The second leg.
I left Beaumont at about 4:30 am after topping off my water jug and chewing down a powerbar and some motrin. My knees were really aching at the end of the first leg and I expected to be in discomfort the rest of the trip. It was Sunday morning before sunrise, I-10 was empty except for the occasional 18 wheeler. This is probably my favorite time to ride.
Next fuel stop was Breaux Bridge, the crawfish capital of the world. The sun was coming up and I was shaking off the Z monster again. There was a McDonald’s next to the gas station. But it was closed – some jerky would have to hold me to the next stop. I’d never been to Louisiana or Alabama. It was a pleasant surprise that the speed limits were 65-70, with the flow of traffic +5 mph. I don’t think I saw a single LEO in either state. It was impressive to see the USS Alabama berthed outside Mobile, AL.
By the time I reached Pensacola, I was pretty hungry. After topping off both fuel tanks, I pulled into a McDonald’s and quickly consumed two egg mcmuffins and half a cup of coffee. That was a mistake. First, I burnt my lip drinking the coffee; despite the warning label. Secondly, the carbs from the sandwiches made me drowsy about an hour down the road. On a good note, I’d figured out how to shift around on my seat enough to keep my knees from aching. That was a major victory.
The only thing to mention about my next stop in Lake City, FL was the panhandler at the gas station who thought my hi-viz Aerostich suit was a fireman’s suit. This Shell station (and seemingly every Shell station in FL) wouldn’t let me pay with my credit card at the pump. I had to go into the store three times for the attendant to turn on the pump and then give me a receipt. Each time, this under-utilized citizen of the great state of Florida asked me about my suit. When I told him it was Gore-tex, he replied, “oh yeah, that’s what firemen’s’ suits are made of.” I didn’t stick around to debate him.
It was only another hour and a half to Jacksonville Beach. First stop was the Shell station on 3rd street. Again, I had to go in the store to use my credit card. Beach access is only two blocks from the gas stations. Since it was approaching 5 pm on a Sunday, most families were packing up and leaving the beach. I grabbed my 5 dram bottle and headed into the surf. One of the beach goers asked what I was testing the water for, when he saw me collecting a sample. I explained what I was doing and asked him to take my picture. Here I am in the Atlantic Ocean.
Next, it was over to the Jacksonville Beach Police Station. Since it was outside normal business hours, I would have to go into the lobby and ring the buzzer to get the dispatcher’s attention. I was advised by other IBA riders to remove my helmet before ringing the buzzer so they could see a face on the CCTV and to ask very politely for someone to witness my forms. So I did. The dispatcher told me to have a seat and she would send someone to assist me. A couple of minutes later, two officers came out. One explained to the other how to fill out my form, like he was a pro at it. They both wished me luck on my ride ignoring the fact I told them I just rode there from California. Next to the hotel.
After checking in, I wanted to grab some food to bring back to room before I off loaded the bike for the night. While in Jacksonville Beach, I passed a Krystal’s hamburger restaurant. I hadn’t had a Krystal’s burger in 25 years, when I was stationed at Ft Campbell, KY. So I plugged in Krystal’s into my Zumo and headed West to the nearest restaurant. All was good in the world as I put a bag of the delicious mini-burgers into my saddle bag and mounted the bike to head back to the hotel. But when I turned on the key and hit the starter button – nothing. The first thing that crossed my weary mind was I must have the bike in gear with the kickstand down. Nope, not it. Then I thought maybe the kickstand safety switch is acting up. I worked the kickstand up and down a couple of times and tried the starter – nothing. Now I was getting worried, almost panicked. Here I am on the other side of the country on a Sunday evening, 4 miles from my hotel. I thought it must be a bad switch, everything else had juice. I tried the ignition switch a couple of times. And then my hand drifted over to the kill switch next to the throttle. It was off! I turned in on and bike fired right up. That was the most joyful moment I can remember having on a motorcycle. I had gotten into the habit of putting my helmet over my Zumo when I get off the bike to keep prying eyes off this very expensive gadget. The helmet must have bumped the kill switch and turned it off. Back to the hotel for some much needed rest.
More to follow...
