All's Well that Ends Well

...even if it didn't begin that well. It's not everyone who can start their day out by knocking over not one, not two, but three motorcycles that belong to three different people. Before 10 a.m.

I have mad skillz.

With this cliffhanger, I'll leave you for now, until I have sufficient brain cells to finish out the blog entry. I'm safely home, so that part's good. More to follow later.

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Brain cells are back. Now for the rest of the story.
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Friday night, Mike and I were up talking in the living room until about 11:15, but I still managed to get up, showered and mostly packed by 7:30. Went downstairs and hung out with Gigi for a while, figuring Mike would leave shortly. Neither of us realized he took the rest of the weekend off, and not just Friday afternoon, so when she went to take him his coffee, she woke him up :)

This morning we had omelettes and kept a keen eye on the radar, since it was raining pretty good, and there had even been a boom of thunder around 7. In a word, my trip home was going to be wet.

I'd thought to leave at 9, but it was closer to 10 when I went down to open the garage. At this point, I made a rather fatal error (and in retrospect, I just shake my head.). I wanted to put the bike up on its centerstand when loading it with luggage to make sure it would be balanced and secure. I've gotten it on the centerstand many times before, but not without a struggle. Where it was located in the garage, there was a stackable set of plastic shelves next to it, without much wiggle room, and apparently, I needed more wiggle. I almost got it up, but then somehow got off balance, and tipped the bike away from me. With a mild sense of horror, I watched my bike fall into the DRZ beside it, which in turn dominoed on top of Gigi's GZ250.

I must admit, the photo hound in me was sorely tempted to run inside and get my camera to document all of the narcoleptic bikes, but I decided the more honorable thing to do would be to right the bikes as quickly as possible. When I was getting mine up, it was a little tricky, because *someone* (we won't mention any names, Mike) had parked it in neutral, so as I was trying to leverage it up, it was trying to roll forward into more bikes. I was able to reach over and put it in gear, though, and get it up and on its side stand.

After that, the DRZ was a feather to get up, and the GZ was leaning against some boogie boards, so it barely needed to be righted. The GZ had luggage and a big squooshy seat, so between that, and landing on the boogie boards, I didn't see any scratches. On the DRZ, I noticed some smudges on the fairing by the seat, most of which I was able to rub off. To be honest, the other side's fairing looked just about as rough, and I hadn't done anything to that side. It's a lightweight bike, fun to throw around, and my tipover didn't do much more than give it a slight bruise.

Timidly, I looked at my bike to see what damage I might have done. When it fell, the right handle and brake had landed with the left front fork of the DRZ right between them, but nothing ended up broken or bent. Even with all the plastic on the VFR, I didn't see a mark, which still astounds me. Of course, I haven't gone over it in the daylight since then (probably scared of what I'll find), but honestly, it didn't look any worse for the wear.

Once everything was back on side stands, I then gingerly rolled the VFR back out into the driveway where a misting rain was still coming down. Rolled it around to be facing out, and this time with ample wiggle room, got it on the center stand after the second or third try. My luggage arrangement this time went much better than the trip out, since I actually put the covers on the way they were designed (and not how the label indicates), and I had my tail bag facing correctly. When I was getting ready to head, Mike had already gone to see someone, so we'd said our good-byes, and Gigi was also heading out, so I let her know about the bikes, and showed her the mark on the DRZ, but she assured me her boys had done much worse.

I have to admit, putting on rain gear before even starting a ride is a drag. However, once you're actually rolling, and then the rain starts in earnest, you're glad you put it all on. It was barely spitting in their driveway, but before I took the Mann's Harbor Bridge, it was coming down pretty good. I had closed the vents on top of my helmet on the previous Saturday when it was 57 degrees, and this day I was happy to be able to open them back up and get some ventilation on my head.

The next 30 or so miles were through wilderness refuge, with canals running by the road that looked perilously full. Road signs advised you to watch for black bears along the highway, and red wolves to be crossing the highway. I kept watching, but never saw.

Part of the route I was taking went through Columbia, which had seen some tornadoes spawned by Hurricane Irene, and it was so odd to see one house reduced to rubble, while the one next to it didn't appear to be touched. Closer over to Creswell, I saw some grain silo looking things that had their roofs crinkled back like a sardine can right beside another silo that was perfect.

I made it 199.7 miles on my odometer (which included the running around on Friday) before stopping to fuel in Rocky Mount, and grab a BLT at the Cracker Barrel. The rain had let up only a few miles before that, and I knew I'd be riding out under clear skies eventually, but it just wasn't yet. Lunch was decent, and I was back on my way, suited up once again for the rain by 1:15.

As the miles rolled past, I started doing mental calculations of where my next gas stop would be. Salisbury would be way too soon. Kannapolis was possible, but I didn't like any exits there. The last bar of my fuel indicator started blinking (hateful thing) at 195 miles on the trip meter, but I pushed on to mile 208, getting off at the Concord exit. I'd intended for this to be my only other stop for the trip home, but I also thought I'd be out of the rain enough to be able to pack up my rain gear.

There was this really weird cloud front over Charlotte right then, so I couldn't take off the rain gear just yet, so after I fueled, I just rolled on, not even getting off the bike. Finally, twenty more miles down the road, around Gastonia, I saw real, bright sunshine for the first time that day, and the dark clouds were behind me. In my rain gear, I promptly began to start heating up, so I got off a couple exits down the interstate to stop in at a McDonald's for a salad and a smoothie.

It felt soo good to peel off those rain layers: boot covers, pants, jacket. Finally, I felt ventilation through my mesh gear while standing in the parking lot and it was wonderful. I stowed all of my rain gear, left my gloves and helmet on the bike, and headed in to Mickey D's. About 15 minutes later, as I was sitting there, eating my salad, stretching my legs straight, I heard this white noise. Like rushing water. Or a waterfall. Or an absolute cloudburst pouring straight down right outside the windows of the restaurant. Big windows, so I got a good view of what was drenching my gloves and moistening my helmet.

It was one of those, "Really?!" moments, but I wasn't too put out, since I was only 85 miles from home, and I knew it was clear just down the road. I finished my food and strolled back out to the bike that had a river of parking lot drainage flowing past it. The rain had lightened, to a degree, and I didn't bother putting any rain gear back on. I did at least wring out my gloves before putting them back on. Once back on the interstate, within five miles the asphalt looked completely dry. I wasn't, but at least I was getting drier, the more I rode.

Those last few miles went by quickly, and the sun was getting lower as I was heading into Greenville. I rolled into my driveway just at 7 p.m., having put 1,135 miles on my odometer for the whole trip (what a slacker!) I sent Gigi and Mike a picture with a text that I was home, unloaded the bike and hopped in my truck to go get my Riley dog. I visited with my mom some, who thought I had a fabulous sounding vacation, but headed out around 8:30 to come back home and decompress a bit. Lights were out by 10:30, and by then I was about delirious, which is never a good time to finish a blog.

And that's all I've got.