jwhite518
Well-known member
For this month’s Saddlesore I executed a weird and complicated ride. I visited six courthouses, six post offices to spell the word “WEENIE”, and a bunch of fuel stop “corners.” I also coordinated visits with family and LD riding friends at many of the photo stops. All together my log has 21 entries, which is way too many for a Saddlesore. The sweet reward at the end was visiting with all my riding friends at the Pinks RTE.
The first stop was the W of WEENIE, the town of Westley, CA. This tiny place is right off I-5 near my house. It was still dark and I spent a long time setting up the photo and getting the lighting right. This was a great experience for learning how to use my camera in the dark.
Then came the long but simple ride to downtown LA for the Los Angeles County courthouse. There were patches of thick fog on I-5. Every few years there is a horrific multi-car pileup attributed to this fog, so I was very aware of my surroundings and possible escape routes. I made great time until the huge traffic jam in LA. There must have been an accident because an ambulance was trying to get through. I took the first offramp and hit the detour button on my GPS. It routed me right past Tommy’s famous chiliburger stand, which is the hamburger equivalent of Pinks. LA does junk food right!
My parents, Paul and Sally, were waiting for me at the courthouse. It was really neat being able to include them in the ride, where they got a little glimpse of what we do on rallies. Dad took a photo of me riding on the sidewalk to park right in front of the steps.
There was a bunch of road construction on city streets downtown that obstructed my way to the chosen gas station. Between this delay and the earlier freeway detour I was ten minutes behind schedule. This ten minutes would prove to be unshakable all day long. I hopped on the freeway headed for my next rendezvous with Turbo Dave Hicks. Some day I need to sit down with Turbo over a beer and hear more of his stories. On my way to meet him at the San Bernardino courthouse there was a highway patrol traffic break. Some poor schmuck was driving 2 mph on a flat tire in the traffic lanes, and the cops helped shepherd him to the shoulder. I finally got to the courthouse, grabbed the photo, and listened to Dave tell me how to get back on the freeway. Then I got turned around looking for gas, and ended up riding past the courthouse again, where Dave was getting on his bike to leave. He looked at me like, what kind of idiot are you?
Fortunately the Riverside County courthouse was straightforward so I picked up a little time there. Nice building, like many of the courthouses I’m finding.
Orange County should have been easy, but as I finished taking the picture, Officer McPowertrip came running out and told me I couldn’t take a photo of the courthouse. I said, “It’s a public building.” But he stuck to his guns. Since I already had the photo, I just said, “It’s OK, I’m leaving now.” He let me alone, but he made sure I left without taking any more “illegal” photos. I know Bob Higdon dealt with this on his courthouse quest, and I wished I knew what the law was on this. Afterward I realized I had captured the cop in my photo.
A few short minutes later I was hugging my mom, Sandy, at the East Irvine post office. This is the first E of WEENIE. She had done some reconnaissance for me, as this was a tiny, obscure post office. We had a brief visit, I stole her bag of hard candy, and went on my way.
Finally I got a break on traffic. LA had been a stressful meatgrinder the whole morning. I made pretty good time to Encinitas, but I was still running behind. At the Encinitas post office, second E of WEENIE, Doug Barrett was patiently waiting for me. This was the first time I had met Doug in person, though we knew each other pretty well from the forums. Doug also did some advance recon for me, and we had to actually switch post offices from my original choice.
Next on tap was a run of photos in the San Diego area. Since I wasn’t meeting anybody for awhile I thought I’d be able to regain some of my lost time. I even called Chuck Hickey to tell him I was running early. Boy was that wishful thinking. The San Diego County courthouse was fun and easy. People were curious at this yellow guy in a helmet standing in the median taking a photo of a bus stop.
The National City post office (N of WEENIE) was quick and easy.
Imperial Beach (I of WEENIE) should have been easy too. I needed a fuel receipt for this corner of the route, and I spotted a gas station I would use after getting the post office. The PO itself had a really difficult sign. All they had was small lettering on the door, backed by reflective mylar. I took a number of shots and hoped that one of them would suffice in a real rally situation. Lesson learned: I need to know how to review the shots in my camera before leaving the bonus location.
I filled up at the gas station I had spotted earlier. But what’s this, the receipt says San Diego? The attendant doesn’t understand my question about what street is the border of the city of Imperial Beach. He keeps telling me the beach is west and the border is five miles south. No dude, I don’t want to go to Mexico! I rode back to the post office, found another gas station nearby, and bought a quarter’s worth of gas. Proper city imprint. Lost time. Sorry, Chuck, my early time just melted away.
All that remained was the final E, and my WEENIE quest would be complete. When I pulled into the El Cajon post office, there was Hickey right next to the sign.
His cigar was almost finished, so I had a good idea he’d been there way too long. I felt terrible. But Chuck was a good sport about it, though I may take some grief on the forums. He even figured out how to review my shots in “zoom and pan” mode on the camera. He rode off on his pretty FJR while I took a second to mentally regroup. The tough part of my ride was over. From here on out, it was all about the mileage.
San Diego faded in my mirrors as the desert rolled out through my windshield. This area of the state is only California because of a line on a map. The terrain is Mexican. Imagine how different peoples’ lives and circumstances are, depending on which side of the line they are born. Interstate 8 runs close enough to that line that you can look over and see the border fence in one spot. I am thankful to be born on the north side of that fence.
When I took the El Centro exit I was on a street that looked like any other commercial district on America. It had gas stations, fast food joints, and national chain stores. Then I turned right on Main Street towards the Imperial County courthouse, and things changed immediately. Like most of the courthouses I’ve found, this is in the middle of the older part of town. Unfortunately El Centro’s old town isn’t doing so well. It has an old movie theatre, and old five and dime stores that may or may not be still in business. You can guarantee that the corner bars are still thriving. The courthouse area was deserted, so my photo was free of any cop hassle.
The sun was going down as I rode towards Blythe. This road took me through Glamis, a popular offroad site. There were dune buggies and RVs all over the place, some of them still riding around in the quickly fading light. The road rose and dipped in some whoop-de-do’s. These weren’t as fun as the ones on the west entrance to Death Valley, which always let you catch some air, but they were still pretty good. This was the best motorcycling road of the day, a fast two lane twisty road with not much traffic. The FJR eats up these roads, and the aux lights were doing their job well.
I had a fun encounter at a Border Patrol checkpoint.
BP: Where you headed?
JW: Blythe.
BP: Where are you from?
JW: I'm coming from San Diego.
BP: Wow, that’s a long way to ride a motorcycle.
JW (silently): You don’t know the half of it, lady.
I got my receipt in Blythe, geared up for colder weather, and got on the highway for my rendezvous with George Zelenz. Originally I was going to ride through Joshua Tree National Park and meet him at home. But as my time buffer melted away, George re-routed me to a rest stop on I-10 where he would meet me. He made sure I’d still make my mileage for the Saddlesore. Hey, this is feeling a lot like Outside Assistance. Oh, wait, this is only a practice rally. As rallymaster of this run, I hereby proclaim myself to be in conformance with the rules. Not only that, I have a good chance to win the thing.
And that’s the end of the ride. I met George, we had a few minutes to shoot the breeze, and then we headed back into the meatgrinder. George was riding hard and fast in the traffic. When he made a move on a pack of cars, I didn’t want to do any squidly heroics to keep up, so I just ran my own ride and trusted my GPS to get me to Pinks. As Dean promised, we had the privilege to do some LA lanesplitting at 10 PM. That’s always extra fun when the lanes are skinny and the traffic isn’t giving you an inch. Those people who did the LA1K? They were definitely stupid first.
Pinks was great. The coolest part was seeing all those people who had showed up for me earlier. They were all there, plus Chuck’s wife rode her own BMW and Hal Risser was eventually released from Dad duty and made it. My parents even showed up. Unfortunately they got there after much of the tire kicking was done, but still it was the thought that counted. My final odometer mileage for the Saddlesore was 1063. The rally trophy was a Chicago style Polish dog with added bacon.
Thank you to everybody who helped me on this ride, and those who showed up to be in my photos. I believe I’ve named them all here, plus Curt Gran who provided me with his California city database. That was extremely helpful in planning the WEENIE locations. Dean Tanji for making Pinks happen. Also thanks to Ken, Dayle, and their cats, for allowing me to experience the Styx shrine. I am proud to call all of you my friends.
Misc notes: The day before, I rode to Russell for my seat. Highlights were meeting with Dennis York and Lloyd Gardner, two courthouses, and the hottie Russell office manager. The new seat is awesome. The day after, I rode home via 101 and Highway 25. Four courthouses and some serious tire shredding on 25. More Homeland Security issues at the Ventura County courthouse, but this time the guard said with a wink, "I'll be away from here in five minutes." Total GPS mileage for the weekend was 2069. I’m only counting the Saddlesore mileage as part of the SJC10K. What's that?
Steve Hobart's fantastic Pinks photos are here.
Dave Mishalof's fantastic Pinks photos are here.
Reno John's fantastic Pinks ride report and photos are here.
My mediocre ones are below.
Here's a map of the counties I visited on this ride. The blue counties were part of the Saddlesore. The green counties are the ones I visited on the way home the next day.
The first stop was the W of WEENIE, the town of Westley, CA. This tiny place is right off I-5 near my house. It was still dark and I spent a long time setting up the photo and getting the lighting right. This was a great experience for learning how to use my camera in the dark.
Then came the long but simple ride to downtown LA for the Los Angeles County courthouse. There were patches of thick fog on I-5. Every few years there is a horrific multi-car pileup attributed to this fog, so I was very aware of my surroundings and possible escape routes. I made great time until the huge traffic jam in LA. There must have been an accident because an ambulance was trying to get through. I took the first offramp and hit the detour button on my GPS. It routed me right past Tommy’s famous chiliburger stand, which is the hamburger equivalent of Pinks. LA does junk food right!
My parents, Paul and Sally, were waiting for me at the courthouse. It was really neat being able to include them in the ride, where they got a little glimpse of what we do on rallies. Dad took a photo of me riding on the sidewalk to park right in front of the steps.
There was a bunch of road construction on city streets downtown that obstructed my way to the chosen gas station. Between this delay and the earlier freeway detour I was ten minutes behind schedule. This ten minutes would prove to be unshakable all day long. I hopped on the freeway headed for my next rendezvous with Turbo Dave Hicks. Some day I need to sit down with Turbo over a beer and hear more of his stories. On my way to meet him at the San Bernardino courthouse there was a highway patrol traffic break. Some poor schmuck was driving 2 mph on a flat tire in the traffic lanes, and the cops helped shepherd him to the shoulder. I finally got to the courthouse, grabbed the photo, and listened to Dave tell me how to get back on the freeway. Then I got turned around looking for gas, and ended up riding past the courthouse again, where Dave was getting on his bike to leave. He looked at me like, what kind of idiot are you?
Fortunately the Riverside County courthouse was straightforward so I picked up a little time there. Nice building, like many of the courthouses I’m finding.
Orange County should have been easy, but as I finished taking the picture, Officer McPowertrip came running out and told me I couldn’t take a photo of the courthouse. I said, “It’s a public building.” But he stuck to his guns. Since I already had the photo, I just said, “It’s OK, I’m leaving now.” He let me alone, but he made sure I left without taking any more “illegal” photos. I know Bob Higdon dealt with this on his courthouse quest, and I wished I knew what the law was on this. Afterward I realized I had captured the cop in my photo.
A few short minutes later I was hugging my mom, Sandy, at the East Irvine post office. This is the first E of WEENIE. She had done some reconnaissance for me, as this was a tiny, obscure post office. We had a brief visit, I stole her bag of hard candy, and went on my way.
Finally I got a break on traffic. LA had been a stressful meatgrinder the whole morning. I made pretty good time to Encinitas, but I was still running behind. At the Encinitas post office, second E of WEENIE, Doug Barrett was patiently waiting for me. This was the first time I had met Doug in person, though we knew each other pretty well from the forums. Doug also did some advance recon for me, and we had to actually switch post offices from my original choice.
Next on tap was a run of photos in the San Diego area. Since I wasn’t meeting anybody for awhile I thought I’d be able to regain some of my lost time. I even called Chuck Hickey to tell him I was running early. Boy was that wishful thinking. The San Diego County courthouse was fun and easy. People were curious at this yellow guy in a helmet standing in the median taking a photo of a bus stop.
The National City post office (N of WEENIE) was quick and easy.
Imperial Beach (I of WEENIE) should have been easy too. I needed a fuel receipt for this corner of the route, and I spotted a gas station I would use after getting the post office. The PO itself had a really difficult sign. All they had was small lettering on the door, backed by reflective mylar. I took a number of shots and hoped that one of them would suffice in a real rally situation. Lesson learned: I need to know how to review the shots in my camera before leaving the bonus location.
I filled up at the gas station I had spotted earlier. But what’s this, the receipt says San Diego? The attendant doesn’t understand my question about what street is the border of the city of Imperial Beach. He keeps telling me the beach is west and the border is five miles south. No dude, I don’t want to go to Mexico! I rode back to the post office, found another gas station nearby, and bought a quarter’s worth of gas. Proper city imprint. Lost time. Sorry, Chuck, my early time just melted away.
All that remained was the final E, and my WEENIE quest would be complete. When I pulled into the El Cajon post office, there was Hickey right next to the sign.
His cigar was almost finished, so I had a good idea he’d been there way too long. I felt terrible. But Chuck was a good sport about it, though I may take some grief on the forums. He even figured out how to review my shots in “zoom and pan” mode on the camera. He rode off on his pretty FJR while I took a second to mentally regroup. The tough part of my ride was over. From here on out, it was all about the mileage.
San Diego faded in my mirrors as the desert rolled out through my windshield. This area of the state is only California because of a line on a map. The terrain is Mexican. Imagine how different peoples’ lives and circumstances are, depending on which side of the line they are born. Interstate 8 runs close enough to that line that you can look over and see the border fence in one spot. I am thankful to be born on the north side of that fence.
When I took the El Centro exit I was on a street that looked like any other commercial district on America. It had gas stations, fast food joints, and national chain stores. Then I turned right on Main Street towards the Imperial County courthouse, and things changed immediately. Like most of the courthouses I’ve found, this is in the middle of the older part of town. Unfortunately El Centro’s old town isn’t doing so well. It has an old movie theatre, and old five and dime stores that may or may not be still in business. You can guarantee that the corner bars are still thriving. The courthouse area was deserted, so my photo was free of any cop hassle.
The sun was going down as I rode towards Blythe. This road took me through Glamis, a popular offroad site. There were dune buggies and RVs all over the place, some of them still riding around in the quickly fading light. The road rose and dipped in some whoop-de-do’s. These weren’t as fun as the ones on the west entrance to Death Valley, which always let you catch some air, but they were still pretty good. This was the best motorcycling road of the day, a fast two lane twisty road with not much traffic. The FJR eats up these roads, and the aux lights were doing their job well.
I had a fun encounter at a Border Patrol checkpoint.
BP: Where you headed?
JW: Blythe.
BP: Where are you from?
JW: I'm coming from San Diego.
BP: Wow, that’s a long way to ride a motorcycle.
JW (silently): You don’t know the half of it, lady.
I got my receipt in Blythe, geared up for colder weather, and got on the highway for my rendezvous with George Zelenz. Originally I was going to ride through Joshua Tree National Park and meet him at home. But as my time buffer melted away, George re-routed me to a rest stop on I-10 where he would meet me. He made sure I’d still make my mileage for the Saddlesore. Hey, this is feeling a lot like Outside Assistance. Oh, wait, this is only a practice rally. As rallymaster of this run, I hereby proclaim myself to be in conformance with the rules. Not only that, I have a good chance to win the thing.
And that’s the end of the ride. I met George, we had a few minutes to shoot the breeze, and then we headed back into the meatgrinder. George was riding hard and fast in the traffic. When he made a move on a pack of cars, I didn’t want to do any squidly heroics to keep up, so I just ran my own ride and trusted my GPS to get me to Pinks. As Dean promised, we had the privilege to do some LA lanesplitting at 10 PM. That’s always extra fun when the lanes are skinny and the traffic isn’t giving you an inch. Those people who did the LA1K? They were definitely stupid first.
Pinks was great. The coolest part was seeing all those people who had showed up for me earlier. They were all there, plus Chuck’s wife rode her own BMW and Hal Risser was eventually released from Dad duty and made it. My parents even showed up. Unfortunately they got there after much of the tire kicking was done, but still it was the thought that counted. My final odometer mileage for the Saddlesore was 1063. The rally trophy was a Chicago style Polish dog with added bacon.
Thank you to everybody who helped me on this ride, and those who showed up to be in my photos. I believe I’ve named them all here, plus Curt Gran who provided me with his California city database. That was extremely helpful in planning the WEENIE locations. Dean Tanji for making Pinks happen. Also thanks to Ken, Dayle, and their cats, for allowing me to experience the Styx shrine. I am proud to call all of you my friends.
Misc notes: The day before, I rode to Russell for my seat. Highlights were meeting with Dennis York and Lloyd Gardner, two courthouses, and the hottie Russell office manager. The new seat is awesome. The day after, I rode home via 101 and Highway 25. Four courthouses and some serious tire shredding on 25. More Homeland Security issues at the Ventura County courthouse, but this time the guard said with a wink, "I'll be away from here in five minutes." Total GPS mileage for the weekend was 2069. I’m only counting the Saddlesore mileage as part of the SJC10K. What's that?
Steve Hobart's fantastic Pinks photos are here.
Dave Mishalof's fantastic Pinks photos are here.
Reno John's fantastic Pinks ride report and photos are here.
My mediocre ones are below.
Here's a map of the counties I visited on this ride. The blue counties were part of the Saddlesore. The green counties are the ones I visited on the way home the next day.
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