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!â€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.
