,
peppy pace. Definitely not the fastest one on the road, but by no means the slowest.
After Kingsland, the Florida line was only a few miles down the road, and I was able to get a little more concrete in my time estimates. When I realized I was only 70 miles from St. Augustine, and it was only a little after 1 p.m., I was pretty stoked. There was one slow down in Jacksonville (now we're up to 65 degrees), but it was fairly short-lived. I rolled off the exit at St. Augustine around 2:15, topped off my tank and went in search of the Holiday Inn Express.
As part of my check-in, they had some Pepperidge Farms Milano cookies for me,
which I devoured. I had plenty of time to unload the bike, change clothes, sit down a few minutes and get back on the road by 3. In the meantime, I shot a quick message to one of the guys off the BBO website who was at the show, and who I was planning to meet.
Once I left St. Augustine, I had two routes I could take. One was a straight shot all the way down I-95, and then into town, and the other cut across country and rode the last 18 miles on a state highway along the ocean. The interstate in Florida is hairy, no matter how you slice it, and it was definitely getting more congested, so, even though it was likely to take a little bit longer, I went FL100 to A1A to get to Daytona.
Boys howdy, did I make the right choice! I didn't realize quite how close the road was to the ocean, but it was right.
there. There was a lot of bike traffic on A1A, but it was primarily going north, and I never had to go below the speed limit on the whole stretch of road. I did have to stop for some glamour shots with the bike and ocean, but didn't linger too long. By 4:15, I was parking the bike in front of the convention center that was housing the IMS where CaptCrash had his booth and his books set up.
By way of introduction, there are a few stalwarts on
www.beginnerbikers.org, and CaptCrash (aka Brent) is one of them. He's the type of member who gives sound advice, who enjoys riding and want others to do the same. He's a rider coach in Idaho, and had a background in news broadcasting, teaching broadcasting to high school students. He's got his own series of training videos, and a
channel on YouTube.
On occasion, he'll post some thoughts about different aspects of life and how it applies to riding. He ended up getting a deal worked to publish his collection of contemplations (along with a few new ones), and had a booth at the International Motorcycle Show in Daytona where he was there to meet, greet, schmooze and sign (books). I'd not had it too much on my radar until there's been a reminder about it a week before the show. I got to thinking about it (always the first step), looking into it, and the rest, as they say, is history.
At any rate, there I was, parking the bike in a sea of bikes, and heading in to the convention center. On a whim Thursday, I'd sent him a PM, asking if he'd
be able to get some posters signed for my nephew from the stunt riders, because we'd missed the signing opportunity when they were in Greenville. He'd let me know the posters were waiting for me when I checked in with him from the hotel in St. Augustine, so when I walked up to his booth, the first thing I asked was, "Hey, do you have any posters here?" At first he politely said no, and directed me back toward the entrance where I could get some, and then I clarified, "No...you
do have some posters here for me!" Without skipping a beat, he agreed and grabbed them for me, and it was "Hey, Krystn!" and "Hey Crash!" or something like that. His wife Julie was in the booth as well, and they invited me in to sit for a spell and take a load off.
Even though it was a first meeting, we all had people and events we knew in common from the BBO forum, which was kind of cool. I was there almost an hour before the show closed, during which time I got my book signed, as well as one of the training DVD's he's done. (If you'd like, you can buy the paperback
here, release date 3/17/11, or the Kindle edition
here.) Near the end, his publisher and publisher's wife walked up, with more hello's and how are you's going on. Crash mentioned his publisher's always looking for new riding material...who knows, maybe some of this will get bookified one of these days. Maybe not.
Once everything was shutting down, I started heading back out to the bike, while the other four were heading out the back door, when Crash hollered after me, and asked if I'd like to have supper with them
. I'd been hoping something like that might happen, but hadn't wanted to invite myself, so I was more than happy to accept :) I went up front to get my bike and rode around back to ride sandwiched between Brent and Julie in the car ahead and Michael and Andrea on his '68 Honda CB350 (a much older cousin to my VFR) behind. We went through hordes of traffic on our way to a home in Ormond Beach, where Rod and Linda welcomed me every bit as much as if they'd sent me an engraved invitation.
Supper was grilled burgers with all the fixin's and potato salad (with radishes!), followed up with homemade apple pie and cookies. Just wow. It was very nice to be relaxing around the table, hearing some interesting Idahoan tales, and after coffee and dessert, we went into the living room to further unwind. By the time it was about 8:30, I knew I needed to start making my exit, and Brent and Julie did the same. I still had about 40 miles to ride to get back to my hotel room, and I wasn't getting any more awake the longer I sat there. The short sleep, long ride, good food and comfy seat were getting to me. (I'd also given blood the day before, so I was already a pint short of a full load...)
Rod gave me great directions back to the interstate, and I was back in my room by 9:15. I still managed to stay up until around 11, but once the light was out, I wasn't far behind.
