I Just Felt Like Riding

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We continued on our way to Durango.












I don’t really have much to add to these pictures, other than, wow!






We eventually pulled into Durango.




Tom tried to find someplace for us to eat, and promptly passed to buck to me. After roughly 17.5 seconds of poking around in my GPS, I found just the place. It only took three passes by it to realize there were two motorcycle-specific parking spots right by … Carver Brewing Company. We sat right there by the sidewalk. I dunno if we were people-watching or being people-watched.



Moi, Tom and Pam.



I sampled some of their beers – not bad.



Sooze sampled some as well.



I had their BLAST sammich – with turkey.



Sooze had their steak sammich.



We were watching the skies get a tad dark but it was warm! On our way outta town, heading back north, in Durango they were gearing up for a chuckwagon competition or festival. I gotta say – it already smelled great and I’m sure it only got better!


 
Nice RR Andy, but you must be mistaken about Tom and Pam being there cause Tom never gets to go anywhere . Maybe we will run into you again one of these years.

Jack & Jane

 
NERDS will be well represented at EOM, including bbdig. For some reason Jack registered as John. Given his age mayhaps he forgot his name....

 
Let’s see here… Where were we… I had some adulting to do the last few days, so let’s get back to this.


As we were getting ready to leave Durango, it was downright warm. Go figure. Pam decided she ‘wanted to be cold.’ The look on Tom’s face was priceless, so I said, “WITNESS! I heard it!!” (This is what’s called, “foreshadowing.”)

Back on the bikes, we were back on US550 heading north this time, back to Montrose. I was kinda looking forward to the return trip just to see if the views and sights would be different. To sum it up, they were, and they were still fantastic.















Remember the campground I talked aboot earlier? That would not be a sucky place to camp.



As we gained altitude, the temperature dropped significantly, and the skies opened up a tad.



Tom had wanted me to lead, which I hate, so I respectfully declined. Lucky for him – Pam had gotten chilled, thanks to the temperature drop and the rain, so Tom pulled off so she could get waterproof again.






That is Silverton, CO, down there.



All in all, traffic wasn’t too bad, especially for a Saturday.



And the views were still magnificent to this Ohio boy.



The clouds had altered the light somewhat, so combine that with running in the opposite direction and you have a new experience on a road we had just ridden.








 
Continuing…



We did get caught behind a little bit of traffic through these switchbacks but it still wasn’t bad.



We were in no rush and took in the sights along the way. Why rush when there is stuff like this to see?



Somewhere through here, I thought of Vance. If he were still around, I know he woulda come down for a ride. I miss that damn hippy.






OK, time for some cussing and a bit of a rant. See the second car? The one you can barely see behind the Tahoe / Suburban in front? Yah – that stoopit ************* ********** was already over the center line. By the time we got there, he / she / it was taking up a significant portion of our damn lane. I had it spotted well in advance and was already outta the way for the ******’ ****, but seriously? It’s not like they were driving at F1 speeds, fer shitsakes. Oh – twatwaffle. Just because.



Outta the rain and back down to a lower elevation, things were quite pleasant once again. Despite the ****-stain in the Camry.






One of the reasons for no guard rails on the Million Dollar Highway is to road crews can push the snow off in the winter. I can only imagine driving this road in the winter.



The view to the right while going north.



The view ahead.






I’ve said it before but I’m gonna say it again – going the other direction, and the change in the position of the sun…. The views were new.



That’s Ouray down there.



“Downtown” Ouray.


 
More Ouray.



And not too much later…



We were back at the hotel. But I’m gonna admit something – we had to make a stop at Wally World first. For some damn reason, and for the first time in 8 ½ years and 75,000 miles on the FJR, and for the first time ever in over 20 years of riding, I had been fighting a pain in my shoulder shooting up into my neck, so some IcyHot patches were in order. In short, they worked and I was much more comfortable for the rest of the trip.



Time for some parking lot “discussions”. Left-to-right, moi, PhilJet, Bugnatr, and russperry.



Folks were rolling back in from their rides.



And then the cat-herding began.



Time for the group cluster-**** … Uh, I mean, group picture.









Tyler took some pictures of us.




Time for the banquet! Tyler came over for a chat with Julie, AKA FJRFarrier, who was on one helluva trip herself.



Kinda looks like a froo-froo drink, doesn’t it?



Mr. and Mrs. 101stpathfinder joined us for the banquet.



The staff at the hotel was terrific. They did ask us to put any “adult beverages” into cups while we were outside. Not that we would actually DO anything like that, of course, but just in case, IF, were to HAPPEN to do anything like that, we would keep the Liquor Nazi, here with FYB, placated and off our collective *****.



Funny banquet moment: 101stpathfinder was telling me, amid a discussion of being prepared, tire-wise, when running the Iron Butt Rally or even on an extended road trip, “No way in hell am I ever gonna go to the Darkside. I’ve ridden one and I HATED it. No way. No ******’ way.” And then his number was called for a door prize. What’d he win? A rear-caliper arm that was modified for the Darkside. Oh, the humanity… The rest of thought it was funny as hell. For Tony? Not so much, which made it even funnier.

Anyhoo.

After the banquet, we mulled around outside a bit, got to FINALLY meet ScooterG (who somehow just showed up and won the Clearwater Lights prize; the *******) and had some nice chats with, amongst others, left-to-right, Pista, Mrs. JuniorFJR, and JuniorFJR himself.



A little while later, we called it a night. What a few days it’s been.

 
Luving the report Geek - and special thanks to Mrs. Geek for some great pics! Don't cha just love the rolling tripod?
thumbsup.gif


 
Sunday, July 31, 2016

Not counting the SE Ohio Rambles that Sooze and I have attended, we have attended something like 15 FJR gatherings, and a couple of Harley gatherings on top of that. There is one constant among all of those gatherings: a sense of melancholy when it’s time to leave. We have had so much fun over the years attending these gatherings, seeing new sights, seeing old friends, and making new ones.

This gathering was no different. Sunday rolled around, and it was kinda depressing walking outside and seeing so many bikes had left already. Some folks we hadn’t seen since 2010, some we’d never met face-to-face, others we saw relatively recently, some I don’t know when we will see again, others I know we’ll see in Virginia next month or at our place for Tech Day next month.

Just one of those things, y’know?

Enough with the deep thoughts ********.

Time to ride.

Back in 2009, Sooze and I rode Route 66 from Tulsa to Chicago. Along the way, we had purchased various trash and trinkets (and t-shirts; oy, do we have a lot of t-shirts we’ve gotten on trips like this). We discovered the concept of shipping our crap home to ourselves! Since we’d been on the road a few days now, we had amassed enough crap to pack up and send home to ourselves.

We loaded up the bike and headed down the road a mile or so to the nearest Post Office, one that boasted a ’24-hour lobby.’ Cool. For us, that means there is a postage machine there where you can take care of postage on small-ish packages.

But not in Montrose, CO. Nope. No such thing.

Not really wanting to ride around all day with a couple of boxes of our crap, we went back to the hotel and begged one of the guys who was staying an extra day to do us a favor and mail our packages. None other than Intech, AKA FYB, AKA Bob, did us a solid and agreed to help us out. I give Bob a lot of crap and ribbing, but at the end of the day, he’s a stand-up guy. Thanks, Bob, for your help. We do appreciate it.

A lot of folks were heading back to their respective homes. We weren’t quite ready to head home yet – there are some things out here we wanna check out. I didn’t put together a route, and hadn’t really looked at any mileages, we just knew what we wanted to see so I pointed the front tire in that general direction and off we went.

We headed south outta Montrose, once again on US550.



We headed south to the town of Ridgway. There is road construction in Ridgway. I swear – where is there NOT any damn road construction?






In Ridgway, we turned west on route 62.



Eventually 62 takes you into some twisty bits, following along Leopard Creek. This road is kinda scenic.









Before we left, I checked the weather radar and there was some rain in the general vicinity. The road was still a tad damp in spots.






Sorry if you’re getting bored with all this. I love seeing it all again.



We turned onto route 145 and eventually started winding our way up a mountain and were rewarded with some really spectacular views of the valley below.



And, ah, this.



I like to say that the roads in Ohio are flat, straight, and boring. And, well, some of ‘em are, but not flat and straight like this.






The scenery had changed from the jagged, red rocks to these slightly less jagged tan and green rollers.


 
Continuing on 145.






After the flat and straight bits, eventually the scenery once again changed. Significantly.



Having turned south-ish on route 141, my oh my did things change.



This was … just … all around us. That road just kept twisting and turning, unleashing more amazing scenery upon us.



That stretch of road rivals a stretch we rode in Montana in 2010, a 20 or so mile stretch of road between Paradise, Montana, and I80, that had us floored.

Eventually we route 141 ended, and we headed farther west on US491, crossing into Utah.






After gassing up in Monticello, we headed south on US191.

I was starting to get excited – we were searching for something.






Getting farther south in Utah, the scenery once again began to change.









Being an Ohio boy, our normal scenery is green trees, green grass, green fields of corn and soybeans… You know, lots of lush green. The contrast of that ‘normal’ for us, compared to what we were seeing, is quite drastic.









Lots more to come…

 
The views and scenery in southeastern Utah are just amazing.






It was kinda funny… There was either no traffic at all, or a pack of slow-pokes. Lucky for us, we encountered plenty of empty roads.












OK, yeah, it was a tad warm, but what do you expect in Utah in August, eh?



You see, we’re looking for something out here.



Something specific.



We made a hydration stop in Mexican Hat, Utah, because, you know. August. Utah. What was entertaining as hell for me was observing some tourists speaking French trying to figure out how gas pumps work, at a Shell station, in Mexican Hat, Utah, and communicate their (OK, just the alpha male) displeasure, in a French accent, to a Native American gal working the register who was having a rough time understanding him. Ahh… Some things you can only experience when you’re on the road. Oh – and the French-speaking tourists were in an SUV with Kentucky plates. Yeah, I know – obviously a rental, but, again… Speaking French. In Mexican Hat, Utah.

This place was across the street. There ain’t much in Mexican Hat, Utah.



Hydrated, and our cooling neck wraps re-soaked (those things are AWESOME! We love ours – we got our first ones in 2010 in Eureka, California; they effectively reduce the temperature by a solid 20 degrees), we headed out, riding south on US163.



Because, aboot 7 miles south of Mexican Hat, on US163, is….



Time-out, and no Google breaks, mm-kay?

I wanna know if you’ve been paying attention.

Note the title of this ride report: “I Just Felt Like Riding.”

And, from the first post, I said, “But you gotta say it like Forest Gump.”

Do you get it?

Don’t get it?

When we started planning(-ish) this trip, I started looking at options for the return trip back to the state that’s round on the and hi in the middle. That’s what we call oHIo… Get it?

Anyway.

Return trip options…

Could go north and see stuff we missed up there on previous rides…
Could take US50 all the way back to Ohio…
Could swing west a bit, and then south, and grab three more ‘ridden in’ states: Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas.

But we’re in Utah, so what gives, eh?

We chose the third option, and one sight I wanted to see was…





Wait for it….




The Forrest Gump Road.




Yep, this is the spot where, in the movie “Forrest Gump,” he decides he’s, “Kinda tired… Think I’ll gone home now.” And he stops running. In that scene, Forrest was aboot where the dude in the red shirt is.



Yes, Forrest Gump is one of my favorite movies, and, I think it is safe to say, every damn time I’ve watched that movie, when that scene comes up, I have said, “Damn! I really wanna go there, preferably on a bike!”

Mission, as they say, accomplished!


 
I always remember the old western movies that were made in and around Monument Valley when I see that stuff. I honestly didn't notice that when watching Forest Gump. In any case, it is worth the extra time and miles to see it.

 
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So, do you see what I did there?

The title of the ride report? Tying it into Forrest Gump, then seeing the Forrest Gump Road?

Yah, I know… I amaze even myself sometimes with my wit.

And then there’s now.


Ahem.



Anyhoo.


There are no signs, no markers, that you are at the Forrest Gump Road. Just a shack selling turquoise jewelry and a shart-load of people, including, while we were there, a group of some kinda Asian persuasion yelling at each other in their native tongue, a group of Harley folk just hanging out, folks in cages almost running us over, folks “re-creating” Forrest running… The re-creators were funny as **** to observe.

If you go there on a bike, and use the side pull-offs, they’re not really bike friendly, so just be aware. If I can do it. So can you.

We used one of the pull-offs to turn around…



And got ourselves pointed in the right direction, and took some pictures.






We had some miles to get in, so we didn’t dilly-dally too long and headed out, heading back north on 163.



In a similar fashion, heading north on 163 offers different views than when you are heading south, same as on the Million Dollar Highway.









Time for me to admit something here.

I had put absolutely, positively, zero, count it – ZERO! – time into planning today’s ride. My attitude was, basically, “Meh – we’ll just head that-a-way, and then head that-a-way, then figure out which-a-way to go next, and, you know, just ride. We got all day.”

And, believe me, we used All Day.

When discussing where I was thinking of heading, Sooze suggested checking out the Four Corners because, you know, it’s right there, not too far, and we’ll be in the area, and when will we be there again. My reply was, “Sure! What the hell! Let’s do it!”

So we headed towards the Four Corners.

We got into Arizona (with no ‘Welcome To Arizona’ sign; I guess they’re taking cues from New Jersey) and eventually headed east.

Once we got onto US160 in northern Arizona, I was watching the fuel level, and looking for fueling opportunities. To put it mildly, there aren’t a whole lot of said opportunities, but, well before being in anything close to an emergency, an opportunity that was not in the GPS presented itself, and I pulled in to fuel up.

Red Mesa was kind of an odd thing to us. Just west of here was what looked to be a school, complete with school buses, football field, that kind of thing… But it was contained within a fence, complete with homes. It was just kinda weird to us. But, I got the bike fueled up…



And I took the opportunity to use the Little Geek’s Room. As I was heading back to the bike, an older Navajo gentleman was talking to Sooze. As I got to the bike, another Navajo gentleman joined in the conversation.

They asked which direction we were heading.

“Four Corners,” was our reply.

“Well, there is a bad accident east on 160, and traffic is backed up for a couple of miles, so if you want to avoid that, take that road right where that truck is pulling out. Take that into Montezuma, then head back east. It’ll add a few miles, but you won’t have to wait in that traffic backup.”

Thank you. Thank you very much to the kind gentlemen of the Navajo Nation.

We took their advice and headed out.

Yeah, it added some miles and, potentially, more time in the saddle, but we’re here to ride, right?

We got to see more free-range cattle.



And more scenery.



And we eventually made it to the Four Corners.



I don’t really have a whole lot of ooh’s and ahhh’s aboot the Four Corners.



We parked next to a fella on a Harley with a North Carolina plate and started chatting with him. Nice guy, and definitely a chatterbox, but in a super-nice kind of way. He spotted my “US421 The Snake” sticker and commented, “Oh – I see you’ve ridden down my way.” Which led to a nice chat about roads back east compared to out west. You know – stuff that happens when you’re on a bike away from home.

His name was Dave. Dave offered to take our picture at the Four Corners thingamabob, but there was line and I just wasn’t feeling it, so we walked around, snapped a few other pictures, had a cold water, and got a spiffy pin for my hat and Sooze got some postcards.




Note the folks in line. No, thanks. And that’s the back of Dave’s head bottom-right.



The line.



Good enough for me.



Besides, it’s not the geographical four corners, but that’s not important right now.

As we were chilling with our water in some shade (it was kinda warm), Sooze asked, “Did you make a hotel reservation for tonight?”

Me: “Nope. Guess I should prolly do that, eh?”

Sooze: “Good idea.”

A few minutes later, thanks to S-M-R-T phone technology and hotel apps, we had a room reserved. This would prove to be a good thing.

We moseyed back to the bike, said farewell and safe travels to Dave, and headed towards Flagstaff.

 
Just south of Four Corners, we got back on US160. I kinda rolled the dice that the accident that the gentlemen of the Navajo Nation had told us aboot was cleared up, and it was fine. We did pass the aftermath – a boat off the trailer, a Ford Ranger that was towing the boat had rolled and was on a flatbed wrecker – I hope the driver is OK – but we made it through with nary a delay.

And we were rolling.







The red rock eventually gave way to the expansive desert landscape, with occasional rock formations jutting up.






You’ve heard me say this before, but, to this Ohio boy, who is used to fields of green corn and soybeans, this is just cool as hell.












Ah, some of the things you experience when you’re on the road.

We stopped for a fuel / hydration / snack / bio break in Kayetna, Arizona. I swiped my card at the pump, and their pumps aren’t ready for the new cards with chips, so I had to go inside … blah blah blah … no biggie. Topped off the FJR and pulled off for a stretch.

Then the memorable events started.

As we’re standing there, a car pulls up.

And the occupants are staring at us.

Uh oh.

The car doors open.

Uh-oh.

A couple of teenagers hop out.

I size ‘em up.

They look to be, maybe, 12 to 14. Brother and sister, if I remember my college genetics course work right.

I’m pretty sure Sooze can take ‘em if **** gets real. If not, I’ll use my patented “BikerGeek Self-Defense Method.” Which is better known as, “I’ll scream little a little girl at a boy-band concert and run away like I’m a gold medalist at the Upper Twit of the Year competition.”

Then they asked us a question.

“Umm, we’re doing this, uhhh, thing and, ummm, can we take our picture with you?”

Sooze and I look at each other… We’ve ridden in, now, 44 states together, somewhere around 100,000 miles, so many gas stops.

And this is a first.

“Sure!”

The two kids come up and pose next to us, mom hops outta the car, takes the picture.

The kids thank us, the mom thanks us, they all hop back into the car, and mosey on.

We cannot help but smile. The kids, while I tried to portray them as intimidating, were anything but. The older of the two, the sister, was very eloquent, to me, for her age, and the younger one, the son, was just in that awkward age, where I just wanted to grab him and say, “HEY! It doesn’t get better – I’m 46 and STILL in that phase!” But that mighta been weird.

But we weren’t done.

Sooze went in to use the Lil’ Sooze Room.

Another car pulled up. And stared. Doors open, folks hop out. I said, “C’mon over – you’re my second customer!”

They let me know that there was some kind of scavenger hunt going on. Hmm… OK.

I posed for a couple of pictures with a couple of youths, and they were on their way.

Sooze comes back out, I’m chuckling telling her aboot what she missed, and ANOTHER car pulls up!

I just said, “Sure! We’d be happy to! You’re now our third customers!”

You know the rest. It was such a fun, funny, memorable experience.

Only on the road.

What were we on their list for their scavenger hunt? Hell if we know. But we’ll never forget it.




Back on the road towards Flagstaff.






The sky was starting show some changes were brewing.



As we got closer to Flagstaff, the temperature started to cool off, and the reds in landscape subsided into the muted greens, yellows, and browns of the scrub.



The temperature got cooler, and the sky got angrier. And, to top it off, Sooze’s Sena headset battery died. I figured mine wasn’t too far away from petering out, so turned mine off so I could still get GPS directions to our hotel.


We knew we were riding into some weather.



Once we got closer to our hotel, I powered my headset back on, but the power didn’t last. We rode into Flagstaff on a cold (at least compared to what we were used to), wet, dark night. But, we made it safe and sound.

The hotel had a fireplace and the staff let me park the bike in the “Gold-Pressed Latinum” member-level parking spot.



Sooze and I braved the 72-second walk in the just-heavy-enough-to-piss-you-off rain to Sizzler! I had some schwimp scampi. It was OK.



And, with that, we called it a night, adding Arizona as our 44rd state we have ridden in together, and oh, what a day!

Just under 600 unplanned miles for the day…
Bob helping us out with our trash & trinkets…
The scenery in Colorado…
Utah….
The Forrest Gump Road…
The Navajo Nation gentlemen….
Four Corners…
Keyetna scavenger hunt…


More to come…

 

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