Days 4-7 - Bang-Bang, Kiss,Kiss.

The Fourth of July was lovely - but Hot as Hades. Christopher kept my string of hearty breakfasts going by rising and making us bangers and eggs, because he loves us, and Elspeth shared her last remaining very good coffee from a lovely press. It''s nice to know I am not the only one who has traded some of his booze elitism for caffeine elitism.

Chris and Elspeth outside their amazing apartment.

Tuesday dawned hot as well, and I had trouble motivating myself to get up and get going. First, there was a shopping trip, while I was still in Chicago, to try and get some items that I had left behind in the rush: a charger for my FitBit, boots, (yes, it's an embarrassing story, but I left my new riding boots at the foot of the steps in my apartment - I was in that much of a rush to get on the road - rode off in my New Balance shoes that I had put on to ease the up and down the steps to load the bike) but Target (and a Kmart) that I found not far from their apartment, to the rescue! Then the process of loading the bike again, in the heat and sticky, from the second floor apartment, and off to the races again. (I left behind items in Chicago, too - I am traversing the midwest "trailing shards of glory"...

UPDATE: CHIRS, KEITH FROM THE DEALERSHIP IN WEST CHICAGO CALLED TO SAY THAT'S WHERE I LEFT MY VISOR SLING. IF YOU HAVE A CHANCE....

Elspeth was insistent that I contact a friend of hers from way back; she made sure of it by giving me this post-it. Also, to see into her mind, see the previous post on my itinerary - I mistakenly left it open for editing while she was about. She's devious. 

UPDATE: YES, ELSPETH, WE MET. SEE FUTURE POST ON RED LODGE, ETC.

The heat was oppressive from Chicago to the outskirts of Wisconsin, but as I made Madison, the air dried, and the sun backed off a little. I arrived at the home of my dear college friend, Carol Cizauskas, and her lovely husband Don, later than I would have preferred, but Carol had ordered a pizza, and made a lovely salad, and we sat out on their patio, caught up, and enjoyed a very nice dinner, despite the mosquitoes. Madison is a very attractive city, with great water views and a kind of cool, college town/capital city vibe, I didn't get to see too much of it, but what I did see was very inviting. 

Don works nights, and very kindly gave up his bed, so I didn't have to couch surf, and I took my time getting up in the a.m., after waking to say goodbye to Carol, and share excellent French-press coffee. (NOTE: motif warning....) I've been blessed to be able to reconnect with loved ones and catch up in the early stages of this venture. I headed out to get breakfast at a place recommended by Carol, called The Weary Traveler (how apropos!) but it turned out to be not open until 11:30, so it was really more of a lunch. 

Carol and I get a goodbye selfie.

I couldn't help myself.

I stayed there quite a while, putting finishing touches on a design submission for a show for next season (Illyria, at Ac=vant-Bard), and then was shocked to find that the restaurant had no wi-fi; that set me off in search of a coffee house that THEY recommended, so I could forward the drawing. That brought me to Mother Fool, a coffee house that has a very college town art house aesthetic (and really good cold brew). Drawing sent, and on with the mission... 

The coffee bar at Mother Fool.

Leaving Madison, I was first really aware of the changes in the landscape. The rolling hills were familiar, but the foliage changed - the greens were more varied and often deeper than we are used to back east, and the native vegetation was all different textures. The one thing I was most aware of, crossing the "Dairy State" is that I saw no cows from the road. Seriously, not a single cow. Either they were all working very, very hard on our collective lactose intolerance, or they were on vacation.

I had been looking forward to this moment, because, as I may have mentioned before, I have never been west of the Mississippi; and this would be the day. I was counting down the miles, and as I cam over the rise, and saw the river below me, I located a spot to pull over, and took as many vistas of the great river as I could... I even imagined I could see an old-fashioned "river boat" up the water a ways. I crossed what had been, for  me, apparently a barrier, with a sense of emerging optimism and excitement - everything from hereon out was New World. (I would find out later that what i has assumed was the "mighty Mississippi" was, in fact, the St. Clair, and that I actualy crossed the "Big River" later on, mistaking it for a creek. Assumptions....)

After the river crossing, it wasn't long before I was passing through St. Paul on my way to Minneapolis, and my cousin Jo Ann's house, Now, Jo Ann Musumeci and I haven't seen each other since I was a young boy, and I was more than a little trepidatious about the reunion. I had no idea what to expect... Suffice to say that:

• She is definitely  a Musumeci
• I should have her genes (and her energy)
• I feel I have not just met a relative, but made a new friend.

We share a number of interests and proclivities, and got on very well - she was an exceptional host, and I hope I was not too burdensome a guest. I also saw, in what I realize now was less than two days, more of Minneapolis than I would have thought possible. Jo Ann is super involved in the city and her neighborhood; she took me down the greenway, and the arts district, and we got to tour a few theatres, not just the Guthrie, and met the artistic director of one of the small theatres when we toured one of the mid-sized theatres where she worked as a box office manager. (Jungle Theatre seems super cool, and the AD of Dark and Stormy Theatre works there. Watch for her - she's a dynamo.) We toured a theatre in a bowling alley, and hit a number of cool restaurants. I walked more in Minneapolis than I have anywhere all summer, and I am still feeling it today ;-)

There is amazing grafitti in Minneapolis

There is a theatre inside this bowling alley

See?

Jungle Theatre is super cool.

All the lobby art is done by the founding director, I am told...

View out the "bridge" of the new Guthrie. My feelings about this whole complex are complicated. (If you have ever heard me rant about the Mead Center, you will get it.)

All the waterways

Other bonuses - Jo Ann is an audiophile, so we listened to a lot of cool music, and she has a garage!!!  I didn't have to unpack and repack the bike, which was a real blessing. While waking up at Jo Ann's on the 8th, and scrolling through my "feed", I discovered that, entirely by accident, I would be setting out from Minneapolis on the "Pirsig" portion of the ride on exactly the same date 50 years later. Omens.

I had known only that Pirsig started in July, and since I decided to start all the way at the shore in Delaware, I didn't want to know what the "correct" date was to leave Minneapolis - my timetable is supposed to have some slack in it. But lo and behold, circumstances conspired ( I actually reworked my schedule so that I could stay longer in Minneapolis and see a friend from college before I left and still spend time with Jo Ann) and I was setting out on the exact day that Pirsig did. Now, I want to make it very clear that I am not going to try and replicate the journey day by day - I am already varying it by typing this from a hotel in Aberdeen, SD, rather than Ellendale, ND (or Oak - it varies, depending on which account you follow) but I zigged to avoid a bad storm system to the north (Pirsig would, I think, approve) and this was also the only hotel room I could find on the fly, using my phone.

Sunday morning dawned bright and lovely in Minneapolis, and I loaded the bike with the few things i had taken off, said my farewells to Jo Ann, with a promise to return to the twin cities, and headed off to met college friend Heather Fraser for breakfast.

I have aged more on this journey than heather has in 35 years. Life is unfair.

Heather and her partner Jonathan and their daughter Erin live in a town to the west  called Golden Valley, and it’s lovely, They sail, and Jonathan was just buying (or selling, I’m unclear) a new boat as I arrived, so he was outside and greeted me first. Heather and I had coffee inside while we caught up, briefly, and fended off their adorable pup, Sparky (I'm sad to say I have forgotten the name of the older, more refined canine.) and then, after Jonathan showed me his cool ’53 Willys Jeep, we headed out for breakfast at the Good Day Cafe. I have been mostly eating breakfasts as my main meal, as you have probably noticed, and the grilled egg sandwich I had at Heathers recommendation was exceptional - as were their version of home fries and the side of oatmeal I had. It was great fun to catch up with her life, and which friends from school we were still in touch with, and Heather had to be wrestled to the ground to even let me leave a tip for the meal - I am feeling awkward on this journey, as everyone feels they have to treat me as a guest, and I am… not great at accepting things. I took a little time to call Bonnie, since it was a Sunday, and after we caught up, I took a deep breath, and shot off into the wild yonder. 

(to be continued)


The WiFi in the Super 8 in Aberdeen SD is horrible. I will amend this and add photos when I get to a real server. If ever.

UPDATE: WIFI IN THE WEST IS A LIE!!!!! A CRUEL JOKE. VIDEO MAY NOT HAPPEN UNTIL I REACH SAN FRANCISCO. A LIE I TELL YOU!!!

Days 2-4. Happy Independence Thingy!!!

So, I made it to Frederick MD, on Sunday, the 1st.

Stopped in at the Frederick Coffee Company and Cafe, and had a visit with Mary Ellen Mitchell. Lovely, and an excuse to wait for the most blistering of the midday heat to burn off before heading for Breezewood, which was an easy 90-minute drive away, after the inly slightly grueling run from the shore.

I'm still trying to get the hang of the GoPro Hero, but there should actually be some footage from this leg, though not when Ireally wanted it, crossing the Bay Bridge. I'll get better. I did a quick Google search, and the best price I got was at the Breezewood Budget Inn. It's aptly named. BUT - the only room available was the "accessible" room, so I got the biggest bathroom with an actual tub. That was nice. And then I asked for a wake up call at.sksksksksksk.........

Day 2: 6.a.m.
I hope I am going to learn to sleep past 6 a.m. at some point on this trip. But it wasn't to be, just yet. Up, though, and a quick jaunt to the Breezewood Bob Evans.... which really didn't on the inside, look like a Bob Evans at all, more like a sort of better-designed Cracker Barrel...

but the breakfast was the same decent quality I have come to expect from BE, excepting the strange almost not-quite-like-toast object that came out in response to my request for "rye." I guess I'm giving up grains early this trip.

But a chicken-fried steak later, and I was ready to go, pack up the trusty mount, and hit the road.

Riding out of Breezewood felt sooo familiar, as if I was going to Pennsic War early... and just as hot. Balls hot. Satan's nethers kind of hot. I was ready to hunker down for a looooong run to Maumee, OH. But somewhere along the climb to the Allegheny Mountain tunnel, things just kind of clicked, and a lot of the stress of preparing for the ride began to fall away. On the other side of the mountain, (I always forget this) the weather was completely different - clear, dryer, easily 5 degrees cooler, maybe more. Suddenly, I felt like I was riding, actually catching the "flow" or what Pirsig would call the "groove".

I started to really put down the miles, and the traffic wasn't too bad, and I made a straight run to the Ohio border,

stopping for gas and to hydrate at the first service stop across the border. This was my first mistake, but a beneficial one,a s it turned out: while I was inside ordering a drink and some chicken strips, a giant squall broke out - i panicked, because I hadn't put the rain covers on the luggage before coming in, and half the stuff on the bike is electronic, it feels. But when there was enough fo a break in the monsoon for me to go out and check, I dscovered that the Nelson Rigg bags were surprisingly rain-resistant, and the contents were all mostly dry. (this would prove later, not to be as true as i hoped, abut that's for later. I ventured back out, after radar showed the bulk of the storm system had passed, and I realized how lucky I was that i had not been on the road when it hit - I might have drowned before I made it to any overpass to get covered up and in safe "wet" riding gear. As I struck out through Ohio, the best feeling yet overcame me, and even though Ohio is still the most boring place in the world that I personally have driven, the wake of the storm left a sweet smell in the air, and the air much drier and cooler than it had been - it was, honestly, perfect riding weather, and really for the very first time, i felt that I remembered why I had had this whole stupid idea.

Here: I took a picture of Ohio for you. This is what ALL of it looks like

Two thirds of Ohio passed as though it was a jaunt to the grocery around the corner, and I found myself pulling into the familiar parking lot of the Maumee, Ohio Motel Six.

So, all I had to do was hope that the young man with whom I struck up the conversation about the election a year and some months ago was still working here, was on this shift, and remembered who the Eff I was.

Alas, first hitch in my plan to open a national conversation: Tariq (probably not his real name) no longer worked here. (I mean, in retrospect, it was a stupid idea: what are the odds that a perfectly intelligent young immigrant with a green card and great language skills was still going to be working in  Motel 6 more than a year later...?) But anyway, I was safe, dry, (-ish) and I was in a bedroom with air conditioning.

Note to self: try to get rooms with outdoor exits that are very close to  the bike. Because, you don't want to be dragging when you finally get the luggage all moved back out to where the bike is actually parked. Wait, I should write something tonight, and organize photos andsksksksksksksks....

6 a.m.

Up. I know exactly where Bob Evans is , because this is where Bonnie first introduced me to the moral superiority of the Bob Evans Chicken Fried Steak (sorry, Waffle House, not this time, either...)

So breakfast in the Bob Evans across the street, with Lauren, the lovely waitress who is FASCINATED by what I am doing, and winds up in a long-ish conversation with me.

I wonder how this whole "Border Scrambler" thing is playing in the current political climate, or am I the only one?

Chicken Fried Steak is the order of the days....

 I'm going to Chicago? Lauren's daughter is taking classes in Chicago, for computer animation, and we have a bit of a chat about how hard to was for Lauren to accept that this is what her girl wants to do. but how she is keeping an open mind, and she thinks her girl is going to do anything she sets her mind to, and I'm not sure but but I caught a sense that she thinks that her daughter may be gay, and she loves her all the more - but if she is by-God going to move to L.A., she'd better understand that she is taking Lauren with her, because Lauren wouldn't mind getting out of Maumee, too.

Holy Toledo.

Now, I am just starting to establish a rhythm - wake - basic ablutions, breakfast, taking the un-laden bike, and then gassing it up and doing tire rituals sans luggage so that I don't have to mess with the bags around the pumps. Then I go back to the motel, and load the bike up. Now - this is where I think I screwed up:

When I went back to the Motel 6, there was no one parked in any of the handicapped spaces, which are the only ones in the front right by the door. What many of you may not know is that I HAVE a handicapped (or "accessible" - I don't know what the PC term is these days, and it's describing me) placard - I got it for my knees and will probably keep renewing it until the other knee is replaced. I don't use it often, anymore, (except to park at school) but it comes in handy on "bad knee" days, or at times like this - when I have a ton of heavy luggage to carry from a room at a motel with no carts. So, when I returned from breakfast, and there was no one parked in any of the spaces out front - I parked the bike in one. This, I will always feel, fairly or unfairly, is what drew down the dreaded Joseph's Vehicle Karma (tm), dormant for so long, on my head. I went in to start carrying out the luggage, and came out with the saddlebags first - threw them over the back of the bike, and started to bend down to seat them properly, when I realized that a) one of the small straps on the far bag had snagged on the bike frame, and b) the forward momentum I had given the bag had thus all been imparted to the bike, which was leaning AWAY from me and the side stand on which it had been leaning at a gathering rate...

It was already too far gone for me to try and catch it, certainly without hurting my self, so all I could do was try and ease its fall. So... Happy Monday: my bike is lying on the ground, and there is no sign of anyone around.

Just then out the door comes running this woman, yelling "Are you all right? I saw what happened... do you need me to go get help?" Grateful for her offering I said, "yes, please go get anyone you can find inside, there were just some men out here smoking..." She said, "They won't come: they hate me." Not in the mood to question her perception of her own social status in the Motel 6 hierarchy, I just started to try and lift the bike myself, worried because a motorcycle left lying on its side can go from bad to worse. The next thing I know, the woman is next to me, grunting and giving it her all. Now, I know how to pick up a motorcycle - I've had to do it and even practiced in in demos - but it involves getting down on the ground and basically standing up into the seat of the bike - and now my OLD knee is not up to the task of getting that low and still lifting. So I am trying to do it the old-fashioned, stupid way, which is by just trying to lever a 600-pound bike up using the frame and bars alone. But the assistance of this woman was juuuust enough extra "umph" that between the two of us, we got it stood up. We stood there, together, panting a little bit, and wouldn't you know it, the two men I had seen before came out the doors, eagerly offering to "help." I turned to the woman they supposedly "hated" and asked her name. "Teddy - like the bear" she said. "Thank you, Teddy, I couldn't have done that without you." "You're welcome, dear - just pay it forward," Teddy said.

Now, Teddy bears some signs of a life hard-lived that I recognize from my mother and from my own time around people with substance issues. If I had to guess, I would say that Teddy's drug of choice is alcohol, and that Teddy might just live at the Motel 6, possibly, based on some of the conversations I heard, by working to earn her keep. But the fact that Teddy was the only person who rushed out of that building to help me when it was clear that a number of other people heard what happened is not lost on me - so I will be looking to pay it forward. If the manager at the desk ever returns my call inquiring about whether Teddy needs someone to pay for a night of her stay, I hope she won't mind too much if I pay it backwards, too.

So, the bike is pretty banged up from falling - but the most important thing is that the brake lever has broken. The cosmetic damage is one thing - and I am still debating whether or not to report it to insurance - but I figure that I should get the bake lever looked at. Fortunately, I am supposed to have an appointment with the Honda dealership in Chicago, and maybe they will HOLY S___, what time is it - I have lost all sense of time, now that the bike is finally loaded up again, and ready to go. i have two things on the agenda today - stop at Notre Dame and light candles, and male to to the DuPage motorcycle dealership by three p.m. Okay - this should still work. Off I go.

But there's a detour, and yesterday's beautiful weather has turned decidedly... sultry? I mean, it's gross. I have to stop to hydrate. (at the Ernie Pyle rest stop in Indiana - the "best in roadside repast" - I remember this from when I was in college at ND - but boy, how it has changed...)

Here I realize that I am not making great time, and I am going to ask them to do an extra thing - better call ahead. Yes, maybe they have a suitable part in stock, but will I still make my 3 pm appointment? I look at the time, and say "Yes." and shove off, with renewed determination. As I draw abreast of South Bend, IN, where I should begetting off to light candles at the Grotto and see my old dear friend Lorri, who just had Carpal Tunnel Syndrome surgery, I check the ETA on Waze - 2:58 for a 3 p.m. appointment. I sigh, and cave to inevitability - I am not going to be able to stop in South bend this trip, which is a little bit if a failure. I buck up and soldier on, until... as I look down and Waze is instructing me to take a different path than I expected, half an hour past South Bend... and I notice that my ETA has changed...

To 1:58.

Because I am an idiot. Neither I, nor, apparently, Waze, has taken the time change into account, until it is too late for it to matter - at this point, to turn around and try to go back to South Bend will leave me without enough time to retrace my steps.

I get to the shop, they are all great - I got a pic of the service manager.

As "bike people" they are all fascinated by what I am doing - some envious, some incredulous. Chris Murphy has met me at the dealership

Sane people would choose the bike nearest the photographer for an adventure like mine. I.... didn't.

- we go to have a cool drink and an appetizer while they install my new tires and valves, and replace the broken brake lever with one they have stolen from another bike on the showroom floor. Great guys, all, they seem.

From the dealership, Chris leads me to his home in Chicago,

where we relax after getting the luggage up the two stories of their apartment house. I am safe with Chris, my oldest friend, and his new bride Elspeth (who swears she enjoys it when I call her that.)


Today is July Fourth, and I am going to give us all a break by doing laundry, charging and repairing things, rethinking my pack, and just being with my dear friends whom I haven't seen in too long. I hope everyone has a safe, quiet, and reflective Independence Day.

Blast off.

So, first, there was the trip to the beach, because if I say it's a "Ride Across America" I want it to be Across. America.

I left St. Mary's only about three hours late, after a feverish final day of packing, loading, repacking reloading forgetting things, rinse, repeat. I only recently found out that all the young women who live in the main house would be gone, about the same time as I was leaving, and so it seemed a good idea to try and round up some local folk to check on the house while I was away.

Except, I don't really know many people there... but now my neighbor Karen is totes on board with walking her dogs around the property every day, and reporting to the landlord if anything looks amiss. Thanks, Karen!

so now, you have seen the pictures of the bike in "full on pack" mode. The tail pack and the saddlebags were only recent acquisitions, after I was certain of which bike I was riding - so there was not a lot of time to practice, well... getting on and off. Getting off isn't really that hard (see what i did there?) but getting on....

Well, the best description I have come up with is akin to my description of my first venturings, years ago, on a moped... but less complimentary. Think of the hippos from Fantasia - if they all skipped Intermediate Ballet. Nonetheless, it gets a tiny bit easier, each time, and I have learned to stretch before trying to embark. There is video. Thanks, Bonnie. No, really....

The trip to the shore was uneventful. I say that as someone who has simply done the trip so many times that any trip that doesn't involve an electrical failure, a hurricane, dead relatives, or a war between rival household factions simply doesn't really count. It was hot, it was less long than i toculd have been, and the air conditioning at the motel was working. Fran, the clerk who was there at the SandCastle when Bonnie and I last visited was there on the night shift. Somehow we both forgot to mention and ask about the denouement of the Naked Guy in Pickup Situation from our last stay. See, this one, not so memorable.

All through this sojourn, I have been getting little signs from T - that have helped me know that i am on some not horrible path with this whole venture. Even though I was late, I got there much earlier than Bonnie, who had the bad fortune to have to work a half day. So I had some time to kill. I have decided that my presence on social media, as far as the outside world is concerned, will primarily be "checking in" - something I hardly ever do, ordinarily, but which I hope will continue to drum up support now that I am on the road. No sooner had I checked in at the beach than Deb Randall, Artistic Director of Venus Theatre and one of Tricia's true sister warriors, responded, "Alan's playing there, Today... no, wait - RIGHT NOW!"

Now I have met Alan, her husband, many times, but I have never, ever, seen one of his live shows - he is a very gifted musician, and I have kept "meaning" to catch a show... so the fact that i should finally DO it on the very first "Prep-day" of this is what I call an omen.

PS: The Alan Scott Band FUCKING SHREDS. Their cover of All along the watchtower almost had me up out of the first chair I had sat in in seven hours, after riding 6. And I got an Alan Scott selfie. So: FTW.

Bonnie, poor thing, made it down, and we hit Dogfish Head (or, the industrial compound formerly known as Dogfish Head - change is Hard) for a great dinner. back to the Sand Castle, and to bed, because: tired.

Saturday, we went to Arena's - my Coffee Shop away from home, for breakfast, and then drove down to Bethany to visit with Mary Clark, who had never met Bonnie. We had a lovely visit, right up to the point where they started referring to me in the third person and comparing notes, and then, Look! It was time for us to leave if we were going to make dinner... I forgot to get a pic of all of us together (with Mar's dog, Willy, who barked a lot at first, but then either remembered me or decided I didn't look appetizing and settled for scritches) But i did get a picture of this strange little memento someone had left on Mar's car downstairs...

Dinner at Nalu, the Hawaiian place I keep meaning to go to, which was both awesome and reasonable - oops - Bonnie - we left the leftovers in the fridge at the Sand Castle. Well, maybe it will seem like we aded to the tip. Back to the room, AFTER ice cream on the Avenue and a little time watching the Real Diamond Band at the bandstand - yes, it was a Neil Diamond tribute band, and I have to say, they were great - if you judge that by how like Neil Diamond they were. We stayed for Cracklin Rosie, and a couple other great oldies, not all them Diamond covers, but were tired, and so didn't hold out for Sweet Caroline, which was, I'm sure the encore to end all encores, for a certain kind of crowd favoring septagenarianism.

Bonnie mostly slept, while I cranked out the previous blog post, which sucked rockets, but it had been too long since I posted, and I wanted to talk about the n=bike dillemma, because it has really been the defining "thing" of the last few weeks, but I was too tired to be writing, especially when i was meant to be refining the "pack."

Nonetheless, I bet some of you read it, and no one has yet had the chutzpah to say "That was crap. Do better. You got our hopes up." ;-)

Feel Free. I won't be hurt.

So this a.m. we rose, and thanks entirely to Bonnie's gentle ministrations, I actually left the beach. I swear I think I was whining like a two year-old: "I can't, I'm skeered, it's too hard...." But we winnowed down the "pack" some - one piece of luggage has already bit the dust, and individual items to the tune of what i estimate to be 12 pounds or so.

I made it on the bike again, and we went to the end of Rehoboth Avenue, in sight of the Atlantic Ocean, and declared these Olympic Games of the 64th Olympiad Op - no, wait, we just said, "Okay, it's on. Get going. " And I left.

You can actually see the ocean in the background. "From Sea to Shining Sea." If I don't Die.

Oh, yeah - and BACK. 'Cause I'm an idiot.

We met up, one final time, at the Southern Grille in Ellendale DE, where we had been once before, and had a last breakfast together. If i ever have to chose a last meal - I'm serious, this place is in the running. I understand there is a "unscripted TV" show called something like Dives Diners, and Something - if they haven't covered the Southern, they are Not Even Legit. I take my Scrapple AND my sausage gravy very seriously, and these may be the best I've had. Go. Seriously.

That dessert case might as well be full of crack. Seriously.

The we really said our goodbyes, and Bonnie obligingly took video of me getting on the bike. in case she ever has to blackmail me. And I was off.

I slowed down only through Greenwod, DE, because Greenwood has always been a touchstone for me. But I'll talk about that in the next post.

Also - the GoPro is being a huge PITA, and so I don't have some of the video I hoped to have by now - going over the Bay Bridge on a cycle, what's it like to pass a Tesla like it's standing still, and more. I'll get it sorted, and I'll do the beachward video at the end instead of at the beginning is all.

For now, my body temp is almost back down under triple digits, and tonight's goal is Breezewood PA. So, ciao for now! Rubber Side Down.

More tonight.

Dance with who brung ya'.... Part 1

30 June 2018
11:40 p.m.


I've gone quiet, now for almost three weeks. Sorry about that. It's just that... well, there's been a lot. Some of it you'll hear about here - some of it later. And some of it, you don't need to know about.

I'm going to start with the history of my motorcycle career, because people who know me probably don't know how improbable I am in the motorcycling world. I'm tall-ish - but largely square in proportion, heavy, loud, and I have a shaved head. If you were to ask most people what I ride, I am guessing anyone who saw but didn't know me would guess "Harley. Some kind of Harley..." And yet....

The first two-wheeled, motorized thing I rode was This:

Not that exact one. or even model, but it was foreign, gold, and I looked a like walrus trying to do something unseemly to an otter. But it got me around that summer, and when I went back to Notre Dame, I was hooked. So, instead of a car, i spent my senior year of undergrad on...

And when I got home, the sickness grew...

Until finally, since I had to get my motorcycle endorsement anyway, I took all the hard-earned money Source was just throwing at me, and...

The 1981 Kawasaki GPZ550 was the very first real "sportbike" sold in America, as denoted by the cute little fairing on the front - the motor was also slightly tuned up from the stock KZ550, and it had better shocks and suspension up front. I didn't know how to shift, at all - I learned on a  scooter, remember, ... so my mother dropped me off with my checkbook and helmet in Mt. Airy MD, and said, "good luck." I made it back to DC alive, and that was the beginning of the end. This bike saw me through my first two years out of school, and accompanied me to NCSA - the "garage" side of the graduate studio, affectionately known as the "Grad Pad" in those days (it's still there - I checked it out when I was there for Faith Love's wedding in Fall of '17) was occupied by a couple of mattresses, Mark Minnick's (sp?) old Ford Maverick, and my GPZ, which gave me some respite from the constant drafting and the incessant, loud show tunes we needed to keep ourselves awake. It fonally succumbed to age, abuse, and my ministrations sometime in the '80's, when I was living in Veronica's Home for Boys and Others, and when my dad died, I seemed to gravitate towards the covered winter solace of a car; the GPZ went into Mom's back yard, from whence it was sold to an avid high schooler and his dad, and I went looking for my next joy/rocket.

I found it in the guise of this monstrosity, dubbed the "Suzuki Valdez by my friend Neil, due to an unfortunate incident with the petcock and the fuel tank. Nothing blew up, but this one was... not a good fit. ;-) But the following year, I would buy one of only two "new" motorcycles I would ever own...


So, it was time, in 1993, to get a real motorcycle, something reliable that I could depend on to get me from Point A to Point B.

I got this instead.

Ignore the Suzuki; if you do so, you start to see a trend... this bike was amazing, and got me through snow, and ice, and many tickets, and was the best vehicle, except for one little car, that i drove the whole time i was at Round House Theatre, but Jane Beard wanted me in a car after my mother died, and so this got set aside, and stayed for a while in Veronica's garage (shed, really) until I could get it a little TLC, and then, instead of riding it myself, I turned around and sold it, in fine theatrical tradition, to another theatre tech type, David Humke. Who almost died on it within a couple of months, but that's another story. Whatever its failings, the Suzuki Katana had a great motor, decent handling, and it looked like a real sport bike. The die had been cast. Keep watching.... with the money I got from Dave, and some little savings I had, I went looking for the next step up in sporting hardware. I really wasn't sure what I wanted; I even borrowed a friend's cruiser for a couple of weeks, but an unfortunate rabbit incident convinced me I belonged on more agile machinery. And then I found this:

In 2005, I bought my first Honda VFR800 Interceptor. I have ridden a lot of bikes, now, friends', and loaners, and rentals, even: no bike has ever come close to being a more balanced all-around cycle for me. And I just think it's beautiful. A little obscure in the age of full-bore, balls to the wall hypersport bikes, the 5th Generation interceptor is recognized by aficianados as a bike apart. But all good things...

Must come to rest against a curb, engine still running, the van that ran into the rider pulled over ot he side of the road, "Watch for Motorcycles" bumper sticker only slightly abraded where my boot caught it as I went under the van. Miraculously, I walked away with a broken thumb; but the bike was totaled by the insurance company (of the other driver - they were at fault, and were great about not only admitting it but helping me up , and home, and we even bonded a little. But that's, as you will hear often on this journey, another story. (If any one following along is eager to hear any of the "other stories" - like how I kicked the shit out of a deer on a motorcycle, or that time with the bomb and the gun and the CIA headquarters, just let me know, and I will try to get to them while we travel together. But it seems to me we have a more focused purpose here, on this journey than Uncle Joe's Treasure Trove of Improbable Life Events,... so anyway:

I need a bike. I have been living without a car, at the time of the accident, for over two years, and am loving it, but my primary transportation just got taken out. And with the insuranc emoney on my wrecked bike, I didn't know what i could get... but thanks to knowing my mechanic, I could get this:

Suffice it say that the sportbike flames were only getting fanned. Lok, it's getting too long, so I am going to skip the time the old lady ran over the interceptor, or the time the Hood College student ran over both of my bikes - the Interceptor AND the SuperHawk shown above, and skip ahead to the second time in my life I have ever bought a "new" bike - actually a 2014 Interceptor that I bought new in 2016. She's a beaut:

When I bought her, I had actually been going in to look at a used ST1300 - a bigger, slightly less sporty, slightly more "touring" oriented bike. But i just couldn't. It didn't excite me, I didn't "love" it. And even when it is your daily commuter, a motorcycle should always excite you, and put you more in the moment. So I got this instead. Less than six months later, however, I was in a relationship with Bonnie, about to get my knee replaced, and starting to contemplate the journey that begins, in earnest, in less than nine hours. so, a few months ago, I started hunting around for an ST1300 again - great bike, Honda reliability, and a pillion seat that wouldn't make Bonnie feel like and afterthought. I found this...

and even this...:

For about a week, it looked like I would be able to actually convert the laon on my Interceptor into an almost identical loan for this ST1300, and I was really excited about it - Bonnie sat on it, and I may never get her on another bike; it came with hard luggage  (including a top case "trunk" that would be great... but it was not to be. Honda would not consider financing a bike of this age ( it was a 2007)

I had had a greta rainign ride with some of my fellow riders (see that post) and I was pretty resigned to just riding the VFR800 (Interceptor) - after all I was used to it, and it seemd like it was in the best shape to take on all that distance... and then i found this:

Yes - a BMW. It had (has) very high miles, but has been so well-maintained and meticulously recorded, I instantly didn't care. This was hard one.... but at this point, the ride was week away, and i decided that the idea of breaking in a new bike as well as all the equipment I was still learning (and in some cases, awaiting to arrive) didn't make sense.

But would I be able to pack everything I needed (or thought, in my feverish brain, I needed) onto a sportbike? because, it was a LOT.

Sure, how much can that really be....

Well, for scale:

Alright, Loves, I'm typing this from a Rehoboth Beach motel room; Bonnie is keeping quietly in the bed, while I hammer out the last of this. Don't be dicks to each other, let me know that you are listening, and let's go have an adventure!!!

Tomorrow, this all becomes very real. 

Training day.

Ride Across America update. A little more than three weeks to go. Yesterday was my first training day. Special thanks to Steve Chadwick and Michael Patterson who shared it with me.



Started in St. Mary’s at 11:30 after a morning meeting; Steve met me and we rode to Lexington Park for coffee. Then we headed for Damascus, Md, to meet Mike for lunch; the goal was 230-3pm, the reality was 4pm. (Sorry, Mike!)
Together, we all headed up for Westminster, to O’Lordan’s pub, and then had the only really fun, scenic, and open road stretch of the day coming back down 31 to Frederick. Said goodbye to Steve, and then waved goodbye to Mike at 118 and 270.



Leaving me to solo from Gaithersburg back to St. Mary’s and my bed, at 10:30-ish, just in time to see the Caps take back the lead. Woot!



292.9 miles, just shy of my goal of 300, but:
A solid 9 out of 11 hours on the road spent actually riding (god, the traffic!) Which is more than almost any day I have planned, on the actual trip... And generally, I feel fine!

Lessons learned:
The Purple seat pad I borrowed for part if the ride from Steve is Magic. I’ve ordered one already.

My iPhone needs a new battery, anyway, but I need to take a serious power backup on the road. Looking st the Rugged Geek model; recommendations welcome.

Also, have to wire up my accessory harness.

I had been thinking of trying to get a different bike; something cushier than my 2014 Interceptor. I don’t think I’m going to. Some minor mods to the Interceptor are in order, like bar risers and maybe road pegs, if I can find them. But the bike simply handles great, and I just wasn’t that sore at the end of quite a long day, and the ignition mapping will be useful for grossing the mountains. I’m glad, because now I can start seriously outfitting the cycle for the trip.

Tomorrow’s trip is up to Honda Powersports of Crofton, to look for luggage and to schedule the shop visit for All The Things: new tires and chain, fluids, etc.

UPDATE: wound up going to Coleman Powersports in VA, because it’s close to Bonnie; and guess what was just sitting there, where I hadn’t thought to look...


This is THE bike I’ve been searching craigslist and the Interwebz for for months. 2007 ST1300, with PGM-FI, and ROAD PEGS custom-cut into the engine sliders.

The test ride’s tomorrow. Stay tuned....