BMW Rally, catfish, red states (part 2)

(Monday July 9) The post for this trip was becoming unwieldy, so I’m starting a new one. The breakfast offering at my motel was pitiful and the coffee wasn’t good, so I walked over to the Iron Skillet next door for the breakfast buffet, which had suffered a bit from being out for a couple of hours, but at least the coffee was OK. I was in no rush to leave because the Haas Moto Museum and Sculpture Gallery didn’t open until 10. At breakfast I asked the waitress about traffic on I-20 into Dallas and she said that it usually lets up by 9, whereupon a trucker at the counter said, “More like 10.” As it was I left about 9:20, followed the GPS through moderate traffic to the museum and arrived a little after 10:30. Navigating the maze of Dallas freeways and surface streets would have been a formidable task without a GPS. The museum is located in the Dallas Design Center area of the city, which was probably once an area of warehouses but that now features upscale furniture stores, studios, and the museum. It is a new facility, modest on the outside, that just opened on April 11 of this year.

Inside the museum I appeared to be the only “customer” and after paying the minimal admission fee I was approached by a very knowledgeable docent, who offered to answer any questions I had about the motorcycles or the museum. There were a couple of other people working there as well as a young guy going around straightening placards and wiping off fingerprints. There are four sections to the museum: a history room, a racing room, a sidecar room, and a custom room. Sculptures are lined up along the walls in all the rooms. The bikes are displayed on pedestals, each of which is custom made and has a unique border - in the history room the borders are marble and different marble is used for each display. The bikes rest on mirrors so you can see the underside, and there is room around each bike so you can get close and look at the details, and also so you can get good photographs. There is minimal signage; just the name, model, and year of the motorcycle and one or two sentences about the significance of each bike The curators want you to spend your time looking at the machines and not reading. 

The creator of the museum is Bobby Haas, 71, a financier who has a fascinating back story. He’s very successful but has always operated somewhat under the radar, letting his partners be the front men so to speak. If you Google “Bobby Haas” and go down three or four entries to the museum website you can read about him and the museum. There is also a story from the Dallas Morning News of this year which provides a little more info about his business endeavors. Briefly, Bobby Haas grew up in Cleveland, received degrees from Yale (psychology) and Harvard Law, and went into business. Later in life he developed an interest in photography, particularly aerial photography, and he has had six very successful books published by National Geographic. He’d always been interested in motorcycles and at the age of 64 finally acquired his first one, a Ural side car rig, and immediately began collecting bikes. He has the sensibility of an artist, so the bikes in the collection seem to be chosen as much for their aesthetic appeal and uniqueness as for their mechanical prowess or success in the marketplace. Here’s a picture of the historical gallery.

And here’s a picture of the New Motorcycle (green) and the Majestic (red) both by the same designer and both very rare and with beautiful Art Deco design.

Even the bikes in the racing section seem to be chosen more for their design interest than for their success on the track. The sculptures along the walls contribute to the experience.

This sculpture is constructed around a BMW R75/5 engine, which is of particular interest to me because my first BMW, which I still have, is an R75/5.

Bobby rides a Harley with a sidecar, and although I don’t usually care for sidecars,  the selection of rigs, again chosen for their aesthetic appeal, was fascinating.

 When I heard that there was a “custom” room, I figured it would contain Harley choppers, but the bikes therein were very much works of art. Bobby worked with a couple of well known builders to create several bikes that incorporate his own ideas.

The sculpted details on this cafe racer took years to create.

Finally, the “shop” has a half dozen or so motorcycle books for sale as well as smaller sculptures and painted leather jackets (prices for the jackets are $1200-1800).

When I left there was one other person looking around - he seemed to be a Japanese tourist. The museum hasn’t been written up yet in the motorcycle magazines, but it probably will be soon, and I predict the place will become as much of a go-to destination for motorcyclists as the Barber Museum outside of Birmingham, Alabama. It should also attract people who have only minimal interest in motorcycles but appreciate unique design and mechanical art. 

Reluctantly, I dragged myself away from the museum at around 1:30 and followed the GPS to the AAA office a few miles away where I obtained replacement maps for the ones that became water-damaged yesterday. Following the GPS I was soon in I-30 heading east out of Dallas. Afternoon showers were predicted for the area, and sure enough the sky turned gray. After a half hour traffic came to a stop, and after creeping along for 15 minutes and watching my oil temperature climb, I took the next exit to get gas and have a late lunch. The T/A service area had a Burger King and Starbucks, and I could view the Interstate traffic as I ate and drank my coffee. I found out that there was a short section of road construction and there may have also been an accident. After about 45 minutes the traffic seemed to be moving a bit, so I put on my over-pants, rain gloves, and zipped up my jacket vents. I took the frontage road for a mile or so before getting back on I-30, and after a short distance was moving along at 75 mph again - a good thing because since the temperature was about 90 with equal humidity I felt like I was in a steam room under my riding gear. There was a brief shower of about 10 minutes, but gradually the sky cleared and it became a pleasant, sunny, and warm day. 

I’d thought about leaving the Interstate at Mt. Pleasant and following US 67 through what looked like an interesting area along the Sulphur River, but there were small towns every few miles and I thought that it would be a slow ride, so I stayed on I-30. At one point I was about to pass a truck, when it slowed and its emergency flashers went on. The driver leaned his arm out the window and made a slow-down motion, so I backed off and got behind the truck, positioning myself so I could see his side mirror. I thought that perhaps the driver knew of a radar trap ahead, although the speed limit was still 75 and he was only going 60. Soon we came on a an accident scene in the median, complete with a couple of emergency vehicles, several troopers, a tow truck, and a pickup on its side. After that the truck driver stuck his arm out and gave me a thumbs-up and I responded in kind when I passed him - many truck drivers are also motorcyclists. I usually stay off the Interstates, at least partly because there are so many big rigs and I don’t like the diesel smell if the traffic is slow (at speed you don’t notice it). However, I’ve found that the vast majority of truck drivers are professionals doing their job, and they are usually courteous and keep a close watch on their surroundings.

I-30 is pleasant enough, passing through rolling hills and woods and by lakes. In Arkansas I stopped at a Walmart to pick up more plastic bags, and a couple of peaches and also to shed my over-pants and rain gloves and to open the vents on my jacket. I have to say that everyone I’ve met in this part of the country has been very friendly, courteous, and outgoing - Carol thinks it’s a southern thing. I checked into my Best Western in Hope, AR (spending the big bucks tonight) and had dinner at Dos Loco Gringos about a quarter mile away. Back in the motel room I mapped out my routes for the next two days and made motel reservations. (288 miles)

(Tuesday, July 10). The breakfast at the motel was good, and I had a leisurely start since The Lassis Inn in Little Rock, where I was having lunch, doesn’t open until 11. On I-30 I moved along at 70-75 until it began raining hard after 75 miles. It took 10 minutes to get to an exit so I could safely pull over and put on my rain gear. The forecast for the area said possible showers mainly after 2 PM. I’d opened my jacket vents before I left and was wearing my light gloves since it was hot and humid, and of course the gloves were soaked as well as my jeans. I put on my rain gear and closed the vents, and of course by the time that I did that the rain stopped and the sun came out. I arrived at the Lassis Inn at 11:20 and took off al my rain gear and left it on the bike along with my light gloves, which I laid out to dry.

As you can see it is very small and unpretentious. Inside there are about a dozen old booths and a counter where people order and pick up take-out. Mr. Washington, the chef, works his magic in the back. On the advice of my friend, Clark, I ordered two whole catfish even though they are not on the menu. 

I also ordered a side of fried okra because that is something I can’t get outside of the south. 

The meal was delicious and I managed fairly well with de-boning the catfish even though it has been a half century at least since I’ve eaten whole catfish. I didn’t eat all the french fries or okra, but I did eat every morsel of the fish. At one point one of the customers pointed out that it was raining and that I might want to bring in the stuff I’d left on the bike, so I went outside and retrieved my gloves and jacket. 

After washing up (eating catfish is messy business) I said goodby to Mr. Washington and went outside. There was still a little sprinkle, so I put on my over pants and rain gloves and zipped up my vents and followed the GPS for a few miles out of Little Rock and onto AR 10 heading west. This is a pleasant country road that goes by recreation areas and there was little traffic on a weekday. After about 10 miles I stopped to stow my rain gear since the sun had come out and it was about 90 degrees. I followed 10 to the town of Ola, where I turned north on AR 7 which goes north through the Ozark National Forest. I’d ridden on this rode a few years ago from north to south and it’s well-paved, scenic, and hilly and moderately curvy until after about 70 miles where it gets more steep and curvy. Naturally in that section I hit road construction, but all in all it was a very pleasant ride. Before 7 ends at Harrison I went east on AR 206 to Bellefonte, went south for a couple of miles, and then east on US 412 towards Mountain Home. This road has more towns and traffic since it goes through a recreation area, but everyone was going the limit and I enjoyed the scenery. Mountain Home has a small downtown with a 3/4 square but the area around it has a lot of shops and services since Bull Shoals and the White River are close by and the town is a launching area for water sports. 

In Mountain Home I went north on AR 5 and after a few miles I had the road mostly to myself. It’s a country road with a few farms, forests, hills and curves. It stayed the same into Missouri to the town of Ava, where I’m spending the night at a Super 8. (400 miles)

(Wednesday, July 11)  The rain that I’ve experienced off and on for the last couple of days is bothering other people somewhere else and today was sunny with a few scattered clouds, but hot - 95 most of the day and humid. Not terrible as long as I was moving, so I kept moving as much as possible. I stayed on MO 5 north through rolling hills, gentle curves, farms and woodland. In Mansfield I took a brief detour to look at yet another Laura Ingalls Wilder house, this one apparently where she wrote many of her books later in her life. It is a much nicer house than the others I’ve seen where she lived when she was growing up. There’s a large museum and gift shop near the house, but everything was closed this early in the morning. The town itself is typical of this part of the midwest - a large central square with trees and a small pavilion and shops on the streets around it. I continued north to Lebanon, a sizeable town, where I had an excellent breakfast at the Elm Street Eatery. (The Super 8 breakfast was the usual plastic wrapped pastries, and stale cereal. I had a small muffin, an orange and coffee just to get me going.) North of Lebanon 5 becomes a busier road as it carries traffic from I-44 to the Lake of the Ozarks and Osage Beach area, which I rode by. It looks to be a big recreation area with outfitters, boat services, etc. Once by all that 5 becomes a small country road again with little traffic. In Versailles I went west on MO 52 to US 65 north, which is a four lane divided road (mostly) through Sedalia, across I-70, to Marshall where it becomes two-lane again and goes west to Waverly. I forgot to get gas in Marshall, and Casey’s in Waverly only had regular and diesel - not uncommon out in the country. Fortunately, the bike is getting excellent mileage (over 50 mpg) running at 60-65 mph on the country roads and the Sinclair station in Carrollton had premium with no alcohol - bonus. 

US 65 crosses the Missouri River after Waverly and goes by the Big Muddy National Wildlife Refuge. There was some road construction with one lane and a pilot car, but otherwise not much to hold me back. The town of Princeton has a lot of trees and red brick buildings in the downtown area. The highway goes right through the downtown in some of the towns, in others there’s a little bypass but you can look to one side or the other to see the downtown. I stopped at the Hometown Cafe in Lineville, which is on the Missouri/Iowa state line. The cherry pie and coffee were good, and the few people inside asked if I wasn’t hot (I was). 

In Iowa the road surface becomes better, there was little traffic, fewer hills and curves, and the speed limit went from 60 to 55. This is farm country, mostly soybeans and corn as far as I could tell. In Osceola I crossed US 34, which I’ve ridden on several times. Indianola is a fairly large town and Andrew and I stopped here once (we were on a car trip from Cleveland to SF) to visit my high school drama teacher and play director. The traffic picked up the closer to Des Moines I got and the GPS directed me on I-235 east around the city to I-80 and then west to my exit for the Quality Inn where I’m spending the next three nights. There’s a reason this was one of the cheaper motel options in the area - it is somewhat run down, and it isn’t near anything. However, I’m not too fussy and I’ll be spending most of my time at the BMW rally at the fairgrounds, which is 7 miles away. (412 miles)

(Thursday, July 12) This morning I ate breakfast at the motel with two cousins who are here for the rally - one from Pennsylvania and the other from Santa Cruz and Alaska (he has a fishing business in Alaska where he lives during fishing season). Bob, the Santa Cruz/Alaskan, highly recommended the Adriatic Motorcycle Tours. I was considering their Balkans tour a couple of years ago for Carol and me but for one reason or another we never went. I’ll go to their seminar on Saturday to get more information. 

Registration at the rally went smoothly and I parked the bike and went inside the very large air-conditioned pavilion where most of the vendors are set up. There are about twenty vendors outdoors, including a couple of tire installers, a maintenance station, and two or three people installing accessories. I didn’t envy any of them working in the 95F/90% humidity conditions. Indoors it was much more pleasant and I wandered around along with everyone else looking for stuff to try on, accessories for the bike, or things that I didn’t know I needed but look interesting. Fortunately, I have most everything I need and I wasn’t tempted by the cool things that I didn’t really need. I met Jack Riepe (and later attended his seminar), who writes a column for the MOA News, and has also written two books, both of which I have. He was supposed to attend last year but suffered a medical emergency related to his knee replacement for arthritis and couldn’t travel, although he did phone in what was to be his presentation. 

There was an interesting display of vintage BMWs, among which was this 1929 model that ran in the Cannonball run across the country.

Note the scroll mounted in a box on the handlebar for following your route - the way it used to be done before GPS.

Tomorrow I’ll return to the fairgrounds to see if there’s anything I missed and to attend a couple of more seminars.

(July 13-14, Friday-Saturday) I met Bob and Carl in the motel breakfast room again on Friday and we chatted over our meal before leaving for the rally. I spent the day attending seminars and wandering around the vendor area, talking to the people at the booths and even buying a few things. After the big rush Thursday morning things were quieter on the floor even though there were more people wandering around. These rallies are a great place to see new products from the motorcycle accessory companies, tire companies, and a couple of dealers were there with wares from their shops. Also, many tour companies had booths and presentations in the seminar rooms. The display of vintage bikes doubled and then tripled in size. I went to the Adriatic Tours presentation on their Tuscany tour, and in the afternoon went to Jack Riepe’s second show. Word must have spread about how funny he is because the large room was packed with people lined up against the walls, and he did not disappoint.

 Later in the afternoon I attended a seminar called “Travels With Barley” about long distance riding with a dog in a sidecar. Not that I’m interested in sidecars, but I am interested in dogs. It turned out to be very interesting and the presenter, Peter Burke, was engaging, droll, had a good speaking style, and gave out good information about traveling with a dog and the accommodations that have to be made. His rig is quite the setup.

It rained a bit Friday night but no heavy thunderstorms. Nevertheless there was a good chance of rain for Saturday according to the weather report so I was prepared with light pants under my waterproof over pants, rain gloves at the ready, and all my jacket vents zipped up. Apparently, the best way to keep rain from happening is to be totally prepared, because, although it became cloudy and gray a few times, it never rained. 

When I went for breakfast at the motel Bob and Carl were waiting for their ride to the airport, and Bob said that he’s seriously considering the Adriatic Tours Slovenia trip next year and said that I should go on it as well. At the fairgrounds I attended the Balkans presentation and thought that it looked like an interesting and fun trip. The company has been around since 2004 and now has 120 motorcycles and 30-40 employees and guides, so they must be doing something right.

There haven’t been enough pictures of motorcycles in these daily entries, so I’ll include this sweet and elegant 50’s BMW single.

 UPS had a convenient booth set up in the rally pavilion, so I mailed a package with excess gloves, paper, and a fleece jacket and left the rally at about 12:30. I followed the GPS out of Des Moines to IA 5 which angles southeast and then south. I stopped after about 45 minutes in Pleasantville, which is a, well, pleasant little town with a small square and a few businesses and shops around it, one of which was a bar/restaurant where I had lunch. I stayed on 5 to Centerville and then went east on IA 2 to US 63 where I turned south into Missouri and then to Kirksville, where I’m spending the night. Kirksville is home to Truman State College (President Harry Truman was from Missouri) so the town has a college town feel to it. Dinner at the Highway 54 diner close by was fine and I’m all set for a good ride tomorrow, although there’s a chance of thunder showers. 

What I didn’t do today: 1) I failed to visit Riverside, IA (east of Des Moines and a little south of Iowa City) which, as everyone surely knows, is the future birthplace of Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise. 2) I did not stop at the National Sprint Car Hall of Fame in Knoxville, IA. Just not interested in sprint car racing, although it is fun to watch live. The riding and roads today were what I fondly remember about the Midwest with some divided four-lane with local access but mostly two-lane with rolling hills, and gentle curves through farm country and little traffic. I’m hoping for the same tomorrow.  (180 miles)

(Sunday, July 15) The be-prepared-for-a-downpour-and-it-won’t-rain trick didn’t work today. It was warm and partly cloudy when I left the motel and followed MO 6 south and east to US 24/61 south and then into Hannibal. I did not stop to see the Mark Twain house, or to whitewash and fence and did not stop at the Mark Twain Cave and Winery. The old downtown of Hannibal actually looks like it might be worth a walk around someday - old red brick buildings - but it was deserted on a Sunday morning. Carol and stopped in Hannibal about 40 years ago. I picked up MO 79 south, a scenic route that follows the Mississippi River, although said river is mostly obscured by trees even when the road is close to it, but most of the time the road is a mile or two away from the water. Still, it was a nice ride with no traffic, some decent curves and hills and numerous nature preserves and small parks. 

There was road construction south of Clarksville but the 20 mile detour on County W was every bit as nice as 79. In Winfield I stopped at the Market Grill and ordered what I thought would be a light lunch - salad with grilled chicken and pita bread.

I was hungry and managed to eat most of it, but it was a challenge. Half of the restaurant was smoking and the other half non-smoking - no barrier of course. I’m not in San Francisco anymore... In addition to the Market Grill Winfield has a convenience store/gas station, a tattoo parlor, and a hot rod and speed shop. Priorities. The small towns along 79 are old and fading, but also charming. I saw a few abandoned houses along the road, but also some very nice places especially as I neared St. Louis. In Fallon I got on I-70 east for a few miles and then took I-270/I-255 ring road to bypass St. Louis. It was becoming increasingly overcast and as soon as I crossed the Mississippi into Illinois it began raining. I turned south on IL 3, The Great River Road, and went through Columbia, which seems to be a tourist town. The road was four-lane divided with local access and I cruised along to Waterloo where 3 became two-lane and there were suddenly fewer cars on the road. As I neared Red Bud it began raining in earnest, a real downpour for about 20 minutes, and then steady rain for the next couple of hours, heavy at times. Except for a little leakage around the neck of my jacket, and maybe through the jacket zipper all the rain gear did its job, so I wasn’t uncomfortable. The temperature, which had been 85-90, went down to 75 so it wasn’t cold. It’s a pretty road through forests and farmland and small towns and even with the rain it was an enjoyable ride. 

What was not enjoyable was the fact the gear indicator on the bike began acting up. It partially cleared itself, but as of now 1st, neutral, and second are either not indicating correctly or at all. This wouldn’t be a big deal except that the bike will not start unless it thinks it is in neutral or the clutch is pulled in. Since the gear sensor isn’t working correctly, the clutch needs to be pulled in, and the way the bike knows the clutch is in is via another switch, which can always act up. Coincidently, the latest issue of BMW MOA News has an article about replacing the gear position potentiometer and it is not a task for the faint of heart - the back end of the bike has to be partially disassembled to get to the part - and is best left to a dealer. 

In Grimsby I went east on IL 149 and then a few miles later in Murphysboro took IL 13 through Carbondale, which is a large town and 13 went right through it. 13 became a local access four-lane for 40 miles and in Harrisburg became a two lane again into Kentucky where the road changed names to KY 56. Almost as soon as I crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky the road surface improved, and there were more hills and curves - very pleasant riding. The rain had stopped by this point and in Morganfield I went northeast on US 60 almost to Henderson, KY where I took US 41 to my motel for the night. 

Our family spent a summer in an apartment in Audubon State Park about a mile from here - my father was working on a project in nearby Evansville, IN. It was a great summer and I went swimming in the lake in the park nearly every day. I remember Henderson as being a nice little town, but the area where I’m staying isn’t that part of town. Tomorrow through the Cumberland Gap into Tennessee and onto the Moonshine Trail. (415 - mostly back roads)

BMW rally, catfish, and a lot of red states

(Wednesday, July 4) The annual BMW Motorcycle Owners Association rally is in Des Moines, Iowa this year and I’m riding there via Dallas and Little Rock. After that I’ll go to Knoxville, Tennessee so I can ride on the Moonshine Trail and after that perhaps to Florida depending on how I’m feeling. I’m riding my 2008 BMW R1200R, the bike that I purchased in Denver last year with only 8000 miles on it.

When I left this morning Carol took a picture of me sitting on the bike and I thought that I’d post it here, but unfortunately the image turned out to be of some old guy with a horrible grimace on his face. In the next few days I’ll try to find a young and good-looking guy to wear my jacket and sit on the bike and I’ll post that picture.

As is usual these posts will contain many details about route numbers, meals, temperatures, and road conditions that won’t be of interest to anyone but me. The posts serve as a memory bank of my rides.

After a bit of last minute packing and searching for various items I left the house under cool and slightly foggy skies - typical San Francisco July weather. My first stop was just down the road at Orchard Supply and Hardware where I searched in vain for a pocket 4 in 1 screwdriver. Fortunately, the next OSH 20 miles on had what I wanted. The next stop was at the San Carlos REI where I picked up a couple of micro fiber towels, very useful for cleaning my helmet faceshield without scratching the plastic. Errands complete I continued south on 101 to Gilroy where I went west on 152 and stopped after 15 miles at Casa de Fruta for lunch. Casa de Fruta is a sprawling complex with a gas station, restaurant, cafe, fruit stands and a conference center and has been there for over 100 years, although presumably it was much smaller when it started. Back on 152 I rode over Pacheco Pass by the San Luis Reservoir and then south on I-5. It was about 65 in San Francisco when I left, 75 in San Jose and Gilroy, and 85 once in the central valley although it gradually warmed. The I-5 Interstate through the valley is flat, hot, and boring except for the frequent signs supporting the farmers and ranchers in the ongoing water wars. South of Coalinga the GPS directed me east on farm roads to US 99 where I went south to Delano where I’m spending the night. The temperature stayed between 90 and 95 for the last couple of hours, which is bearable as long as I’m moving. Tomorrow it is supposed to be 115 in Blythe where I’m spending the night. (274 miles)

(Thursday, July 5) After coffee and waffles at the motel I rode south on Highway 99 through sprawling Bakersfield (pop. over 300,000) and I have to say that 99 doesn’t show the town at its best, but then perhaps that is as good as it gets. Bakersfield is best known as the birthplace of Merle Haggard and for the first two lines of the Rolling Stones song “Far Away Eyes”: I was driving home early Sunday morning through Bakersfield/Listening to gospel music... After another 30 miles I stopped in Tehachapi where I had a ham and cheese croissant and coffee at Kohnen’s Bakery. Highway 58 goes through the Tehachapi mountains (highest elevation 4300 feet) and the temperature was a pleasant 80-85 until the elevation dropped and the temperature rose to the mid 90’s. At Kramer Junction I went south on US 395 to Adelanto and Victorville, where I went on CA 18 through the towns of Apple Valley and Lucerne Valley, which despite their pleasant names are nondescript and dusty desert towns in the Yucca Valley. In Lucerne Valley I went on CA 247 for 40 miles to CA 62 (Twenty-nine Palms Highway) to the town of Joshua Tree, where the singer Gram Parsons died of an overdose at the Joshua Tree Inn back in 1973. Two of his friends (by prior arrangement) kidnapped Gram’s body and cremated it in Joshua Tree National Park at Cap Rock on the road to Keys View. I stopped at a cafe at the visitor’s center for an espresso and a mango smoothie, and rode into the park. The road is well-maintained but, as with most National Parks, the speed limit is very conservative, but on the other hand there wasn’t much traffic and few rangers. I turned off at Keys View, which used to be a gravel road until about 10 years ago, and at the viewpoint looked over the hazy valley to Indio and Palm Springs.

The elevation at Keys View is over 5000 feet and the temperature was only 95, but back on Pinto Basin road heading south and out of the park the elevation went down and the temperature went up. 

Joshua Trees are interesting plants, almost comical in the way the branches seem to be like arms. They are spread throughout the park, as are formations of large rocks with fanciful names like Hall Of Horrors and Skull Rock. 

As I went south towards the park exit and I-10 the temperature rose to over 100 degrees, reaching 114.8 at one point.  I-10 is an unpleasant slog with heavy truck traffic and quite a few cars and trucks alongside the road with overheated engines or blown tires. I’m spending the night in Blythe, right at the Arizona border. It was 113 degrees when I walked to a Mexican restaurant for dinner, and I don’t care how dry it is, that is hot. (388 miles)

(Friday, July 6) When I walked out of the motel room this morning at about 6:30 to get coffee in the lobby, the heat hit me - it hadn’t cooled off overnight. The motel breakfast was quite good, and when I left the motel parking lot an hour later the thermometer on the bike showed 105 degrees. 

Heading east on I-10 I entered Arizona after a few miles and then 30 miles later exited at Quartzite for gas (no vapor recovery nozzles for the rest of the trip until I return to California!) and to pick up US 60 which is a two-lane road with minimal traffic. It is also bleak, desolate, and dusty and there was a strong crosswind from the south. The few small towns on the road all have RV camps, although if I had an RV I’d look for a more scenic place. An hour later I was in Wickenburg and south of there I stopped at a convenient rest area to drink a quart of water and take a break. The temperature was holding at about 110, so not quite as hot as yesterday, but it was still early. After a few miles I turned east on US 74 which goes into north Phoenix. I was making a stop at the Hideaway Bar a Grill, a famous (in Harley circles) biker destination. There wasn’t much going on at noon on a Friday, but that evening they’d fire up the barbecue and the place would be jumping. Can you imagine standing over a huge barbeque grill in 110 degree heat, and certainly much hotter near the grill? 

The lunch wasn’t all that great although everyone was very friendly and helpful when I asked for a recommendation for a good route to Springerville, where I’d booked a motel. The Hideaway is in Cave Creek which seems to be a manufactured town that is modeled on Virginia City in Nevada outside of Carson City. There’s a psychic place, several motorcycle oriented businesses, bars, souvenir shops, ice cream and coffee shops, and of course T-shirt stores.

All morning I’d admired the fields of cacti along the road but never bothered to take a picture. They are all over the place in Phoenix as well, and even one in the parking lot near the Hideaway.

I followed the directions of the friendly biker at the Hideaway and my GPS to wander around Phoenix a bit and get out of town. Phoenix is very spread out, but the new-looking neighborhoods I rode through seemed to follow a plan of minimal visual impact. All the houses and most of the other buildings are tan adobe that blend into the desert and I didn’t see any overhead power or cable/phone lines - everything must be underground. The various shopping malls have minimal signage and if you didn’t know a mall was there you could drive right by it. 

Eventually I came to Fountain Hills and AZ 87, which goes north into the Tonto National Forest. The road is in good shape, four lanes wide, but not a road that I would normally favor. However, it was a very hot day, and I’d previously been on other more interesting roads through the forest, so 87 was OK. I stopped at the Piñon Cafe in Payson for coffee and a slice of pie - strawberry rhubarb. The sky clouded up and there was even a little sprinkle, but I didn’t bother with my rain gloves or rain pants. Over the next couple of hours I’d run into a few brief showers, and in Show Low it looked as though it had rained hard earlier - a couple of parking lots had very large puddles. The temperature jumped around a lot - 85 when the sun was out, 65 when it was cloudy and sprinkling. In Payson I’d picked up AZ 260 and in Show Low I went east on US 60, over a 7500 foot pass, and into Springerville where I’m spending the night at Reed’s Lodge, which is an old place and apparently very popular with motorcyclists.

The lodge also has a large gift shop and bookstore both of which have a Native American and Western theme. The place also seems to be popular with families, and there are a lot of kids running around and also dogs. A good choice. (410 miles) 

(Saturday, July 7) I skipped breakfast at the restaurant across the street from the lodge because I’ve been eating three large meals every day on this trip and that is too much. Besides, I needed to save room for pie in Pie Town. It was a beautiful, sunny morning with a few scattered clouds and after 13 miles on US 60 I entered New Mexico and lost an hour. This is high desert country with a few ranches, scattered forests, and no traffic. I stopped at the Pie Town Cafe and had a fried egg sandwich and a slice of apple pie, both of which were good. This is a smaller operation than the Pie-O-Neer across the highway and down the road a bit where I’d stopped last year - half a dozen tables, fewer pie choices, and a much smaller memorabilia section.

Although I’d planned to have another slice of pie at the Pie-O-Neer, it didn’t open until 11:30, another half hour, and since I’d already been there before I continued on US 60 across the Continental Divide (8000 feet) until I came to the VLA (Very Large Array) radio telescope site and I decided to stop at the visitors’ center since I hadn’t made the second stop in Pie Town. Apparently all the cars that weren’t on US 60 were at the VLA because the parking lot was full. The self-guided walking tour was interesting and the radio telescopes are impressive. Each of the 27 antennas in the array weighs over 230 tons and is 82 feet across and 90 feet high. They are situated on railroad tracks and can be moved within the complex to follow signals. Each antenna receiver is cryogenically cooled to -427F - only 18 degrees K. All in all an impressive site and worth a stop if you are ever in the area. The VLA, which was opened in 1980, is situated on the Plains of Augustin, which is surrounded by mountains that keep radio interference at a minimum and the altitude of 7500 feet also contributes to clear signals from space.

Back on US 60 I continued on a very pleasant ride through Magdalena (where I once spent the night) and into Socorro where I stopped for gas and met a couple from Cedar Rapids, Iowa on Harleys - both big twins, but with only windscreens and panniers. They were riding without helmets and in T-shirts and I hope they used plenty of sunscreen. South 10 miles on I-25 I turned off at San Antonio and went east on US 380. I went by the Owl’s Nest Bar and Grill, another well-known Harley spot but didn’t stop because I wasn’t hungry and after the Hideaway in Cave Creek I felt that I’d done my Harley bar thing for the trip. There were a half dozen Harleys parked in front as well as another dozen or so cars and pickups. 

The weather had been holding at a very pleasant 85 degrees under a sunny sky but as I continued east it became very black in the distance and I saw a few lightning flashes. This is mostly dry country but afternoon thunderstorms are not uncommon this time of year. There were a few sprinkles and then suddenly the temperature dropped 20 degrees and it began to rain hard. When I finally found a good spot to pull over and make myself waterproof the rain stopped and the sun came out so I continued on. This would happen several times over the next couple of hours. US 380 goes through Carrizoza, Billie the Kid country, and the Capitan mountains and through the town of Capitan, home of the original Smoky the Bear, so the town has old west tourist places and Smoky exhibits. 

The elevation gradually got lower and I came into Roswell, famous as the (supposed) site of a UFO crash in 1947. (It was actually an Air Force weather balloon, but who believes the government.) Andrew and I stopped here back in 1999 and since then the town has tripled in size. I’d planned on a quick stop for coffee and to pick up some postcards at the UFO museum, but I found that this weekend is a three day Alien Con and two blocks of Main street were closed off for vendors, exhibits, music, and wandering people celebrating all things UFO and alien. 

On the advice of a friendly worker at the UFO museum I went to Stellar Cafe where I had the best coffee of the trip so far and also met two older guys, friends who were in town for Alien Con, one from Tucson and one from outside Toronto. We traded stories about travels and the computer industry and I spent more time than I’d planned in Roswell so that by the time I left the skies ahead were looking very ominous. I soon ran into a very heavy storm with lightning on both sided of the road and a high crosswind that had me leaning the bike at a steep angle. Naturally there was no place to pull over and even if I had I’m not sure the bike would have stayed upright or if I could have put on my rain gear. My solution to the dilemma, in retrospect perhaps not the wisest choice, was to ride faster to get out of the storm as quickly as possible and sure enough after 10 minutes or so it stopped raining, the sky cleared, and I began to dry out. 

In Tatum I turned south on NM 206 and after 20 miles came into Lovington (elevation 3500 feet) where I’m spending the night at the Lovington Inn. Neither the town nor the motel are impressive. The desk clerk said they’d had heavy rain in the morning and I’d noticed flooded fields and large puddles everywhere when I got near town. Tomorrow I get into Texas. (430 miles)

(Sunday, July 8) The Lovington Inn is a bit of a dump, but it was quiet and I slept well, and the breakfast at Dusty’s restaurant that came with the room was OK and the coffee was good. Based on the weather forecast and my wet experience yesterday I wore my waterproof overpants and rain gloves when I started out this morning. I rode on NM 18 out of Lovington to Hobbs, NM and went east on US 180, which I would follow for the rest of the day. It is an old four-lane road through west Texas for thirty miles and then becomes two-lane for most of the rest of the way. The speed limit is a generous 75 mph - in fact it would remain at 75 outside the towns until I got near the more populated areas closer to Dallas. The land is flat with a few oil wells, some ranches and small farms, and a lot of empty space covered in dry grass and low trees or bushes. There was very little traffic on a Sunday morning. The only thing I saw worthy of a picture was an old, restored Sinclair gas station in Snyder.

I stopped for lunch at Hatahoe Chick and Fish in Anson north of Abilene and had an interesting conversation with Nick, who was there with his mom. I often travel with another rider, but one of the benefits of traveling alone is that you are more approachable, and people feel more comfortable initiating  a conversation. While Nick and I were talking, a huge rainstorm blew through. It lasted about 20 minutes and by the time I left the temperature was back up to 85 degrees and it was sunny. To me it looked like the end of days and I was ready to hide under the table, but everyone else in the place just looked outside, and said, “Oh, it’s raining.” Nick’s mom asked if it was hailing, and when told that it wasn’t she nodded dismissively and went back to her meal. Unfortunately, I caught up with the tail end of the storm after about 20 minutes. It had mostly moved to the south and the sky in that direction was completely black with bolts of lightning every 5 seconds or so. There was also a heavy crosswind which lasted for about 10 minutes, but after that the sky cleared and the temperature went up to a muggy 90-95. 

The farther east I went the closer the small towns were together. Albany has an old fashioned courthouse square complete with an impressive stone courthouse, but other than that the towns were small and undistinguished. I began to see cars and trucks towing boat trailers as I neared Hubbard Creek Reservoir - families returning from a weekend on the lake. I found the Heritage Inn in Weatherford with no problem, but it’s a rather run down establishment in spite of its impressive name. However, the lone washing machine was unoccupied so I did a laundry. 

One of the rules of motorcycling is to never begin a long trip with untested equipment, and I’d never before used the large duffle bag that was a gift from John C. It has a large central compartment with a waterproof lining, but the side pockets are not waterproof, a fact that I discovered when I retrieved the maps that I’d stored inside. Tomorrow after the moto museum I’ll stop at an AAA office in Dallas to replace a few of the maps, and at a Target or grocery store to pick up some plastic bags. (352 miles)

Chasing the 2017 eclipse

On August 21 there will be a total eclipse of the sun in a 60 mile wide path from Oregon to North Carolina. Northwestern Nebraska is in the path, and I intend to meet sister Vanya and daughter Vanya there, along with Big Vanya's friend, Michael, and his sister. Naturally, I plan to travel there by motorcycle - my BMW R1150R.

My departure on Wednesday, August 16 began inauspiciously when the bike wouldn't start. Although the bike has a new battery, it had been sitting for several weeks, so I thought that might be the problem. My Weego portable starter battery wasn't fully charged, but the bike did eventually start and I was off across the Golden Gate bridge and east on Highway 37 to Vallejo. Traffic wasn't bad on I-80 and I went north on I-505 to Winters (about 90 miles from home), where I stopped for gas, only to have the bike refuse to start, although it did eventually. I decided to return home and switch to the Suzuki. When I arrived, I parked and checked the voltage, which was good, although the engine turned over very slowly and the voltage dropped to under 8 volts when the starter was engaged - not good. I called Sean, an independent BMW mechanic who has been looking after the bike, and he said to bring it down to his shop in Redwood City and he'd take a look at it. When I got there and turned off the engine, it started up just fine. He put a voltmeter on the battery and started the bike up about 10 times, and it started right away every time and the voltage never dropped below 10 volts when the starter was engaged, which is about right. He said to have a good trip, and I went to a nearby IHOP restaurant for a late lunch and to ponder what to do. If I returned home and swapped bikes, I would lose an entire day, so I decided to continue with the R and hope for the best. By this time it was 4 PM and traffic was building up. I split lanes through the Central Freeway maze in San Francisco, and part of the Bay Bridge, and again through Berkeley and Richmond. By the time I got to Davis the traffic wasn't that bad, and I had a good ride through Auburn, Truckee, and all the way to Fernley, arriving at 9:30 PM. My motel reservation in Lakeview, OR went to waste. I got the last room at a Super 8 in Fernley (I'd called from a rest area on I-80), and when I arrived I asked the clerk why they were so busy. She replied that they'd been busy all summer - the new Tesla battery factory is under construction nearby, so a lot of the workers stay at the motel and other motels in the area. She also said that Toyota and (I think) Nissan are building facilities in the area. (490 miles)

Thursday, August 17. The breakfast at the Super 8 featured scrambled eggs, but only frozen waffles and not the make them yourself kind. The bike started just fine, and continued to start right away all day, although the starter seems to make more noise than I'm used to. This may be my imagination - yesterday Sean said that it sounded normal. In Winnemucca I exited for gas and turned north on US 95 to the Oregon border, where I stopped at a casino for lunch. The weather was pleasant all morning - 80 to 85 degrees. It would warm to 90 or so later in the day, but for mid-August I can't complain. US 95 in northern Nevada is bleak desert and there is a fair amount of traffic - no other north-south roads nearby. Passing isn't a problem, and the cars and big rigs move right along, but it isn't like US 50. The road becomes slightly more interesting in Oregon with a few hills, some 4500 foot passes, and even a few curves. I stopped in Jordan Valley for gas and soon entered Idaho. In Oregon there were more ranches and even a few farms, and once in Idaho there were more farms and greener landscape. In Murphy, ID I turned south on ID 78, which was a pleasant and mostly deserted ride to ID 67 where I went east to Mountain Home AFB and then to Mountain Home, ID where I'm spending the night at the Hilander Motel. At one time a steakhouse and swimming pool were part of the motel, but both are now defunct. Dinner (a taco salad) at nearby Grinde's Cafe was good, and the place does a lot of drive up ice cream business. For future reference...

 

The 50s era sign for the Hilander is the best part of the motel. That, and the avocado and almond color scheme for the bathroom tile and fixtures. (449 miles)

(August 18, Friday) After a cup of bad coffee at the motel I headed east on US 20, intending to find a cafe on the road. This turned out to be optimistic, as the first place that offered food was a gas station/general store/burger place in Carey, about 100 miles down the road. Still, it was a nice ride over Cat Creek summit (5600 feet) and there was little traffic on the road. I left at 8 and it was 60 degrees, so I wore my heavier gloves and the jacket liner. After breakfast (they still had a breakfast biscuit sandwich at the Exxon station where I stopped) I continues in US 20 and turned off at Craters of the Moon National Monument. I did the quick 7 mile loop and took a picture, but I'd been there before with Andrew so there was no need to explore more thoroughly.

 

After a gas stop in Arco I stayed on 20 to Idaho Falls, where I stopped for lunch, and then rejoined US 26 to Swan Valley, a serene and beautiful vacation and ranch area. Many years ago Andrew and I rode down into Swan Valley from Jackson, and I thought that it was the most lovliest place I'd ever seen.  US 26 continues past the Palisades Reservoir until it hits US 89, where I turned south. There was a lot of traffic, mostly going north towards Jackson, Teton National Park, and Yellowstone, but it moved along at the limit and the R bike has plenty of power for passing. It's a scenic ride with several towns along the way, one of which is Edna, where Freedom Arms is located. If you've read the Joe Pickett novels by C. J. Box, you know that Joe's friend, Nate, carries a Freedom Arms Casul .454 revolver. US 89 goes over Salt River Pass (7600 feet) and then I took WY 89 (also known as highway 61, although the AAA map doesn't show this) and when it ended at US 30 I went east past Fossil Butte to Kemmerer, where I'm staying at the Fairview Motel. This is another one of those places where I wouldn't stay with Carol, but it's good enough for me. Kemmerer is a strange little town with a few rock and fossil shops, a small downtown park, and quite a few empty storefronts. It is also home to the original J. C. Penny store. (442 miles)

 

(Saturday, August 19) The bike thermometer showed 40 degrees when I checked it this morning at 6:30. Kemmerer is at 7000 feet, so that isn't surprising. The motel office didn't have coffee yet, so I walked to the nearby Maverik station and purchased a cup of coffee and an egg, cheese, and English muffin - both were fresh and not bad. It had "warmed" up to almost 60 when I left at 8:45, so I wore my heavy gloves and jacket liner and was comfortable enough. I rode north on US 189 for 25 miles and went east on WY 372 for the same distance and then east on WY 28 over South Pass on the Continental Divide (7500 feet). The road is interesting enough and all but deserted, and the temperature stayed at 60 degrees. Just before 28 ends at US 287 I rode by Red Canyon, which provided a little color to the otherwise beige grass and dusty green sage brush.

 

I decided to ride the 7 miles into Lander to get gas because my GPS showed none available for many miles on 287 east. I also switched to lighter gloves and took off my jacket liner and opened the vents on the jacket. It was 80 degrees, and would warm up another 10 by mid-afternoon. I should have had something to eat as well, because in addition to no gas along my route there were no places to eat. US 287 follows the Mormon Pioneer Trail and after 70 miles I turned on WY 220 towards Casper. There was a fair amount of traffic (by Wyoming standards) heading west on 287, and on 220 there was a fair amount of traffic going east. I'd planned to have a late lunch in Casper, but my GPS directed me on a bypass around the city. I decided to go into Casper anyway, but found that the road I was on was all tire stores, repair shops, and fast food places - rather unattractive. I went north on I-25 for 30 miles to WY 250 which I followed to Midwest where I finally had a pre-wrapped sandwich and coffee at a Big D truck stop, the Tumbleweed Cafe that my GPS showed having been closed for many years. There is a lot of oil production in the area and the small town of Midwest, which is really in the middle of nowhere, consists of a few dozen small bungalows, presumably to house the workers and their families. 

Somewhat refreshed the, next 60 miles on WY 387 were pleasant enough and in Wright I went south on WY 59 for a couple of miles and then east on WY 450 through Thunder Basin National Grassland. Right in the middle is the Black Thunder Coal Company and I saw several mile long coal trains and a huge processing plant that had a couple of hundred automobiles in the parking lot - this on a Saturday. WY 450 ends at US 16 and I went east 4 miles to Newcastle, where I'm spending the night at the Sage Motel. When I called from San Francisco to make the reservation the man at the motel asked, somewhat incredulously, why I was coming to Newcastle, and indeed there's not much here. Dinner at Pizza Barn (a steakhouse as well as pizza and other italian dishes) was OK, and the motel is a cut above my usual accommodations. (498 miles)

 

Although you have to wonder about the motel's clientele if they have to post the sign below.

 

(Sunday, August 20) This was to be a short day (270 miles) so there was no rush to get moving early in the morning. Also, the motel didn't serve breakfast until 8 AM, and after coffee, bagel and an orange I was on the road at 9 AM. While looking at the map the previous night I noticed that my route took me past Jewel Cave National Monument and Wind Cave National Park, and I decided to stop and see what was there. Outside Newcastle US 16 becomes interesting as it climbs into the Black Hills and soon I turned into Jewel Cave. There were few cars on the road, and when I reached the parking area I discovered why - everyone was at Jewel Cave. The tours were booked two hours in advance, so I wandered around the visitor's area for 20 minutes and left. In Custer City I went south on US 385, a scenic road with hills and curves that led me to Wind Cave, where I discovered the same situation that was present at Jewel Cave - full parking area, many families with kids, tours full for the next couple of hours.  

 

The road descended into Hot Springs, SD and I stopped at Mornin' Sunshine on River Street for a real breakfast and coffee, and I asked the lady behind the counter if the Mammoth exhibit just south of town was worth a visit, and she assured me that it was. Again the parking area was full, but this time I waited and bought a ticket to enter the paleontology exhibit, which included an actual digging area as well as skeletons of extinct bears and mammoths. Of course the gift shop was as large as the dig, but I showed restraint and didn't purchase anything.

  

US 385 joined US 18 in Hot Springs, and in Oelrichs I stayed on 18 which goes east through the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. I stopped in Pine Ridge for gas, and continued on US 18, and since this is a reservation the landscape is bleak and barren. There was about 15 miles of road construction with a few gravel sections, but little traffic, a few small towns, and not much of anything. The landscape gradually turned into the Nebraska Sand Hills and there were more ranches and farms. At Martin I went south on SD 73, which became Nebraska 61 in 10 miles. I rode east on US 20 (also known as Euclid Ave. in Cleveland) to Valentine where I'm spending the night at a Comfort Inn. I did laundry and took a short walk in town - Main St. is about four blocks long - and had dinner at the Buck Horn Restaurant. Unfortunately I forgot about Game of Thrones until Carol mentioned it when I called her, but I did manage to catch the last half hour. I'll watch the whole thing on TIVO when I return home.

(August 21, 2017 - Monday) Well, that was spectacular! 

 

Without a lens filter my little camera doesn't do a good job with the corona flare. Be assured that in real life the full eclipse looked just like the awesome pictures you've seen on TV and the Internet - a huge black circle in the sky surrounded by a thin, irregular line of yellow. 

I was up at 5:30 in the morning and had breakfast at the motel. There were a lot of people up that early, all of whom were probably eclipse chasers like me. There was heavy fog and the bike was wet and there was also a circle of dampness directly under the bike the size of a dinner plate. I was worried that it might be transmission or engine oil, but it didn't taste like either, so I figured that it was just condensation that had dripped off the bike. More on that later. When I headed south on US 83 a little before 7:30 it was still foggy and damp and I stopped after about 30 miles to put on my overpants and rain gloves because I was getting wet. I stopped in Thedford after 65 miles to top off the gas tank since I didn't want to have to look for gas after the eclipse. In that part of Nebraska you often can't find gas in the small towns on the secondary roads. From Thedford I went west on Nebraska 2 to Mullen, and then south on NE 97 to Tryon, arriving around 9:30. NE 97 is a small, country road through farmland and rolling hills. A couple of farmers had opened up their fields and were offering parking. In Tryon I found the official viewing site and paid an extra $10 to park in a field near the viewing area. I could have parked for free farther away and taken a shuttle, but I wanted access to my bike in case I forgot something. I showed my ticket at the viewing area and put my things on one of the long benches that had been set up on a hill. Sister Vanya and Daughter Vanya (referred to from now on a SV and DV) were to meet me at several white tepees that had be put up in the center of town, but I didn't see them. As I was walking back to the viewing area, SV and DV went by in the back of one of the eclipse volunteer's golf cart. DV and SV drove up from North Platte in DV's car, which she parked right in town (that should be "town" - Tryon has a populate of 167, although it was considerably higher today) We did our greeting and decided that where I had put my stuff was as good a place as any -it was convenient to the port-a-potties, and there was a guy nearby with a very friendly Labradoodle named Vince. DV and I went back to the town center (we took a shuttle, although it is a short walk) to pick up coffee and a couple of folding chairs from her car, and I stopped at the bike to get something I'd forgotten. Back at the viewing area we chatted until it was time for the beginning of the eclipse, which started about 12:15. There were maybe 300 people scattered in the viewing area - the site could have easily handled three times that number. 

 

I didn't know it was a costume party! There was a rising sense of excitement as the time for eclipse approached. 

Through the eclipse glasses (as opaque as welder's goggles) you could see the slight crescent of black as the moon began to move into the path of the sun. SV had rigged up a eclipse glasses over the lenses of her binoculars, and the view through the binoculars was very good. When the sun was almost obliterated the sky began to darken, the wind picked up, and the temperature dropped. 

 

 

Applause and cheers went up at the beginning of totality, and then the people became quiet and mostly silent for next the two and a half minutes of totality. As the moon began to move out of the sun's path you could briefly see the "wedding ring" - the corona around the moon and a tiny dot of the sun. By the time the sun was a quarter back in business, people began packing up and moving out. There had been a bit of haze earlier, with scattered clouds that became more prevalent. DV, SV, and I had lunch at a barbecue truck, and twenty minutes after the end of the eclipse, a large cloud blocked the sun - if that had happened during the eclipse we wouldn't have seen a thing. Most people had left by the time we departed - DV and SV driving back to North Platte, where DV would drop off SV at the motel and then drive back home to Boulder.

I packed up my things, and put on my gear and by that time the field was empty of cars. I started the bike and pulled in the clutch, and - nothing. The clutch was not working at all. I managed to get the bike in gear and went to the gas station in town. They had brake fluid, and I opened up the clutch reservoir to see what I expected - it was almost empty. Remember that wet patch under the bike? I filled up the reservoir and worked the clutch handle until the air in the master cylinder bled out. I put everything back, started up and now the clutch was working fine. 

Back on the road I went west on NE 92 and then north on NE 61 to Hyannis, and then west on NE 2 to Alliance. If there had been traffic on the roads earlier it had dissipated this long after the event, so I had a traffic free ride all the way to Alliance. There were, however, many State Troopers and Sheriff's Deputies on the road. The municipalities in the eclipse path had cancelled days off and vacation and put officers on overtime to handle the anticipated crowds and extra traffic. NE 2 is a scenic ride through the Nebraska Sand Hill country, and I enjoyed the ride to Alliance, where I stopped for gas and then went north on US 385 to Chadron, where I'm spending the night. 

(Tuesday, August 22) After breakfast at the motel this morning, I packed up and headed west on US 20. There had been a wet stain under the bike again, and I refilled the reservoir, which was low. The clutch was working fine, but I knew that the slave cylinder could fail at any time. I stopped after 9 o'clock in Crawford at a city park to call shops in the Denver area to see if any of them had a slave cylinder in stock, and if they could work me into their schedule. After several calls I decided to go with a BMW shop in Centennial (south of Denver), which could order the part and get it by the next day and also work on the bike as soon as they got the part. 

From Crawford I went south on NE 71 to Scottsbluff, which has a peculiar smell and wasn't very attractive, at least the part I saw. NE 71 crosses I-80 at Kimball and I filled the gas tank and had lunch there before going west on I-80 to Cheyenne and then south on I-25 which would take me through Denver. Just south of Fort Collins the traffic on I-25 stopped, and it would remain jammed, slow, or stopped almost all the way through Denver. I couldn't figure out why the traffic was so slow - there was several areas of road construction, but there was (typically) no actual work taking place and all the lanes were open. I pulled off to find a motel near the BMW shop, and after making a reservation I went back on I-25. By this time the evening rush had begun, and I longed for the lane-splitting that I can do in California. I finally turned off the Interstate in Aurora, and checked into my motel. 

(Wednesday, August 23) This morning there was no stain under the bike. The BMW dealer was less than a mile from the motel, and I was there when they opened. They moved the bike inside the shop after I unloaded everything, and I looked at the new bikes on the showroom floor, and also the used bikes. There was a 2008 R1200R and I asked a salesman about the history. It had only 8000 miles, and had all the accessories I would want except a tank bag. It had belonged to a doctor who just rode it to work every now and then. Due to illness he could no longer ride, so the dealer was selling it on consignment. While the salesman was telling me this, Linda, the service manager, came over and gave me the bad news the the clutch part hadn't arrived in the parts shipment that morning. We also discussed the fact that the clutch could be contaminated by the leaking slave cylinder, and with 155 thousand miles on the bike, it would make sense to do the clutch at the same time as the slave cylinder since there was considerable labor overlap. The clutch parts they didn't have in stock could be expressed shipped for the next day. So, I had three choices:

1) Ride home without having anything done to the bike, and take a chance that the clutch would keep working OK.

2) Have them just do the slave cylinder.

3) Have them do the slave cylinder and a new clutch. 

Instead, I decided to buy the doctor's bike, and trade-in Victor (the R1150R). I got very little for Victor (high mileage), but the doctor's bike was a very good deal with the low mileage and all the accessories that I wanted.

After all the paperwork was done, I was out of the shop by mid-afternoon and headed up I-25 to US 6 to I-70. There was a brief traffic jam on I-25, but after that it was a good ride up into the Rockies. I had been 90 degrees in Denver, and I had all the vents on my jacket open. It began to cool of the higher I went, and then the sky became dark and cloudy. As I neared the Eisenhower Tunnel it began to pour with lightning and thunder. There was no place to pull off to put on my raingear, so I just kept riding and getting soaked. Somehow I had the idea that it would be clear and sunny on the west side of the tunnel, but of course that was not the case. I exited in Silverthorne (elevation 9000 feet) after 20 more minutes. I hadn't eaten since an early breakfast, so I ate in a Mexican restaurant in a small strip mall. I noticed a Super 8 right across the street, and since it was 4 PM I decided to just stay there for the night. After I checked in at the motel I went back to the strip mall where there was a laundromat - the main thing I wanted to do was to wash and dry my riding jeans. I came out of the laundromat to a sunny sky and a beautiful double rainbow.

 

I'm looking forward to tomorrow and getting used to the new bike. 

 

Victor is just shoved into the corner of the shop.

 

The new bike. The windscreen isn't as tall as it looks in the picture, but it is still taller than I'd like, and too upright. That will be the first change to the bike. 

(Thursday, August 24) Well, that was an easy 600 mile day. It was 44 degrees when I left the motel a little before 8 AM this morning. The sky was overcast, but the weather report said no showers until the afternoon. I wore my overpants, jacket liner, and heavy gloves, and was quite comfortable. I amused myself by playing with the suspension settings and the information display screen, and discovered that I actually rather enjoy these newfangled gadgets. Last night I read a PDF of the owner's manual, so I had a good idea of the various functions that were available. After about 100 miles I stopped for gas in Glenwood Springs, where it was 75 degrees, and shed a layer and switched to lighter gloves. The clouds had broken up and the sun was shining and it was a good ride through Glenwood Canon along the Eagle River, only marred by the road construction, which seems to be a permanent feature along that stretch of I-70. At one point the road went over a bridge and through a tunnel, and next to the river under the bridge a train was going by - it would have made a great picture, but there was no place to stop.

The mountains gave way to high desert with a few craggy hills in the distance, and the first part of Utah was the same. I stopped for lunch in Green River and back on the road the scenery became more dramatic with red cliffs and rocky outcrops close to the road. 

 

The temperature reached 95 degrees, but the clouds rolled in and I stopped at a rest area to put on my rain gear - I didn't want a repeat of yesterday's soaking. At the rest area I spent 20 minutes talking with a guy from Philadelphia, who was heading home after seeing the eclipse in Oregon. He'd intended to go to Madras, which was on the center of the path of totality, but there was too much traffic, so he stayed in a rest area on US 26 near Mitchel, where the totality was almost two minutes. He said there were about 500 people crowded into the area. He was an amateur astronomer and a camera buff, so he was well prepared for the event and enjoyed it immensely. There were signs of earlier rain on I-70, and a few sprinkles, but no rain and once I crossed over a 7800 foot summit and the road began going downhill, the sun came out, and the temperature rose. I exited I-70 in Salina, and it was over 90 degrees when I stopped in front of Mom's Cafe to shed the rain gear and open the vents on my jacket. 

US 50 joins I-15 and I rode that south for 10 miles where US 50 exits and goes to Delta, where I stopped for gas. After 60 miles or so I entered Nevada near Big Basin Park, and the road went over several passes. There was very few other cars or trucks on the road, and on this afternoon US 50 earned its name, The Lonliest Road in America. The sky was gray and there was water on the shoulder of the road when I reached Ely - afternoon thunderstorm. I checked into the motel and had dinner across the street at Evah's Restaurant in the Copper Queen casino. 

The new bike is a joy to ride: It is comfortable, has more power than I'll probably ever use, handles well, and after 11 hours and 600 miles I'm not aching or even tired. Victor was a great bike, and we had some wonderful adventures together, but with the problems that I had recently, and with the probablility of more to come, it was time to say goodbye. 154 thousand very good miles. 

(Friday, August 25) It was 58 degrees when I checked the tire pressures in the morning, but had warmed to 65 when I left the Bristlecone motel at 7:40 and I probably didn't need the overpants and jacket liner that I was wearing. It was a clear and beautiful day and I enjoyed the 70 miles and three passes that I rode over on my way to breakfast at the Owl Club restaurant in Eureka, where it had warmed to 75 degrees. The restaurant was empty so service was quick, once the waitress, who was in the bar in the next room chatting with the bartender, noticed I was there. For once I didn't finish all my breakfast - the second thick pancake was too much.

Back on the road I enjoyed the ride to Austin, although I was stuck behind a slow truck for the last 10 miles or so - the last curves I would see on US 50. After a stop at the Chevron station in Austin I cruised along at the 70 mph limit and, sure enough, the enthusiastic local sheriff had pulled an SUV over about 10 miles west of Austin. Past the sand dunes, and the new shoe tree, and I was soon in Fallon, where I stopped at the busy Courtyard Cafe for lunch. By now it had warmed to 90 degrees and I opened the vents on the jacket before I continued on US 50 to Fernley, where I went on I-80 west at 75 mph through Sparks and Reno and gassed up in Verdi, just before the California border. Once through the agricultural inspection station about 10 miles east of Truckee it was clear road and light traffic to Roseville, where there was a bit of a slowdown, although nothing like the 5 mile long jam going the opposite direction - Friday getaway to the mountains, and the aftermath of a crash that wasn't blocking anything, but presented a "visual hazard" as the traffic reporters like to say. Once through a brief slowdown west of Sacramento where business 80 and 50 join I-80, which shrinks from 5 to three lanes, I was again riding at the limit up the hill and past the rest area at the highway 37 turnoff through Vallejo. Again I was going the right direction on two-lane 37 as I moved along at 60 mph and the traffic going east was barely crawling. South on US 101 in Novato, through San Rafael, and over the fog-enshrouded Golden Gate Bridge, where the temperature was 58 degrees - it had been 102 degrees in Sacramento an hour earlier. After 550 miles I turned into our driveway at 6:30 PM to be greeted by Carol and Walter.

Ten days on the road and 4,094 miles. I started out on one bike and came home on another. Except for an intense but brief storm in Colorado, the weather was good. Highlights were the empty spaces of Wyoming, and the friendly people in Nebraska, and of course the eclipse. Right now I'm looking forward to many long trips on The Doctor, the new-to-me R1200R.