The Trip - Day Two

Yesterday I had been awake for over 22 energy draining hours that included a flight from Florida to Denver, riding around Castle Rock while taking care of the transaction, and finally a 400 mile ride that resulted in over 7 hours on the road. The night in the hotel was a welcome rest, though I feared I wouldn't wake up for half a day. The bed was just right. The hotel thought enough to put four pillows of differing thickness and firmness giving me a choice of comfort that felt close to home. If you're in Amarillo, stay at the Holiday Inn near I-40. Somehow, I awoke at my regular time. 6:00 AM came around and I forced myself to fall back to sleep for 20 minutes. It was all I could do as I was anxious about the upcoming day's trip. After a great, hot, long shower to clean up again I was ready to check out by 8:00. I stopped to get gasoline in the bike and wash the bugs off the windshield. I-40 was less than 200 yards away and it would take me all the way to Little Rock, AR. The total trip was approximately 600 miles. Getting on the Interstate Highway was easy enough and before long I felt confident again. Cruising down the highway in moderate traffic I was headed out of town when I came to the inevitable construction zone just before exiting Amarillo. Like most, it was not clearly marked and I found myself in the right lane when the road split into two roads. This time right did not mean correct. I needed to be in the left lane. But as I exited I noticed a sign saying "Detour I-40". I thought this might lead me to another entrance back on the road so I followed it for awhile. After about 12 miles I decided it was turning south instead of east and turned around. I had just started my trip with a 20 minute delay. It was just too reminiscent of yesterday's fiasco and I became somewhat apprehensive of the remainder of the trip. Calculating that I had no real turns on I-40 all the way to Little Rock, I got past the event quickly and accelerated to nearly 95MPH to make up some time. Passing a pair of trucks I noticed a car ahead. Yes, it had lights on top of it. Yes, it slowed down as I did. He slowed all the way down to 55MPH in the 70MPH zone. Yes, I was a bit nervous. I wasn't sure what could happen in Texas with temporary Colorado tags on a new bike. What should I do with the police car slowing down more and more as I came to within 150 feet of it? I decided I should pass appropriately and keep an eye on my speed for the next 600 miles. With that plan I passed the officer and he turned off the highway shortly after that. In the next few miles I learned to breath again. Neither bladder or bowel control seemed to suffer from the scenarios I played in my head. I continued to drive with traffic (OK, a bit over the speed limit) into northern Texas. The countryside was nice with a mix of gentle and high hills. On each side there were ravines from erosion that ranged from 15 feet to hundreds of feet deep. The hillsides were deep green and my illusions of the dusty Texas plain were erased. I stopped for breakfast at a McDonald's in spite of warning myself about eating too much fast food on this trip. I wanted to be back on the road quickly and refueling myself and the bike took only about 15 minutes. I continued to drive into Oklahoma, which also turned out to be contrary to the dusty, flat state I had envisioned. Instead, I found beautiful rolling hills laced with verdant pastures. The ride was becoming peaceful and even restful at this point. Before Oklahoma City I stopped at a rest stop to call Andre and family. Andre was riding from Savannah to meet me in Little Rock and I expected him to get there before me by a couple hours. Wearing the new "flag-themed" half helmet I had bought in Colorado, I was about to start the bike when someone said, "Where are you headed, Captain America?" I turned to find a tall, thin gentleman of about 63 talking to me. You do meet friendly people on the road no matter where you go. The misconceptions provided by an abundance of horror movies never seem to fuel the paranoia that many people develop. I learned that he was from New England and on retirement had decided to take his Isuzu Rodeo on a vacation. He had been on the road for over a month visiting friends and places around the country. He camped in his SUV most of the time and was driving it with over 186,000 miles on it. It was nice to meet another traveler. We wished each other well and got back on the road. A constant regret I had on this journey was the lack of leisure time. I drove into Oklahoma City on the freeway with the dream of seeing the monument to the bombing victims. I had seen it on television, but I really wanted to stop and grasp the entirety of the situation. My schedule didn't permit it as I drove through the maze of traffic trying to leave the city for Memorial Day weekend. The sheer proximity reminded me of the holiday and mentally I paused often to remember those that served us in the military. Traffic was picking up. It was as though half the city was evacuating for a weekend of fun. They were the early birds as it was only about 1:00. This lasted for about an hour and suddenly began to thin out. I could only assume that the most common destinations for a weekend of fun-in-the-sun were being passed as my fellow travelers exited the freeway. Shortly after the reduction of traffic I experienced sharp pain in my left eye. I had been covering myself generously with SPF50 sunscreen and some of it had dripped with sweat into my eye. The pain became blinding and forced me to pull over in the midst of semi-trailer truck whizzing by the roadside. After several minutes I felt well enough to get back into traffic. I drove another 3 or 4 miles and the pain returned more furious than before. Now, the tearing was beginning to add to the pain as the corners of my eyes started to chap. Another 10 minutes and I was back on the road with the goal to make it to my next gas stop. I didn't. Less than 5 minutes of driving and I was so blinded it was all I could do to exit the highway and look for somewhere to rest my eyes. I found a taco place and went inside to order something small to eat and a soft drink. Eyes tearing viciously, I went first to the restroom and wash my face and eyes with cold water for about 5 minutes. Still in pain, I ordered and found a seat to rest my eyes for about half an hour. When I finally left with minor pain I switched to my 3/4 helmet with a full visor. The wind reduction helped reduce the chapping and irritation on my eyes. I drove another couple hours before I had to stop again. With only 150 miles to reach Little Rock, I was no longer sure I would be able to drive at all. I wondered how I would get home, how I would get the motorcycle home, what damage I had done to my eyes, and how miserable I would feel if I failed to successfully complete my journey. With trucks racing by 10 feet away I rested on the bike for 5 minutes, then 5 more and then I set out again. I lowered my speed to reduce wind impact. My eyes teared a bit less. I tried to enjoy the beautiful scenery of Arkansas as I drove into the state. Arkansas reminded me of where I grew up in Pennsylvania. Its moderate mountains and hilly highways are surrounded with hardwood forests for as far as you can see. The bridges cross wide rivers of rushing water that brings peaceful sounds to mind even while riding the noisy highway. I concentrated on the surroundings and soon got past the pain to enjoy the ride. In what seemed like no time I found myself outside Little Rock. I found the Howard Johnson's with Andre's bike outside in the parking lot. I gave him a call and he came out to help me unload the bike and carry things up to the room. He had already scoped out the downtown area and found nice restaurants and a rib festival. The area was nice and had a small town feeling to it. The 2-lane streets were 30MPH speed limits lined with small businesses and homes. The downtown area felt like vintage America. It was peaceful, clean, and welcoming. OK, I was also relieved to see a police station across the street from our parking spaces at the hotel. But my fears were unfounded. We went in a bar that had a few other bikes parked out front. A band was tuning to start playing later that night. This was the first time I had sat down to order real food since beginning my trip. I ordered a draft and looked at the menu finding a muffaletta in 3 different sizes. Hoping to relive a New Orleans experience I ordered the smallest. I found there is no replacement for Napolean House in the French Quarter, but it was a large, filling sandwich that went well with my second draft. Andre and I talked of our journeys for awhile and planned the trip for tomorrow. I was again exhausted, but I had made it to Little Rock before 7:00 PM CDT. It would be the first time I would be able to get some sleep for a real period of time. I planned to sleep until 8:00 or 9:00 tomorrow just to get rested. My butt hurt. My back hurt. My eyes were recovering from sunscreen and chapping. I needed the rest. I awoke once at 2:00 AM and checked the bikes. They were untouched. I went back to sleep feeling confident that tomorrow would be a better day.

The Trip - Day One

The first day would most easily be divided into three parts: Getting to Colorado, buying the motorcycle, and the beginning of the journey. I got up at 4:00 AM EDT to get ready for the trip and pick up my daughter, Karyn, at 5:30 AM. She took me to the Fort Lauderdale airport where I boarded the plane and flew to the Denver airport, arriving at 9:45 AM. The shift of two time zones made the 4 hour flight seem like two. Upon arriving I was met by the bike's owner, Larry. It was great to finally put a face with a voice and we immediately set off for the parking lot to drive to his home in Castle Rock, about 25 miles south of Denver. We had a great talk on the way and became friends from this transaction. At his house we did the formalities of the Bill of Sale and payment. I saw his new Harley-Davidson Road Glide (beautiful yellow pearl with a deep shade that gives yellow a serious tone) and his Mustang Saleen. The car and bike both are very impressive. We took the bikes for a ride to get the 5-day temporary tag that I would use to ride home. Then we went to the Yamaha dealer to pick up a water-proof license bag. While there I bought a half-helmet in a very patriotic theme and a do-rag with much the same flavor. The helmet, a good deal at $40, was on sale at half off. I couldn't resist it. I would have spent more if they had had the things I needed in stock. We moved on to Walmart where I got necessities like lip balm, 50 SPF sunscreen, and Gatorade for the trip. We grabbed a quick lunch at Wendy's and went back to his house. After final packing and arranging items (thanks for the bungee cords, Larry) my planned 1:00 departure took place after 2:30 had passed. But I was finally on the road. Once on I-25 South I had a nice ride past Colorado Spring towards New Mexico. Motorcycles were out in force as the day was beautiful and clear. The mountains on my right were spectacular as I rode along the snow-peaked corridor. I did stop once to photograph the Grand Tetons. I didn't stop enough to take photos, though. I didn't have time or safety in most cases. As I went south the mountains suddenly ended just below Colorado Springs and I was on open ground to finish this 219 mile section of the trip. It would have been great except for a turn I didn't realize I had made correctly. I ended up getting back on I-25 for a 37-mile diversion (totaling 75 round trip) into New Mexico south of Raton. When I turned around I found myself accelerating to highway speed only to learn how quickly the Roadstar would go over 100 mph. In a few miles I came upon a police cruiser with someone pulled over. I was immediately encouraged to drive a bit more sensibly. After getting back on course (running 2.5 hours behind) I realize that night is setting in as I head east towards Texas. It was just a little over 212 miles to Amarillo across very rural landscapes at night. The night was not only unfamiliar, but determined to test my willingness to drive as temperatures continued to drop. Fortunately, it didn't get too cold along the dark highway. The two-lane road occasionally gave way to a small town and provided an opportunity to refuel both the motorcycle and myself. I finished 3 of the 6 Gatorade bottles I had brought with me and bought another large one at one station. I changed time zones to Central Time and lost yet another hour. The forecast in Amarillo was for high winds in the morning. I was not prepared for how high the winds would get. There were trees and bushes bending as if they were in a Florida tropical storm. Gusts undoubtedly exceeded 50mph with sustained winds around 45mph. The bike, however, handled fine and I found my way through the downtown area to the Holiday Inn. I was exhausted and hungry. The Holiday Inn was very nice. The hotel had a conference center and indoor atrium with restaurant and arcade area complimented by full-size trees. I rode across the street to the IHOP and had a French toast for dinner. I went back to the room, cleaned up, and fell to sleep. I had planned on this first short leg of my journey to be the easiest. It was just over 400 miles, the shortest by far. I had planned on getting to the hotel by 5:00 or 6:00 at the latest. Instead, I visited parts of New Mexico I hadn't planned on seeing and pulled in at 12:30 Central Time, a full 9 hours after leaving Castle Rock, CO. It was a test and made me question the wisdom to ride in unfamiliar territory on a new motorcycle. I hadn't planned on riding at night much, if at all. I had to wonder if I could make each remaining planned leg of the journey, the shortest of which was 625 miles the next morning. Aside from the visions of beautiful western terrain left in my mind, I had those concerns floating in my head as I drifted off to sleep. I was so tired I wasn't sure I would awake in time to leave in the morning or if I could possibly be rested enough to endure another day. And then I was asleep.

The Trip

I guess if you wanted to look at this grand picture it all started a few months ago when I decided that the 2003 VStar 1100 Classic wasn't enough bike anymore. Truth be told, it was a great bike and met my needs well. But, the bug had bitten and I was destined for more power. I sold the VStar to a gentleman in Georgia who is now riding a great little bike. The next day I bought a beautifully customized Harley Davidson 2000 Road King Classic. I had been a bit concerned about the reach of the handlebars and asked the builder about it. He assured me that he was an inch shorter and had no problem reaching them. I had asked the wrong question. I test road the Harley and felt I just wasn't used to the bike and would adjust with time. I rode it home (after watching the Gators win the SEC Championship) with some difficulty. See, it wasn't the arm reach but the leg reach that eventually killed me. I had to stop several times just to rest and finally got the bike home. After a more attempts at riding it I succumbed to the fact that my legs were too short. Even though I had more height than the builder, he apparently had long legs. The bike, beautiful as it is, was not meant for me or someone of my stature. I decided to sell it. While selling the Harley Davidson I also shopped for the next bike. I considered many but eventually rested on a Yamaha 2004 Roadstar. There were many great deals on great bikes and it was difficult to narrow down to just one. I did that and after selling my bike on Tuesday made final arrangements to pick up my choice bike in Castle Rock, CO, just south of Denver. It had only 2,500 miles on it, lots of accessories that I liked, and at a reasonable price. This is where my little adventure begins. In this entry I'll just summarize it. The details will come on the next few entries. The short list of events gets me out of bed at 4:00 AM EDT on Thursday, May 25th. I was pretty much packed and left home by 5:15 to pick up my daughter. Karyn drove me to the Fort Lauderdale airport where I was catching a 7:45 nonstop flight to Denver where the seller would pick me up. Once in Castle Rock the transaction would be completed and I would start my ride. I had consulted maps.google.com and mapquest.com for directions. Both had given me the same route of a little over 2100 miles across mostly flat states. It was tolerable and quick, but missing the flavor I sought in this journey. I decided to create my own fast but more desirable journey in 4 sections. The first would take me from Castle Rock, Colorado south into New Mexico and then east to Amarillo, Texas, a distance of just over 400 miles. The second leg would take me from Texas through Oklahoma and eventually to Little Rock, Arkansas for a 625 mile ride. My friend Andre was planning on meeting me there and riding the next two sections home with me. From Arkansas we would trek to the corner of Tennessee and down through Mississippi to Alabama and eventually to Pensacola, Florida at almost 700 miles. The leg home would take us through Tallahassee and down to Gainesville leading eventually home to Wellington at about 700 miles again. When all was said and done I had ridden 2,417 miles almost doubling the mileage on the bike from when I bought it. Tomorrow I'll write about the first day. It was one that definitely tested my metal. But as I look back on the entire trip I am glad I made it. I wish I had more time to stop and absorb the cultures I passed. I would have loved to explore back roads in the different terrains. It's a great country and we get to see so little of it. The ride definitely left me wanting more in the future.