Please note: The following was written by Bud Melton of Indianapolis, who organized the trip and sent out these daily epistles to his friends and family. I, Jeff Bernel, thought these were of great value and wanted to make sure they were memorialized. Photos of the trip can be found at http://www.webshots.com/, seach for jbernel and his albums. The photos are the combination of those taken by Bud and Chris Melton, Skip and Linda Cunningham and Jeff and Kathy Bernel. Thanks Bud and his lovely wife, Chris, for all of your hard work putting this wonderful trip together.
Day 1
We made it to Columbia, Missouri at about 6:00 Central time – 7:00 Eastern time. We’re hot, but we have some tales to tell – as is typical on a motorcycle trip. We missed all potential of rain today although there was one segment where we rode through some very light sprinkles. The temperature during the afternoon ride was 91 degrees, although it cooled to 90 degrees as we got to the motel.
We left Carmel around 9:00 a.m. Not too bad considering we were out late last night at dinner and considering Chris had to water all her flowers one more time before we had wheels up.
Skip and Linda Cunningham, ½ of our riding friends from South Caroline arrived in Carmel around 5:00 p.m. Wednesday night. We had our hello’s and then off to dinner at Noah Grant’s in Zionsville – primarily because Linda and I absolutely love Oysters on the half shell and they’re noted for their fish, sushi and their fresh oysters. We weren’t disappointed! The only issue at dinner was they ran out of MacCallan 18 scotch and I had to switch to Glenlivit! We got home around 10:15 pm ish and we all went to bed.
We got up and had coffee and headed out as I mentioned. We rode to the Crawfordsville exit on I-70 and had breakfast at the truck stop there. Chris has been on a low Carbohydrate diet and today was her first day she was allowed to have bread and some bacon! She was like a little kid who tasted sugar for the first time. Then we rode to Terre Haute where our son, Scott, met us to say Hi. We had a nice but short visit with him and then we were off and quickly into Illinois. Linda and Skip’s oldest son is also named Scott and we talk about the two of them a lot on our trips so they were pleased to meet our Scott.
Then the “fun” began. We’re riding along very innocently with our cruise controls set at about 73 mph gently weaving through traffic and passing the slower cars and trucks. Skip took a very gentle turn into the high speed lane of I-70 to pass a slower moving car but in the process rode across some small pieces of alligator. That’s a term of art truckers give to shredded parts of tires that lay across interstate highways. Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as an innocent alligator on Interstate highways. We don’t know how it happened – or how it could have even happened at all – but it did. The alligator jumped up underneath his motorcycle and hit his center stand and knocked the spring which holds the center stand up tightly against the motorcycle when you’re riding it clean off the motorcycle. I mean this is a major spring which is bound to the motorcycle very tightly. How that little alligator jumped up and snatched it off is a mystery to us – but it did.
Needless to say, without the spring holding it up to the frame of the motorcycle, the center stand dropped and started dragging on the pavement. It obviously was making a loud noise but we couldn’t figure out what it was at speed. So, we got off at the next exit and parked at a filling station to see what was causing the entire racket. We immediately figured out what it was and then tried to figure out our options. One option was to ride back and see if we could find the spring. No – make that I had to ride back. We decided that might be looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack. So we decided to tie it to the motorcycle via some nylon ties I carry with me and to stop at a Honda Motorcycle shop in either St. Louis or Columbia, Missouri. So I got into my trusty tool box in my trailer and handed Skip a tie. It was too short. So, I got another longer one and gave it to him. He uttered words like – “Only Melton would carry ties in an assortment of lengths.” But maybe with some expletives deleted added in to flavor the content of his amazement at what all I carry in my trailer.
So off we went to St. Louis to Donelson Honda motorcycle shop. With our trusty Honda GPS’ – they show a Honda logo icon everywhere there is a Honda motorcycle shop. So, we just followed the map. This was a gigantic motorcycle shop. The clerk at the parts counter asked what we wanted, then consulted a huge rolodex. He said – “We have one in stock – but it costs $10. Do we want to spend that much on a spring?” I told him yes – and if Skip wouldn’t buy it – I would. But, I have to confess being truly amazed at their inventory control system. Talk about old world inventory management systems. But we bought the spring and off we went to Columbia, Missouri – our first night stop. We had 95 miles to go.
We rode about half way and stopped at a rest area to have some cold water from my cooler on my trailer. Nice and refreshing in the 91 degree heat.
We rode into Columbia, Missouri, checked in, unloaded the motorcycles and sent the ladies to our rooms so Skip & I could install the spring. I got out my tools and told Skip to get the spring. He looked up and said, “Linda must have mistakenly taken it to the room. So he went to their room to get it. He came out with an ashen look and said – he couldn’t find it in the room – so surely it must still be in the motorcycle. We took apart the motorcycle – but no spring. Obviously I looked at him with an astonished look! He then said, “At the last rest stop as I was putting everything back in our trunk, I heard a noise like something fell out of the trunk – but I looked around and didn’t see anything.” Obviously it must have been the spring. So, here we are – no spring and now we have to stop at another Honda motorcycle dealership somewhere along our route and buy another spring. Wonder what he’ll have to pay this time?????
As everyone who has been reading these daily epistles of our motorcycle exploits – there’s a new story every day!
Dinner tonight will be casual at a Bennigan’s attached to the Marriott Courtyard.
Today - Thursday, June 17, 2010.
2010 – Day 2
Day 1 – 398 miles
Day 2 – 396 miles
We had a fairly good but uneventful dinner last night at Bennigan’s restaurant next to our motel.
We got a good start today from the hotel and did our usual ride for an hour and look for a good breakfast restaurant. We like local – lots of pick-up trucks or police cars. Motorcycles will do of course, but typically during a week day we can’t find too many around for breakfast. So we saw a sign on the highway for the Bobber Café in Boonville, Missouri. Anyone who can name their restaurant the Bobber Café and not have any relevance to a fishing lure has to be OK in our book. The reason we knew there wasn’t any relevance to fishing is because we were miles from any type of a body of water, including the retention ponds the contractors dig when making an Interstate interchange.
So in we went. I think I neglected to mention at the Crawfordsville, Indiana restaurant we stopped in for breakfast on day 1 we were stunned at the amount of smokers in the restaurant. They obviously hadn’t heard of any type of no smoking policy. If we were stunned in Crawfordsville, we were doubly stunned at Bobber’s Café. Nearly everyone in the restaurant was smoking! But we were hungry, so in we went. We called the other ½ of our South Carolina friends and were pleasantly surprised to find they were only 20 miles east of us.
Donn & Helen Costanzo were trailering their two trikes to Colorado Springs, Colorado (yes – both ride a trike) before joining us and had left 2 days later than Skip & Linda from Tega Cay, South Carolina. As it turns out they were close, so despite already having eaten breakfast, they stopped in to say Hi and get lots of hugs, etc. Donn and Helen and Skip and Linda are neighbors in Tega Cay. As most know, we met the 4 of them when we went to Nova Scotia in 2004 or 2005 and we all have been riding together since.
We had a marvelous breakfast, complete with a dose of second hand lung cancer. We then said our goodbyes and Donn & Helen took off in their truck hauling their trikes and took off for Colorado Springs. Obviously, one can travel much quicker and farther in a day in a car or truck than on a motorcycle – unless one wants to join that insane club – The Iron Butt Association. You have to document 1,000 miles in a 24 hour period. Several of the people that ride with us have qualified – but I have no desire to even try.
As we neared Kansas City, we noticed the familiar Honda icon on our GPS screens so we diverted to Dell’s Power sports motorcycle shop in Blue Springs, Missouri (a suburb of Kansas City.) They handle Honda and Kawasaki motorcycles, Honda power sports equipment and Honda Jet Ski’s. We asked about a spring for Skip’s motorcycle, and despite a completely computerized inventory system (unlike the shop in St. Louis) they indicated they didn’t have one for us but would be happy to order it and it would be in the store in about a week. Naturally we mentioned we were passing through and the general manager overheard us. He told us to hold on and he would ask his chief mechanic (who has worked for him for 30 years) if he might have a spare one in his tool box somewhere. Well he looked and no spring. (Guess there’s not a lot of requests for them or they never break and we’re the first ones in 30 years to need a new one!) Well that didn’t satisfy the general manager – so he said hold on – we’ll take one off a new Goldwing and put it on yours so you can be on your way. Besides, he said the torque required to install the spring might be way too much to handle without the proper tools, so it would be dangerous trying to do it on our own – even if we did find one someplace else. Remember – I was going to help Skip do it in our motel parking lot the night before with one pair of vice grips???!!! Now I will tell you, I read about this type of Dealership all the time in my Wing World magazine, but now I was experiencing one first hand. We’ll be sure to write Wing World and tell them of our positive experiences with Dell’s Power sports.
But now the cost. In St. Louis, the spring cost $10. In Blue Springs, the cost was only $8.50 – but there was a $23 charge to install it. So, $31.50 and $10 = $41.50. Not bad all in all and now we’re good to go. Skip did retrieve the tie wrap I gave him to secure it and told me I might like it as a souvenir! Oh, and Skip made me promise – no more stories about the “expletive deleted” spring! I said, “Sure – maybe!”
In about 45 minutes – we were back on the Interstate. That’s the good news. The bad news is we had perfect weather – but hot weather. We rode in 90-95 degree heat all day long. It finally did take its toll on Chris and she looked weather beaten at one of our rest stops. I’ve been married to this lovely lady for almost 39 years, and I’ve never seen her look as red in the face as she did this afternoon. Luckily, our motorcycle has a cooler attached to the trailer so every morning we fill it with bottled water and pack it full of ice to the brim. We needed it today. Helen was also helpful this morning before she left us and left us with some neck bands that are designed to be placed on ice and worn around the neck. Those saved the day for Linda and especially Chris.
Those that have been reading these epistles for several years know I don’t ride very well in severe side winds. In fact that’s why I “triked up” my motorcycle after our ill fated excursion to California a few years ago. Well, we hit tremendous side winds again today. Skip is an excellent rider. As I looked at him lean into the wind at probably 12-15 degrees – I gasped. Then the wind hit me. Even on a trike – it was a chore keeping the bike on the straight and narrow – now granted we were doing 73 mph. For awhile – all the bad experiences I had on our way to California hit me again. At one of our rest stops, Skip and I were discussing the wind and I was exclaiming how bad it was. He said, “How soon we forget! The winds we encountered on the way to California were the worst he had ever experienced.” I felt a little better.
We rode all afternoon prayerfully looking at the miles tick down on the GPS until it suggested we were at our destination – Hays, Kansas. We checked in to our motel – a Hampton Inn and now we’re about to depart to dinner.
Oh – heard from Jeff. He’s in Denver already visiting his sister and Kathy flew in today and he’s already picked her up. Jeff left last Sunday and wandered to Denver. It’s about 1,000 miles to Denver from La Porte and he reported he’s ridden 2,600 miles so far + one speeding ticket. Can’t wait to hear about that one! Ha!
Day 3
What a difference a day makes. We decided to try to get an earlier start because we were riding to Denver, Colorado and meeting some dear old friends of ours from Indianapolis (and also Grandview Lake) who have relocated there. Bain and Nancy Farris are now Denver residents and Bain has become president and CEO of Exempla Saint Joseph Hospital. Bain was the president & CEO of St. Vincent’s Hospital in Indianapolis when we first met and he was the person who first appointed me to St. Vincent’s board of directors. Most everyone knows I had a good run there including being chairman of St. Vincent Health, the holding company who owns St. Vincent Hospital (and others). Anyway, we couldn’t go through Denver without seeing them so we’re having cocktails at their new house and then dinner at an Italian restaurant near our hotel that Bain & Nancy highly recommend.
Back to the beginning. We had a goal of leaving at 7:45 a.m. having already eaten breakfast at the Hampton Inn. That was the goal. We’ve typically leave at 8:30 ish and ride to get breakfast while en route. But today we wanted to get to Denver at a more reasonable time. We were almost on time when we went outside to load the motorcycles and looked at the sky. It looked like it was about to unload on us with rain. I got out my trusty I Phone and quickly looked at the weather map and saw that the front with one violent cell was to the North of us and heading east. If we could leave quickly – we could be out of Dodge before it could even come close. But the ladies (and we concurred) wanted to put on their rain pants in case it started raining. Easier to put them on in the hotel lobby as opposed to the brim of the highway. Skip and I I have Gortex riding suits that we wear every day. We’re good to go – rain or shine. But do you think we can get our wives to purchase them? No – because they’re not very flattering to the female figure. Haven’t they figured out that we long ago signed on – for better or for worse? In any event we finally hit the Interstate at 8:25 a.m.
We didn’t ever get any rain drops and had a great ride to Denver with mostly overcast skies. Yesterday the temperature was in the low 90’s – today it was in the low 70’s. Now that is perfect weather in which to ride. The only bad news was my flight leader (Skip) was in riding mode. We typically ride for an hour or so and stop and take a break. We do this all day long. It’s very easy on these older bodies to do it at that pace. Today however, the motorcycles were humming along at 75 mph and at about 3,200 rpm. The Goldwing just hums at this speed. So, one hour goes by. Then the second was about to expire. I “suggested” to Skip that perhaps a stop at the upcoming rest area might be in order. He concurred much to my amazement. We had a nice stop, and then I mentioned that before long I would need gas. With 2 up and pulling our trailer on our trike – about 150 miles is my range. At that point I have about another gallon or so left in the tank and in the old Wild West – gas stations are not exactly on every corner (or Interstate interchange). So I really start looking for gas at the 135 mile range and get anxious as we approach the 150 mile range.
We found a great gas station at Goodland, Kansas and pulled in for gas. We noticed three motorcyclists who we recognized because while we were in the rest area they rode by and we all waved. The leaded had a very distinctive bright red Harley Ultra. When we saw them at the gas station, we noticed it was a fellow on the Harley and the other two riders, each on their own Harley, were females. We’re always for affirmative action! Well we started talking to the gentleman and I noticed one of his patches on his vest indicated “Abate Indiana.” I said – “Are you from Indiana?” (almost incredulously). He said – yes – We’re from Evansville, Indiana. Naturally that provoked an immediate answer from me – “So am I.” I then looked over at Chris and said, “These folks are from God’s Country!” She began immediately laughing because she knew what I meant by that comment. Now to go a bit further, the fellow from Evansville inquired of Skip where he was from. When Skip told him Tega Cay, South Carolina – the fellow said he once dated a woman from Tega Cay. Now you can’t dream or make this stuff up.
When we left them and continued on toward Denver – Chris said – I wonder when we’ll meet someone from Houston, Delaware on this trip. I told her not to hold her breath. But one never knows!
We finally stopped one more time for lunch and then headed into Denver. Luckily we had shed most of our riding jackets because the temperature in Denver soared to nearly 90 degrees and slow intercity traffic. Bain suggested we stay at the JW Marriott near his house so we did. As we pulled up in front of the hotel with our motorcycles, all of the little old ladies out front came out and started taking pictures of the motorcycles and standing near them getting more pictures taken. I heard one of them ask the doormen – were we famous movie starts or someone they should know? I didn’t hear his response! Ha!
So we valeted our own motorcycles in the hotel VIP lot and now we’re safely ensconced in our rooms. We’re meeting Bain and Nancy at 6:00 pm and going to their house for cocktails as I mentioned. Jeff & Kathy Bernel are already here in Denver and are touring Estes Park today. They’re also joining us for cocktails and dinner along with Jeff’s sister and her husband. Tomorrow we meet up again with Donn & Helen and then the real ride and fun will begin.
Day 4
Sorry about missing yesterday. Late night in Denver and another hot ride through the Colorado Rockies to our destination – Grand Junction, Colorado, makes for slow epistles. I’m going to start this in the morning of Day 5, but I suspect I won’t complete it until tonight or tomorrow morning.
So, let’s start with dinner in Denver. Our friends Bain & Nancy Farris picked us up at our hotel and drove us to their new home – about 4-5 minutes away. We loved their new abode – it’s very “them.” Although their house is fairly new construction for the area, i.e., tear down and re-build, their neighborhood reminded us a lot of their old Indianapolis haunts at 54th and Pennsylvania. They have a very wide open floor plan which was designed by the previous owner – a golf pro. Unfortunately when he decided to move the market collapsed, and as Bain told us – he had to bring money to the closing table. So, Bain and Nancy are the beneficiaries of this economy in their new residence.
Naturally, for this elegant “cocktail party” Nancy spared no expense. I mention cocktail party because to those of us from Evansville, that’s what it was: a nice little party among friends with cocktails and hors-d’ouevres served, (regardless of whether they be hot or cold.) Apparently, a cocktail party to our friends from South Carolina means waiters, waitresses, a big menu and nice frilly dresses for the ladies. Did I say yet that Linda looked beautiful? This beautiful look came from a lady that refuses to allow her husband to buy a motorcycle trailer so they can travel in a bit more comfort. So, she bought special dresses that could pack well on the motorcycle and made Skip, her husband, carry her heels in one of his bags because she didn’t have room. All that, and with our trailer, which can and does carry everything – Chris left her black leather purse in the trailer as we unpacked at the hotel and had to take her “traveling purse” to the cocktail party.
Needless to say when Bain picked us up wearing jeans and no socks and Nancy was in long shorts, Linda looked at me and if looks could kill – well someone else would be writing this epistle right now. But, remember - did I say Linda looked beautiful??????? Kathy wore a wonderful dress to the cocktail party as well – and she looked beautiful as well.
After our cocktail party, we had dinner at a great Italian restaurant right next door to the hotel – North’s at Cherry Creek. We highly recommend it for future dinners in the Denver area. In fact, the JW Marriott is perfectly located in Denver. Downtown is close by and there is a great shopping area in the immediate surrounding area. We observed a Meridian Hills type of country club from our hotel window, so the area must have everything.
The next morning, we retrieved our motorcycles from the valet parking area. We had to pay $25 to valet park our motorcycles, but we rode the motorcycles to and fro. I guess it was worth it as they were in an underground garage and totally secure. Again, loading up, we were the hit of the day. I guess not too many motorcyclists stay at the JW Marriott in Denver. The six of us headed out to meet Donn & Helen who were in an area of Denver called Golden, Colorado. We met up with them, gassed up, and headed out I-70 toward Vail. We all have traveled around Colorado on most of the back roads. This time I thought it might be fun to drive through the mountains via I-70, which is in and of itself a great scenic route in my opinion. I’ve driven it many times to Vail and Beaver Creek. Once, with an old friend (Don Hovde) we had to stop at every flea market sale along the route because he collected toy soldiers. He found a bunch at every stop. But, I had never been past Beaver Creek on I-70, so I, for one, was especially looking forward to the route.
We weren’t disappointed. The Interstate to Vail was even more scenic than I remembered. I think when you’re in a car you’re concentrating on the traffic and thinking about getting there. On a motorcycle, you experience every sense. The temperature was perfect at 72 degrees. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The road was in perfect condition (thanks to President Obama’s Recovery Act). We could smell the fragrances’ entire coming from all the plants and trees and literally we could feel our environment.
There was one new item that I noticed on the ride to Vail (and throughout Colorado and Utah so far.) We’ve all seen the fences protecting Interstate highways from the surrounding wildlife. The fence we noticed in Colorado seemed brand new and for the first time I saw an opening for any wildlife that managed to get on the Interstate side of the fence to safely and easily get back over the fence. But on the nature side of the fence, there was a large barricade that prevented animals from using it from the wildlife side. So, I know this might be boring, but I’m always thinking about business opportunities. The fence concession business for an Interstate highway has to be a money making proposition.
We stopped at Vail for lunch and had a good lunch at Pepi’s Bar and Restaurant. It’s mostly German food, but we had good tuna melts and soup. More on Chris’ lunch later. I jokingly sent our good friend Al Hubbard an email and asked for the keys to his place in Vail so we could go in and take a nap while all the ladies shopped. Much to my amazement – he quickly sent a return email inviting us to go there – but we did not. Jeff Bernel now has a new name – Indiana Jones Bernel. He bought an Indiana Jones type of hat in Vail that is crushable and now wears it every time we stop, He looks very manly! Especially to Kathy.
After about 2 ½ hours at Vail we headed out again for our destination for the evening – Grand Junction, Colorado. Helen has a new trike of her own to ride. Traditionally she had her own motorcycle but when Donn Triked up, she also Triked up. That’s the good news. The bad news is despite being really cute and perfect for a female, I don’t think it was manufactured for a ride to Montana. She can only travel about 110 miles out of a tank of gas. So, armed with this knowledge, we knew to stop for gas about every 100 miles - or so. The “or so” becomes really relevant when you’re in the Wild West. The next gas station on the Interstate subsequent to Vail is about 125 miles away. Helen ran out of gas as she was coasting to a stop at the gas station. We decided right then and there to stop at the next Wal-Mart we saw and buy a portable gas can and strap it to Donn’s motorcycle in case Helen runs out of gas again.
We got into our motel at Grand Junction and had dinner at a micro brew bar. My meal was awful. Everyone else had a so so meal. Chris didn’t even go to dinner as she was feeling a bit puny from our lunch in Vail. She shared a strudel with Helen, but it didn’t sit well with her. So I took her a salad back to the motel and she had a tiny dinner there. The heat has also been bothering Chris a lot on this trip – more so than ever before. We’re not sure why unless it’s related to her thyroid removal. Since the thyroid regulates, among other things in your body, your body temperature, perhaps without one, you’re more susceptible to heat issues especially when riding in 90 + degree heat. When you add in the elevation changes – I’m sure there is something to that hypothesis.
The ride on I-70 through Colorado was simply beautiful. I didn’t see much of Aspen, so it must be off the Interstate somewhat. We know a bunch of friends who have homes there and I was hoping to get a glimpse of the city, but to no avail. The green of the mountains comprising the Rockies quickly turns to giant mesa’s and rock with small ground cover. However, the colors, especially in the bright sunlight, are spectacular.
Day 5
We had a good night at the Courtyard by Marriott at Grand Junction. That was the second one we’ve stayed at on this trip and was my first times at a Courtyard. We’ve typically sought out Hampton Inns for these motorcycle trips – but I think our taste is changing to Courtyards. The room is ever so slightly larger but the price point is practically the same. The bad news is you have to pay for breakfast as opposed to a Hampton Inn free continental breakfast, but the breakfast service is wonderful. The food is hot, cooked to order, and quick.
We had breakfast at the motel and headed out. We rode about 60 miles or so on Interstate 70 out of Colorado into Utah, and then took the diagonal to Salt Lake City via US 191. We stopped at one rest stop to try to fix Helen’s mirror again. I searched my tool bag of parts but couldn’t come up with either a 3/8 “lock washer or a can of Look Tate. Most were incredulous that I had ½ “and ¼ “lock washers. Donn was disappointed that I didn’t have a can of LokTite.
We stopped for gas and Donn found a plastic gas can and filled it with 2 gallons of gas so now we all felt better about Helen’s chances of survival. Also at the gas station, a fellow came up riding a great looking new Victory motorcycle. I told him not to park where he was planning to because the person parked next to him (Skip) coveted a Victory Motorcycle and might steal it. He had a good laugh and parked it anyway. As we were discussing his motorcycle he mentioned he might as well add insult to injury. He looked at Skip and said the motorcycle was “free!” It appears he won it from Victory Motorcycles for entering a contest about where one might ride Victory motorcycles. He is a stay at home dad and wrote about all the places he would take his young son – and won. He apparently had just come from a big Victory shin dig and was dressed from head to toe in Victory motorcycle gear. It put most Harley gear to shame. He was with his wife on this trip, not his son, so we met her and took all of the obligatory photographs of him and his motorcycle. He stated technically he was leasing the motorcycle from Victory without any monthly payments. He promised to sell it to Skip at a slight markup if he got to keep it permanently.
We took off and ate lunch at a roadside restaurant, then kept trucking toward Salt Lake City. When we arrived at Provo, Utah, we decided a break at a McDonald’s was in order. As we pulled in the parking lot and were getting off our motorcycles, a young man on a crouch rocket turned the corner next to the McDonald’s where we were standing – and although it happened so fast – I swear he saw us old fogies on touring motorcycles and decided to hit the throttle and roar off. That happens somewhat frequently when we see younger crouch rocket motorcyclists. I turned to look down at my map to see where we were heading to next and heard the engine wind up significantly – then a “BLAM” – then silence. Naturally I immediately looked up and saw him stumbling to the ground and it was clear he had just run into the right back corner of a pickup truck that had turned in front of him. The only thing I could think was he was watching us when he floored it and didn’t look up to see the pickup truck until it was too late. Everyone immediately went to his aid, but Chris & Kathy got there first. The motorcycle was in shambles and both of his shoes were still in the street as they had come completely off his feet. A bunch of other eye witnesses got to him first and began calling 9-1-1. I guess Chris wanted to pray for his speedy recovery, and Kathy wanted to see whom to prosecute. The first police car that drove up in response to the 9-1-1 call got there within a minute or so but came without his siren or lights, but when he saw what had happened, he escalated the response significantly. Within moments we had two more police cars, a police supervisor, a fire truck, and an EMT supervisor, a town pickup with safety cones, an immediate care ambulance and a paramedic transport ambulance. We waited until Chris and Kathy extricated them from the scene, and then headed to Salt Lake City. Needless to say, we all were saddened to see it happen, especially to a fellow motorcyclist. He told Chris, Kathy and the other bystanders that he typically wore a helmet, but today decided to not wear one. If he had hit the pickup truck a second or so earlier, the impact might have been more direct and he would have been catapulted over the bed of the pickup to land like a spear on his upper torso or head more than likely. So, although riding without a helmet seems “cool” – one never knows what lies before you!
We got to downtown Salt Lake City and checked into our hotel – The Little America Hotel. Always nice to stay in a hotel that has Gilchrist & Soammes shampoos and lotions in their rooms. It’s a company that Al Hubbard used to own before he did his typical – buy low and sell at the peak! The concierge made dinner reservations for us and our motorcycles are underground in their parking garage. Life is good at this point. Tomorrow, Jeff Bernel has a fellow faculty person at Notre Dame who has arranged for a private tour of the Temple Grounds of the Mormon Church. We’re very excited as we’ll see things that aren’t on any public tour but since we’re not Mormons, we still won’t be allowed to tour the church sanctuary. Only certified Mormon’s are allowed in there.
So, we’re in Salt Lake City for 2 days. Tomorrow promises to be spectacular.
Day 6
We had a marvelous dinner last night at the Market Street Grill in downtown Salt Lake City. I highly recommend it to anyone visiting the Salt Lake City area. It’s as fine a restaurant as we’ve been in for awhile. Fish is their specialty with fresh oysters and flown in fresh fish with many selections. The scotch was good; the food prepared spectacularly, the waiter knowledgeable and classically sassy and the desserts superb. What can I say? The meal was perfect.
The only funny fact about dinner was when we learned about Utah law which prevents you from having two glasses of liquor at your place at one time. You can have a scotch and a beer at one time or, say a scotch and a bottle of wine – but not two scotches at the same time. Our waiter, Gus, was hilarious in describing this arcane law to us. He had a very unusual accent, but his personality prevented us from inquiring as to his origin. Not until he held my second glass of scotch and wouldn’t put it down until I completely finished the first one – did he even smile and then explain to us the law. Then he lightened up a bit, but we were still too intimidated to inquire about his origin.
We got up to a beautiful gorgeous day for our tour at the Temple Square of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The Temple Square comprises 35 acres and dominates the downtown area of Salt Lake City. It’s comprised of obviously the Salt Lake Temple, two visitor’s centers, a Conference Center, a Church History library, a Tabernacle, and Assembly Hall, and several other buildings that we didn’t get to visit on our tour. Jeff’s fellow professor at Notre Dame arranged for the private tour for us.
We were met at 9:30 a.m. by Sister Revis from New York state and Sister Levi (sp??) from Hawaii. [Sister Levi had a Hawaiian spelling to her name and for the life of me I can’t remember it – but it was pronounced “Levi”.] They were simply delightful young ladies serving their 2 year tour for the Church as is required of all their young members. Apparently they apply for this missionary work and have no idea where they might be sent around the world. They were surprised to be selected to serve at the Temple Grounds in Salt Lake City, but are thrilled to be selected to serve here. It was apparent from their tour that it is a carefully orchestrated affair. Each speaks for a minute or two on a subject, then the other one takes over. They can’t be in a picture by themselves, but can be in a picture with their guests. I confess I did take a few candid shots of them but received stern glances. In any event, they know their stuff and are good ambassadors for the Church.
We started out in the Visitor’s center where we saw a 3-D model of the Salt Lake Temple. It was fascinating. I was even more fascinated to learn church services per se aren’t held there. Church services are held at churches around the city proper. From there we went to the Assembly Hall and went inside and learned about it. Then we went to the Tabernacle and had a demonstration of the fantastic organ (this is where the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performs) and then had a demonstration of the perfect acoustics of the Tabernacle. Without the benefit of a microphone, Sister Levi went to the pulpit area and demonstrated first talking, then tearing a piece of paper, then dropping stones in a pail, all of which were heard distinctly despite the enormity of the building. It was quite a demonstration and given that the Tabernacle was built before modern acoustical science was developed – quite a marvel. We then went to the North Visitors Center and literally ascended to heaven. They have a circular staircase that winds through murals simulating the heavens and you reach the pinnacle and there is an enormous statue of Jesus Christ. It is quite impressive.
Unfortunately, they then make their sales pitch on you to have some of their other missionaries come to your residence to discuss further their Church. This, as one might imagine, turned off some in our crowd. But, all religions depend on financial support, and I confess there wasn’t any entrance fee imposed, so I suspect it might be worth a second visit by their missionaries.
Some of us then went back to the Tabernacle as the daily noon organ recital was about to begin. The Temple Square organ was originally constructed in the 1860’s but was nearly totally re-built in 1948. It has 206 ranks and 11,623 pipes. As you can imagine – it was very impressive. We were treated to a recital by Andrew Unsworth. I kept thinking that I’ll bet Heather Hinton at Second Presbyterian Church in Indianapolis, where Chris and I are members, would love to play this pipe organ. We were treated to a 4 song selection, with one being an obligatory playing of Come, Come, Ye Saints. Apparently this song was written as the original Mormon’s made their historic trek from Illinois to the Salt Lake Valley. Candidly, I really enjoyed his recital as he also played one of my favorites: Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, by Bach. As you can imagine, his selections were to demonstrate the power and majesty of the organ while also showing its quiet mode and nature. It was really demonstrative and I’m glad we saw it.
From there we went back to the South Visitor’s Center and played around with the genealogy computers for awhile. The Mormon Church is known for their interest in historical genealogy and everything and nearly everyone is on a computer aided base. You can also search it via www.FamilySearch.org. Chris and I are going to explore it further via their web site when we get back to Indiana.
Chris and I are always interested to read further about things we explore such as the Mormon religion and Church, so we then went to their bookstore and purchased some interesting reading on the Mormon Church, including the Book of Mormon which each of our guide Sisters clutched with them the entire morning. We then went back to the hotel and had lunch. Downtown Salt Lake City is fairly compact and is serviced by light rail which makes it very easy to get around. If you’re in the immediate downtown area – the travel is free. Only when you go outside the downtown area is there a charge but it appears to be fairly nominal.
Then Slip & Linda and Donn & Helen and I got our motorcycles out of the garage and rode out to the Salt Lake flats in the Salt Lake. We walked all the way out to the water, and Skip, Linda & Helen even walked out into the water – it was only about an inch deep. All of us had an obligatory taste of the salt water – and it was really salty – duh!
While we were there another motorcyclist pulled up. He was fairly old and had a great Santa Claus white beard and his older model Harley was strapped down with luggage everywhere. Instead of the obligatory modern plastic water bottle, he pulled out a canteen and took a swig of water. That probably says more about him than anything else I could write to describe him. He asked how many days we had been on the road and seemed fairly impressed when I mentioned we were on our 6th day. He asked where we were headed and I mentioned Glacier National Park and the Bear Tooth Highway in Montana. He said, “Oh wow – I was just there and both highways were closed due to heavy snow and it isn’t clear when the Bear Tooth Highway might re-open because of the heavy drifting.” Naturally, my heart sunk to my toes. I asked him how many days ago he had been there and he said, “Not too long ago – around May 1st.” I probably wasn’t too cordial at that point as I looked at my watch and caustically said, “It’s now June 22nd, so I’m sure the snow is gone by now.” Let’s hope I don’t have to eat my words.
We’re having dinner at the Hotel restaurant tonight so we don’t have to go outside anymore.
Day 7
Well I technically missed doing an epistle on Day 7. It’s the morning of Day 8 and I’m trying to do this at 6:00 am – while Chris is continuing to sleep. Oops, she just asked what time it is. The Windows banner “sound” just woke her up. Now I’m in real trouble.
We arrived in Sun Valley, Idaho yesterday around 3:30 pm. We had a good ride up through northern Utah into Idaho. About the only interesting thing that happened on the ride involved Helen and her trike’s lack of fuel capacity. She has about 115-120 mile range. We hit 90 miles and “finally” cane upon a gas station. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. We hadn’t seen any houses, businesses or anything other than great views of mountains. Every exit off the Interstate had a sign saying – “no services.” Not sure why there were any exits at all – the roads just drove off into the mountains – seemingly to nowhere. As I said, we finally hit a gas station out in the middle of nowhere.
As we begin to pump gas, Donn said, “I don’t want to pay these prices, they’re 30 cents more than we’ve been paying per gallon during the whole trip!” Naturally he had to – his wife’s motorcycle was just about out of gas. His reasoning was why don’t we go a bit further and then he wouldn’t have to pay such outlandish prices. It was reminiscent of our last excursion to Montana when Donn refused to allow us to stop at a gas station to fill up “his” motorcycle because it was an attendant pumped only station and they charged 3 cents more per gallon to pump the gas. He said, “Ride on – I’m not paying extra to have someone pump my gas.” We did and we didn’t find any more gas stations. As he was on fumes, we found a little town – no gas station – but a motor repair shop. We inquired if he could buy a gallon of gas from them. They said sure, but as I recall, I think they charged him $5.00 for that gallon.
So, Skip & I reminded him of that little episode and he reluctantly agreed to fill up Helen’s motorcycle at the price on the pump. The gas station was one of those very rural Mom & Pop operations and on the door they had a sign that said Baby Rattler’s inside – be careful – implying baby rattle snakes. We naturally had to go inside and see the rattlers. They had a box of literal baby toy rattles instead of baby rattle snakes. I didn’t know Linda was so afraid of snakes until she was carefully trying to peer into the box when Skip came up behind her and pinched her on her “behind.” Naturally she screamed, and the proprietor smiled – “Ha, I got another one!”
We gassed up and finally headed out. It was a good thing that we filled up Helen’s tank. I calculated we went 30-35 more miles before we saw another gas station. She would have been out of gas for sure and we would have been filling her tank up with Donn’s new 2 gallon spare gas container he now dutifully carries on the back of his motorcycle. We had merged onto another busier Interstate before I spied the next gas station so that would have been tricky to say the least.
We arrived in Sun Valley. It wasn’t anything that I expected. I assumed we’d be out in the middle of nowhere with one lodge to service all the ski areas. It’s more like being in the middle of Vail, Colorado. There’s a really neat town you drive through to get to the lodge, We checked in the lodge and then found there was a free shuttle bus back to the town, so everyone except Jeff decided to head back to town and walk around – translated – the ladies wanted to shop.
Editor’s note: Chris just got up and glared at me and now she’s in taking a shower. It’s only 6:35. She’s mad as a hornet! I’m toast!
Back to our trip to town. The bus driver dropped us off right in front of a leather and fur coat store and a jewelry store. Was that convenient or not??? So we went in the Leather and fur coat store. I confess they had a big and tall men’s section so that got my attention. I went down to the men’s section while the ladies went to the fur coat section. I had wanted a good leather vest to ride in on days that it was in between temperature wise from my jacket to shirt sleeves. Naturally I found one and it was just what I’ve been looking for and it was in my size. The numbers of tourist’s buying things must be off because without any prodding, the owner gave me $50 dollars off. So I bought it.
In the meantime, I came upstairs and Kathy had found her dream leather and fur coat, but it was significant in its purchase price. She decided to call Jeff and discuss the purchase. Did I say he was back at the lodge taking a nap? Probably much like Chris right now, he had just gotten asleep and Kathy calls and wants to discuss a significant purchase and he has no idea how beautiful she looks in it. So, the old grizzly bear said let’s talk about it over dinner tonight. Skip tried to intercede with Jeff on the phone – but to no avail. The proprietor, knowing she has a live WPO’er wife on the hook, and knowing we’re on motorcycles, gave her a picture of it and said, “Just call me, we’ll discuss a good price for you and I can ship it to you.” Me thinks we just might see Kathy in that coat by fall. Remember, no one is happy until the little lady is happy.
While the ladies continued to shop, Donn, Skip & I tried to find an Apple store so we could purchase the wireless remote I-Pod controller that Jeff has installed on his motorcycle. We were very impressed with Jeff’s set up and we both wanted one. We walked all over, and finally found the Apple store, but they were closed. Naturally, that called for a beer. So we found a neat little bar that had just relocated and found a well stocked bar – but with very little beer yet. The best of all is I got a significant glass of MacCallan 12 for only $7.50. That was the best bargain of the whole trip. We met the owners and naturally, marketing genius Donn, had to give her some marketing pointers. I don’t think she listened.
We met the ladies and we all rode the bus back to the Lodge. When we met for dinner we were surprised to find we could not only sit outside at the Lodge restaurant (which was delightful) but we were also entertained by a troupe of ice skaters practicing their routines for their performance on Saturday night. We were told they were all beginning professional skaters and hailed from around the world. Apparently in the world of ice skating, one performs in one venue for the summer and a different venue for the winter months. This group was just beginning their summer performances. It was very entertaining to see the choreographer out on the ice with the performers showing them their places as well as the female star. It was clear who she was. It’s just like in the movies; she sort of does her own thing regardless of what everyone else is told to do. Apparently Sun Valley has one of the better skating venues in the United States. On the wall in the hallway to our room is a signed photograph of every skater you have ever heard of.
Unfortunately during all this we decided to Google the Going to The Sun Highway in Glacier National park to ensure it was open. Much to our amazement, it was closed at the top for snow removal. All I could think about had to eat my words and thoughts with the old Harley rider who told me it was closed! Hopefully, they will finish the plowing soon and we still have over 2 full days before we’re supposed to traverse it. Let’s hope!
Oh, one last comment about the Sun Valley Lodge. I typically make all the hotel reservations. This time, when I checked in, I got a room on the 1st floor overlooking the parking lot while everyone else in our group got 3rd floor rooms overlooking the skating rink with a spectacular view of the mountains. We ran into the general manager of the property in the hotel motor lobby as he was admiring our motorcycles and was stunned we were from Indiana and South Carolina. I quickly noticed his title on his name badge, and said somewhat loudly (but to no one in particular), “Yes I make the room reservations and get on the first floor overlooking the parking lot and everyone else in our group gets great views of the mountains and the skating rink; and I have to park my motorcycle in the boon docks while everyone else gets to leave theirs under the canopy at the hotel entrance.” I was sure these comments would enlist his assistance to change something like my room or where I could park my motorcycle. Unfortunately, the only response I received from him was, “I certainly hope tomorrow goes better for you than today!” Now what was up with that response!
Day 8
We left Sun Valley, Idaho at 9:00 a.m. in a brisk 55 degrees. After all of our riding in 90 + degree heat, frankly it felt good. We layered up in our electric vests and our warm riding gloves and gear. We got gas and headed out on Idaho Route 75 due North for our destination for the day – Hamilton, Montana.
We immediately encountered some of the most beautiful roads we have ridden on – maybe at any time. We debated the subject all day long, and decided that it’s really hard to pick the “best” road in which we’ve ridden – so if that’s the case – then this route has to qualify in the top 5 – maybe the top 3.
We ran right into Hyndman Peak at 12,078 feet. The doorman told us there was an outstanding scenic view just as you descend from the peak of the road next to Hyndman Peak in which the views are unbelievable. As we approached the scenic view we saw signs that it was under construction. Just our luck. We slowed down as we drove past it and we agreed that the views were spectacular. But the views will just be etched in our brains as we weren’t able to take any pictures.
We ran through the Sawtooth Mountain range and it’s easy to see why they were named “Sawtooth.” All of their peaks were very jagged like the teeth on a saw blade. There were several peaks in the 9,000 foot range and one at 11,800 feet. Needless to say they were very impressive to view. The highway took us down the middle of the range at various elevations. Sometimes we were climbing to the peaks and then diving to the valley floor with the obligatory Salmon River running white water style with great force. I will just say that some of the mountain sheer walls beside us were breathtaking. I guess the main difference that sets this highway apart from a lot of others, is its sheer length.
We’ve done Deal’s Gap – and it’s 13 miles. We’ve done Highway 7 in Arkansas – and it’s about 55 miles. This ride was the same all day long – 250 miles of riding in sheer paradise. Sometimes we had twisties that were up and down in elevation with turns rated at 65 mph to 20 mph. At other times we ran along the floor of the valley with the Salmon River running alongside.
We stopped for lunch and gas at Challis, Idaho. Lunch was at a motel diner and although it was a bit quaint, the food was excellent. I had one of the best cheeseburgers I’ve had in a long time. We saw lots of other riders including a Harley group and three guys much like us. One was from Seattle. One was from Phoenix. And the third was from San Diego. They rode a white Goldwing, another Honda and something that looked custom built. Very nice people.
We left Challis and rode to Salmon, Idaho and took another break and got gas. The scenery continued as impressive as it had been all day.
We ended up in Hamilton after dodging a small rainstorm for about the last hour. Jeff has a brand new 2010 Honda Goldwing and one of the things they’ve changed is the GPS. It’s now interactive with satellite radio and it superimposes weather fronts on your intended routs. Jeff was able to tell us to keep riding as opposed to stopping to put on rain gear because he could see the weather map superimposed on his route display. This is a huge feature addition to the Goldwing. I’m going to see if I can upgrade my GPS when I get home.
Just as we were checking in to the hotel, a tour bus full of tourists traveling the Lewis & Clark trail pulled in. Chris hustled me off the motorcycle quickly to get ahead of them in the check in process. But somehow my reservation got switched. I had booked all of us in a king sixe room with a balcony. Somehow, my reservation got changed to a King Suite (sounds good in theory). Unfortunately, the room we received faces the parking lot. We get to state at the tour bus all evening. I complained after dinner – so we’ll see how far the goes.
Dinner was next door and nice.
Day 9
Well Chris and I got a surprise last night at dinner. Everyone in our group was raving about their rooms – great size rooms with personal balconies to look at the mountains in the distance. Chris and I just looked at each other. We don’t have a balcony and we stare at the front parking lot. So, after dinner (which was very close) I inquired at the front desk what happened since I was the one who reserves the rooms and I had specifically requested all the rooms get the King Balcony room. The desk clerk said he was in fact the person who took the reservation and had them in the system that was but a few days ago the general manager had changed them for some unknown reason.
So in the morning when I went to pay the bill who should wait on me but the general manager. She gave the obligatory non look and question, “How was your room and stay?” I couldn’t help myself. I said, “Well it wasn’t very satisfactory.” I suspect 98 % of the people answer that question with a “Fine” or something similar, regardless of whether or not they liked their stay or not. I just couldn’t leave well enough alone. I mentioned the room episode and she immediately replied, “Well you must have checked in subsequent to the bus tour people and someone inadvertently gave your room away mistakenly.”
To which I replied, “No, we checked in before the bus tour folks because they pulled up just after we arrived. Besides, your night clerk told me what happened last night when I asked him the same question. You shouldn’t lie about such things just a straight truthful answer would be much more professional.” She then looked at me and shrugged her shoulder and said, “Well I’m sorry about that and hope you’ll be staying with us again.” I replied to her – “Well you know that isn’t going to happen.”
We took off and continued our ride straight North up through Montana toward West Glacier, the western entrance to Glacier National Park. Our ride took us up US Route 93 through Stevensville, Missoula, St. Ignatius, and Ronan and into Polson which is at the southern most point of Flat Head Lake. At that point, I thought my only disappointment of the day was Skip (our flight leader) didn’t stop at the panoramic scenic turnout to allow us to get a magnificent picture of Flat Head Lake. As I recall, our waitress at lunch told us the lake is 16 miles wide and 28 miles wide at its widest point with an island in the middle of the lake that comprises 2,100 acres. Needless to say, Flat Head Lake is an impressive oasis of natural fresh water among all the mountains.
We stopped at a Best Western motel to have lunch because they had a great outside seating area to over look the lake and all that was going on in the surrounding area. After a great lunch, we decided to press on so we could get to our motel early and explore West Glacier and its environs.
Unfortunately, when we started out of the parking lot, Helen’s motorcycle kept stalling out. I, at the time, assumed she either had left her choke on or because we were on such an incline coming out of the parking lot, maybe she didn’t fill her tank up completely at the last gas stop, and somehow the carburetor wasn’t getting the proper mixture of gasoline. Neither of those thoughts lasted very long as I have been very impressed over the years with Helen’s riding ability. We got it going, but not for very long. We immediately pulled into the parking lot of a Napa Auto Parts store and tried to diagnose the problem. Donn immediately realized there was something long with the clutch. That was causing the stalling out of the motorcycle – every time she’d let out on the clutch, the motorcycle would stall out. Naturally, out comes my tool box and Donn and Skip (both of whom know a lot more about the inner workings of a motorcycle than me) grabbed my tools and began to adjust the clutch cable. Everyone assumed that the clutch cable had somehow come out of its proper adjustment, and if we could get it back in place properly, we’d be good to go. But to no avail.
Donn figured out we needed to get to a motorcycle repair shop. The nice counter clerk in the Napa Auto store said there’s a motorcycle repair shop called Iron Horse Livery and gave us a promotional sheet which had everything on it. We tried to call them but couldn’t get an answer. So Skip decided to ride back and make sure they felt comfortable working on a Suzuki motorcycle even though their promotional brochure indicated they were professionals on Harley’s or metric cruisers, i.e., Japanese models. It took him a bit to find the place and by that time Donn figured out it might be hard to ride there, so he called Skip and asked him if one of the mechanics could come to us. They said sure, just as soon as he got back from the post office. One of the Napa clerks snickered, and I asked why? He said, the post office is one block away, why didn’t they call him on his cell phone and have him come over here directly? That was a good question and my first clue of what was to come.
After another 30 minutes or so, a typical motorcycle mechanic pulled up on his Harley. Pony tail; no motorcycle helmet; shirt with cut off sleeves; and a huge Fu Manchu moustache. I assumed that made him an expert mechanic. When he opened his trunk and pulled out a set of shiny and what appeared to be brand new open ended wrenches complete in their little carrier – I knew we were in trouble. Clue 2! There is only one qualified mechanic I know of that has shiny tools that have been used extensively, and he resides in Frederica, Delaware – not Montana! But he sat down, looked at the cable, made a couple of adjustments, and quickly announced it was something big and probably ought to be looked at by a qualified Suzuki motorcycle mechanic.
Now what were we going to do? Again, our trusty desk sales clerk in the Napa store came to the rescue. She said there’s a Suzuki motorcycle dealership in Rowan, the little town we had just passed through about 15 miles back. Donn immediately called them and they didn’t have any mechanic who could come to us, but if we could get the motorcycle to them quickly, they’d try to have a mechanic look at it. So Donn made a call to AAA and asked for a flat bed truck to come pick up the motorcycle and transport it to Rowan. After about what seemed like an hour waiting on the AAA truck, our trusty sales clerk at Napa suggested to us there was a bigger Suzuki dealership in Kalispell where we were headed to before we broke down.
Donn called them and they said sure get it to us as quick as we can and they’d have a mechanic stay to look at it. They had a big parts department and were only missing one component for a complete clutch rebuild if necessary. Buoyed with that idea, when the AAA truck arrived we quickly loaded Helen’s Trike and we all headed out for Kalispell. We told him we had to get there ASAP and he took off. We all jumped on our motorcycles and followed. We ran into a brief rain shower en route, but nothing was going to keep Donn from trailing immediately behind Helen’s Trike on the AAA truck.
We got to the dealership and they quickly wheeled it into the mechanical work area and got a mechanic on it immediately. About 30 minutes later, he called Donn back into the work area. It was like being in the waiting room for a new born baby for one of your children, and when Donn came back into the reception area – I wanted to ask, “Was it a boy or girl?” Unfortunately from the look on his face we all knew – the clutch was shot and it needed a new clutch assembly. Remember I said they had everything but one part!!! So they said they would order the part, but since it was so late on a Friday night, there was no way the order would go in tonight. But they’d order it tomorrow (Saturday) and the order would be on the Suzuki depot order area on Monday morning. Even though the dealership was closed on Monday, it would be Tuesday before they would have the final part anyway and it was only a 2 hour job – start to finish. That all probably makes logical sense to someone unless they’re from South Carolina and it’s Friday night. Tuesday seems like an eternity away.
But there was nothing we could do. I did suggest to Donn that he trade the Suzuki in for the 2010 brand new White Goldwing they had on the show room floor which had already had a Champion Trike conversion completed on it. We’d be good to go as soon as they put a CB radio on it. But Donn smiled and said No!!! I reminded him that when Skip had a bad battery on our way to Key West a few years ago and we had to get a new battery in Naples that Skip has been kicking himself ever since that he didn’t trade for the elegant Black BMW motorcycle they had on the show room floor. But, again, Donn said NO! What part of that answer don’t you understand?
So we loaded Helen’s gear up in my trailer, (do I need to repeat that phrase again???) and headed out for the motel. We found it, checked in and had a room party. Skip, Linda, Chris, Jeff, Kathy & I drank up all of my scotch amidst laughter and frivolity. Frankly, that’s all you can do is laugh about it. We couldn’t find Helen & Donn and at dinner we found out they were having their own party at the same time. When we met for dinner, Donn didn’t need anything more to drink! We had a magnificent meal outside at the resort we were staying in and laughed all the way through it.
Day 10
I’m behind on the promptness of these epistles, but I’m going to try to catch up a bit this morning. It’s 6:30 a.m. and I’m sitting on our motel room balcony in Red Lodge, Montana. There’s a very fast moving stream down below that luckily is making enough “current noise” that Chris can’t hear the Windows Icon music or my keypad typing on my laptop start up. So far, so good. It’s such a soothing sound that we slept with the sliding glass door open all night. What a peaceful sound when you’re sleeping. Plus I was chastised at dinner last night when Jeff said his son was anxious for the next edition. Jeff said he talked to him and he said somewhat impatiently, where’s the next edition – you’re two days behind!
Two Days Ago. We woke up and decided to have our local breakfast before we headed out over the Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park. We had been monitoring the weather reports at the top because not the entire highway had been cleared of snow. And boy, I sure didn’t want to eat my words and thoughts about it being late June and there is no chance of snow this late. But after checking their web site and confirming at the front deck before we headed out in the morning, our only concern was how cold it might be at the top. We checked the temperature on the National Weather Service on our I Phones, and it suggested the temperature at the top was 49 degrees rising to around 54 by the time we could get to the top.
We decided to eat and then get all of our gear on for such cold weather riding. At breakfast, Jeff noticed an old timer sitting at the table next to him and he was wearing an old tattered ball cap with BB 386 (I think that was the number) on its bill front. Jeff immediately went over and thanked him for his service in WW II and asked what Battleship he served on. He indicated it was the Pennsylvania and he arrived at Pearl Harbor 11 days after the Japanese bombed it. They had a nice chat and Jeff indicated that he had been a submariner so that lit up the old fellow as well. After the gentleman finished his breakfast he came over to chat with Jeff again at our table and to say Hi to all of us. He was impressed that all four of us gentlemen had served in the active duty of our armed forces. With that knowledge, he thanked all of us for our service. I couldn’t hear all of the conversation since I was all the way at the other end of the table, but I think he said he was 88. He had gotten married in 1946, the same year I was born. His wife had passed away on 2002 and he was just enjoying his years with all his friends. You could tell he was a regular because the waitress reminded him he had left his carton of blackberries on the table. Not too many establishments allow you to bring in your own food unless you’re a regular.
With that we went outside and “suited up.” We headed into the park and decided we’d make another stop and put the really heavy duty gear on at McDonald Lake since Chris and I knew from a previous trip to Glacier that we’d want to stop there for a photo op. Plus it was a little warm for the heavy duty stuff until we were gaining altitude. Naturally Skip missed the turn off to McDonald Lake. So, after some prodding, he found another scenic view pull out and we put the heavy duty gear on.
We rode to the top and the views were even better than I had remembered. The road was a little rough in parts, but we were constantly amazed at the panoramic views. Chris decided to put the camera around her neck to take pictures as we rode – that was a good idea.
Editor’s note: There has been some “unsolicited” advice from some of my readers of these commentaries while I’ve been on this trip that they love the epistles, but they want some pictures. Candidly, I don’t know how to transfer my pictures in my digital camera to this computer and then forward on some of the shots with the epistles. It’s about all I have in me to write these while everyone else is asleep or exploring our environs. Some of my trusty readers have even forwarded emails back to me with tutorials on how to accomplish the task, but it’s still a lot of Greek to me. I promise to learn and send some pictures later. I promise!
We arrived at Logan’s pass and the walls of snow were in some places almost 10 feet high. We had to go to the visitor’s center which was up a flight of stairs to even look out. The traditional photo op shot with the Logan’s Pass sign was buried under a ton of snow. Everyone at the summit seemed to have more fun taking their pictures standing by the snow mounds. I purchased my traditional patch for my vest and Chris got a CD. I forgot to mention that immediately upon arriving Skip came over to me and gave me a high five. He said, “Forget about trying to describe the past two days as being the best ride ever – this one is!”
We saw a new Can Am Trike at the top as well. That’s the new trike with two wheels in the front. Naturally Donn went over to examine it because there’s obviously a new purchase in his future – the only question is when and whether it’s just one or two new motorcycles. We asked him what color he wanted and it was clear he had been thinking about it as he immediately said there’s a new black with silver spots on it.
We soon got back on our motorcycles and headed to the East Gate at St. Mary’s, Montana. The ride down from the summit was as good as it was going up. We stopped at St. Mary’s for lunch. It was very interesting in that Skip, Helen, Linda, Chris & I were all secretly waiting for St. Mary’s because on our last trip to Montana, there was a well stocked mountain gear store there that had all sorts of useful motorcycling gear. But not this time. New owner and only junk for the tourists. But Skip did get a crushable Stetson hat. He had been admiring Jeff’s new hat that he’d purchased along the way on this trip and he found one that, according to him, made him look very manly. That was a joke because when he purchased some shoes at this store the last time, some gentleman independently looked at them and said they were strikingly manly. We’ve been calling them that every time he wears them since then.
We headed out toward our overnight at Helena. We gave some thought that we might try to go further because the next day would be our ride at the Bear Tooth Pass and we wanted to be sure we had enough time for that. But as the day drug on, we were glad to arrive at our motel in Helena.
Unfortunately the motel I had preselected was in more of an industrial area. The only restaurant was about 200 yards away and it was a pizza hut. So, pizza it was. We went in and asked for a table for 8. There was a round table up front in the corner and another vacant table next to it. The waiter seemed to be looking at his computer screen instead of getting the tables set up so I suggested to him could we go ahead and slide these two together? He said absolutely not. That was a fire hazard! He would take care of it as soon as he could. He finally pulled two tables together in the rear and told us we could sit there. In any event the pizza was good and they had cold beer so we were happy. After we finished, he came up and apologized and said he had gotten chewed out over that fire hazard issue once before so he was sensitive to the situation. I appreciated his being upfront and thought the general manager at our motel in Hamilton could take some lessons from this teenager.
It was funny watching him because at one point when the restaurant filled up and he was the only waiter, he went behind the counter and pulled out one of the new high energy drinks, took a swig, and then began to shake all over. He then went back to filling drinks, bringing food and tallying checks. He was indeed a worker.
Day 11
We left Helena, Montana in relative early fashion – 8:00 a.m. wheels up. We stopped for gas and got into an extended conversation with a couple who were admiring my trailer and Trike. They wanted to travel by motorcycle, but were afraid of the roads and crazy riders. They thought it was wonderful we traveled by motorcycle. We inadvertently mentioned next year we were up for Alaska. They said they had just returned from Alaska and they thought it was wonderful we had that as a destination. I inquired about the roads, and they said while they were paved to Anchorage, it was a hard pack and we ought to inquire further. I will have AAA give me a detailed focus on the roads as soon as we return to Carmel and begin our planning for next year.
We headed down I-15 out of Helena and took Montana 69 as a cut through to I-90. As soon as we exited we ran across some road construction signs indicating construction ahead and there were “motorcycle advisory” signs as well. We all had a good laugh as the last time we were in Montana we were cutting through Montana route 59 to Miles City. Historic readers of these episodes recall that we encountered construction on that route and that was when we encountered deep gravel and three of the 4 motorcycles went down in the gravel because it was so deep and Donn nearly severed his Achilles heel tendon and had to have surgery at the time in Montana and had to ship his motorcycle home. When Helen had the problem with the Suzuki on this trip, we told him this was his last trip to Montana – he was bad luck. Now we encountered more construction and we all felt the motorcycle advisory signs were a direct result of his angry letter to the governor the last time. We reiterated our comment to Donn and said this definitely is the last time we’re accompanying you to Montana. We also suggested he write the governor and have them install small signs designating the motorcycle advisory signs in honor of the wisdom of One Donn Costanzo. I’m sure that idea will go nowhere.
As we rode along the construction didn’t seem too bad. Then Chris reminded us this is how it started on our way to Miles City. A little gravel here and there and then BLAM! Heavy gravel with stones 2-3” in diameter. Sure enough after a tease of a little gravel, the road surface ended and gravel galore began. The good news is the gravel this time was more pea size and there was plenty of dirt base to ride through. I laughed to myself because I’m sure the route “Irene” (my computer GPS announcer) wanted us to take to I-90 was a better road because it was a US Highway (US 287 & US 12). I think highway construction standards are higher for Interstate and US designated routes than are state designated routes. I reminded myself that the last episode also occurred on a state designated route.
The good news is everyone made it through safely with no incidents this time. We headed down I-90 toward the Northern Gate to Yellowstone Park on US 89. We passed though some passes with accompanying mountains that measured 10,900 feet. We arrived in Gardner, Montana in time for lunch. We ate at a new restaurant that specialized in Bar-B-Que and had a really wonderful lunch. We entered the Park and headed toward the Silver Gate or the North East Gate. En route there we encountered 3 bears, a coyote (Donn told us it was a wolf), some mountain goats, many herds of Buffalo, and some deer. Donn was especially pleased we encountered the bears. The first one was literally right beside the road and we came upon it so quickly we didn’t get a chance to take a picture of it. We didn’t want to stop and get a picture of it because it might have given chase!
We left the Park at Cooke City and stopped to have a quick and cold drink. The ladies had to use the restrooms as well, but Cooke City has a city wide agreement that unless you purchased something from the store, you can’t use the restrooms. We quickly caught on and went in one restaurant and purchased some cokes so the ladies could use the restrooms. We got back on the motorcycles and headed for our destination – The bear Tooth Pass and the town of Red Lodge.
As we climbed toward the summit of the Bear Tooth Pass, we passed some motorcyclists who were on our same CB radio frequency. It appears they were from Arkansas and were riding the Bear Tooth for the first time as well. When we reached the summit of Bear Tooth, they were right behind us and pulled off with us. We had each other take each other’s group photos, and I was very impressed when he climbed the rocks to get a better picture of our group. It appears they were a husband and wife traveling together on two different motorcycles. His name was Chris and her name was XXXX, although Skip complains his name was Fritz, not Jeff.. We had a nice visit with them and then headed out to our inn destination for the evening.
I have to admit, the vistas at the summit of the Bear Tooth had to be the most impressive to date – and we had seen a lot of mountain tops. We snapped a picture of the famous “Bear Tooth” and then headed down the mountain. We arrived at our destination for the evening, the Rock Creek Resort just before Red Lodge, Montana. It was a delightful inn with the roaring creek outside each room as I described in yesterday’s epistle.
We ate dinner on premise at their restaurant, the Old Piney Restaurant. While we didn’t have much competition for dinner tables, we did have a delightful young high school couple who were trying to have a nice romantic evening together. We suggested they were in good company despite our laughter and general demeanor because there was a 39 year marriage, a 46 year marriage and a 50 something marriage in our group and of course we had our own newlywed couple with us as well.
After dinner, Skip excused himself and soon brought back empty glasses. We soon found out why. Linda produced a flask and in Skip he had brought from South Carolina our after dinner drinks of choice – Sambuca. Helen had introduced the group to Sambuca on Donn’s cousin Billy’s yacht when we were on our way to Key West a few years ago. Needless to say it was a hit. The only bad news was there wasn’t enough to go around because Skip, or make that Linda, refuses to get a trailer. So the only thing to do was order more Sambuca, which we did. I want to give significant credit to Skip for remembering the Sambuca episode and making sure we had at least a taste of Sambuca on this trip. We ended up with more than a taste and I would tell you more – but what goes on the road stays on the road. Everyone knows the Man Law rules.
Day 12
I’m late in creating these as the days have become fun filled but run together with late nights. All lead for delinquency in putting these together. I will create all respective days, even if after we return to Indiana.
Yesterday was the downhill day. After all of the spectacular vistas, we now turn our motorcycles east toward the Great Plains and head back to Indiana and Tega Cay, South Carolina for our southern friends. We had a wonderful motel with the roaring creek as I described in the last epistle. I was somewhat disappointed that our resort motel wasn’t right in the middle of Red Lodge as I had heard so much about the town. With the expectation that everyone would want to eat breakfast in Red Lodge, Chris and I inquired from a young teenage couple enjoying a romantic dinner at the lodge restaurant, where would be the best place in town for breakfast while we were waiting for the rest of our group to show up for dinner. That meant I violated one of my most important rules: if you want to know the best place in town to eat or to stay overnight, visit and ask the lady in the room with the biggest diamond on her hand. Did I mention these were teenagers?
They were naïve about where to eat, but indeed nice. They had just graduated from Red Lodge high school in a graduating class numbering 54 students. They were both going to college, he in Montana and she in Minnesota. They suggested the Revis Café in Red Lodge as having the best breakfast in town. Our second mistake (other than the diamond rule) was asking a teenager about breakfast. Does anyone know a teenager who eats a good healthy breakfast of 2 eggs, hash browns, bacon, pancakes and coffee? But we still went to the Revis Café looking for our breakfast. When we pulled up next to it we discovered it was right next to the high school. No wonder they at least knew the name. But it was closed on Monday’s, so we couldn’t sample their cuisine.
After Helen said she wanted to eat on the main street, Jeff Bernel tuned his Tom Tom GPS to search for restaurants. We found several and they all were on the main drag. So, off we went. There were literally several restaurants to choose from, but we picked the “oldest” looking restaurant with the best name – The Red Lodge Café. We figured they had been there so long their copyright for the name was safe, and when we went inside, we were convinced that there might have been several gunfights in or about the restaurant. We were rewarded with a breakfast that several of us couldn’t finish. Chris ordered “one” pancake to go along with her eggs, and I swear to you it hung over the sides of a regular dinner plate and was nearly 3/8 inches thick! It was a monster. But her meal only cost $5.95, so naturally I told her she could leave a little on her plate and not finish it all. I’m the last of the big spenders!
After breakfast the ladies headed out to shop, and the men mainly went to our motorcycles to hang out. We knew that Helen & Donn were going to head out after the shopping to Denver and pick up their truck & trailer to return to Kalispell to get Helen’s motorcycle. The bad news is it’s 1,000 miles from Denver to Kalispell, So, mainly Skip & Linda, with the assistance from the rest of us, were trying to convince them to ship the motorcycle home. By the time they subtracted out the gas, food and lodging expense to drive from Denver to Kalispell, it made the cost of shipping direct more reasonable. Easy for all of us to say, we weren’t paying the freight bill. And this would be the second time Donn and Linda visited Montana, and the second time they were shipping motorcycles back to their home in Tega Cay! But, I think we were successful in our lobbying as they indicated they were leaning toward the shipping method. Helen came back early from the ladies shopping excursion and said she had said goodbye to the ladies, so she gave us men a farewell hug and she & Donn rode off into the sunrise – the wrong way. I told them out of town was the other way but Donn’s GPS said I was wrong. So, off they rode.
Shortly afterward, Kathy, Linda & Chris came back – empty handed no less – so we said our goodbyes to Jeff & Kathy. They were going to ride back through Yellowstone Park and end up in Jackson Hole for the evening. Kathy was then going to board a flight, fly to Denver and then to La Porte, Indiana so she could get back to her prosecuting job in South Bend, Indiana. Jeff was then going to wander his way back to Indiana and visit some of his students en route. He expected to go through Des Moines, Iowa en route so he could attend the Honda Wing Ding there. More on the Wing Ding later.
So then there were two. Skip & Linda and Chris and I packed up and headed to the edge of town to gas up. We’ve learned not to head off into cowboy country without a full tank of gas. For some reason, despite all the pickup trucks out west, gas stations are at a premium. While we were gassing up, along came Donn & Helen and sheepishly honked at us. I know it killed him to admit I was right. I get a Republican Email a day from Donn and he likes to kid me unnervingly about being a Democrat. At least we Democrats know how to read a map!
We rode out of town on Montana County Route 308 (and yes I was thinking about a potential road construction issue) then picked up State Route 72 to Cody, Wyoming. At Cody, we continued east toward Greybull, Wyoming. The ride was non eventful. Nice and cool and delightful roads. At Greybull, I had picked US 16 to get us toward our destination for the evening, Buffalo, Wyoming. Unfortunately, Irene, the lady in our GPS’ wanted us to stay on US 14 through the Bighorn Mountains to I-90 which would then take us into Buffalo from the north. Being the shy and retiring type, I left it up to the ladies and Skip to decide which route to take. Skip is a big believer in Irene and her wisdom in lieu of my wisdom (except on his GPS he calls her Agnes) so he talked the ladies into supporting him and staying on US 14. As soon as we left Greybull, we saw the construction signs. Why we didn’t turn back and follow my instinct is beyond me. We rode to the foot of Granite Pass, (elevation at the top is 9,033 feet), and were stopped by a young man directing traffic for the construction site. Soon we discovered we were waiting on a pilot car, which meant this wasn’t to be a casual construction site. We shut down our engines and sat for about 25 minutes while our young man talked to us about everything under the sun and ate his sunflower seeds and spit the shells all over the highway. Finally the pilot car came up and in the traffic he was leading down the mountain was another Goldwing Trike. We smiled and waved and he yelled back, “If you don’t have to go this way, don’t. They put F**^@ tar all over the road up there!” Naturally that got our attention. Our young man told us – but they won’t make you drive in the fresh tar. So, naturally up we went with the pilot car. Our young man was right. We drove over fresh crushed stone which was just put over the tar.
But, on a Trike, it’s a non event. And for Skip, it’s also a non event. Up the mountain we went with no problems – that is until we ran into a freshly oiled section of the road which forced us onto just one lane of the road and coming down the mountain, in our lane, was a civilian car, i.e., a car like us but without a pilot car. Where he had come from is anybody’s guess, but there he was in our lane. Our pilot car forced him into the oiled lane so I suspect he wasn’t too happy – but he shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
We got over the mountain and raced toward I-90. As we looked at the time, we thought we could press on further than Buffalo, Wyoming for the evening. So we pulled off in Sheridan, Wyoming and got a Hampton Inn brochure from their local Hampton Inn and stopped at a Dairy Queen to get a quick bite to eat. I confess this was the first Dairy Queen I’ve been to since I was in high school that didn’t have an inside seating area. You stood in line at the window on the street, and ate on the benches they provided on the street. Obviously, several people inquired about our motorcycles. One older gentleman told me if he’d have foreseen the development of Trikes coming along, he’d have never given up riding motorcycles.
We made a reservation at the Hampton Inn in Gillette, Wyoming and cancelled our reservations in Buffalo. Too bad. When I had made the reservations in Buffalo for Skip and me, they sold out of king size beds electronically even though when I called they said they had one. Chris and I always use two double beds because she says that hotel mattresses don’t have good transfer motion control and I’m so big that when I turn over, she bounces like she’s on the high seas. But, the clerk said since she had told me she had the king size bed available, she was going to put Skip and Linda in their King Bed suite at no extra charge. I told Linda about this development, but sore her to secrecy. I wanted to surprise Skip. But now with the change in towns, no suite for ole Skipper!
When we arrived in Gillette, the available restaurants didn’t look good. The clerk told us the one restaurant we inquired about was awful, but she said the Mexican restaurant right across the street was excellent. I confess I hadn’t noticed it when we rode in because the building was in a Long John Silver’s restaurant. Obviously the Long John Silver’s had closed down and a Mexican restaurant had taken its place. I will tell you the meal we all had was among the best Mexican food any of us had ever tasted. Because I’m so far behind in completing these epistles, I’ve mis-placed the name of it – but if I find it I’ll pass it along in case anyone ever passes through Gillette, Wyoming in the future.
Montana 2010 – Day 13
We decided to get a really early start and put as many miles under our belt as we could today. Our goal was Des Moines, Iowa where the 2010 Honda Goldwing Wing Ding Rally was being held. This is a motorcycle convention for Goldwings. We wanted to go to the trade show that’s a part of the convention as there is always something new to see and of course, the latest accessories to purchase. We plugged in Des Moines on our GPS’ and it read 799 miles away. There was no way we could get that far, but we wanted to put a big dent in the mileage. Secondarily, both we and the Cunningham’s both wanted to be back to our respective residences in time for the 4th of July festivities. So, we had dual goals.
We left Gillette, Wyoming almost on the dot at 8:00 a.m., having already eaten breakfast at the motel. Now this was an early start for us older travelers! That required getting up at 6:00 a.m. and showering, loading the motorcycle (much more difficult than a car even with a motorcycle trailer) and then eating breakfast at the motel. But we did it. We rode through Moorcroft and Sundance, Wyoming only spying one small motel. I guess it’s a good thing we stopped when we did the previous evening, or we might have been violating Mike Blakely’s cardinal rule: get off the road with a motel reservation by 6:00 p.m. We only violated that rule with Mike once, and then we had to ride to 9:00 p.m. before we found our rooms. He said then, “No more!”
We continued on I-90 through Sturgis, South Dakota. What a difference a few months will make. In August, during the annual motorcycle rally in Sturgis, there will be a reported 500,000 motorcycles converge on Sturgis. I’m told it’s a sight to see. But this is my second time to be in Sturgis, when Sturgis isn’t Sturgis. In fact this time, we’re just flying through. We made a gas stop in Rapid City, South Dakota. I remembered the last time we were here, Chris & I had just left Linda and Skip as they turned south to go to Denver and pick up their trailer. Chris & I headed north as I wanted to go to International Falls on our way home. As we turned on I-90 then, the clouds in the West were “black.” I told Chris to hold on and we outraced the storm headed our way as I hit it down the Interstate toward the East.
We were making great time so we stopped one more time for gas and then once for lunch. We decided we could make Sioux City, Iowa before we needed to call it quits for the day, so we made a reservation at the Sioux City Hampton Inn, reset our GPS’ for the Hampton’s address and hit the throttles again. We made one more gas stop right before Sioux Falls, South Dakota, then at Sioux Falls turned south on I-29.
There were three interesting issues while we were on I-90. The first was the wind. It was hitting us hard sometimes off the right front corner of the motorcycle, and at other times almost directly into us from the right side. The winds didn’t ever let up for long stretches of the Interstate and were daunting. Often when we’d stop to take a breather or to get gas, it took us a few moments to collect our thoughts, having concentrated on the motorcycle so much in the wind. I never did find out the speed of the wind, but it had to have been significant. The second issue was the very significant lack of semi truck traffic on this Interstate. Now that was a wonderful thing to discover because of the wind, but we were all stunned for the lack of commercial truck traffic. The third was the lack of windmills. Although we saw a few, one would intuitively think this might make a great place for 2-3 windmill farms.
When we arrived at the Hampton Inn, we discovered we had traveled 594 miles that day. That was a new track record for the Melton’s. I think we had done some 550 ish mile days before, but nowhere near 600 miles, and of course we were disappointed we didn’t cross the 600 mile threshold. Skip spied an Outback Steak House we suggested a quick change of clothes and go to dinner. We were a little fatigued from the wind and the 594 miles. Our waiter was a little young and kind of full of himself, but the food was good. After dinner, we had about the equivalent of a 4 block walk back to the Hampton Inn, so we spied a brand new pickup truck leaving the parking lot with a nice looking couple in the cab. Naturally, I said something like, “Could you give us a lift back to the motel?” Much to my surprise, they said yes, so up Skip and I went to sit in the cargo area of the truck with our ladies in the extra passenger area of the truck. When I piled in there, I was stunned to see hundreds of used aluminum cans ready to be taken to the recycling area. It reminded me of the great episode of the Seinfeld show when Newman and Kramer enlisted the use of a US Postal service truck to do the same thing. I was a little anxious about the quality of the driver when I saw the bags and bags of recycled cans, but this time, our Good Samaritan driver was worth his heart of gold.
Day 14
We only have about 187 miles to get from Sioux City, Iowa to the Wing Ding in Des Moines. So, since we figured out how to get on the road at 8:00 a.m. with breakfast already have been eaten, our flight leader Skip decided we ought to plan on 7:45 a.m. this morning. We didn’t make it. We pulled out of the gas station adjacent to the Hampton Inn at 8:10 a.m.
We drove to the outer belt Interstate just North of Council Bluffs, Iowa got on I-680 and rode to I-80. There was a rest area just as we got on I-80 so we decided to take a break there. It was an incredibly serene rest area and its attendant came down to see our motorcycles when we pulled in. Then Skip saw the sign. “No smoking at this (and other rest stops in Iowa) except in your own personal automobile or truck or at designated smoking areas.” Now that’s a pretty progressive sign for Iowa – if I do say so myself. Naturally Skip questioned the attendant about the sign which was posted very prominently. He said they (the attendant’s) were expected to enforce the prohibitions designated by the sign, but the other day, one attendant at another rest area, got into a rather heated argument with a motorist about the enforceability of the statute and the motorist pulled out a gun and shot and killed him. Since then, our attendant indicated he’d rather the state police take the heat about the sign’s parameters and if someone is violating its conditions, he just calls the state police. We told him – “Good thinking!” Nice fellow and I’m sure this job is a whole lot more interesting than being a Wal-Mart greeter.
We hit the road again and just as we were merging with traffic, a lady swerved quickly outside and cut off Skip. Now that was a nasty thing to do because Skip immediately got riled up and despite his giving her the sign of goodwill and friendship known worldwide, he decided to overtake her and again show his displeasure at her unsporting driving habits. Just as he was accelerating to catch up to her, she had to go around a semi that was actually the cause of all the consternation. Just then, B L A M! A loud BLAM, a cloud of dust and dirt and confusion everywhere. No one knew for sure what had just happened. Since I was lumbering along trying to get up to speed I was a direct witness to everything but even I couldn’t tell just exactly what had happened.
For a moment, I thought the semi had hit another car that was going slow in front of him since the lady had now taken up the space next to him on the high speed lane. But there was so much dust everywhere; it was hard to see precisely. Needless to say I hit my brakes hard because I didn’t want to be a part of what was happening. My immediate reaction when I hit the brakes hard (car or motorcycle) is to look in my rear view mirrors to see if any cars behind me are reacting to my break lights and slowing down as well. They appeared to be. I then looked back forward to see what was happening, and it then dawned on me what had happened. The semi had experienced a blowout on one of his (thankfully) right side rear cab tires. If it had happened on the left side, it would have been just in front of where Skip was and the Alligator might have spun right into his motorcycle. Remember, Alligators are what the truckers call the tread parts that come off of semi trucks and litter our highways and Interstates when they have a blow out. Most typically they’re from re-treaded tires, not new tires. The glue on the retread gives way, then the tread separates, then the inner rubber hits the highway at highway speeds, heats up, and explodes. It all happens so quickly one might be inclined to think it’s a simultaneous reaction, but it’s sequential.
Needless to say, Skip forgot all about the lady he was mad at and focused on getting through the turmoil. Which luckily, we both did. The semi pulled over on the shoulder and all of the 4 wheelers around us gave us a wider berth. Again, I can’t stress how lucky we were that the blow out occurred on the right side of the semi and not the left side. I might be writing about a different tale now.
Speaking of a sad tale, I neglected to mention that yesterday, as we were coming across South Dakota in the gale force winds (at least it seemed like it) as we came to a little rise in the pavement there was clearly a state trooper standing beside his car holding something. Typically it’s a Laser or Radar gun they’re aiming at you and trying to stop you beside their car. I immediately noticed my speed, and while over the speed limit, was not significantly enough so to warrant a stop – at least in my opinion. But instead of holding a Laser or a Radar gun, he was holding a diamond shaped sign that simply said “Slow.” I thought , “Hmmm.”
Then we went over the rise and there were 3 more state trooper cars in the median and the shell of a SUV towing a camper trailer – but both the SUV and the camper were upside down. One can only assume that the trailer must have gotten a little squirrely due to speed and then the driver got hit with a sudden blast of wind. The good news is it must have just happened as while there were 4 police cars there, there weren’t any ambulances or fire trucks there yet. It did appear the family was huddled together in the median hugging each other and appeared to be OK. Thank your lucky stars.
We rolled into Des Moines and the city (or the conventioneers) had commandeered a whole parking garage for the attending motorcyclists. We saw just about every type of Gold Wing possible in this garage including the new Stallion – an exotic Trike that resembles a convertible. When we exited the garage to go into the Wing Ding, we saw a bevy of Can Am’s (the new Trikes with 2 wheels up front) going on a demonstration ride. Naturally we thought of Donn since we’re pretty convinced he’s going to trade in his Trike and Helen’s Trike on a couple of new Can Am’s in due order.
I had pre registered for the Wing Ding (naturally), so for Chris and me getting through registration was a charm. Naturally, Skip hadn’t pre registered, so he had to stand in line. He didn’t have his driver’s license (left it in his motorcycle) or his Gold Wing Road Riders Association membership card (he had left it back in Tega Kay), so his registration process, while a bit longer than my process, also became instantly more expensive. They claimed they had no way of looking up his membership.
We got in and split up because each couple had a different agenda for their shopping excursion. We agreed to meet in 2 hours. We kept running across each other and Skip was able to direct me to the booth that did produce the one thing I really desired to purchase: a key just for my gas tank. It seems a vendor figured out that only the top half of your ignition key works the gas cap unlock mechanism, so they’ve developed a key with a little knob that permanently stays in your gas cap locking mechanism. You don’t have to worry about someone getting into your saddlebags or the ignition switch, because they require the entire key. So, with this little gadget, you don’t have to use your ignition key to unlock your gas tank every time you gas up. If you ride motorcycles you’ll understand how really cool that is.
Chris and Linda got some riding socks and Skip almost talked Linda into a new motorcycle trailer – but she said no, and h**^ no! I thought he might have gotten it done on this trip – but no cigar. Maybe someday she’ll give in – but I’m not so sure. Not really sure why she’s drawn the line in the sand so firmly, but she has.
We left Des Moines, and figured we ought to try to make Davenport, Iowa for the evening. We still had plenty of daylight, and we were on the downhill slide now toward home. Not much to do but ride to get to our destinations. We tried the Hampton Inn at Davenport, but they were already sold out. So we tried the Courtyard by Marriott, and got two rooms. We got into Davenport about 3 ½ hours later. We inquired about dinner and Linda and Chris had their hearts set on a good Italian dinner. The desk clerk suggested Biaggi’s and a nice young lady in line with Skip & I to check in confirmed the selection. And, she met the criteria. Nice diamond on her hand. So we asked the desk clerk to make us reservations and to order a cab and she was very willing to accommodate.
We arrived at Biaggi’s and were very impressed. I typically don’t like chain restaurants, but this did have a different feel to it. Their menu indicated they had 30 something restaurants with 2 in Indiana: Evansville & Ft. Wayne. Any chain that has the good smarts to locate in Evansville is in my league. Linda and I had the “Black” Fettuccini, with lobster. We figured we were eating lots of lobster the first time we met each other so it was appropriate to have it now in a celebratory dinner. Neither of us had ever experienced “Black” Fettuccini, and it was simply magnificent! We both loved it. Chris and Skip had outstanding meals as well, and the 4 of us agreed it was the best restaurant on the trip. And reasonable in price as well. We heartily recommend Biaggi’s if one is near you.
Day 15
Our last day on the road was finally here. After looking forward with great anticipation to the departure date arriving, now it was the day we’d arrive back home – God willing. We left Davenport, Iowa at 8:00 a.m. (do you think Skip and Linda have further to ride than we do???) and headed out. When we were discussing departure times the night before, Chris & I kept the option open that Linda & Skip would want to head out at say, 4:00 a.m. and then we could sleep in since we didn’t have so far to travel. But would they take the bait – NO! They insisted we again get up at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m. so we could ALL be on the road by 8:00 a.m. And so we were.
We took I-74 out of Davenport to Peoria, Illinois then down through Bloomington and then Champaign, Illinois. Passing through Champaign bought back a flood of memories of when I was stationed in Rantol, Illinois at the Air Force Training School there. That’s where I learned to fix jet aircraft engines and their instrumentation which led me to many places around the globe, including the one place I was trying to avoid (hence enlisting in the Air Force) - Vietnam. Those were the days before the lottery system, or the volunteer military system, so if you didn’t enlist, you were destined to become an infantryman in Vietnam. I figured with my height, the first time I was put on point for my Army platoon, the North Vietnamese soldiers would be taking out lottery tickets on how many times they could shoot me before I’d fall to the ground. Hence, the Air Force enlistment. We spent many a Friday and Saturday night at the University of Illinois in Champaign telling coeds that the reason they didn’t see us during the week was we were taking 22 hours and we had to study all the time. No time for partying during the week, that’s why we had to let off so much steam during the weekend. If I wasn’t at the UofI I was hitchhiking to Indianapolis to see my old flame there. It was a busy schedule but someone had to do it.
Skip, Linda and Chris and I had our final goodbyes slightly inside the Illinois border. We kept with them until Crawfordsville where we took Ind route 32 into Lebanon and then down Ind 421 to Zionsville and across 106th street. It was melancholy to say goodbye and honk as we peeled off to Ind 32 since we’ve been with them since June 17th and had ridden 4,731 miles with them – this trip. Hard telling how many total miles we’ve ridden with them since that fateful day in Portland, Maine when we were all boarding the ferry to Nova Scotia.
We received a text from them saying they arrived home at their house on July 2nd at 1305 hours. They had made it to Richmond, Kentucky subsequent to Skip leaving us on July 1. I guess not having to stop for gas as often as I required allowed him to make good time.
We received an email from Donn so we know they made it safely back home as well. Can’t wait to see the matching Can Am Trikes!
I received an email from Jeff that he rolled into his driveway on July 3rd at 7:30 p.m. He said he had traveled 6,829 miles on this trip. Wow that’s a good one. He was gone about a full week longer than us and remembers he received a ticket that Kathy is still trying to fix.
Great adventure. Great friends. Great memories. Great Sights. Safe travels. You simply can’t ask for more than this! That’s what motorcycling is all about. I keep telling people if you’d ever do a trip on a touring motorcycle, you’d never again travel in a car. Plane yes – but not a car! Until the next adventure…………..
Trip Mileage Total
Destination Mileage
Columbia, Missouri 398
Hays, Kansas 396
Denver, Colorado 356
Grand Junction, Colorado 251
Salt Lake City, Utah 291
Salt Lake City, Utah 37
Sun Valley, Idaho 313
Hamilton, Montana 281
Columbia Falls, Montana 190
Helena, Montana 283
Red Lodge, Montana 316
Gillette, Wyoming 330
Sioux City, Iowa 594
Davenport, Iowa 380
Carmel, Indiana 315
Total Mileage 4,731
A big majority of the names on this list are fellow motorcyclists. They know I keep detailed records on the trips. So, from a statistical perspective:
I used 148.410 gallons of gas for a total expense of $421.70. That's 2 up on a Trike pulling a 25 cubic foot trailer - fully loaded.
That figures out to 31.87791 miles per gallon. Actually not too bad in my opinion. Or figured another way, I purchased gasoline at an average (mean) price of $2.84 per gallon.
The most expensive gas we purchased was in Sun Valley. Idaho @ $3.199 per gallon. Go figure. They're out in the middle of nowhere and sell vests and leather coats at exorbitant prices - why not for gasoline as well. And here I thought the great little gas station out in the middle of nowhere in Utah that I wrote up so much in the daily epistles would have been the most. It was only $3.119 per gallon.
The cheapest gas was purchased in Junction City, Kansas for $2.559 per gallon.
If I'd ask Skip how many miles per gallon he got on the trip his answer would be a quick - "More than you."
If I asked Donn the same question, he'd say, "I don't know because my receipts kept blowing out of the pocket on my motorcycle and they're littered throughout our trip - but I'd like to know."
If I asked Jeff, he would say, "Hmmm. Just a second and I'll have one of my MBA students use the interaction of the osmosis tube across the vegus nerve through the triangulation of the mode and compute the mean answer through its validity - just as soon as I give it to them on a test - but I'm sure it's more than you get."
