HotRodZilla
GOD BLESS AMERICA
Cool...
Around the World in 80 Days (well, the US in 44-sort of)
- Thread starter SacramentoMike
- Start date
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beemerdons
Certifiable Old Fart
El Toro Joe
FYYFF
Great RR and pics so far Mike...
Uncle Hud
Just another blob of protoplasm using up your oxyg
Yes, way cool. Old Guys Rule.
ZOOOMM AGAIN
Well-known member
Very nice report Mike. This is what Sport Touring is all about.
Really enjoying the report so far Mike. Thanks!
BikerGeek99
Yeah, it's a concrete corn cob. So?
I went to Marquette for a wedding back in 2001.
I was best man.
I got food poisoning at a little Italian restaurant the day of the wedding.
That shoulda been a serious omen for that marriage. But that's another story.
Keep 'er coming!
I was best man.
I got food poisoning at a little Italian restaurant the day of the wedding.
That shoulda been a serious omen for that marriage. But that's another story.
Keep 'er coming!
SacramentoMike
Not Safe For Work
Picking up the story in Michigan, early the next morning Ralph and I left Marquette and rode a very scenic 150 miles or so across the Upper Peninsula along Lake Superior until I had to turn right and Ralph continued straight into Canada. I crossed the Mackinac Bridge down into lower Michigan. My destination was Owosso, home of Bustanut Joker. I finally met the wonderful Sheila, aka Mizz Bustanut, a woman of warmth, charm, and patience. I think Bust married up.
Sheila and Barry. I'm not saying she's too good for him . . .
The bridge between Michigan and . . . Michigan. And you have to pay a toll to get there.
I enjoyed the evening with them, and Barry got on the phone with a couple of folks from Ohio and set up a meeting for me with the Bikergeeks (Andy and Sooz), and El Toro Joe. He mapped out my route to avoid Detroit (always a good idea) and meet the Geeks at an Ohio McD’s. Joe met us a few miles farther on, and they led me through some interesting back roads, mostly to avoid Cleveland. Nice country roads. They apologized some they couldn’t offer super mountain twisties or Isle of Man TT-level riding, but I was enjoying the rural eastern feel of the little towns. It was beginning to remind me of the countryside around Syracuse, my home town. Joe gave me some maps and recommended a place for a great Stromboli near the PA border that brings back fond memories. Very nice to meet you three, and thanks for the escort!
The Bikergeeks--Andy and Sooz
El Toro Joe. NO IDEA why all my pictures are coming out all random sizes!
Anyway, then I was off to Buffalo, where my sister and nieces live with their families. It was good to see everybody—it’s been a lot of years. Little children are now adults and unborn babies are now taller than I am. Jeez. It was a short ride, and the quickest route involved the New York State Thruway, a road I can’t recommend. I caught a break when I hurried the first couple Thruway miles to catch up with an FJR that had gone through the booth just before me. I was closing on him and cooking pretty good when his brake lights came on and he made some frantic downward hand gestures. I came down fast and looked up to see the NY State Trooper in the median, parked 90 degrees to the road. He must have been looking north, because he sure would have nailed me if he’d seen me coming. My closest call of the trip.
That rider wasn’t on the forum except to look in once or twice. I only met a few fellow FJR folks on the whole ride; two who had them at home, one young guy from Georgia riding with his dad on his BMW, two more at the top of the Beartooth, one in DC, and another at a Burger King near the Dragon in NC. That was about it. FJR riders are an exclusive club.
For the next 9 or 10 days it was New York State tourist stuff and visiting family and old friends with my wife and her sister who flew in to Buffalo to meet up. I have to see Niagara Falls every visit; they never fail to impress. We took the Maid of the Mist ride and toured the “Cave of the Winds”—climbing up and down wooden walkways and stairs right below the American Falls. It was like being a reporter standing on the beach when a hurricane comes in—but it was great fun. They give you a raincoat and plastic sandals that keep you from getting all wet. For about five seconds. And it was cold and windy, so the next couple hours were not really comfortable. But I still give it two thumbs up.
I needed more protection than a free raincoat and sandals.
After Buffalo I rode back to Syracuse, but parked the bike in my niece’s garage. We visited for a while but then switched to a rented car to hit some high spots around Central NYS--the very scenic Finger Lakes, Seneca Falls (the town “It’s a Wonderful Life” was supposedly set in), Watkins Glen, Where we climbed up and down all 800 steps through the gorge, Cooperstown, and then headed north for the Adirondacks. We took a float plane tour from around Old Forge over the amazing fall colors. Locals told us we were there at the very peak of the season. I know I’ve never seen them brighter. We took a boat tour around a few dozen of the beautiful Thousand Islands, and then headed back to CNY for the last weekend. Then it was back on the bike for me and the girls headed toward Boston via VT and NH for a short look before heading home.
Colors were amazing
Even better from the plane
Just a few of the Thousand Islands
Not acting my age on Whiteface Mountain. And it looked MUCH higher from up there.
Watkins Glen
Re-enacting Jimmy Stewart's big scene.
Next up: Heading south--the motorcycle part resumes.
Sheila and Barry. I'm not saying she's too good for him . . .
The bridge between Michigan and . . . Michigan. And you have to pay a toll to get there.
I enjoyed the evening with them, and Barry got on the phone with a couple of folks from Ohio and set up a meeting for me with the Bikergeeks (Andy and Sooz), and El Toro Joe. He mapped out my route to avoid Detroit (always a good idea) and meet the Geeks at an Ohio McD’s. Joe met us a few miles farther on, and they led me through some interesting back roads, mostly to avoid Cleveland. Nice country roads. They apologized some they couldn’t offer super mountain twisties or Isle of Man TT-level riding, but I was enjoying the rural eastern feel of the little towns. It was beginning to remind me of the countryside around Syracuse, my home town. Joe gave me some maps and recommended a place for a great Stromboli near the PA border that brings back fond memories. Very nice to meet you three, and thanks for the escort!
The Bikergeeks--Andy and Sooz
El Toro Joe. NO IDEA why all my pictures are coming out all random sizes!
Anyway, then I was off to Buffalo, where my sister and nieces live with their families. It was good to see everybody—it’s been a lot of years. Little children are now adults and unborn babies are now taller than I am. Jeez. It was a short ride, and the quickest route involved the New York State Thruway, a road I can’t recommend. I caught a break when I hurried the first couple Thruway miles to catch up with an FJR that had gone through the booth just before me. I was closing on him and cooking pretty good when his brake lights came on and he made some frantic downward hand gestures. I came down fast and looked up to see the NY State Trooper in the median, parked 90 degrees to the road. He must have been looking north, because he sure would have nailed me if he’d seen me coming. My closest call of the trip.
That rider wasn’t on the forum except to look in once or twice. I only met a few fellow FJR folks on the whole ride; two who had them at home, one young guy from Georgia riding with his dad on his BMW, two more at the top of the Beartooth, one in DC, and another at a Burger King near the Dragon in NC. That was about it. FJR riders are an exclusive club.
For the next 9 or 10 days it was New York State tourist stuff and visiting family and old friends with my wife and her sister who flew in to Buffalo to meet up. I have to see Niagara Falls every visit; they never fail to impress. We took the Maid of the Mist ride and toured the “Cave of the Winds”—climbing up and down wooden walkways and stairs right below the American Falls. It was like being a reporter standing on the beach when a hurricane comes in—but it was great fun. They give you a raincoat and plastic sandals that keep you from getting all wet. For about five seconds. And it was cold and windy, so the next couple hours were not really comfortable. But I still give it two thumbs up.
I needed more protection than a free raincoat and sandals.
After Buffalo I rode back to Syracuse, but parked the bike in my niece’s garage. We visited for a while but then switched to a rented car to hit some high spots around Central NYS--the very scenic Finger Lakes, Seneca Falls (the town “It’s a Wonderful Life” was supposedly set in), Watkins Glen, Where we climbed up and down all 800 steps through the gorge, Cooperstown, and then headed north for the Adirondacks. We took a float plane tour from around Old Forge over the amazing fall colors. Locals told us we were there at the very peak of the season. I know I’ve never seen them brighter. We took a boat tour around a few dozen of the beautiful Thousand Islands, and then headed back to CNY for the last weekend. Then it was back on the bike for me and the girls headed toward Boston via VT and NH for a short look before heading home.
Colors were amazing
Even better from the plane
Just a few of the Thousand Islands
Not acting my age on Whiteface Mountain. And it looked MUCH higher from up there.
Watkins Glen
Re-enacting Jimmy Stewart's big scene.
Next up: Heading south--the motorcycle part resumes.
Hudson
Well-known member
Just great photos, Mike, keep em coming!
Bugnatr
Well-known member
Good stuff Mikey
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beemerdons
Certifiable Old Fart
+1, Gunny; "Sheila and Barry; I'm not saying she's too good for him . .", actually SacramentoMiguel Mizz Bustanut is 3 or 4 times too good for NumbNuts! JSNS!
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dcarver
Well-known member
good stuff!
rogdeb
Scouser
SacramentoMike
Not Safe For Work
Holy cow, I just clicked on Ralph's 50-60-70 Spotwalla link. There are so many waypoints on the map, you can barely see North America! And now it looks like he's getting very close to home in Portland. So congratulations to him, but I'd better finish this up before he posts his ride and while anybody's still reading this one.
I said goodbye to everybody in NY and headed south through Pennsylvania. Every state seems to have signs that say the same thing in different ways—wear your seatbelt, but I liked PA’s best: “Wear Seatbelts Next Million Miles.”
They have plenty of beautiful scenery in PA, too. I didn’t make it all the way to my next goal, Gettysburg, that night, but hit it pretty early the following morning. It was sobering to see, of course. I rode the self-guided tour of the battlefield, which is immense. It includes the whole nearby town and literally miles of nearby countryside, covered with statues and monuments of various companies and regiments and Great Leaders who were involved. Just seeing the landscape, and imagining (trying to imagine) what it must have been like for everybody from both sides . . . Wow. You can stand on top of the hill at Little Round Top, for example, and look down at the field below that the Confederates had to come up, or stand at the bottom and imagine the Union troops up among the rocks, firing cannons and everything else down. It’s a horrible thought, but a very moving place to be.
Seminary Ridge. Below, Little Round Top, looking down, then looking up from below. Neither place would have been a good place to be in July, 1863
My next scheduled visit was with Lisa (LCB on the forum) and her husband Will. Two kids (Ian goes into the USMC in April) their daughter Lee, and a giant, FRIENDLY dog, Lothar. I mean Lothar was really friendly. And really giant.
I made it there right at the end of a good riding day that included the Gettysburg tour. Lisa and Will offered me wonderful hospitality, a stack of maps for the rest of my trip, a spot in the garage with their five bikes (including Lisa’s Hayabusa) and even took me out to dinner with the family. Thank you SO much for everything. Folks like that make the forum what it is, for sure. Technical information is important, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the sense of community we share here.
Lisa, Will. and Lothar. The lower one gives a better sense of Lothar.
Not a very good model. Wouldn't hold still for pictures!
I left them on Wednesday morning for Washington DC, where the slogan on the license plates is “Taxation Without Representation.” Guess they’re a little bitter about not having a vote in Congress. DC is NOT motorcycle friendly. No place to park, horrible traffic, roadblocks and local and federal police everywhere. I couldn’t even get close enough to the White House to see it, let alone park and take pictures or whatever. Mind you, this is like two days after that goofball jumped the fence and ran inside past all kinds of security. I guess the chief of the Secret Service resigned the day I was there. I did manage to park and walk over by the Lincoln Memorial, the reflecting pool and the Washington Monument, and walked down through the Vietnam and Korean War Memorials. Heavy.
This statue honoring the nurses in Vietnam really killed me.
Mid-afternoon, and it was time to get the heck out of DC. Someday I’ll go back and really see it, but when I do I’ll be staying as near as possible and taking taxis or tour buses.
Blurry, but says "Taxation Without Representation." Better slogan would be: "Worst. Traffic. Ever."
I said goodbye to everybody in NY and headed south through Pennsylvania. Every state seems to have signs that say the same thing in different ways—wear your seatbelt, but I liked PA’s best: “Wear Seatbelts Next Million Miles.”
Seminary Ridge. Below, Little Round Top, looking down, then looking up from below. Neither place would have been a good place to be in July, 1863
My next scheduled visit was with Lisa (LCB on the forum) and her husband Will. Two kids (Ian goes into the USMC in April) their daughter Lee, and a giant, FRIENDLY dog, Lothar. I mean Lothar was really friendly. And really giant.
Lisa, Will. and Lothar. The lower one gives a better sense of Lothar.
I left them on Wednesday morning for Washington DC, where the slogan on the license plates is “Taxation Without Representation.” Guess they’re a little bitter about not having a vote in Congress. DC is NOT motorcycle friendly. No place to park, horrible traffic, roadblocks and local and federal police everywhere. I couldn’t even get close enough to the White House to see it, let alone park and take pictures or whatever. Mind you, this is like two days after that goofball jumped the fence and ran inside past all kinds of security. I guess the chief of the Secret Service resigned the day I was there. I did manage to park and walk over by the Lincoln Memorial, the reflecting pool and the Washington Monument, and walked down through the Vietnam and Korean War Memorials. Heavy.
This statue honoring the nurses in Vietnam really killed me.
Mid-afternoon, and it was time to get the heck out of DC. Someday I’ll go back and really see it, but when I do I’ll be staying as near as possible and taking taxis or tour buses.
Blurry, but says "Taxation Without Representation." Better slogan would be: "Worst. Traffic. Ever."
Fontanaman
Robin Trower
Great ride report Mike. Keep it coming. In about 1.5 years I will be retired and I plan on riding to place I have never been to before. Your ride report is inspirational.
SacramentoMike
Not Safe For Work
My easy destination after DC was Front Royal, VA, the beginning of Skyline Drive and the Shenandoah National Park. I understand the scenery there is pretty spectacular. My view of it was mostly as seen below, at least for the first forty or fifty miles. The fog eventually lifted, but the speed limit of 35 was kind of slow for an FJR. I may have exceeded it some. The bumper stickers call it “America’s Favorite Drive,” not “America’s Favorite Ride.” Still, the part I could see was good.
This wasn't bad, considering how foggy it got later.
Skyline Drive becomes the Blue Ridge Parkway, where at least the limit jumps to 45. I found enforcement to be light (maybe I was just lucky) and again, probably exceeded even that once or twice. I got off for gas in Roanoke but back on again to find a campground that didn’t look too far on the map. It was, though—I barely made it to Rocky Knoll campground and got the tent up before pitch dark set in. I loved the place names—made me know for sure I was in the South. Something “Knoll,” something “Knob,” Hollows, Wallows, Runs, Notches, and Gaps. Seems more colorful than the names of places where I’ve lived. I had other clues I was in the South too.
Never ran across this before, so it must be a Southern thang. And speaking of that . . .
Here's something else I never saw before either. A little out of sequence, found in a Tennessee hardware store, but guaranteed never to be seen in California. Or Canada. Middle School? Really?
Anyway, continuing down the BRP the next day, which began as a gorgeous day, it began to cloud up. A lot. I pulled over as it became obvious I was heading into a storm and got my rain gear on. The extra warmth was welcome too. In a few miles I came to the Blue Ridge Music Center, an NPS facility along the parkway, and saw a sign: “Music Today.” I almost rode by, but went back to find what was a lot like a normal visitor center, but devoted to the music of the area, with an attached open performance area where over a dozen musicians were sitting around playing great mountain music on guitars, fiddles, banjos, and mandolins. I guess they were just local folks who enjoyed coming in and playing together—it was certainly no kind of a formal staged concert, but the music was terrific. There were people watching too, but probably fewer than the number of musicians playing. https://www.blueridgemusiccenter.org/
I watched for a while, from practically inside their circle. The players were almost as interested in my ride, especially when they found out I’d come so far, as I was in the music, and asked me all about it. The rain started just as I was about to leave, and I got lots of good wishes for my safety and advice to be careful and stay dry. That was tough, since it was now raining hard. That wasn’t so bad—my gear proved to be as waterproof as I could have hoped, but as I climbed again, the visibility went straight into the crapper. I was moving maybe 25, barely seeing a couple of lines ahead in the road, until I came up on a camper that was doing under 20 with its lights flashing. I decided 20 was fine so I followed him for several miles. There really was no choice; no place to stop except a couple of turnouts, where I’d be standing in the rain instead of riding in it.
I was more than glad to take the first exit that came along, Laurel Springs NC, and my Parkway map showed much-needed gas could be had a couple miles east. I got the gas first and then turned back to the Stations Inn Motorcycle Resort, which sounds maybe a little more grand than it looked. A couple Harleys stood out front in the rain, and the riders were on the porch, drinking beer. Turned out they’d already checked in, though it was before 3:00, so I decided they were maybe OK after all. After exchanging greetings, I joined them for lunch, and decided to stay there too, so I got in on the beer as well. Turned out they were Steve and Dwight, childhood buds from Black Mountain, NC, just off the BRP. Once a year Dwight rides south and Steve rides north to ride the Parkway together. After a while, and another beer or two, they went up to their rooms and returned with a pair of guitars! The rest of the evening was another Blue Ridge music festival, with everybody in the joint (maybe 8 of us) trying to sing along if we knew the words. Which we didn’t, mostly. These were a couple of damn good guys, ol’ Steve and Dwight, and to confound the first impression I might have given, Dwight is a PhD Georgetown graduate in aeronautical engineering—a blooming rocket scientist! Works for a subsidiary of Aerojet General and has worked at their Sacramento facility where rocket engines are made and tested.
Among the chorus on the porch were the self-proclaimed great-grandnephew or something of Doc Holliday of OK Corral fame (who was also named “Doc” Holliday), and a young woman claiming kinship with the man—I think she said his name was Tom Dooney—who inspired the song “Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley.” Guess that scans better. I think I believed them both.
Great parking for a rainy day
Steve and Dwight. Or Dwight and Steve. I'm not sure who gets top billing.
The party continued into the wee hours.
Meet Doc Holliday. Not a real doctor.
I’ll tell you, it wouldn’t hurt to plan to end a day on the Blue Ridge Parkway at this joint if you ever have the chance. It really is designed for the motorcycle set. Covered parking in front of your room, good food, low cost, friendly folks, and cheap enough to satisfy even—me. I’m giving it three thumbs up. And BTW, at the urging of my new friends, I breakfasted on biscuits and gravy and a nice bowl of grits! They were, um . . . filling. No picture of the grits. Just picture a bowl of pure white . . . sand.
This wasn't bad, considering how foggy it got later.
Skyline Drive becomes the Blue Ridge Parkway, where at least the limit jumps to 45. I found enforcement to be light (maybe I was just lucky) and again, probably exceeded even that once or twice. I got off for gas in Roanoke but back on again to find a campground that didn’t look too far on the map. It was, though—I barely made it to Rocky Knoll campground and got the tent up before pitch dark set in. I loved the place names—made me know for sure I was in the South. Something “Knoll,” something “Knob,” Hollows, Wallows, Runs, Notches, and Gaps. Seems more colorful than the names of places where I’ve lived. I had other clues I was in the South too.
Never ran across this before, so it must be a Southern thang. And speaking of that . . .
Here's something else I never saw before either. A little out of sequence, found in a Tennessee hardware store, but guaranteed never to be seen in California. Or Canada. Middle School? Really?
Anyway, continuing down the BRP the next day, which began as a gorgeous day, it began to cloud up. A lot. I pulled over as it became obvious I was heading into a storm and got my rain gear on. The extra warmth was welcome too. In a few miles I came to the Blue Ridge Music Center, an NPS facility along the parkway, and saw a sign: “Music Today.” I almost rode by, but went back to find what was a lot like a normal visitor center, but devoted to the music of the area, with an attached open performance area where over a dozen musicians were sitting around playing great mountain music on guitars, fiddles, banjos, and mandolins. I guess they were just local folks who enjoyed coming in and playing together—it was certainly no kind of a formal staged concert, but the music was terrific. There were people watching too, but probably fewer than the number of musicians playing. https://www.blueridgemusiccenter.org/
I watched for a while, from practically inside their circle. The players were almost as interested in my ride, especially when they found out I’d come so far, as I was in the music, and asked me all about it. The rain started just as I was about to leave, and I got lots of good wishes for my safety and advice to be careful and stay dry. That was tough, since it was now raining hard. That wasn’t so bad—my gear proved to be as waterproof as I could have hoped, but as I climbed again, the visibility went straight into the crapper. I was moving maybe 25, barely seeing a couple of lines ahead in the road, until I came up on a camper that was doing under 20 with its lights flashing. I decided 20 was fine so I followed him for several miles. There really was no choice; no place to stop except a couple of turnouts, where I’d be standing in the rain instead of riding in it.
I was more than glad to take the first exit that came along, Laurel Springs NC, and my Parkway map showed much-needed gas could be had a couple miles east. I got the gas first and then turned back to the Stations Inn Motorcycle Resort, which sounds maybe a little more grand than it looked. A couple Harleys stood out front in the rain, and the riders were on the porch, drinking beer. Turned out they’d already checked in, though it was before 3:00, so I decided they were maybe OK after all. After exchanging greetings, I joined them for lunch, and decided to stay there too, so I got in on the beer as well. Turned out they were Steve and Dwight, childhood buds from Black Mountain, NC, just off the BRP. Once a year Dwight rides south and Steve rides north to ride the Parkway together. After a while, and another beer or two, they went up to their rooms and returned with a pair of guitars! The rest of the evening was another Blue Ridge music festival, with everybody in the joint (maybe 8 of us) trying to sing along if we knew the words. Which we didn’t, mostly. These were a couple of damn good guys, ol’ Steve and Dwight, and to confound the first impression I might have given, Dwight is a PhD Georgetown graduate in aeronautical engineering—a blooming rocket scientist! Works for a subsidiary of Aerojet General and has worked at their Sacramento facility where rocket engines are made and tested.
Among the chorus on the porch were the self-proclaimed great-grandnephew or something of Doc Holliday of OK Corral fame (who was also named “Doc” Holliday), and a young woman claiming kinship with the man—I think she said his name was Tom Dooney—who inspired the song “Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley.” Guess that scans better. I think I believed them both.
Great parking for a rainy day
Steve and Dwight. Or Dwight and Steve. I'm not sure who gets top billing.
The party continued into the wee hours.
Meet Doc Holliday. Not a real doctor.
I’ll tell you, it wouldn’t hurt to plan to end a day on the Blue Ridge Parkway at this joint if you ever have the chance. It really is designed for the motorcycle set. Covered parking in front of your room, good food, low cost, friendly folks, and cheap enough to satisfy even—me. I’m giving it three thumbs up. And BTW, at the urging of my new friends, I breakfasted on biscuits and gravy and a nice bowl of grits! They were, um . . . filling. No picture of the grits. Just picture a bowl of pure white . . . sand.
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bikerskier
Well-known member
- Joined
- Nov 30, 2005
- Messages
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, I breakfasted on biscuits and gravy and a nice bowl of grits! They were, um . . . filling. No picture of the grits. Just picture a bowl of pure white . . . sand
Ya gotta pour some honey or jam or jelly or marmalade into them girts to give them some color and taste.
good stuff, Mike!
Ya gotta pour some honey or jam or jelly or marmalade into them girts to give them some color and taste.
good stuff, Mike!
rushes
Well-known member
beemerdons
Certifiable Old Fart
Fixed.Grits are best with too much butter and sugar, plus a toothless first cousin named LuLuBelle: Who owns a van with a Father that has a liquor store.
Great RR by the way!!!!
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