June 8
As usual, there are things to do on the day before you hit the road. I usually run through a day on the road in my mind and think of all things I’ll need. I have made a list for packing many times and there are several things that are always common to longer trips. And I check all the fluid levels, except the primary. The inspection plate that was on the primary cover for years has been eliminated. Strangely, there is an indentation on the primary cover where the inspection plate used to be. Probably the removable inspection plate has been eliminated because Harleys no longer leave oil on the pavement wherever you park. There’s not much need for an inspection plate anymore. Instead, on the new Limited models, you check the coolant level.
June 9, 2022
Stiens, NM is an old railroad town, now a ghost town. It’s at about mileage post 5 in New Mexico. There is a fenced area that was likely an equipment yard as it has a lot of old equipment spread around. (I picked up deductive reasoning from Sherlock Holmes. You may have met him, skinny guy, rides a BMW.)
I’ve passed this exit many times and always meant to stop the next time through. I finally figured that this was “next time” and it was worth the stop.
No drones, huh? Must be a secret outhouse.
I-10 through New Mexico is not the most scenic road. Trust me. If you go through this stretch, it may be best to do it at night. There doesn’t seem to be much danger of hitting wildlife and the road is pretty much straight all the way to Las Cruces. This trip I didn’t go as far as Las Cruces but cut the corner to hit I-25 north of Las Cruces. This takes you through Hatch, New Mexico, home of supposedly famous chiles and strange roadside decorations. Someone in this town had a strange idea of civic pride.
Similar displays line the streets of this burg.
From Hatch it’s onto I-25 north to Albuquerque. I hit some rain going north, big drops but the sky overhead was pretty clear so no rain gear. I figured it wouldn’t last long. This time I guessed right. The usual New Mexico wind was blowing rain around but at least the wind was at my back. In fact, I was getting about 50 mpg for this stretch. Of course, no matter how good the gas mileage gets you still have to stop for fuel sooner or later. I made a gas stop after turning east on I-40, went through the usual gas stop routine, two ounces of Marvel Mystery Oil in the gas tank, fill it up, light a smoke and get back on the road. Of course, the right-hand glove is tucked between the handlebar and the fairing to allow a bit more dexterity for lighting up. The one part of the routine that was missed was putting the right glove back on the right hand before taking off. I noticed that this step had been overlooked when I saw on my right a black blur going by. The idea of continuing with only one glove was not appealing, so I pulled over and walked back, first on the shoulder, then across the highway to walk the median back toward the spot where I had left the bike. I checked out a bunch of black items along the road, including one black glove. But that glove was a rubber glove, not one of my Churchhill gloves. I order them from an outfit in Oregon and they are the best lightweight motorcycle gloves I have ever had. Overall, I likely walked over half a mile with no result. However, when I got back to the bike it turned out that although I had seen the glove fly by, I had not seen that it landed between the tourpak and the rear fender. Oh well, a nice walk never hurt anyone, and I was so pleased to find the glove I didn’t even mind the walk. On down the road toward Santa Rosa.
Even though this was the first day of the trip, it was the shortest day. Only 580 miles. I’ve got to pick up the pace. One reason I stopped short was the dark sky and the thunder. Santa Rosa has a decent Motel 6 with the most important thing to me; outside doors and you park the bike right in front of your room. Not only can I keep an eye on my bike, but it’s a damn sight easier to unload your stuff. 587 miles
June 10, day 2. I promised Patricia I would try to eat 3 times a day. When I’m on the road one time a day is my norm. I remember traveling with my old friend Leroy. We’d argue at least twice a day about stopping to eat. I remember one night we’d camped in Missouri and I made a big pot of beef stew for dinner and we finished it off. In the morning Leroy was ready to go find breakfast. I said, “we just ate a big dinner.” Leroy responded predictably; “Yeah, and I’m gonna eat again.” Anyway, on this trip I tried to follow Patricia’s direction about three meals. I didn’t want to waste too much time eating breakfast, so I hit a Waffle House, number 3241 according to the sign on the wall. If you’ve never stopped at a Waffle House, you’ve missed something important. They call out the orders using the kind of abbreviated descriptions that used to be used in a lot of places and you hear in old movies. Service is fast and is provided by a waitress like Nancy.
I had planned to stop and visit with UGLY Steve in Illinois. I’ve had an open invitation to stop there. But the timing was not right to stop and see Steve this time, maybe on the way back
More tailwind but not enough to keep up 50 mpg. The temperature through New Mexico and across the Texas Panhandle was quite nice; no jacket required, just a long sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. I generally run the speed limit plus five, enough to make time but not attract attention from the Klingons (aka, police, highway patrol, sheriff’s deputies, etc.) Based on a lot of miles, I’ve learned that you don’t make time by going real fast, you make time by minimizing the number of stops and the amount of time spent at each stop. With the advent of gas pumps that accept your credit card I frequently fill up and get back on the road without ever getting off the bike. I did observe a sight which is rare these days, a Flying Semi. My cruise control was set at 80 and the truck blew by me at what had to be close to 100. I half expected to see this driver talking to some Klingons up the road a bit. Every car driver has a cell phone and the truck’s speed was enough to prompt some people to call it into the local authorities. I was a bit surprised that I didn’t see that truck again.
The navigation function on the bike will locate motels. I need to learn how to update that system from time to time. On my ’21 Limited you can download the updates and then plug the flash drive into the plug on the bike to make all the revisions and additions. Typically, I couldn’t follow the instructions. The motel it found was gone, not just closed, but all that was left was the concrete slab. I had in mind more comfortable accommodations. So, I continued down the road. It was still light, the scenery was good, and I didn’t see any critters lurking along the shoulder of the highway, so finding a motel was not a problem, yet. Conditions were suitable for night riding. At one point, I was a bit startled when I was buzzed by a crop duster. I hadn’t seen it coming, but then, I rarely scan the sky for traffic hazards.
When I started on this trip I had some concern over finding motel vacancies but that was not a problem at any point. It may be that gas prices have cut down the traffic, but I’m not sure why.
Think about it; in most parts of the country gas has been running in the high three dollar to mid four-dollar range for some time. Now it’s in the six-dollar range. (Unless you’re in California where it is silly. Of course, if you are in California, it’s your own fault.) Think about it. Let’s say your car gets 20 miles to the gallon, a figure most cars can beat. Now suppose you plan a road trip that will be 3000 miles. At 20 miles to the gallon, you’ll use 150 gallons of gas. At $4 a gallon, the trip would have cost $600. At $6 a gallon the trip would cost $900. A substantial increase, but for most people it’s not the reason to abandon plans for the road. You could make it up by downgrading your motel preferences. Find a local independent motel, not part of a chain, and you’ll probably make up the difference. You may encounter a questionable motel at some point but no problem; you’re likely bigger than any cockroach you may find.
I ended up stopping for the night at a Comfort Inn in St. Robert, Missouri. No cockroaches.
June 11, 2022
Happy birthday to me. Seventy-two today. I can honestly say that I never thought about making it this far. Not so much I didn’t expect to get this far, I just never thought about it. If I had I certainly would have handled my money differently. There were some pretty fat years during my working life. But, like the sticker on the wall of my garage, over the beer opener, says “If it weren’t for beer and women, I’d be wealthy.” Well, too late to worry about that now.
Good weather again and my tailwind continued. The wind speed varied but it was always a wind behind me. I was getting into that part of the country where the winter weather damages the road surface and hampers repair attempts. The result is a lot of road work done in summer. There were several traffic stops for construction. In some cases, the stop turned out to be a closed lane and for some reason forward progress almost stopped completely. Some of the backups were miles long and I did give in to the temptation to run on the right shoulder. The sky was dark and threatening. I considered suiting up while the traffic was stopped but was pretty sure that everything would start moving about the time that I was trying to get my boots through the legs of my rain pants.
It worked out OK. I have always been considered by some to be overly optimistic about the possibility that it won’t rain. Putting on the rain gear was sort of giving in to nature. It usually seems to me that the drops are going to stop, that I see lighter sky just ahead or that the road ahead is going to curve toward that patch of blue I can see to the right or left. And it seemed to work again. The sky got darker, so I eventually pulled off with the intention of suiting up for weather. Went into the gas station to take a leak. You know about those who say, “if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.” Yep, when I came out there was enough lighter sky to encourage me to go bare, so to speak. And my faith in lighter skies was rewarded, no more drops.
I stopped for the night in London, Ohio
June 12, 2022
There’s a feeling that comes with setting out in the morning when you’re on a road trip. You can’t get it in a car or any other means of transportation. It’s best when the weather is good. That feeling is one of the many reasons why I hit the road as often as possible. And this was one of those really good weather days. The sky was clear, temperature was good, slight tailwind, bike sounded and felt great and there was a lot of road to ride. I did get off the Interstate for gas after a few miles and managed to get a bit lost. But it was a nice place to get lost.
I stopped for the night in Milford, Pennsylvania. I found a Rodeway Inn and it was next to a Chinese buffet. I heard what I initially thought was a dog bark coming from the kitchen. Fortunately, it turned out to be a squeaky wheel on a cart. Except for the ribs, nothing on the buffet was readily identifiable. There was a Chinese restaurant in L.A. where some of us from the firm I worked for went for lunch when I was working in downtown L.A. I learned a valuable lesson; don’t walk in the back door and through the kitchen. It is an application of that old line, that you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
The tailwind was still with me. I hit one rain shower while I was stopped in a rest area. I looked at the sky and figured this was only a stray shower. I didn’t suit up and it stopped in about a mile. Getting a bit damp isn’t bad in the summer as long as the seat of your pants stays dry. If your butt gets wet, it takes a lot of miles to get dry. This stretch of the road had the most dead deer I’d seen on one stretch of road since a spring trip on I-70 through Colorado. This convinced me not to continue after dark, so I won’t get to Boston until tomorrow. This section of the ride, from Ohio into Pennsylvania, reminded me again of my questions about seemingly needless road signs.
One of the most unnecessary of the road signs is “Guardrail Damage.” Maybe this is to advise those who plan to run off the road at some point that they’ll be on their own. Another example are the road signs seen in most states, “Entering Safety Zone.” This sign is usually accompanied by a sign announcing that for the next few miles there will be strict enforcement of traffic laws. On down the road there will be a sign stating, “End Safety Zone.” If I hit the lottery, I’d like to erect official looking signs and post them just past the “End Safety Zone” sign, one that says, “Resume Driving Like a Maniac.” Somewhere in Pennsylvania I saw a sign that suggested that someone in the highway department had a brother-in-law in the sign business. It read; “Highest Elevation on Interstate 80 west of the Mississippi River.” Thanks. I always wondered where that point was.
June 13 – 14
I got to JD’s in the afternoon. In the future I’ll take more pictures and take more notes when on the road. Days kind of run together and I’m not sure which day is which. I know we did something on the 13th and 14th, but other than a stop at a Harley shop to pick up oil and filter, memory does not serve to fill in the picture. I need to take more notes and get a different camera option. The phone takes decent pictures, but during the day it’s usually in the tourpak charging off the 12v outlet.
Monty’s Motorcycle Shop reminds me of a lot of the Harley dealers I encountered on the road when I first switched from British bikes to Harley-Davidson in ’81. The pictures on the wall were of Monty and his wife from the late 30’s when the shop opened. There were seven new bikes on the floor. But it was bigger than Bruce Chubbick’s Pasadena shop which closed in the early 80’s.
I wasn’t sure if JD had a headache or was just thinking about something. Probably thinking because we went from the shop directly to a local watering hole.
Brother Manny did the oil change for me. It’s always worth a trip to Manny’s. Looking around his garage is very interesting. Lots of stuff and projects in various stages of completion.
I know Boston is an old city, at least by North American standards, but the streets are a bit of a mess. I’m willing to bet that Boston has more manholes than any city in America. I did find one stretch of street that was newly paved and I didn’t see that many manholes. I figured the mayor’s house must be along that stretch.
June 15th
Laconia was the intended destination, and we went there for the day. I followed JD north, through Boston and on to New Hampshire. The actual location of the rally is Weir’s Beach. The Laconia Rally is older than Sturgis or Daytona. It sort of reminds me of what Sturgis was like on my first trip there in ’82. Next year will be the 100th Laconia Rally and I plan to make that one. The stretch of the main street in Weir’s Beach where most of the vendors set up has the look of Sturgis, bikes along both curbs and down the middle, but it’s not nearly as long as the main street in Sturgis. And most of the plates are from New England.
I particularly liked this one. I had a ’74 Commando. Mine was stock, but there is proof that can make nice customs.
The number plates are an unusual touch.
And I don’t remember ever seeing this vendor on the streets at Sturgis or Daytona.
Note her sign. I assume she kept pretty busy.
There is nothing in Laconia like One Eyed Jack’s, but once inside most bars look similar.
The beer’s cold, but the music was too loud. I guess I’m getting old.
After a few hours along the main drag JD and I rode on down the road and found another bar. Imagine that.
The barmaids were OK, but not up to the other Rallies.
Compare with Daytona
Dirt parking lots are always a bit iffy. This one was not too bad, better than gravel. I’ve gotten a bit better on them by reminding myself that although an Electra-Glide weighs almost half a ton, it’s still a motorcycle and I it is basically capable of going straight and staying upright if you handle it like the dirt bikes I used to race; (1) look where you want to go, not at the front wheel, (2) don’t disengage the clutch and (3) use the throttle. Besides, I figured if I dropped it here, I’d have lots of help picking it up.
Eventually we headed back to JD’s. Boston traffic wasn’t bad, but it had been a long day, fun but long.
June 16th
Time to head home. Breaking a usual practice, I took the same route home. At least the road looks a bit different from a different angle. I’m not sure about the details of the 16th or 17th. Like I said, I need to do better note taking when I intend to write the story of the trip.
June 18th
The plan when I started out was to make it home today. It was a bit over 1000 miles, but usually when I get within a few hundred miles from the barn I get a second wind. I was taking I-40 across the Texas Panhandle and into New Mexico. I ended up stopping in Tucumcari for the night. The usual New Mexico wind was blowing hard from the south. If that kept up it would be a headwind when I turned south on I-25 at Albuquerque. There were two reasons to stop; first, I wasn’t in a hurry. Second, I was hoping for a drop in the wind velocity.
June 19th
Stopping in Tucumcari turned out to have been a good decision. I do make good decisions now and then. The wind dropped a good deal. Some businesses advertise for miles by billboards. I remember as a kid traveling with my family seeing the signs: “See Rock City” on the sides of barns, billboards, birdhouses as far west as Colorado for a roadside attraction in Tennessee. Along I-40 in northern New Mexico the signs are for Cline’s Corner. The verbiage that got me to stop was the claim that it had been open 24/7 since 1934. It was worth the stop. It’s a big place with a lot of interesting stuff inside. Of course, I make a practice of going through Cawker, Kansas when I travel that way to see how much the World’s Largest Ball of Twine has grown since the last time. So, you might take my comments about interesting places with the proverbial grain of salt.
When I was ready to get back on the road it had started to rain. And the sky looked like more rain was coming. So, I took advantage of covered porch to put on the rain gear. Good idea. It rained steadily for quite a way. It was the first time I had to break out the rain gear on the trip. I stopped in Albuquerque.
June 20th
From Albuquerque it was south on I-25, cut through Hatch, pick up I-10 at Deming and high-ball home. Great trip. The odometer logged 5,673 miles since leaving home on the 9th.
One thing that is known to all motorcyclists is the practice of acknowledging other riders by a show of the left hand. The arm may be up or down, but whether the other rider is oncoming traffic or you pass while going in the same direction there is that gesture of acknowledgment. I’m not sure when the practice began, but I know from experience that it is a practice common all over the country. I think the practice of a show of the hand to acknowledge another rider exists because all riders, regardless of the make of the bike or the type of rider, have some things in common. If you’re a rider, you have an idea of what those things are.
Thoughts From The Road 