Bonneville America Forums Forums General Motorcycle Forums Rides, Rallies, & Events Tales From the Road

The owner fired up the Ariel at the end the bike show. First time I've heard one of these and they do sound different.

Have enjoyed reading about your tour of Europe Thannassis. Wish we could get more people to post about rides like ours with some pics and comments.

The message light was flashing on our answering machine when I got back home after taking my wife out to dinner to celebrate our 33rd anniversary. I had fretted over the likelihood missing Moe's call when he came through on his "Texas Fly 'n Ride" adventure and it had actually happened, I'd missed the call. A frantic post on the forums and a PM later and I had his cell number but, alas, no answer.

Assuming he was still inbound I left a message and waited for a callback. Around 10:00pm or so, sure enough, there's Moe on the phone calling from west Brimingham and slightly off the beaten track. After consulting Google maps and using the hybrid feature to determining which side of the street he was on I attempt to describe an easy path to I-59 and he's off to find a motel; we have a date for the next morning.

I have to admit after 30 years in show business I'm pretty jaded but the prospect of actually meeting my very first "Triumph guy" had me very excited. And slightly nervous, what if I didn't meet his "British biker" standards? After all, my first encounter is going to be with a famed (notorious?) board moderator, don't want to come across as some kind of "poser" to one of the real cats.

I woke early to an overcast morning, got up and prepared a quick breakfast complete with a large quantity of coffee and googled for directions to the Barber Museum, memorized the route and waited for the phone to ring. And ring it does, Moe found a not-so-new Days Inn and is somewhat rested and ready; I tell him he's about 90 minutes or so away and then in a furry of activity I gather my camera, rain jacket and dash to the shop where a Green '04 TBA awaits a preflight check. Check the tires, visually scan looks good, tug the handlebars, bounce the forks, everything looks and feels correct. Dang, 59 miles on the odometer tells me I need to top off; thankfully the nearest fuel is on the way right at the entrance to I-59. Alright then, we're off.

As I clear the entrance to our farm I look down the road and through the gap you see the mist rising from Lookout Mountain as if it were on fire. The overcast morning is a blessing as the air is cool and just a little damp making the 2 mile run to the gas station surprisingly brisk. A quick top off and I realize the odometer is at 7000.1 miles; that means I've put on an average of 800 miles a month since I put the tags on her, not much by some standards but to me it's a lot considering a 5 day a week job and couple of periods of Seattle-esqe rainy spells. And I'm off in pursuit of my very first face-to-face meeting with another Triumph rider.

The first leg is south down I-59 and it is a very unforgiving stretch. At one point between home and Gadsden I begin to believe I've either blown a front tire or my front fork spring install has gone very wrong as the bike is hopping violently and, oh, do I miss my 412 rear shocks! Then, the pavement changes color and we're stabilized again and it's smooth sailing; the interstate wasn't my first choice but time constraints dictate going as far as possible as fast as possible and this is the weekend of the "World's Longest Yard Sale" clogging my favorite mountain paths with heedless pedestrians and very sloppy cagers. After all, Moe has quite a distance yet to cover and I don't want to hold him up.

The second leg takes me off the interstate and onto US Hwy 231, smooth sailing and a rapid approach to Leeds where Moe awaits at the Days Inn. The day is beginning to do that "dog days of August" slow roast that Alabama is noted for and I want to capture Moe before its unbearable. After a quick jaunt on I-20 west I arrive at the motel which apparently is under renovation and looks well used (okay, maybe a little dumpy); he's already out of the room in the parking lot looking over his newest acquisition, a lovely Cardinal Red TBA. I meet my very first Triumph and owner and it's good. After a nice chat, his gear is on, he checks out and we're off to the Barber Museum. Another first for me, this is great!

After a quick fill up and some dead reckoning navigation by Moe we're cruising up the grand entrance to the Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum. It's beyond my expectations, every make model and type of motorized cycle you can imagine and 5 floors of displays...the guard tells us it's best to go up the elevator and work our way down, so we do.

Almost 4 hours later we've seen Excelsiors, Ariels, Matchless, BSA, AJ, Vincents and HRDs, BMWs, Hendersons, Whizzers, and countless others including a Reading-Standard that I've only ever read about but never seen in modern photographs. Add in the obligatory (and magnificent) American and Japanese standards and it's just overwhelming.

But, it's the Triumphs, the Nortons and a Norvin and a Triton that hold me enthralled. The "Holy Grail" 1938 Speed Twin from which our modern Hinckley cycles so richly draw their tradition, my personal (but never attainable) favorite Vincent Black Shadow, the Norvin..trhat combination of the Norton featherbed frame and Vincent Black Shadow power and likewise the Triton, same frame with Triumph power and transmission, all combine to lift me to a level of Nirvana that I rarely attain these days. Man, have I got the fever now to build a retro Thruxton Cafe Race on a modern chassis. Wonder if hardwood floors and a new kitchen will aid the quest? Ah, but I digress...

It's mid afternoon and the heat index whacks us with a body slam when we exit the museum. It's right back in to the AC with Moe's maps to set his route to Chy's; my plan is to lead him to the AL/GA border and send him on a nice two lane run to Dahalonega. I really enjoy the fact he puts his route notes on a business card like I do for easy access at traffic stops, maybe I'm not such a poser after all. There's a convenient Chevron at the museum exit where I top off and we set sail toward the eastern border of Alabama, trying all the while to run two/four land non-interstate roads.

The heat rises from the road like a paint stripping gun, coming and going in blast furnace strength waves. At one point on the other side of Oxford we climb a small hill where the steam is rising from a recent thunder shower, the air is cool and the mist feels great on my cheeks below my goggles. It doesn't last, but the sky is overcast now and the heat is just blasting from the roadbed and not from Ol' Sol above as well. Poor Moe, I can see him in the rearview, stretching and twisting each limb trying to stay loose and the rough sections of Hwy 78 are really abusing him; meanwhile, my butt is reviewing the stock vs 412 shock swap and I'm really getting beat from having sent my too-short 4254s off before getting the new proper 4253s. At least the front springs are doing their job very well.

Then, all-too-soon we're at the fuel stop in Gaylesville, AL (pop. 14) and it's time to propel Moe on his way down Hwy 68 toward Summerville, then on to Dahlonega and Chy's extra room. as I ride north-west over Lookout Mountain even the light sprinkling of rain doesn't dampen my spirits; I got to ride my first 120 miles ever with another Triumph after spending most of the day with a great guy in motorcycle Nirvana. Just doesn't get much better than that. Ride safe Moe, and, thanks!

Great ride report....

Went on a nice little ride this past week that I would love to tell everyone about. Still mad that I couldn't get off work in time to go to the New Hampshire Rally. My vacation didn't officially start till 1500 sunday the 5th and didn't find out that I couldn't get the two extra shifts off until 24 hours before i was going to hit the road. All my bags packed and the bike ready for the road so plans changed and a new course was plotted.

One of my best friends bought the first H-D Nightster to hit our area and was on edge to go on a big road trip. So far the furthest he has ventured from home was to a rally with me 350 miles away in Austin Tx. Time to show him what the open road is all about. We work at the Fire Department on the same shift so he got the same vacation as me and was all set to ride. Only a destination was set to make it to Sturgis and be home inside of 9 days.

After 2 nights of pitiful sleep from being so anxious to hit the road, we are locked and cocked ready to rock. Pull out of our driveway (he happens to live 100 yards from me on the same 40 acres) and let them bikes get a taste of the asphalt. I hope they are really hungry cause this is going to be an all-u-can eat buffet. That little 3.3 gallon tank on the sportster made the fuel stops a bit close together for my taste but it will eventually feel good and help keep the fatigue down.

Riding across north texas into the sunset was a perfect start. Since we had both worked the night before at the fire station, we only did around 450 miles. Found a nice roadside park next to a nice little river in the Panhandle area of northwest texas. Rolled out the sleeping bags on some picnic tables and was out in 30 seconds.

Day 2: Up with the sun and out of there before the park host could hit us up for the fees to stay there and pointed north. We stop for gas, water, quick food, and pics at each state line only. Oklahoma was a blur without so much as even having to come to a complete stop but once to take a pic of the welcome to Kansas sign. Just so yall know we are heading up US 83. Couple fuel stops in Kansas and hello Nebraska. The scenery doesn't get worth taking any pics other than of the welcome signs till we get north of I-80. We make Valentine Nebraska close to sunset. There is a great family run campground called Riverside. Having been here before, I had to make this a stop on our route. Stopped in town first to buy some much needed cold beer before checking in. $7.50 for a sweet spot under the stars and a bath house. Sat around for several hours drinking beer with the owner. Swapped fire department T-shirts and even drank some of his beer when mine ran out. Another great day of riding behind us.

Day 3: Wake up at the break of day and hit the showers. Spend a good bit of time in there cause who knows when I may see another one. Head to the Badlands to the east of the Sturgis area to see some sites on our way in. Time for mishap #1. While pulling up to the welcome sign at S.D. I drop off the shoulder and hit some sand that makes the wheel slide left and the top go toward the pavement. My bike is so low that the right side pipe hit the road first and it stopped there. Was good for a laugh or two then moving again. With no plans for where we will camp, we head to the Crazy Horse Mountain monument. Next up to Hill City for a mid-afternoon meal. Here comes the first rain of the trip minutes after we hit town. Parked close together, draped one of the 10 x 12 tarps over both bikes and ate the worst mexican food i have ever had. I am talking so bad that an Ethiopian wouldn't want seconds. Rain stops and we head to Custer State Park and the needles highway. Beautiful ride but sucks cause roads still wet and keeps the speed down. Came out of the hills and found a cool little campground in the base of the valley. Cut a deal on sleeping in a teepee they had set up in the field for $10 each including a nice shower. Tossed the tarp on the ground inside and had a great night sleep.

Day 4: Onward to Sturgis. Stopped at the first T-shirt vender and spent my $100 for friends and family at home. Headed to One Eyed Jacks for some liquid refreshment and some site-seeing (they have the most scantily clad waitress in the town). If you have ever been there you know what I mean. Bought a cold one from their outdoor section and headed into the bar to look around. Well that lasted about 20 seconds before 2 bouncers decided that they would rather we left their establishment. Just enacted a policy this year on the wearing of colors, more than likely over the big shootout in custer state park last year. Head back to the outside area near the door and get greeted by another bouncer. He procedes to talk about how the owner wants it to be more family orriented and I said turn around and look at those bartenders. We all just laughed. Finished my beer (wasn't going on my own till i did that) and walked around town to laugh at all the trailer queens. About 4 hours later we split town and head to Wyoming. By this time we have decided to sleep in a different state every night. Found a little back road campground in the Black Hills national forest for $3 each. Another beautiful night under the stars.

Day 5: It is not my nature to be really noisy in the mornings when I leave a campground but there were a bunch of noisy yutes goofing off till very late the night before so I was sure to let the bike completely warm up on high idle before we pulled out with the rising sun. Headed to Devil's Tower. Time for mishap #2. Just past Aladin, Wy there was a small group of horses on a hill overlooking the roadway. I give them the wave (yall knew it would be in this story somewhere) and hit the biggest bump, hole, dead body, who knows in the road. No problem for me but Paul was 25 yards behind me also waving and didn't see me hit whatever it was causing the hazard. Half his gear came loose (still a rookie at packing for the road) and he pulled over to adjust. I swear those horses were laughing and I think I saw one of them make a couple marks on the fence rail. While watching Paul fix his stuff on the shoulder, I see his bike start to tip toward him on the ditch side of the road, goes down to his highway peg and he is having a time getting it back up due to being down hill from it. Now the horses are really laughing. Continue on to devil's tower then head south toward colorado. Lots of trailer queens slowing progress so we just enjoy the ride and blast them when we can.

Almost to the colorado state line so I will post this before I loose it and pick back up later if I don't get told to stop.

Charlie, in my mind's eye, I can see all of us sitting around a fire sipping a cold one while you tell this story and everyone laughing their butts off at the 'good' points.

Please don't stop now.

LAKE SUPERIOR CIRCLE TOUR: Part 11

i left Flint, Michigan, on Saturday morning, with every intention of going to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. Unfortunately, my ride down from Moran, MI; where i the boys and i split up on Friday was pretty grueling by nightfall.

it was an awesome ride back over the Mackinac Bridge. As opposed to our initial northbound crossing; there was no traffic to speak of and i could take in the view on my southward cross. it was gorgeous.

i opted to stay on I-75 rather than make my way around “the thumb” on 23. Plus, I wasn’t certain I was up for another Twilight Zone trip through Kentucky, MI aka Bay City. It was tough splitting away from Keith and John and at that point I just wanted to ride to the next point of rest. Initially, i thought I could make it to Toledo. Bit by bit I brought my destination point closer. Ann Arbor would be fine too, i thought.

There was a magnificent sunset off to the west and it was all I could do to keep my eyes on the road rather than be hypnotized by the colorful animated horizon. We saw wonderful scenery and landscapes; but didn’t get a good sunrise or sunset show the entire time we were on the road. I was glad to experience the sunset. It was a quieting way to say goodbye to the lake portion of the trip and think about all the laughs we had.

Once darkness came, so did the traffic and construction. It was a push for me to even go as far as Flint. Considering we had left Marquette Friday morning, I was at 463 miles for the day by the time I found a place to get off the highway and a place to stay.

I slept later than I had anticipated on Saturday morning and once I got on the road I started to rethink my whole rock and roll portion of the trip. Rolling across the Ohio border I decided to ride as far as I could for the day and I would make my way back to Cleveland for the R&RHOF another time. I needed to get my bearings and a map of the state, so I pulled off the road in Toledo.

In eleven days on the road i/we hadn’t been cut off once. Things changed in Ohio. A guy on a HOG (was he in hog country, i wonder) with the license plate JABBA cut me off.
Jabba The Hutt has visited my dreams, recently, and i am not particularly fond of him.
Maybe, that will put the whole Jabba dream to rest. Ohio, be gone. I wanted out. So I drove across to Pennsylvania.

The PA turnpike is beautiful …scenery wise… that is. In part is referred to as the “tunnel highway” riding the bike through The Allegheny, Tuscarora, Kittattiny, and Blue Mountain Tunnels is a great way to hear our bikes roar. Additionally the change in light is akin walking into and out of a darkened movie theater. Even in full daylight the effect of light change is noticeable. The rolling hills and mountains of Pennsylvania were in great contrast to the Lake region I had just come through; but it holds its own beauty and intrigue…not to mention farm and road smells.

At about 450 miles I was starting to feel the need for food and rest. Sensory overload was starting to get the better of me and there was more darn construction to contend with. ENOUGH! I passed through Breezewood, Pa. where there were hotels and chain restaurants a plenty. Well, I was kind of hoping for another mom and pop place to stay like we stayed at in Marquette, MI or Schrieber, Ont. Plus, I wasn’t up for eating at a Hardee’s or Cracker Barrel.

I let the multi hotel and eatery exit seep into the mile behind me and figured another opportunity would present itself within a couple of miles. No such luck. At the next service area, 12 miles down the road, I find out stopping in Breezewood would have been the thing to do. The next area with accommodation is in Carlisle; another 53 miles away.
I am in no mood to back track. Nor do I want to ride another 53 miles. I figure there has to be something between my, “you are here” spot on the road, and Carlisle.

I smoosh my head back into my helmet; which is starting to feel like a bowling ball perched on my neck, which is starting to feel like a toothpick under said bowling ball.
After a handful or two of miles go by a see a sign for the Willow Hill Motel. Hmmmm, I think this place is worth checking out. Hmmmm, maybe i should rethink my thinking.

I pull into the exit lane and head for the toll lane. My EZpass transponder doesn’t give me a green light. A toll booth attendant offers to try to scan the transponder by hand. No luck with that either. I will probably get a violation notice from EZpass; but not to worry. That’s what the toll attendant said, anyway.

I asked her about the motel down the road. She knows nothing about it. I ask if there is anyplace to eat. She says there is a pizza place right at the end of the exit ramp and another one about 4 miles down the road. Pizza is not exactly what I am looking for either. I really want a salad with well done grilled chicken and dressing on the… anyway, I get toward the end of the road. There is a little brick building looks kind of abandoned from where I am. This is truly a, blink and you’ll miss it, kind of town.

I mutter about passing the Breezewood exit and arguing with myself about making funky road decisions. I decide to turn around, but in that same moment I look up. In the parking lot of the pizza restaurant is a Blue Triumph Bonneville.
That is when my plans change. If nothing else, I at least have to look at this bike up close. It is the first Triumph, other than KeithJohnJeffEddyWillandStewart’s that I have seen since leaving home. No wait, we saw one in Windsor. We were in “HOG Country” afterall and for the last week the BA crew was odd riders out.

It had been more than one day since I had gotten to wave to anyone or make any friends. Was all the waving and friend making a dream? I line my bike up behind the Bonneville and take off the bowling ball. Giggling and happy to see another Trump I see that it is an 04. As I am taking my sweet glances at this bike a tall guy with a handlebar moustache comes out of the restaurant and says, “hey, someone else with good taste!”Someone inside had told him there was “some girl biker out there checking out your bike.” That is why he came outside. He tells me the bike is his as is the restaurant and asks if I will be eating there. Well, I am now, particularly if he can make me the salad of my dreams.

We talk for a couple more minutes, then he notices the BA.com patch on my jacket. “Holy ----!” I have that patch. Yeah, right I think. But sure enough, he goes back inside to get his vest. Sure enough there is a BA.com patch on his vest. We babble on for several minutes before we even introduce ourselves.

Jeff(coldbiker2003), is basically a lurker. He whined that he waited so long for his patch, but was so happy when it finally arrived. He told me he has had a lot of trouble posting pics, I told him I’d help him get past that snafu. I told him about the trip around the lake. This was before I even got inside.

I ordered my salad, water with no ice and a darn Diet Pepsi. Dang it. Not only had I been traveling in HOG Country; it seems I was in Pepsi product land as well. After placing my order we head out to take photos. Jeff wants to make sure I will post them on the site. I assured him it would happen.
from the front

from the back

grand opening of Pizza Star III


The salad was THE salad of the trip. It had lots of veggies and well done chix, some cheese, and even French Fries mixed in. It was huge and wonderful. I guess it was the salad version of those humongous plates of food the NorEast rally guys ate for breakfast a few years ago. Had my stomach been as big as my eyes that whole plate of food would have been gone gone gone. Jeff offered to put the leftovers in a bike baggie for me…

When he asked of my plans for a place to stay, I told him I would probably just go up the road to that little motel. He told me in no uncertain terms it was not a good idea. Visions of Norman Bates ran through my head.

He offered up a spot at his place; certain his wife…who also rides…wouldn’t mind at all. We could ride for a bit then I would only be about 20 minutes from the highway in the morning. Jeff wanted to show me East Broad Top Railroad in Orbisonia, PA. It is the longest surviving narrow gauge railroad east of the Rockies. He sounds like a little kid when he tells me about it and gets a little spark in his eye when I tell him I earn my living as a railroad conductor.

So I could ride around the hillside with him or as he also suggested, I could head toward Carlisle and be that much further along in the morning. I appreciated his offer for the tour and a place to stay; but my gut told me to get on the road; but this is definitely someone to stay in touch with. Plus, it would be a beautiful place to come back to visit.

We exchanged email addresses, BA.com screen names and phone numbers. I asked for my supper bill…there was none. I argued, feebly, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Jeff walked me back out to the bike, we said our goodbyes and he got to hear Blue and her throaty little self take to the road.

Thirty eight miles later, I downshift into Carlisle. Cheap accommodations and a parking space right outside the door at a Motel 6. I was totally tired had ridden 523 miles since I left Flint, MI in the morning. All I wanted was a shower and sleep.

Well I got the shower and some sleep; but I also had a freaky-scary dream that someone broke into the room while I was taking a bath and tried to drown me. I woke up gasping for air covered in a pool of sweat. So instead of Colonel Mustard in the parlor with the candle stick, or Norman Bates in the shower with a kitchen knife, I got the stranger in the bathtub.

I got up to make certain the deadbolt and hasp latch were both engaged and tried to get back to sleep. I had one more day of riding to go.



Moe's note: This was edited only to correct ascii translation errors ( for example ’ = ') that occurred when servers were changed.

the rest of the story will have to wait cause i just spent at least an hour typing only to be given the message that the form i was filling out had expired when i hit submit and my story was gone. WTF!! I really can't do it again right now.

Is "Union Jack" an actual motorcycle club?

Good report Mert! You cats really log the miles, don'tcha?

Shari, you are ****** amazing!

Hey Charlie, I know I am a day late and a dollar short but I just created a post in the Lounge concerning this problem. Hope it helps for the future.....

http://www.bonnevilleamerica.com/forums/...ge=0#Post244522

This tale had its origins in a classified add posted by member taminator. She was selling her 2002 red Colonial Cruiser, I was looking for a second sickle and the price was right. I called around, went on line and generally got things figured on how to affect inspection and take possession. I would fly out to Texas A&M look over the sickle pay for it and ride North to Oklahoma City. From there the plans were open ended and I posted a thread titled “Texas Fly & Ride” in the Rides, Rallies, & Events section. A week was the time budget, and mountains or really big hills would be my way of aiming my motorsickle homeward.

July 23 was that fateful day when Tam posted her for sale advertisement. 15 minutes after reading her post, I had been acknowledged as a holder of first dibs. Lynn needed to be brought up to speed and it was with her blessing that I called Tam and Kenny to let them know that good news. July 24 I made my reservations with Continental. On the 25th of July I sent my tools and clothing ahead of me. It was beginning to look a lot like Christmas. Visions of untraveled lands danced in my head and the freedom of choice was beckoning me to roll north from Bryan, TX.

Tuesday July 31, 2007
dawned muggy and electric. My brother arrived at my house at 4am to take me to Orlando’s airport. I carried on the items not trusted to airport handlers: Spare parts, helmet, jacket and a new 7.1 meg Nikon Coolpix. A one way ticket, no checked baggage, and way too much cash got me to thinking about why profiling should be a good thing. Or not.
Being early I managed to sail through security only suffering a minor inspection of my Triumph back pack (the backpack I was given in Evansville, Indiana for demoing a Bonneville at Big4Cycles! ) The TSA was concerned about the stock air filter and some EBC pads. No worries as they said have a nice flight and I boarded the tram and rode out to the slumbering terminal at Gate A. I purchased a copy of the Cycle World rag and read newt's comments about the baddest muscle bike. The call to board and I was in line. No delays no issues.

Flight CO1087 arrived on time in Houston. Having a two hour and twenty minute layover I should have stayed in Houston’s main terminal and looked around, but instead I boarded the bus to my crop duster terminal. There I bought a double espresso read about the Victory Vision ogled a bit at some fellow travelers and killed time. I called Ron (satxron) to say I was in Houston waiting for my flight to Easterwood and to ask where he was going to meet Tam, Kenny and I. I rang the Meadors to confirm my arrival in Houston. About this time the plan was in full swing. I checked the time and was horrified to see that the time for first boarding had already passed. Was I at the right place? I was and they were late with the boarding call. When the call was made, we walked out to a bus and went to the prop aircraft parked on the tarmac. This is it. Last flight. The plane takes off, one of the starboard Rolls Royce engine shroud latches works loose and we are ascending. Not one who likes carnival rides anymore this crop duster was quite the substitute. Yes, I felt a bit disorientated as I disembarked from the duster and walked out of the secured area of Texas A&M’s regional airport. I looked off in the distance and spotted Kenny. Hi how are you nice flight Tam is in the little girls room what would you like to do first! A billion thoughts and no way to form a coherent sentence! We walked out to the parking lot, got into Tam’s sweet black Charger R/T and eased on down the road to their place.

I took one look at Tam’s sickle and fell in love with the Bonneville America all over again. She was immaculate. Kenny suggested starting it up OK she sounds great let’s trade paper. About the time I unburden myself of way too many Andrew Jacksons and Kenny & Tam sign over the title, I hear that telltale sound of a trumpet pulling up into the driveway. Ron has arrived from San Antonio! Hi how are you great nice bike thanks nice bike thanks nice place well what is the plan Moe? The plan is to go to the office of registration and get me a temp tag. Well Kenny and Ron both being motorsickle officers (Ron retired from that) suggest that obtaining a temp tag is not necessary. OK Great let’s ride to Snook TX and get some steak! Tam & Kenny mount their V-Stroms, I my new 02 colonial cruiser and Ron his 05 TBA. To Snook we ride eating at the Czech-Tex BBQ, Steakhouse and Bakery. Nice lunch good conversation and Ron has to say goodbye as we ride back to towards Bryan, TX. We take a side trip to the George Bush Presidential Library and Museum located on the Texas A&M University campus in College Station, Texas. It was HOT out and we took a couple of pictures as the museum was closed for renovations. We could have paid admission to see the White House in Miniature exhibit but we had motorsickles outside!

Back at the Meador’s place Kenny set me up with a big fan and I changed out the air filter and the rear brakes pads. That done we got in the Charger and went to an Italian restaurant for spaghetti and Pizza. Yum yum. Back to the house and while watching Alton Brown's Dining on Asphalt , Tam gives me maps as we generally talk about my travel plans and destinations. Pig’s Tale, Rt 1 Some national forest on the OK/AR border, Waco travel tips. Tam and Kenny put me up for the night! I now know what Texas hospitality is all about as I received it firsthand from a great couple!

I retired for the evening and about 1:30am the two housecats are playing “bark at Moe and paw under his bedroom door”! I had been warning about that so I opened the door and let the cat’s curiosity be satiated as I drift back to sleep. 6:10am I hear an alarm clock and at 6:25 I’m up and packing. Not too much to pack but that first pack is such an arduous endeavor. How in the world is this stuff going to fit? About the time I am ready to roll Kenny is ready to leave for work and off I ride after saying my goodbyes to them both and thanking them profusely for their hospitality and offering them an open invite to visit Lynn and I if they ever find themselves in Florida.

Wednesday August 1
The time is about 7:30am. No breakfast, no coffee just that special feeling from brushing the teeth with a new toothbrush. (Thanks Tam!) Yes, although I did bring my toothbrush case, I didn’t put a toothbrush in it. Little things. Inconsequential none the less so that was OK by me! I am free! New sickle, new State and riding solo into an unknown. I roll north on TX rt6 all the while thinking about stopping at a cafe somewhere and grabbing some java. No such luck. I detour onto business 6 into a little socially economically depressed town called Marlin and still cannot find a place to eat. McDonald’s is not my kind of place and this was not a food emergency. Heck I needed to get myself up to the What-a-Burger in Waco TX where I would be meeting up with Levi (Wyrm74) & Terry (tmax) at 10 am. “Take the bypass around Waco Jim” Well I was early so I rode into Waco on 6 then turned north onto US77. I came up to an intersection that looked major, hung a Ralph, and rode to discover that I was on that Bypass 340 but on the North end of it. Turning around I found the What-A-Burger that was due East of a gas station. I filled up then walked towards the clerk inside to ask for directions to the Branch Davidian compound. I got directions from a Waco Police officer, “Go round the beltway, over a little hill and turn left onto FM 24 something something. Down that Farm to Market road is the place you seek. Don’t know exactly where it is” Thanks Sir. 45 minutes to find the site have I. I travel down FM 2491 until the time pushes 9:45am and I turn around. A lady was trimming her hedges on this FM road and she was the only soul I saw on it too! I turned off my sickle (Habit born of Scepters) so we could talk and she told me how to get there. When I went to start the bike, click click clickity click click vroom, whew! I roll West on FM 2491 back towards Loop 340 until I get even with the blue water towers and sure enough Double Ee Ranch Rd is on the right. I turn right, then turn right again into the Mount Carmel compound. In the back, past the grove of crepe myrtles, is a small chapel with some granite markers. I left the sickle running while I paid my respects took some photos and walked around a bit. Back to the entrance where a memorial of sorts was erected for those that died. A central granite vertical slab flanked by individual granite blocks depicting the names of those who died, the country they came from, their age and the date of their deaths. Back on the bike as I am late for my rendezvous with Levi & Terry!

Directions to Mount Carmel: East on Farm To Market Road No. 2491 from TX-340-Loop. Travel 6 miles. Turn left and head northwest on Double Ee Ranch Rd for ½ a mile. On your right is the Site of the Mount Carmel compound or what is left of it.

Terry and Levi are at the What-a-burger and wave to me as I ride up! First time for me meeting these guys. They both have ‘02 Bonneville Americas and we talk a bit, I clean my bat’tree contacts then we grab some burgers inside. The day is already hot and my shirt could have been rung out by now! Levi places a call to a Dallas Triumph dealer to make sure they have a battery for me. OK. Levi starts to tell me some stories given the Dallas dealership is forward and center about right now and Levi, says “hey guys, there is dealership 3 miles back on 77. Great let’s go there.” Sorta his words.. As we leave the What a Burger I witness firsthand Terry’s rear end whine! Something about his belt drive. Me thinking first a battery then what, now a bearing? They laugh when I mention it as we dismount at Waco’s Euro Cycles 3 miles down the road, but really 8 miles as one has to take the long way lots of times in Texas! Inside we find that the service manager, Jay Wagnor, has a Yuasa charged up and ready to go. Look inside the crystal ball moe…er the glass display case. Key FOBS I get me one of those triangular ones! And a tin of Maxima Chain Wax too. Wanted a T-shirt but all they had was one medium with a nice ball point pen mark on the front. 22 bucks will you take ten? No. OK. I got to push my sickle up in their bay and changed out the battery in the shade. Hot no fans and again I had a soaker T shirt on. After I rolled her back out inside I went to collect the Texans and I offered Jay 15 cash for the shirt. Got it then! Jay looked at my bike and said they would have put her on the showroom for 6 grand. Dang. Feeling groovy now, not that I wasn’t already. Euro Cycle was great. They had what I needed at a fair price too. Stop in and say hello sometime, tell ‘em Moe sent you.

North on I-35 towards the Grassy Knoll. We stop for a fuel-up at a place I wanted to stop at, unknown to Terry and Levi too! The Czech Stop of West, Texas. Got me a gatorade and a cheese kolache! Now I have had one. Take a sweet dough square set some filling in the middle and bake it. That my friends are kolaches. Plenty of other sweet things milling about that place too. We mount up and ride North again on I-35. A ways up the road and the right lane is closed to traffic. Good thing too because as the rain started to fall we could pull over under a bridge and have the safety of one, slower traffic due to construction and two, an empty buffer lane. We donned our rain suits and rolled into a downpour. Sometimes chaps are a wonderful thing. That was one of those times. Too bad mine where back in Florida! Rain hurts wearing blue jeans and a rain suit when traveling at speed.

The day is getting long, we stopped at a gas station to stow our rain gear and alter our plans for the Dealey Plaza detour as it its going on 3:30 and rush hour traffic hurts like, well like a driven rain! Terry breaks away East on I-20 and Levi and I ride North past the Texas School Book Depository that is visible from the interstate. At least I got a chance to see the sixth floor window with my own eyes! The ride past Dallas was okay given the hour and we made good time up to Denton, TX where Levi broke away to go home and babysit or teenager sit or watch the kids (vernacularickly challenged)! Again rain looked eminent as I road North after fueling up. Turns out I was pulling over to don my rain suit again just North of Denton about 100 yards south of Rector Rd on Cowling road. Another heavy rain and just in time my rain gear is on! I forget where I took the rain gear off again, but I do recall crossing the border into Oklahoma! One word description: Casinos. In Texas, I-35 is weird as service roads run parallel to the interstate and the concept of clover leaves was foreign there. In Oklahoma the interstates are more like those in Florida. Wide open with extremely wide medians between the opposing directions of travel.
Oklahoma. Oh yes indeed. First time for me. And it was grand. 125 more miles till I get a room and meet Greg for supper. This is where I found that my new sickle will roll 95. Easy riding with light traffic and gobbling up the highway like a kid let loose in a candy store. Blue mist shrouds the rolling prairies and gentle leans propel man and machine towards the National Memorial. Just several miles into the Southern portion of Oklahoma City I stop to get my bearings. Greg said Roy Rogers Meridian Holiday Inn Express. Simple. Calling Greg, I’m here dude, can we go over one more time your travel cues given me when I called From the Meadors? Greg sets me up. See you at 7 Greg, bye. Turns out about that the time I was walking towards the road to eyeball a street sign, a lady appears, and In my slab numbed way, I holler out, Ma’am, can you tell me where I am?! I immediately started laughing and apologized to her for I seemed to either have scared her or startled her. Anyway I know where I am I was trying to ask if you know a route that takes me North of Roy Rogers Airport to Meridian Ave? Without rolling on the belt ways? Sure fella, Shields to 44th street. Thanks! On back roads through the 3rd quadratic of the city I rolled. That would be the SW portion of the city. Smiling at everyone and seeing ethnic restaurants, loads of 30 dollar hotels, barking dogs, kids playing in the street. Grand it was. Real life in Oklahoma City! On Meridian Ave I found Greg’s Hotel and I go in search of something a bit more modest. The Courtyard by Marriott wants 159 bucks. Thank you kindly dear but I will have to look elsewhere. Next place a line has formed next place is a big score. 60 bucks clerk gives me directions to an Indian Restaurant named the Gopuram. I unload my new motorsickle for the first time, shower, ride out to find Greg. He’s Greg. I am waiting for him in his air conditioned hotel lobby. Sneak around looking for the guest puter and BAMN the thing is right at the registration desk! Having talked with the desk clerk earlier and laughing with him about the comedy Greg had suffered, 6am taxi rides, etc…Greg is not a morning person…I ask, he says yes, and I am online! Get to the site and write Chy a long PM and the window closed. Fat fingers hitting F4 or something. About the time I was trying to recover from that loss Greg walks in. Brother! Brother! Your early no I’m late. I fired off one post to the ride thread and Greg was ready to go. He had already checked out the new bike before he entered the lobby.
Yes no steak that night in the Oklahoma, but we had some real good Indian food. Not the Western Tribes type, the Asian Indian type, which was buffet style too. Greg and I dine, talking about old times, his current travel headaches, laughing hard at the comedy of errors he suffered and bikes. Back at the hotel we said goodnight and I walked outside to 80 degree temperatures a light breeze and an early Harvest Moon hanging low in the sky. Time was going on 10pm. I fired my bike and headed to the National Memorial after going online to map it out and after talking to the clerk. North on Meridan right on Reno left on Walker. Easy ride through an industrial area, past nude bars, cowboy bars and gambling joints. I parked at a metered spot, road side, next to the Western side of the National Memorial.

Walking up the stairs through the 9:03 gate of time, I behold a ½ inch deep reflecting pool where the road used to be. On the right (south side of that old street bed) were chairs that seemed to levitate above spheres of light. On the far gate of time the time was 9:01 on the gate’s wall above my head the time was 9:03. Here I was seeing the National Memorial at 11:14 at night with the only souls there among those honored were two security guards that insure respect of the cherished grounds. The National Memorial was heavy.

Thursday August 2
came early.
While loading up the bike I got to talking to a young couple as they were doing the same except they were loading their car. The guy was heading to Fort Benning, Georgia for training. I shook his hand and thanked him for his service. We talked about this and that, the adventures that await us all. God Speed. Goodbye. I head North on Meridian to the 36th Street expressway where a Triumph Dealer is. Walking inside I ask about T shirts. Nice bike, where you from, really! Can we help you out with anything? Sure got a fax machine? Yes. How about receiving proof of insurance for me? OK. Ride safe. Thanks.

I roll west 2 blocks take a left take a right and I put the side stand down at a US of A post office. Had some stuff to send back in addition to the T shirts I had bought at the triumph dealership. I was left with just enough gear that it all packed into my saddle bags. No more strapping stuff to the pillion! From the Post Office, I rode to downtown Oklahoma City.
National Memorial Daytime encounter. The Museum is open during the daylight hours. The grounds take on a new meaning in the light. I fed the monkey er meter, and walked around the grounds, taking pictures, reflecting, as I carried my helmet and jacket, thinking that of all the, well, never mind. The heat was rising fast. I went inside to get some monkey food, bought a jacket pin and went back outside to my sickle to bump the money to two hours. I would need it as the Museum I knew was going to be solemn. You have to go there. The museum is crippling. Observe ‘before’ photographs, scale model displays, rooms with survivors oral testimonials, film strips of global news coverage, and exhibits of mementoes salvaged from the ruins. Origami cranes made by thousands of school children. There is an old Japanese legend that the gods granted the wishes of sick people who folded a thousand cranes because it was believed that cranes lived for a thousand years. Our children wanted to heal the sick hearts of our nation. I can feel the weight as I write this.

I roll away from the National Memorial and head East and South. The encounter with evil’s aftermath still heavy on my heart, August’s furnace having already fired up as the time was close to 2pm. I wanted to ride by Tinker Air Force Base but as I didn’t see or hear any B52’s I wasn’t turning back when I learn that I stair stepped my way East and a bit South of it. I dropped down to OK rt9 and headed East stopping in Tecumseh for lunch at the Arrow Cafe. Brought my jacket and helmet inside to soak up the air conditioning. Over a group of three tables placed together, a sign read, ”Under this sign all the world’s troubles are solved” I know that no matter where I sit, I’ll be taking the place of a local patron. No matter. I order the daily special which was a hamburger steak with grilled onions, pinto beans, beets, and mashed potatoes with gravy. Iced tea pull the heat away as I look over my Tam’s maps and plan out my ride East. Ahhhhhhh. Cherry pie and coffee. Whewwwww.

East from Tecumseh through Seminole through Eufaula to the town of Stigler. OK 82 South (scenic Highway which had red dots following along on the map . Dropped down through Red Oak to the town of Talihina where I picked up OK Rt 1 and headed East through the Quachita National Forest. I sign said that a Lodge was 44 miles away down this Blue Ridge Parkway clone. The time was going on 8:00 I had 120 miles on my trip Odometer and almost stayed on US 271 to go to Poteau for the night. Glad I didn’t because this diversion was just the ride I needed after visiting the National Memorial. This section of Rt 1 is also known as the Talimena Drive. 48 miles later I cross the State Line into Arkansas. The Talimena Drive is similar to the Northern Blue Ridge Parkway. Great road and as an early evening rain was threatening, the temps were cool and the ride was grand. Sweeping curves whoop-de-doos and little to no traffic. (8:30 at night, when it is raining, on a Thursday night, might be why the traffic was extremely light. ) I stopped at various overlooks but the saturated low clouds dampened the view and cast everything with a mountain blue hue. The last place I stopped after I took pictures of the Welcome to Oklahoma sign (facing back the way I had ridden) I felt heavy drops of rain, donned my gear and rode the last five miles or so to the Queen Wilhelmina Lodge in a cloud burst replete with beautiful bolts of lightning. I walked up to the front door and noticed that I was dripping wet. No problem sir, come right in. I registered, the restaurant closes at 9 it is 8:40 right now and I sure could eat some grub. I shed my rain suit at the room then loaded up three plates of chow and sat down. (buffet). Two Texans I had met at the registration desk who themselves were touring and they like me found themselves at the Queen Wilhelmina Lodge bent my ear (as I did theirs) after I sat down to take my supper. Pointers on where to ride, what to avoid, and tales from the roads, witnessed three plates of chow barely touched and me retiring for the evening. But wait, just about the time that I got back to my room I remembered that all my gear was on my poor wet little girl parked outside. At least the rain had stopped! I even backed her into the parking spot so the water would not run up her pipes.
That evening I started my journal using a journal I purchased from the gift shop at the National Memorial, closing the cover at 1:30am.

Friday August 3
Woke up it was a chelsea morning, and the first thing that I saw were the bikes parked outside along the wall, and the mist and colors of dawn that beckoned me. With camera in hand I walked barefoot about the grounds enjoying the early morning dew and pinching a cinnamon bun from the breakfast buffet bar. Got to chatting with an elderly chap on the front porch. Is that your bike parked out there? Yes. Triumph? Yes. You must be good with your bikes as how can you tell that from here? Your T'shirt! We laughed and he talked about his BSA, trumpets and other bikes. 37 years this man has bought and sold used aircraft. What a life. Like a motorsickle on wings those planes are.

I checked out and headed on my way to Birmingham AL. I didn’t know that was where I was going but those darn scenic roads found me rolling every which way but towards home! I took 88 from the lodge south. 88 is also known as the Skyline Drive in Arkansas. 88 brought me to the town of Mena. After pulling a couple of moe’s I realized that Route 8 piggybacked with US-71 for a couple of blocks so I found myself heading southeast on Arkansas Rt 8. Little dots along various roads had me turning away from home again at the town of Norman, AR heading North on US27. After 40 miles I rode up to a little place called Onyx, AR and turned onto AR rural rt 314 heading east. Arkansas Scenic 7 Byway awaited me at the town of Hollis another 20 miles east on 314! Although I only rolled 30 miles on Arkansas’ first state-designated scenic byway it was worth every twist of the throttle! Having been riding in the Ouachita Mountains, famous for their quartz crystals all day this was the perfect prelude to the flat lands that waited me at Little Rock. Rolling on 7 south through Hot Springs Village to Fountain Lake I turned East once again onto AR 5. AR 5 (aka Hot Springs Highway) wound 40 miles though rolling fields which brought me into the suburbs of Little Rock. I stopped for lunch at what I thought was a family diner. Our Place Bar and Grill on Stagecoach Rd in Little Rock. The heat was on again and I walked inside to see a classic redneck bar. 12:30 and beer was being consumed by guys holding pool cues and wearing T-Shirts of the carpet cleaning company they worked for. What the hay. I’ll get me a cheese steak sandwich, cool down with iced tea and ask about someone’s library downtown. Turns out those 7 guys and two girls had their orders in front of mine so I got lots of time to cool down! The barkeep explained to me (between gulps of budweisers) that RT 5 will get me to the library, but I wouldn’t want to roll on it. Something about one of Joseph Conrad’s books or some such. Heart of something. Look it up. I chowed down. Great sandwich too. I took the beltway (I-430) way round the west side of the city then got on I-630 heading east to downtown Little Rock. I was going to stop but right after I left Our Place, the rain started I donned my rain suit, the rain stopped 5 miles later and I was way too hot to stop off in Little Rock. I had visited George H’s library in Bryan, TX so I had no desire to see wet cigars given the circumstances.

I rolled to the end of 630 hung a Louie on I-30 then a Ralph on US70. 70 parallels I-40. Every 500 yards or so on 70 your lower back gets a refreshing JOLT. Nice road Bill… 82 miles of back adjustments later I stopped in Palestine for fuel and a lemonade and got on I-40 for my ride through Memphis TN. I rolled through Memphis and headed south on 240 then I-55 into Mississippi. My plan was to buy a map when I got in Mississippi! Well I stair stepped my way SE of Memphis after exiting 55. Rush hour traffic HOT and I enjoyed turning right then left repeatedly! One east bound road was a divided 4 lane with zero traffic! Rain had just fallen and the mist was up and the sky was gray. Great riding until this great flattop ended! I turned right again and wound up just south of a town called Olive Branch. I stopped at a local yokel market and asked ‘Patsy’ how I get to US 78 as Patsy had no maps for sale?! Go north to College turn right turn left at dead end and you will be on the interstate. Okay. Ain’t no interstate, but since “I fall to pieces” was playing in my mind, I said fine. Thank you. Turns out 78 is future I-22. Now I am trucking. Heading to Birmingham AL on 78. Stopped in Byhalia, Mississippi at 5:30pm for gas and yes, a map. Mistake that was. Map? I’ll be rolling 78 into Birmingham and I need a map? Oh well. It was after all a map of two states MS & AL.

Well 78 is a kick back and ride roll. I can eat up them miles with quiet pipes and a sun setting behind me. For sure. Getting 150 to 160miles before hitting reserve I figure I’ll see if I can hit a ton. 97 is all she has being stock so I settle into a cat and mouse ride with two cages. Between 75mph to 95mph is our speed. 95 to get em away from me and 75 when I feel the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Turns out that good old neck hair helped me out as I saw the brakes of a Mississippi State Patrol cruiser light up! The two cages had been in front of me at the time. Well the trooper blasts past me at a good 140mph and disappears into the dusk of what has been one hard day of riding. Of the two cages I had been playing with one maintained their breakneck speed while the second cage had wimped out and was driving at 50mph or so. Wimp. I passed the wimpy cager up and was trying to un-pinch my buttocks cheek about the time I crest the next hill and see that the trooper has the lead cage I was following pulled over. What the heck is that trooper doing standing outside his cruiser in the road with his palm held upright at shoulder height? Hum… You looking at me? Huh come on! Are you looking at me? I then see him waving wildly for the wimpy cager behind me to pull over. No eye contact with me. WHEW!

I slowed down.

I almost pulled off at the next exit just in case his radio was broadcasting . Almost. Well I continued on at a civil rate of speed and before I knew it I saw ‘Welcome to Alabama’. Alabama. Dang. Never been to Alabama. Nor any of the other States I had been in the past couple of days. I stopped off in Alabama where future I-22 used to end got some gas called and talked to Chy and called oldroadie leaving a message for him. Side stand up and I was back on 78 heading to Birmingham. Future I-22/78 ends at Jasper AL and I was back on a standard intercity US highway once again. It was getting dark, I was tired and the time must have been around 8:45pm. That cheese steak sandwich I had back at Our Place was long gone. I should have stayed in Jasper for the night, but I wanted to stay in Birmingham as touring the Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum was my next day’s planned activity. Wanting to bed down for the night close to it so I could sleep in a bit. Yes sleep in to 8am or so anyways…

Rural 78 from Jasper to Birmingham was one dark long road filled either side with bingo halls. Bingo hall and more bingo halls. Anyone want to play bingo? Well do I have place you would call heaven. And bingo you are in bingo heaven. I digress.

Birmingham for me was the twilight zone. I rode on 78 into Birmingham right past a Days Inn and a La Quinta Inn. BIG mistake. I should have stayed at one of those. No wait a minute I should have stayed in Jasper! The two hotels where at 78 and I-59/I-20. I turned south on US11 couldn’t safely stop anywhere and rolled to Aaron Aronov Drive headed west and was going to look at a map but again, it just didn’t feel right. Lost? No just the twilight zone. I pressed on took a left onto Valley road and when I got to an intersection that looked good I stopped and looked at a map. The time was, gosh, 10pm or 10:30? A McDonald’s was right across the street, full of the Friday night teenage teeny bopper kids doing their summer socializing. Although the air was hot calmness found its way to me and I relaxed as this area was right/safe/okay. I remember seeing signs that said stuff like Dr. Martin Luther King Drive, Zamir's Christian Jazz Club, Sneaky Pete's Hot Dogs and Hueytown to name a few. Turns out I was in Hueytown. And of all places right on Allison Bonnett Memorial Drive! Great. The birthplace of nascar and I can’t find a place to crash. I remembered that I had left a message on oldroadie’s machine and in doing so had not left a phone number! Well I pulled out my phone and guess who had tried to call? Yes, Ed. So I called him and trying to sound calm, asked him WHERE THE HECK AM I? A Honda cage stealership was next to mickey d’s so having that and Ed having a puter we figured out where I was. However, take a right and you can’t miss the 59/20 turned out to be slightly wrong. Sometimes mapquest or similar is wrong. I should have taken a left! Ed and I planned out Saturdays meeting place and with that I hung up and called my wife. What! Why are you not in a hotel room. You are supposed to call me AFTER you get checked in somewhere and here you are in a parking lot somewhere in Birmingham. (Actually a SW suburb, you know Hueytown!) You call me when you get somewhere. What are you doing still on the road at 11 pm? I’m riding baby. Just trying to get a place for the night…

I take that fateful right and 2 miles down the road, Allison Bonnett Memorial Drive is relabeled Warrior River Road. Hum. Turn around. Go back to mickey d’s. Try again. Same results hum. Okay. I’ll try Hueytown road then. Suffice it to say that I finally found 59-20 and with a huge sigh of relief I rolled the last 33 miles from Hueytown to Leeds AL. Checked in at the Days Inn in Leeds. Rode to the take out window at Wendy’s then the quick mart for a couple of beers then back to the dumpy Days Inn. Calling Lynn at midnight or so.

Saturday August 4
Next morning I told Ed I would call. I did so around 7:30 or 8am can’t recall which. Ed wasn’t set to arrive in Leeds until 9:30 or so and early bird me cannot get back to sleep. Sleeeeep what is that? Fooood what is that? I’ll live without sleep and food but not without riding! Ed rolls up right on time as I am loading up my red trumpet. I finish zipping on the saddle bags, check out, scarf some OJ and away we go to the Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum! Nirvana if ever such a thing exists in Alabama. Way too many bikes and as I have written over 6000 words already I’ll use Ed's Write-up to convey the Barber Vintage Museum!
Ed and I rode up to the NE corner of AL after touring the museum, where we parted ways at Gaylesville, AL. I rolled up 68 into Georgia (which is relabeled GA rt 114, thank you very much) Did I mess up again? I hate that! Rolling through Summerville, then down through the little Texas Valley where I headed East on 140 rolling through Adiarsville, Rydal, and into Waleska where I picked up 108. In Tate, GA 108 is renamed GA 53 and I head east wishing I had taken off my sunglasses. 53 brings me to Dawsonville where I stop to change out my glasses and being real familiar with the roads now, ease on up RT 9 to the Golden lands of Chytown. Too bad it is dark out as I wanted to carve up 9 and spit it out. No driving lights so I took on the post ‘Mississippi State Police almost was an encounter’ frame of mind again. I slowed down! Thinking with my stomach again, I stopped at the Fast Stop on 52 right at the west side of Dahlonega. There I purchased a sixer of Newcastle Brooooon Ale and a bag of chips. Man do I eat good or what? That folks is dinner. No lunch this day, a banana and tart, er tort for breakfast and this is my reward. What fine rewards it is too! I am digging out my backpack so I can transport my libations and a couple that rode up on a motorsickle comes over and ask me about the bike. Just bought it in Texas. Wow! Where are you headed? We know of some good hotels. Thanks but I’m on my way to Wash Rider Road. Would you like some Pizza? We have a couple of slices. Thanks but I don’t have any room as the beer and chips are stuffing my backpack and my saddle bags are full. They hail from Dalton and I mention that I may take a steak in Hiawassee Sunday. Time to go. I ask them their names again. (real bad at names) They say Tam and Kenny. Huh? You have got to be kidding me. Why? Well the folks I bought this sickle from nigh on 4 days ago and close to 1800 miles back in a little town called Bryan located in TX, you got to be kidding me. Tam and Kenny, Yes. Well anyways the couple I bought this trumpet from are Tam and Kenny! Dang. Dang. Can I take your picture. I just don’t believe it! Of all the things. Full circle and almost at my GA home!

We say our goodbyes I throw a leg over my baby and dang if the backpack and backrest can’t get along! I am riding hunched over, negotiating Clay Creek Falls Rd and roll up into the Adams unheard. Can you hear stock pipes?

It is sure good to see Chy and Di! They have me fix myself a sandwich; I quaff some brews and talk about my trip. Half falling asleep on the recliner I excuse myself for the night.

Sunday August 5
Awake at a respectable hour. Chy makes me some pancakes, Larry rides up on his Scrambler and we are off to ride up in the Brasstown Ranger District! Past Blood Mountain, then the Richard Russell Parkway and back to Dahlonega. Sweet riding everytime. When we get back to the house, Chy says that he would have stopped at the Mexican Restaurant in Dahlonega except he lost one of his cylinders on the Legend. Good thing it was close to home! We get in the Monte Crispo and roll back to meet Di for lunch. After lunch I get to ride Chy’s new lawnmower around while they wash the dogs! Rain comes and goes. I get geared up for the ride home, they order out for pizza and we watch the colors settle down for the night. Sweet home Georgia. I love it.

Monday August 6.
Up and on the bike at 7:30 arriving home at 5pm or thereabouts. Easy 550 mile roll, taking back roads to Jacksonville, FL then slabbing it on 95. Stopped off in Daytona to see if Ryan was around. No answer Got back on the bike and rode home.

I have rode so many times between Chytown and home that that part of the trip is like telling a stranger how to get to wally world.

Thanks to a classified add posted by member taminator, I was able to undertake this fantastic road trip. The sickle handled most excellently with zero problems. My wife’s understanding afforded me the peace of mind I needed to accomplish this glorious trek. The new friends I met along the way where as good as Blue Bell ice cream. Seeing my dear friends in Dahlonega was the greatest. Riding roads in states I have never been was religious. Getting confused in Birmingham, was exciting in a weird way. Knowing I had a reliable sickle tween my legs was comforting.

A very special Thank you to Tam & Kenny Meadors. They parted ways with a fine bike and I gained two new friends. Ron, Terry, Levi and Ed. Mighty fine meeting up with and sharing some road with you.

That’s it folks. In written words anyways. I can guarantee you I’ll talk about this trip for a long time…

Photographs of my Texas Fly & Ride

Great write up Jim. I've been on a lot of the roads you mentioned at one time or another, but it's been a looooooong time. Dang I need a road trip.
Mike

It was good to meet you, glad I was able ride with you even though the distance was short. An epic trip to be sure and a great ride report.

Grate story! I wish I had been there.

Great write up Moe! The best part was when you got to meet me. You should edit your story and elaborate on that. All these folks will want to know what it's like to meet a legend!

It really was great to meet you, and I'm glad Terry and I could see you safely through our neck of the woods. Any time you want to come back, just let us know. It's really neat to learn how the rest of the trip went. I'm jealous! I want to take a week-long roadtrip now too!

Riding is a personal adventure for the most part, unless of course you have the privilege of sharing it with a wife or girlfriend. Something really special about this. In my early years of riding, my wife went everywhere with me. Then the kids came along and things changed, more out of necessity, but it changed. When the kids were big enough to allow us to resume riding together, my wife’s health changed to where she was not able to ride any more. Sad thing but just the reality of life at this juncture.

I have become accustomed to riding alone. On occasions riding with a friend or two, but some how, just never quite the same. Riding in groups comes with it’s own set of obstacles; riding styles, fast vs. slow, aggressive vs. conservative, in a hurry, taking too much time. This at times lends more towards something that ends up more frustrating than relaxing.

Recently I had an absolute NEED to get away for a few days. I decided I would connect with site folks from out East; Wojo, Airguy, Mert and Loco (from my own region) on a trip around Lake Superior. Now Loco and I because of our schedules were not able to make the whole trip with the folks from the East, but I was determined to no matter how much time I could get off, I was going to make the trip.

I had determined not to have any expectation of this trip than to meet these folks and ride with them, no matter how far, no matter how cold, no matter how wet, I was going to ride.

The short version of this and the point of this story was what happened on this trip. I have NEVER gone on any trip where I did not have to be at a destination on a specific time frame. The effect of this is, you seldom get to enjoy much of the journey because you are playing catch up to get where you need to be on time. We had no schedule, and I had one of the best times of my life with this group of people. I enjoyed the extended stops at way side rests, gas stations and restaurants and over looks. Stopping to take pictures of ‘funny’ road signs. It was incredible. But more than that, was this incredible bunch of people who were just so fun to relax with and have fun together.

I needed this three day break from life, I needed and so appreciated this group of riders who helped me get to where I needed to be internally. Great conversation, great friendship, great riding. Enjoying together some of the sweetest things about riding. Thanks Mert, Wojo, Airguy and Loco.


Moe's note: This was edited only to correct ascii translation errors ( for example ’ = ') that occurred when servers were changed.

Eddy aka Squint Eastwood,

we were so happy to have you and Jeff with us. it was great to have your friend's recommendation for breakfast at the Northern Lights Roadhouse in Beaver Bay, MN, and the wonderful experience of viewing Duluth, MN from the helipad at St. Mary's Hospital was a super gift to the trip.

i think i speak for the other guys when i express thanks to you as well.

Well Paula,
I guess we're just gonna hafta getta group together for the
ride to the NorEast Rally, so you'll have something more to write about.

Uncle Charlie

I spied
on my little ride-
farmstand gladiolus
reaching

grey heron's solemn stillness
sunset's
saltmarsh shadows.

stone walls in ordered collapse
Heaven's ribbon- twisting
between raggedyshorn cornfields

darkening sky mysteries
smelling
of sweet grapes & wildness.

I like . Close me eyes and I am there , too . Very good , there , e.e. haiku .

Alright, so Saturday, the day before Chy's "Chimauga run", I go up to catch a football from crashing out the rear window of my neighbors new truck, come down on the right ankle, and cringing...dumbarse...walk it off, continue to kick football to son. 3 hours later, ankle size of softball, go to doc on Monday, "aircast" for 2 weeks, light duty at work, nothing broken, plenty torn...call in sick Tuesday and Wednesday, go to work Thursday in "aircast", boss sends me back home, can't do "light duty" until approved by HR....Now Friday, still no approval, will go back Tuesday I hope...Union will get 3 sick days back for me...ANYWAY....Said screw it around 1 o'clock today (Friday) which was simply stunning....(83 degrees, blue sky) Took "aircast" off, strapped on boots really tight, hopped on Frog and headed west, toward Birmingham (Alabama) on Highway 78...destination, Leeds, Alabama to see Barber Vintage race park and museum. Took I-20 to Leeds, (One lane for 16 miles), but paid my $10 and took in ALOT of history (You know your old when you see your first bike in a frikkin museum!!!)...simply un believable...well worth the $10...have pics, but beyond my capability to post...Got back on Frog around 4 o'clock, this time took 78 all the way from Leeds, to Villa Rica...about 95 miles or so, was'nt counting, but was loving life...Cotton fields, old mansions, redneck trailers (mobile homes) that had enclosed porches bigger than the trailers themselves...and LOTS of redneck vehicles...One pick up actually had a home made camper on back made of plywood...I really enjoy seeing America on my America, and believe me, on this route, you see ALOT of America!!!! Now dusk, temps dipping into the 60's in the valleys, wishing I had my new leather jacket, but made it back to Hiram just in time for Kimmy's home made soup...
In February, I will have owned Frog for 2 years now..she just rolled over 21,600 miles tonight, and I was thinking that I love that bike just as much today, as the day I bought her, taking comfort in knowing that it was'nt just a passing "fad" or "mid-life crisis"...when I take a sweeping turn to the right at 75 mph, and hear that exhaust bouncing off the pavement in that killer tone, I think how sweet a bike she is, and how glad I am to have her...simply no comparison to any other bike...

sweet autumn open road
don't need a destination
full tank huge smile vrooooom...

Tales from the road.... sounds a bit like musings from the asphalt, but, enough about that.

Coming home from the NY rally this year, Terry, myself, and Barry were having a good ride - great scenery, little traffic, no hurry. I like it that way.
We make our way through NY and cross over into PA.
There's something about crossing that border into your home state. Even though we were still over 200 miles from home, we were "home" somehow.
We pulled into an odd little gas station, Wimpy's, that sat up on a small hillside on the left side of the road. After refueling we pulled off to the side next to the guard rail and went back in the place to get something to drink and eat. Back at the bikes, we talked about maybe going to Georgia next spring, if there is a rally, and talked about wives and riding and stolen rocks and life in general. And about how much we enjoyed the rally we just came from.

Terry and Barry went back into the store and as I stood there waiting a guy in a car pulled up next to me. "Which way you guys headed?" he asked. South. He proceeded to tell me there had just been a head-on collision in Port Allegheny and traffic would probably be backed up for an hour or more. I asked him if there was a way around it and he gave me directions. Nice guy. Didn't say whether he rode or not, but I bet he does/did or wishes he could. I remember thinking how many people would approach a stranger on a bike and help them out like this?
Made me feel good about mankind in general....

Terry and Barry come back out and I explain the new route we need to take. We set off and since Barry mentioned he had been in this area before (fishing) he took the lead. We head west toward Smethport to catch Rt.6 and head east to get back on 155. As we're riding, I realize that Rt.46 out of Smethport, although a bit windy and long, would take us the same place (Emporium) without having to cut back east to regain Rt.155. So as we near Smethport, I pass Terry, and catch up with Barry just in time to tell him we want to take 46 instead of 6. Roger, wilco, over and out.

We head down 46. A winding road that follows a creek and a set of railroad tracks, over the river and through the woods. Beautiful, but a bit longer and more curvy than we wanted at the time. I'm now in the middle of the three of us.

As we ride along, the sun is beginning to fall to the point where entering shady areas is a little unsettling. The change from bright to dark leaves you momentarily blinded as your eyes try to adjust. Barry seems to be braking each time we enter shade. I figure it's just the light playing tricks on me. But, we take it slow and easy and finally make it to Emporium.
We stop at the corner QuickyMart for a drink and a snack and pull in next to two other bikes, a HD and some other touring bike - never did figure out what it was. The owners were standing there, taking a break, and we shared a few pleasantries and tales with them. I like that. Common ground, no airs. "Nice Triumphs!" and that sort of thing.
They leave and we finish our snacks and start preparing to leave ourselves.

A starting-to-rust small Pontiac pulls in beside us, closest to me. An attractive, but harried-looking woman gets out of the car and heads into the QuickyMart, leaving behind an older woman on the front passenger side and an indeterminate amount of children in the back seat. I have no reason to acknowledge them and suddenly the crone in the front seat says something to me. I look over and say "Pardon me?" She says "Why don't you ride a real man's bike?" "What?" "A Harley Davidson" she replies.
Several replies flash through my mind, the first being, well, nevermind, but since I was raised to respect my elders I simply said " I don't know how to answer that.." to which Barry added, "politely"....
As we chuckled over what might have been said, and the crone giggled over her perceived "score", we left. As we rode along towards St. Marys and the final legs of our journey, I couldn't help thinking the rally is over, this is real life again.
We make our way through St. Marys and head towards Du Bois, where we will split up - Terry going his way and Barry and I going ours. Barry seems to be a little more erratic in his riding as we near Du Bois - I wasn't imagining things coming down 46 into Emporium - he's falling asleep! I was a nervous wreck wondering how to do anything , I can't very well elbow him or blow my horn every minute...

We finally make it to the Sheetz in Du Bois and I feel like I've ridden a thousand miles.
Terry suggests Red Bull and we make sure Barry has some. Actually, at this point, we all have some. None of us has ever had Red Bull before. Barry makes a statement that I will remember for a looong time - "Hey, This tastes like ******!.. I think I'll have another".

We share a few more observations, I give Barry a hard time for scaring the crap out of me, and then we say our goodbyes to Terry and hit the road again.

The ride home from there is spent avoiding traffic and the glare of the setting sun, which we seem to be riding directly into, 100 miles of silence, except for the sound of the bike and the wind. Barry and I stop for the last time before we go our separate ways. We shake hands and wish each other a safe final journey, then head off towards home and the life we escaped for a few fleeting days.

At that point I finally realize the rally is really over and it's just me on the same local roads I've ridden hundreds of times before. But I also realize I've just shared something special with two friends. Something I will remember and enjoy even if I never ride again....

Quote:

---

sounds a bit like musings from the asphalt

---

thanks, Deon.
it's been ages since your musings rambled
their way across the cyber canvas.
great read.
thanks again.

Who the heck is Deon?!?

WoW, reading that is almost like doing it all over again.
Thanks man.
I think I'll read it again.

It took an old Guzzi a 1975 model to get me to my new then 2005 Triumph Speedmaster.I had ventured into town for parts for my project bike.You can picture what happened next.
I heard in the back of my head a voice saying"is that what you really want?" Thing was it was actually a saleman.My answer"Yes,I think so."
I applied for the loan,gave up and left the shop.Got a call later.The new Speedmaster was mine.Had to bum a ride to pick it up at the shop.The shop is 45 miles from my house.
Did not have the bike long.Ideas started happing.I had lost a few friends that past year and it got me thinking about going on a long trip.It had been years since I had done a long trip.I figured not might get to go again I need to go.
I asked the wife if she wanted to go up north to Oregon.She thought I was nuts for wanting to go.So I said ok I am going by myself.
Trip started out wrong.I almost did not go.You know money or lack of it.Well I have a freind up in Oregon that said he would put up with me,if his wife was ok with it.Thankfully she was.So they saved me a bunch of money.
The trip was ago.I packed up and headed out.Pulled out onto the main road and a car was coming up on me very fast.I goosed her and got out of his way.He passed me doing well over 100.
Well when I goosed it my cooler feel off the back.Trashed it.Almost went home,no I did not give in.I said I am going to do this one way or another.
Two days later and 1075 miles later I pulled into Medford,Oregon.Stayed about five days.Seen a lot of beautiful sites on day adventures.
First day I got to go rafting.Seen a real live salmon,actually a few.Froze in the river water while rafting.Lots of fun and worth doing.
Got to go to Crater Lake.Worth every mile traveled to on my bike to see.Snow in late June.Quite a change from 120F of Arizona in June.So I appriciated the snow.Meet some nice people on there Victory at Crater Lake.He had traded in his Triumph America for the Victory.They were a rather large couple so they really liked the Victory for more room and power.
Time to go home.Made it again in two days.Rode through the rain in Reno,Vegas,and parts of Arizona.So I got to test the bike in the rain.
All in all a great trip.Got to visit old friends.Made some new friends.Got to find some things I wanted to change on my bike.Got to appriciate good hospitality and good true friends.
It had been 22 years since I had bought a brand new motorcyle.I hope it is not that long again.It sure can make you appriciate a new bike when they come far and in between.It really makes you appriciate a new bike on a nice long trip by yourself or with someone who tags along.I hope the next long trip comes much sooner,I know it will.

This is a short tale of a man, his machine and the "friends" who led him astray. This story begins with me, a happy, contented Kawasaki Drifter owner. I bought the Drifter with the expectation of riding it for as long as I can ride. It was to be the last bike I ever bought. I loved my Drifter. It did everything I wanted a bike to do. As I said, I was content.
My friends, one day, led me on a ride to a neighboring town, about fifty miles away. They said we were gonna stop at this little bike shop just to look around.
I believed them. This was my first mistake.
Upon arrival at the "small bike shop" I found it was a Triumph dealer. No problem. I have seem Triumphs lately and they were alright as far as sportbikes go. I had seen the Rocket III and liked it, but could never afford a bike that expensive nor want one that big. I figured I'd just look around and kill some time and leave when the others were ready.
When I entered the dealer's door I was struck by then line-up of bikes on the right side of the shop. They looked like old Triumphs. I'd owned a couple of Trumpets in the past and liked them, but I'm older now and anyway, I have my Drifter.
I walked around admiring these classic looking Triumphs. As I spoke to the owner of the establishment, I was informed that these were 900cc modern masterpieces of British engineering. The more I looked at these bikes, the more I liked them. It was then that my "friends" convinced me to make a fatal mistake. "Go ahead and sit on it" they chided. I glanced at the owner, who nodded his okay. As I through my leg over the seat, I realized that my doom was sealed. I eased into the seat, reached for the bars, and placed my feet on the forward controls. At that instant I felt something I can only describe as electric.
I looked outside towards my once beloved Drifter and no longer saw the bike I would grow old with. What I saw was merely a means to an end. I knew the Drifter was soon to be a part of my history.
Now, I spend my days reading about Triumph Americas and my nights dreaming about them. My whole motorcycle mentality has been altered. I blame my so-called friends. I blame the dealership. I blame Triumph. They were all pushers determined to get me hooked. It worked.
The moral to this short but unfinished tale is simply this...Don't sit on a Bonnie unless you're ready to won one.

Dave

Look you live once, do it and do it with gusto.

so it's taken me many months to finish, but now that we're in full gettin' ready for Georgia 08, i figured time was creeping up and i'd better get last year's story finished.

Chy has posted it on Chy's Rides

and here is a direct link to the story ...and this the road gave me

hope you enjoy and hope to see y'all at GA 08...

My, my...I got totally lost in that oh-so-nice accounting. Such writing skills! Thanks for letting me ride along...

WOW! Shari, I thought I was some kind of nut for the way I feel for the entire run of the Appalachian Range, and particularly, that portion that includes "Almost Heaven, WV, and what must certainly be "This is Heaven" NC. Regardless of where the destination or time of year, I am in complete awe of it all. It was great to realize I am not alone, and probably far less crazy than I am attuned to the wonder of it all. Your colorful, well written, and obviously heart felt account of that fantastic journey fills me with anticipation.

Peace, Out

Beautiful.

But painful to read. The door is not only locked, but there has been a landslide that will take awhile to clear away.

Your indian name shall be "Paints with Words"..

Thanks for an excellent adventure.

Post deleted by Bucky

Beautiful writing, Shari!
Maybe more importantly- beautiful LIVING.

Lil' "m", I was up til way past midnite reading your wonderful story. I felt almost like I was there... oh wait, I was there . It really did bring it all rushing back into memory... the fun, the challenges, the drinking...etc, etc.... Now, I am not trying to be a writing critic here.... but I feel that more mentions of my name in your story would have helped the flow and really brought a new level to your writing ... just kidding ( or am I).... truly inspiring adventure, thanks for sharing... ride safe...Gordon