July 1, 2005 - Friday - Day 6

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today:203 - Total Miles:1238 – Daily Average:206
Buffalo,NY to Erie,PA
(-stayed at EconoLodge -)
(NY,PA – 10/48)
- About 100 miles in before we got anywhere – Massive Power -


Had another middle-of-the-night call last night – around 12:30ish. It was Clay, a longtime internet friend from Wisconsin. I had called him recently because all our trip journal emails to him were being returned to me. I was concerned about him, and since we were going to visit him, wondered what was up. Turns out he would be leaving his home in the next ten days, and we couldn’t see him. He didn’t know what the email problem was, and he was sorry to miss us. It wasn’t as hard to get back to sleep after this call as the one on that other night!

Since we were so close, we decided to take a hop up toward Niagara Falls this morning. To make it easier we left our gear in the room and planned on getting back before the noon checkout time. Everyone said it wouldn’t take long to get there and back. So we left about 9:30am. We thought the directions we got were simple, but something got bollixed up, and it took us about 40 minutes to get there instead of the projected 15. We finally reached the American side falls, parked for a $10 gyp fee, and walked over to the riverside with a plan to have someone watch our stuff and then run together along the pathway there.

The Falls - it was like standing beside massive unmatchable power. They were gorgeous in their swirling, foaming, rushing-gushing intensity. They were infinitely unending and seething in their blasting unimaginable might. As it turned out, we took turns running. (Because of security reasons, none of the staff folks would watch our stuff for the 15 minute period.) I had my full motorcycle suit on, and when it was my turn to jog, I had to take it off of course, to run in my shorts underneath. Am sure that some security camera operators were abuzz there at Niagara Security Central (and possibly about ready to set off alarms), as their viewscreen pictures displayed a bright-yellow clad motorcyclist there disrobing on the shoreline. We were there from 9:45am for an hour in the delightful 76º morning. The mist was splaying out all over us, but hey, after our rain days of late, it didn’t seem to bother us much. We left in plenty of time to get our gear, and make our noon checkout. However, then began a terrible mix-up of directions, and an exit that didn’t appear to be on our side of the highway. So it turned out that we had a beautiful tour of downtown Buffalo and the maze-like streets and high-arching Lake Erie-hugging bridges of what amounts to being the Buffalo ‘burbs. So, not only were we now running late, but also running out of gasoline. We found a gas station, but then got some wrong directions, and were even later. It was a bit of a nervous time all right!

We went down through one area that had all the stores we wanted or needed to visit – a Subway, an EMS sports store, and a K-mart where Karen needed a prescription filled. But we had no time to stop because we didn’t want to get charged for another night at the motel. At one point we were heading down Main Street toward the hotel, but it was a Main Street of the wrong town! (And at that, we SHOULD have been going the other way!) A quiet spoken guy at an outdoor café calmly gave us correct directions. Finally scrambling our way back to the right place, the older fellow behind the counter was smiley and didn’t mind us being a half hour late! We cleaned out the room, loaded up the gear, though sadly with one of my maps was missing, and headed out to that shopping area. We figured the day was about lost for big miles anyway.

We enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the Subway and down the street. A delightful bright-eyed young woman who liked to rock climb and who hoped to major in architecture in grad school named Cole waited on us at the EMS store. We got a new bungie wrap for the one that was melted an hour earlier on one of the pipes. (Yikes! the bag had fallen off a bit and hero Karen had to grab it while we were riding to keep it from dragging on the ground next to us!) We also got another waterproof bag, and some tie-downs.

We next went into a K-mart for Karen to fill her prescription only to find that the pharmacy was closed for some kind of emergency. So we were finally ready to leave the Buffalo K-mart parking lot at 3:30pm after going 93 miles without really going anywhere for the entire day so far!! Unbelievable.

Despite the wonderful sights, it was a morning and early afternoon of misadventures, mistakes, getting and following bad advice, missing turns, unneeded miles, not having turns marked, and just plain bad luck. Although I don’t entirely agree it should be labeled such, it does sound somewhat funny to say... but it’s like this journey should be titled, and would be titled if they ever make a movie out of it, "Joel and Karen Bumble Their Way Westward!"

One of the big differences between this ride and my bicycle tours – so many thoughts are lost now because I cannot tape record them as they come into my head. The engine noise is too intense, and I can’t get the mic to record at all clearly while riding.

The later part of the afternoon was good hard riding, blasting into the wind and ripping through the heat of the mainly long, straight, and smooth highway. Chatted with, and got an image for Dimitar – a fellow who was working the food stand at a McDonald’s on the last stop on the New York Thruway. Said I’d email it to him if he wrote me. A nice, mild mannered seeming guy, Dimitar let us have a cup of popcorn instead of having to purchase a whole big container. When he said he was from Bulgaria, I said, "Wow, that’s a LONG commute!" He smiled at the joke, and said he lived about 15 miles away for the summer. I’m just guessing his working here is either a kindly way for McDonald’s of showing young folks from around the world the USA, or it’s a way of getting cheap labor for their mega-company. I gave a loud exclamatory, "WHOA!!" when he mentioned that he was in the middle of a 12(!) hour shift.

One difference today was the wind. It was coming at us, and coming at us from the side, and it did some shoving around all right. (At one point at a rest area, I watched a low-flying seagull try to beat the strong breeze – but he couldn’t. He remained motionless, other than his white wings flapping unsuccessfully. No headway. Finally, he flew down, ultimately defeated, and decided to walk over to the popcorn kernels on the cement.) Because of the winds I couldn’t safely go the sustained high speeds as I could yesterday. And the concentration at keeping the balance of the bike was a LOT more intense. But I enjoyed the buffeted ride down the highway, although my hands were a bit more tired in the evening since I had to grip the handlebars much more tightly for longer periods, and more intensely at certain times, too.

It’ll be very interesting to see when we get home whether the momentum of all these days keeps us on the motorcycle for more short trips at home, or whether we’ll just be sick of it, and not go riding for awhile. Not quite a week into it, seems more like the former than the latter. Much to the surprise of some of the naysayers before we left, our butts are not hurting at all as much as they had predicted.

Anymore when we get into towns, I find myself more and more impatient with the damn traffic lights. Oh, but one thing I’ve grown to love is that EZPass. For those who don’t know about it, one purchases tolls in advance and then the EZPass folks send a little white transponder to you. It’s about the size of a pack of cigarettes. It gets attached to your vehicle (or is held up in the case of some motorcycles), and the transponder is scanned, and then you just breeze by through the toll booth – happily smiling at all the people stuck back there in line. It’s wonderful.

We rolled into Erie around 5:45pm, changed from one motel to this EconoLodge for the high-speed internet which hopefully will work with less hassle than the one yesterday. After getting in we unpacked, chatted with Don Lueke on the phone (Don of Don and Krista, who we’ll be visiting tomorrow in Michigan) and went out to a K-mart here (NO pharmacy!), and then to a Taco Bell for some supper.

Back at the room we organized stuff again, and culled a big pack of stuff to send home tomorrow. It was another day of contrasts – a morning of grand joy at the Falls, misadventures in timing and direction, and an afternoon of steady progress and good feelings.

June 30, 2005 - Thursday - Day 5

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today:402(!) - Total Miles:1035 – Daily Average:207
9:30am-8pm – 10.5 hours
Brattleboro,VT to Buffalo,NY
(-staying at Lord Amherst Motel -)
(VT,MASS,NY – 10/48)
FINALLY, A BREAKOUT DAY!


We scanned the horizons right after awakening, and there was at least a hint of blue in the sky for a change. Even the sun made an appearance. I jokingly suggested we not even spend time loading the gear – just have the motel ship it to our destination of Buffalo, so we could get right out and onto the bikes before it started raining.

On our walk/run this morning by 7:15am, we saw a tiny little bird along the side of the highway that must have grazed a car on a fly-by. He was sitting hunched over, like in a human thoughtful position, but life was slowly leaving him. Sad sight.

When back, we gathered our gear, got one of the motel porter luggage carts, and took our stuff out to the bike. We also scooped up some of the continental breakfast the motel offered.

On our way out of town we stopped at a Staples to mail some not needed things back home. Also picked up a hi-lighter, a china marker (so I can write little notes on the windshield during the day), and some duct tape.

Somehow, I blew by my first sign today – I don’t know how it happened, but we ended up going south instead of west after a set of interchanges. I pointed out an "Entering Massachusetts" sign for Karen to take a picture of, and she said, "Hey, what are we doing in Massachusetts again?" It was just a little bit out of our way and, actually provided us with more wonderful scenery than the original western way across Vermont’s Route 9.

It was magnificent riding this morning – lots of hills gave us lots of fun twisties. (For the non-motorcycle set, "twisties" are twisty-turning roads – generally fun to navigate and weave through.) For much of the morning we rolled alongside stone strewn streams, and with the clear air and forest background it made for a delightful first half of the day.

At 10:15am we passed a sign that read, "Entering Florida". We got a chuckle out of that reference to a Massachusetts county. But it looked for all the world like we might have made a really wrong turn, and we were entering the southern state. It was cool to cold in the mountains, and I was right in thinking that Karen was glad she had her rain pants on if only for the warmth. We crested one of the peaks in the Berkshire mountain range at the Whitcomb Summit, and as we did the whole tenor of the sky and weather changed on the other side. Went from crystal clear and sunny to socked in fog. We got a few good photos of the clouds crashing into the side of the mountain right in front of us on the roadway. No rain though, and as we descended the fog cleared. What could have made the difference on each side of the mountain – a water body? The terrain? A weather system? I don’t know, but the difference was dramatic and striking.
Shortly after noon we tooled into Troy, NY. We passed a Harley place and I turned my nose up at it… Then we passed a BMW store, and I harrumphed at it. And then we came upon a Honda place and I passed that, too, but then we did a u-turn and went in. It was great being there. We bought some chrome polish and a second bungie net. I asked the friendly service guy to come out and listen to the bike, not because there was any suspected problem, but just to have a trained ear listen. He said it sounded great. He also checked the oil, and it was fine. I said to him that I wished I was a wrenchie like he was! (For those who aren’t motorcycle people, a ‘wrenchie’ or ‘wrenchhead’ is someone really knowledgeable in how to fix motorcycles.)

The whole tenor of the afternoon ride, Interstate 90, was high speed, hot, and exciting. At 1:30pm we stopped for lunch, and hoped to get out in half-an-hour, but it just didn’t happen. We had a delicious salad bar at a Bob’s Big Boy. I was especially hungry for the chickpeas, and gobbled down a couple platefuls. Between the weariness, hunger, and enjoyability of the coolness there, we didn’t leave for an hour. We had our longest sustained 85-90mph run during the second and third gas-up of the afternoon. The sustained forward motion felt powerful and energizing. At 4pm we rolled into a rest stop having done 100 miles in 80 minutes! The tank holds about 3.5 gallons, and I know when we get near the 100 mile mark to start looking for a station. It’s generally time to stretch and walk around a bit anyway.

One of the characteristics about me is that I happen to sneeze a lot. I don’t have allergies or anything. I just sneeze a lot when I do. (Average is 11, the record is 21!) Well, on the Interstate 90 this afternoon going 80mph I started in sneezing – didn’t even have time to get my flip-up helmet up. We both were concerned but Karen later said she was just hoping against hope it wasn’t going to be a record breaker! It wasn’t, and there was no problem.

After the day’s riding we reached our goal of Buffalo, NY, clear on the western side of the state. We had gotten a tip to check out rest stop tourism magazines for motel coupons. We had done that on one of our stops and scored a $40 off coupon at a motel in Buffalo, but not far from Niagara Falls. After navigating around an off-ramp detour, we found the Lord Amherst Motel, and checked into a convenient and somewhat cozy room. Around 9ish we walked the short distance to the well appointed restaurant, and decompressed from the day with a delicious tomato pie (a pizza without the cheese), and then treated ourselves to an out-of-this-world taste-popping slice of key lime pie. One of the foursome at the next table was celebrating a birthday, and I volunteered to take a picture. They were appreciative, and I got their email address to send the image.

Back at the room we experienced more problems with the in-room network, and even spent some more enjoyable – but very frustrating – hours trying to work it out. Never did in the evening, but the tech support guy said he’d call in the morning.

Thought a lot about how fast time seems traveling lately. If what they say is true about how ‘time goes faster when one’s having fun’, then since we’re having fun with EVERYTHING we’re doing lately, time must really be on the fast track!!!

June 29, 2005 - Wednesday - Day 4

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today:69 - Total Miles:631 – Daily Average:157.8 (soooo embarrassing!)
10:45am-1:45pm - 3 hours
Brookline,NH to Brattleboro,VT
(-stayed at the Hampton Inn -)
(NH,VT – 9/48)
- Rain, Rain, Rain –

So, we’re standing in the open garage at the Rountree Ford/Mercury dealership service department after just crossing the Connecticut River into Vermont. It was around 12:30pm. Cars on lifts around us. The rat-a-tat-tat of the air guns that are tightening bolts on tire rims firing off all around us like practicing machine guns. We’re making conversation with the bay boys and the management folks, all the while we’re peering out of the garage at a deluge beyond too much description – the deafening thunder, the quick flashing bolts of lightning, the rivers of rain gully-washing down along the highway outside. So, we’re standing there having to make the decision whether to go or whether to abort it short with another abysmal mileage day. Should we wait around and hope the storm slackens? Or call it a day and reorganize gear, catch up on needed sleep, and take yet another easy day? Hmmm... well, this is how we got to that point in the garage.

I awoke at around 6ish, grabbed the nearby 12-inch Apple Powerbook G4 on which these notes are being pecked out, and spent the next couple hours catching up on the last two day’s journal notes. That enjoyable time just buzzed by! Karen was up around 8am with the sun streaming down onto the parking lot outside. On our mile walk/run we passed a Segway of New England dealerships. I found it ironic that it was in an old GMC building – the letters "GMC" now smudged out to make for the newcomer. The morning was warm and the humidity was low, but we could feel it building.

When back to the room, we gathered gear together, organized things again, and Karen used the motel hairdryer to try and get some of her clothes dry. I had used our emergency length of rope to run from the ironing board holder to the top of a big mirror frame for the pieces she had washed last night. Along it were about ten items of damp clothing. Pathetically, it wasn’t until about 10am that we were approaching ready to go. We finally got out the door about 10:45am.

Out on the parking lot, talk about being nervous! After yesterday’s battery trouble, I was really worried as I pushed the starter button – just hoping the Honda would start. It was a needless worry. The skies were gray as we pulled away. And they continued gray. And grayer. And grayer and darker. As we rode, the mist rose from streams and lakes alongside the roadway. The clouds, some scowling down with seething rage, seemed remote, but none-the-less menacing. Gassed up shortly, and there was a bumper sticker on a car’s fender there that read, "I STOP FOR... OH SHIT, NO BRAKES!!!!"

At the gas station I purchased a plastic bowl of non-dairy butterscotch pudding for us – tasty! Karen noted our passing the big rocks, little lakes, and medium-sized trees, and decided that must mean we weren’t really up into the full-fledged mountains yet. At one point we rode through a small pine forest on each side of us, and the scent of pine was strong and aromatic. Karen decided that no artificially labeled ‘pine scent’ really captures that true smell. For a born shopper, Karen noted how hard it was to be passing all the specialty gift and antique shops along the section of Route 9 that we traveled this morning.

The morning miles were grand. I felt like a dog, with tongue lapping out the car window, eyes wide, and loving the breeze in my face. If my helmet weren’t covering them, I’m sure my ears would have been flapping. At one point we zoomed passed a bicycle tourist snail-crawling up the mountain, and gave him a hearty wave. I knew what he was going through. And a bit after that we noted a bearded hiker on the left with his walking stick and bushy beard. Late in the morning I commented into the little tape recorder that I couldn’t believe our luck at not catching rain. (Karen’s philosophy: we’ve been rained on before, we’ll be rained on again... and things dry out.) It was shortly after that... whoooooooshhh... The skies opened, and a flooding torrent teamed down upon us. I wanted to turn into a gas station but decided too late and didn’t want to take the sharp turn on the wet roadway. We passed a man and a woman and their motorcycle under a tree. They were changing into their raingear.

We rolled drippingly into Vermont at 12:30pm after just crossing the river that divides Vermont and New Hampshire for it’s entire border. I spied an open garage door at what appeared to be some auto place. I headed in. The bemused folks there smiled knowingly. One came up to me and said bluntly with a grin, "It ain’t gonna stop!" I jokingly said, "Well, if that’s the case, can we put our tent on your bay area floor for the night?" When he realized I was joking, we both had a laugh. Mechanic Andy said they were posting for flash flood warnings until four or five o’clock. Another guy, who I dubbed the weather expert, said that the moist humid air was coming up from the Gulf Coast, and that it would be nice by the weekend. Another fellow chirped in with, "Gotta watch these local roads, they flood wicked!" Another reported that a friend had just called him and reported that he had just seen the "most ferocious lightning he ever saw!" We met Dennis Pearce who was born in Media, not ten miles from our home in Pennsylvania. His family moved away when he was a baby, but his uncle still runs a Secane Pizza place in the nearby town of the same name. While we were talking, gigantic booming blasts of thunder would crackle loudly from the distance, or crash menacingly from what seemed the other side of the road. Well, it didn’t seem worthwhile to go on, and we figured we’d regroup at a nearby motel. And that we did. Had a good nap to catch up on sleep, got laundry all caught up and dried in a dryer, and gear reorganized. I challengingly said, "If we don’t get out by 8am tomorrow morning, we might as well cancel the trip!"

I walked next door to get some Chinese food – some vegetable fried rice and a big container of soup, and some spring rolls. We munched on that throughout the day and evening. During the evening time, and during all our activities, the half hours seemed to skip like heartbeats, time accelerating for one reason or another. Each second I would look up at the clock – ZAP! – another 30 minutes had gone by! A 69-mile day. Ugh! I’ve done way more than a score of those bicycle touring. But our outlook is good for a 500-mile day tomorrow – and that would take us over 1000 for this trip. Now, if only the weather outlook is as good, we’re sure to make it.

June 28, 2005 - Tuesday - Day 3

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today: 133 - Total Miles:562 – Daily Average –187.3
11:30am-6:30pm - 7 hours
Brookline,NH to Concord,NH (via Kittery, Maine)
(-stayed at a Comfort Inn -)
(NH, ME) – 8/48)
- Rain and more Rain – An Important Lesson Learned by the first Misadventure of the Trip –

We went for a run around 9am, and boy, the bugs were sure out, making a beeline for us! Karen swallowed one by accident, and I said with a smile, "Well so much for your vegetarian status NOW!" When back I mentioned this to Ethel, and she explained there were some open water areas. She then said jokingly that the bugs around there were in training for South America, and that the 'skeeters could likely pick you up and take you away.'

I had fully tested the system, method, and program before leaving, but when I went to send out the first day journal notes with picture I couldn’t because of some problems with AOL... Finally, after chatting with a couple helpful but somewhat hard to understand the AOL tech folks on the Indian sub-continent, I got the problem solved, but it was late by then, and we needed to get on the road, so figured I’d send the notes out in the evening. In chatting with Ethel and Ron, while discussing about how much people accomplish, Ethel noted, "You wake up in the morning with your own package, and sometimes you surprise yourself with what you can do!" One of the toughest things about traveling like this is leaving folks. Leaving the comfort and security of a cozy home and sound (sometimes new-found) friendship for the unknown. It can feel like a nervousness of sorts. Perhaps like an uncomfortable worrying. But in order to keep moving that feeling needs to be overcome, and at last we wrenched ourselves out and onto the road.

We left at a disgustingly late 11:30am. It was drizzling, and for the first time in the trip Karen wore her rain pants. Everyone had a good laugh at her expense as she tried to get her short leg over the big bike in those tight pants. Soon we were on our way through droplets of wet stuff, and under uncertain skies. We rode rain of varying intensity this morning for about 30 minutes. Then the sun poured out and dried us off nicely. We spent about an hour in the Rising Tide. It was a health food store par excellence in Kittering, Maine. We feasted for about $18 worth of lunch in the place sitting by a little round table by the front window. (Hummus wrap, various frozen confections, natural soda, a tofu and tomato sauce sandwich, and various chips.) By the end we were friendly with the staff. In fact, Paul had given us a frozen mango bar which he said was out of this world. When I learned he was the owner, I said, "Gees, I thought he was just a food delivery guy, and here he’s the OWNER!" The staff women got a laugh out of that! A white haired lady leaving at the same time got to talking with us about traveling. She recommended strongly that we head to Newfoundland sometime for beautiful scenery. When she realized we were on the same bike, she commented, "The ultimate in togetherness!" When the lady left and we turned our attention to the motorcycle again, I noted that I had left the key in the on position. The lights were on. And nervously I hit the ignition switch hoping the battery wasn't dead. The bike started right up. Whew! This is almost exactly what I said to Karen: "Let's learn this lesson now BEFORE I do this with disastrous battery-draining results in the middle of nowhere."... (The bike has a kill switch on the handlebars. This turns off the engine but not the power to the lights or turn signals. I had gotten into the habit of just hitting that kill switch instead of turning the key off...)

We rode down a small hill on the shoulder to a gas station and then after tanking up for $5.25, we headed to the Kittery Trading Post. We were just in the extreme sports section, and that was sizeable. The main store was supposedly HUGE. We got socks and shirts, and a few other things in the store, and chatted around with the sales guys, showing them our maps, and generally talking. Then we went out into the sunshine, and darned if I hadn’t left the damn key in the wrong position again! Arghhhh... and this time, there was no powerful engine on the other end of hitting the ignition button – just a sickening dull crank thud, and then NOTHING!!! I wasn’t upset at the situation, as much as I was upset at my stupidity for allowing it to happen! We tried some feeble attempts to push start the thing down a little grade, but to no avail. While Karen gathered up our purchases, I wheeled the bike out of the parking lot, across the busy highway, and to the Mobile station there. I was sweating cascading waves of persperation! I called the AAA-type number for the Honda Club I belonged to and eventually set it up for someone to come over and give me a jumpstart. While waiting the half hour or so, I took out my PDA and studied some of the poetry I’ve been memorizing lately. Karen walked over to the main annex of the Kittery Trading Post, browsed a bit, and looked for another net bungie cord we needed.

Around 3:20pm, broad shouldered and bald headed Steve came from the shop where he worked. He was friendly and interested in the ride, but regrettably he didn’t know where the battery on the Honda was or how to get the seat or other covers off to look for it. This was surprising to me since the guy on the Honda on the phone asked all kinds of questions about what kind of bike it was, and it was a Honda motorcycle club that I called. Also, Chris, the Mobile Station fellow had said there was a Honda place not too far away. Well, I cell phoned Ken Carr Cycles, my dealer at home, and finally got ace mechanic Kevin on the line. He talked Steve through getting the side door off, and with his portable charger, he had the bike purring in a matter of seconds. Then came the realization that he couldn’t put the side door back ON without taking the key out, effectively turning the not fully charged bike off again! As we sat there slack-jawed amazed at the problem, Steve said to me, "Did you ever see an engineer you didn’t want to face slap?" After letting it run for about five minutes, we tried taking the key out, putting the door back on, and then turning the ignition on again. The engine sputtered and stopped first try. But then it began rumbling well. I asked if by the end of the day whether the battery would be fully charged, and Steve acknowledged that it probably would be okay.

We took off to cross west into New Hampshire and head toward Vermont. But it was not to be – the rain returned, and at times, with lots of bucketful intensity. The windshield became dappled with a zillion drops, and I frequently had to stand on the pegs to peer over the windshield. I followed that yellow middle line a lot, and the red tips of the tail lights from the cars ahead. It was full concentration on the road, especially when the downpour was at its hardest. We rode that rain for more than an hour. It cleared up a bit, but then returned with renewed vigor. It was around 6:30pm with only dark and grey clouds ahead to the west that we decided to stop – after puny mileage, but lessons learned and friends met.

I realized that I needed to get at least a little more organized about things when I reached into my pocket to pay the lady at the hotel’s front desk, and I pulled out a dirty sock!

A few hours later the rain let up. While drying off the bike around 8ish, I took a call from a Runner’s World writer who was doing a story on runners who run errands for their exercise. (I figure I could be a poster boy for that!) He had contacted me a few weeks ago but had some more questions. We chatted amiably for about fifteen minutes. The story should appear in the November issue. Karen washed her laundry in the shower, and I spent a couple hours working through another couple of glitches in being able to send out the journal notes with a picture. That put me behind some more so I didn’t quite get to finish the update on the journal notes. Spent some time on line through the motel wireless network. (Boy, I could get used to that!) And after some organizing and a little talk about the ambitious plans for the next day’s miles, we didn’t get to sleep until around midnight.

June 27, 2005 - Monday - Day 2

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today - 198 - Total Miles – 429 – Average – 214.5
12:30pm-6:30pm - 6 hours
New Haven, CT to Brookline,NH
(-stayed at Karen's brother's home -)
(CT-RI-MASS-NH – 7/48)
- DISCONCERTING EVENT – WONDERFUL RIDING –

During the night, at 2:30am to be precise, my cell phone rang. In the muddleness of half sleep I let it go, but then five minutes later, I thought I’d better listen to the message. I sleepily pulled the phone off the charger and listened aghast to the message from the man from Brinks, the home security company. He was saying that an alarm went off in the home. It was 'zone 6' the motion detector in the dining room. He said the police had been sent. I asked how the room detector could have gone off if the door or window alarms hadn't. He said it was probably an insect ambling in front of the detector!

Well, the concern of the house being tampered with was a most disconcerting thing! I found the Haverford Township Police number almost instantly on the internet, called and chatted with an officer who told me the police, had in fact, gone to the house and that it was 'secure'... So, I was left to just worrying, and although I was able to put it out of my mind a bit, the whole incident (and the concern afterward) took a huge bite out of important sleep time.

It had a great effect on the day – and the next day. Because we then had to sleep later, which put our re-packing plans and breakfast with my uncle off until much later, and as a result, we didn’t leave today until 12:30pm!

Before Leslie’s aerobics class, we got to chat with her some more. I mentioned to her how much I’d just "love to take that wireless network with me on the trip around the country." She countered with a big smile and a twinkle in her eye, "Why don’t you just stay here for the next six weeks and make everything up that you write and send to folks?" When Leslie went out, my aunt Rena came over to watch two year old Jacob and 4-month old Elise. That Elise! What a huge simmering intelligence behind those wide dark eyes! Rena was playing delightfully with those kids as they romped in the little outside plastic pool. It was a warming grandparent-grandchild scene, and I managed a few touching photographs.

My uncle Sam arrived shortly. Karen and I packed up the bike. Then before following Sam to a restaurant, we got some fun photos of Jacob, then Jacob and Rena on the motorcycle. The tiny two year old looked cute dwarfed by the mammoth machine. After good-byes, we followed Sam to the Shoreline Diner and Vegetarian Enclave. Sam was quite taken by the name "Enclave". As it turned out it was only a pseudo vegetarian-type place. And I suppose it was trying to cash in on the more healthful aspects of eating that's fadding around parts of the country. I mentioned to Sam that I thought I had left my pepperment soap in the shower at Leslie’s. He noted wisely that it was nothing to be too concerned about, as it was something that could be replaced. It was a good meal, and we had a veggie concoction of grilled tofu and bulgar and friendly conversation. The service wasn’t the best there, and as a result our take-off time for Rhode Island and beyond was a pathetically late 12:30pm.

It was good riding to Cranston, RI where we had a lunch date with Jeannette, aka JJBIKER! When switching to Citizens Bank recently Karen got in a conversation with the personable bank woman on the other end of the line. Seems they were the same age and both have an interest in motorcycling... AND that Jeanette was right on our route. She had invited us to stop by Citizens Corporate for lunch. We followed her instructions and arrived with no problem, but late because of our late take-off time. We parked in the hot expansive lot, and I checked in with security as Karen waited with the bike. Seems, JJ, what her biker friends call her, had been at the outside picnic tables waiting, and had just gone back in. In fact, she later said that she had seen us arrive, but thought our yellow outfits meant we were construction people of some sort. JJ was a wiry dark-haired lady with a warming smile, bright eyes, and a friendly out-going manner. JJ had bought us two scrumptious salads which we gobbled down in the friendly, cool, and nice-sized cafeteria. Soon we were being shepherded through the maze of offices and cubicles which made up this part of Citizen’s Corporate. Heads were popping up out of those cubicles across the expansive building as JJ presented us as visiting celebrities of some kind. When I took out the AAA map which showed our tentative route all around the entire US with a big circuitous purple-marker routing, the number of folks around us intensified. They had questions, they had comments, they took pictures. A photo was taken presumably for a Citizens Bank publication. This went on for the better part of an hour. I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn’t so weary from missing sleep last night – if a cot had been offered to me I would have dozed for an hour right there. Karen was all smiles and bubbly enthusiasm as each person of the crowd would ask things of us. We met executives and secretaries and maintenance folk, and JJ was proudly showing us off to one and all. JJ frequently noted that another employee had asked her if she was nuts to invite strangers for lunch. But she suggested that person just didn’t... understand. And she was right!

Finally, it was clear it was time to go – we had to get back on the road or else we would be arriving at Karen’s brother’s home in Brookline, NH way behind schedule. Because of our heavy and brightest of yellow outfits, we are often mistaken for persons involved in other activities. It’s usually as firemen, but today we were mistaken for construction workers and skydivers of all things! After leaving, we strode along some wonderful miles over rolling terrain with a million trees around us. The clouds were sumptuous and punctuated a sky of pure blue.

We arrived at Ron and Ethel’s around 6:30pm and rolled carefully along the almost quarter-mile dirt and gravel drive up to a huge home. Because we only have a carport at home, it was the first time in it's life that the mc got to be garaged! (I said to Karen jokingly that I hoped it didn’t get spoiled.) This time it was Karen’s turn to talk with relatives and get caught up – and she did just that. Again, it was a good warming feeling being in the home of folks that one of us knew well. Ethel made us a just fabulous spaghetti meal with fresh bread and strawberries and homemade pineapple cake. It was a perfect meal for us! Talking with Ron about stuff we had brought with us, he said that I sure knew how to pack things tightly. I allowed that when one spends more than a year of life on the road on a bicycle you know how to do things like that. Regarding the bike trips, and this mc trip, Ron noted sagely, "If there’s something you want to do, you should do it, because when they close the box, that’s all there is...." I told him how this was the 25th anniversary of my cross-country bicycle trip. I said I didn’t know which was crazier an idea – setting across the USA continent alone on a bicycle, or this ambitious plan of likely 10,000 miles in a journey twice across the country on a motorcycle. He thought about it a few moments, and then asked how old I was when I made that solo 4,435-mile bicycle trip. I told him I was 33. Then he thought and thought about it a bit more, and then with a somewhat wry smile around his eyes he said, "Yeah, it’s a toss up!"

June 26, 2005 - Sunday - Day 1

48 States or Bust – The USA on Two Wheels
Miles Today - 231 - Total Miles – 231
1:30pm-9pm(!) 7.5 hours
Havertown,PA (western Philadelphia suburb) to New Haven, CT
(-stayed at Joel’s cousin’s home-)
(PA-NJ-NY-CT – 4/48)
-FIRST BIKING DAY - WONDERFUL SENDOFF – TRAVAILS IN NEW YORK CITY – HELLISH HEAT INTO WONDROUS COOL OF EVENING – IN LATE

Today was when the bravado and planning and talk about the trip met the reality of things smack in the face!

Went out for a morning run… took note of all the minute details of the trees and home and all along the way. The air was crystal clearness and fresh. Along the way I came coincidently upon Marty and Gianine, a couple with motorcycles. Gianine’s bike is a bright pink, and really stands out. I was excited to tell them about the trip we were to begin later in the day. But first there was business to attend to – Myron Weber’s wedding pictures. The friendly-sounding 60 year-old fellow had called perhaps a month ago. From Canada, and needing a photographer for a short session of pre-wedding photos on Sunday morning, it seemed like a perfect job. My thinking had always been to take a short couple of first days to somewhat gently weave ourselves into the fabric of the sure-to-be arduous trip. And for such a trip one just cannot be getting ready at the last moment, so we’d have to prepare way ahead of time anyway.
(In fact, we were about ready to go a full two weeks before departure. Had to be! In the days ahead of the journey, there were weekend photo shoots to finish – some within a week! This so clients wouldn’t have to wait six weeks for their albums. So we had been getting ready way before the big travel date, having the bike packed and check lists accounted for, gear assembled, and strategies thought about.)

This Sunday morning before departure job would be a small one. We could come home, change out of tuxes, and into motorcycle gear, say good-bye to a gathering of friends we had invited, and launch ourselves out into the country.
It almost worked out as planned. Turned out the list of pictures desired by Myron and his bride numbered almost to 50! And the synagogue where the event was to be held was almost 45 minutes away! So we dealt with it. After my morning run we left about 8am for the huge designed-by-Frank-Lloyd Wright synagogue, and got there in plenty of time. Saw an older slightly stooped fellow walking into the place for his morning prayers, and shouted a hearty, “How’re you doin’??” To which he replied with a smile, “Living!”
The shoot went very well. The 18 or so folks involved were all friendly, and we had lots of hearty joking around. My mind got into the concentration required for each picture, but I also had the bubbling excitement and growing enthusiasm for the adventure ahead – and my eyes constantly drifted to the time. We HAD to leave by 11am. Myron knew this from the start – Karen and I would be leaving even if people arrived late, or things were running late one way or another… It was very exciting, and we did leave only a minute or two after 11.

Now things just had to work like clockwork: home, change outfits, mingle with the pals invited over from 12:30-1:30pm, and be on the road. And that’s pretty much the way things worked.
The tension was broken a bit on the ride home. Listening to messages on the phone tape machine there was a funny call from fellow photographer and motorcycle enthusiast Dave Ickes. With a mock voice of an Italian and noting a fake name, he said he had a $12,000 wedding for us NEXT week, and hoped would we do it. He did it in a very funny way, and it helped break the tension of our thoughts in getting back home in time…

About 15 of the 25 folks invited came to see us off. Friends Felice and Dom brought a bagel tray, spreads, and a bowl of fruit. Howard, my first motorcycling mentor, only had a few moments to stop in on his way to a softball outing, but came to exchange hugs and good wishes. Sparky and Dave, our current motorcycling pals and mentors, came and stayed and rode out part way with us. A few neighbors came over. Brandon, Karen’s son of 23, came with his smile to see us off. We had a surprise visit from Susan, a friend of Karen’s who wasn’t going to originally be able to make it – she surprised us, and it was wonderful seeing her. Teenage photo assistants Sarah and Dean, and Sarah’s family came over for the festivities. Their presence and Sarah’s frequent smile, but sometimes really concerned expressions beamed at me, were a memorable part of the party. A couple folks expressed surprise that we could have people over right before such a trip… But there’s a point at which one just has to stop. Stop getting things done and rely on what’s been accomplished already and just enjoy the moment. And enjoy these minutes with friends we did.

A few moments before leaving I spoke a few words in the living room where a big 2x3ft colorful United States map with the projected route in dark marker was resting on the fireplace. I mumbled some things about thanking everyone for being there, and how their friendliness and energy poured into us and was inspiring. Then, summoning up some of the spirit of traveling and seeing new things, I recited a short poem that a fellow bicycle traveler taught me in Alaska:

Though your bones have got arthritis
and your bowels have got colitis,
You’ve got galloping gallop-itis
and you’re thinking it’s time you died.
But when you’ve been a man of action
though you’re lying there in traction,
You can say with satisfaction,
“Well, b’jeesus, as least I tried.”

And then, right on time, by 1:30pm we were out under the carport getting a picture of the group around the bright blue 1100cc Honda Shadow Spirit motorcycle. The camera flashes burst around us, and as we left I saw some other neighbors and passers-by come out into the humid afternoon to see what all the commotion was about. And we were on our way, Dave and Sparky tail-gunning behind us.

It was about two miles through the familiar neighborhood and then out to the big highway. Then about another nine miles to the even BIGGER highway (Route 95 north which we’d take all the way to Connecticut.) Dave had peeled off at around the 20 mile mark, but not before sending off a huge flashing smile and a generous thumbs up! Karen got a wonderful shot of that thumbs up as Dave zipped past us to the off ramp! Sparky and Dave had watched our backs. Literally. Part way up it was noticed the bags on the back of the bike weren’t seated just right and had shifted. Under an overpass 39 miles from home, Sparky adjusted the bags better and much more securely. He noted how when stopping on the side of the road it is always better to pull off where on-coming cars would have a good line-of-sight. It was important advice and appreciated.
We traveled on through the 90ish degrees of the Sunday afternoon. One time we got caught in about 15 minutes or so of back-up. I shouted over to Spark that this would likely not be the last time such a thing would happen – and he acknowledged that with his broad super-friendly grin and gleaming white teeth. Finally, out of the traffic mess, and after perhaps an hour, Sparky waved farewell, and we were left to ourselves, two friends in a slipstream of cool air heading on a little 10,000-or so mile jaunt around the United States. Off to see wondrous things and engage in whatever adventures befell us….

Along the way around Philadelphia proper we noted many other motorcycles. Some cruisers like ours, and some with the rider hunched over – those bikes are often referred to as ‘crotch rockets’. Many times these riders are young show-offy and risk-taking types. We noted a few crotch rocket guys weaving in and out of the slower traffic – a couple zipped in from the right in front of us……

The first tank up was at the Joyce Kilmer rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike. Gas was $2.31/gallon and we filled up for a bit more than $5. We sailed happily along. Enjoying the first moments of the gigantic ride that would encompass the next six weeks. We didn’t do much sailing in front of the George Washington Bridge however. There, the traffic was stonewalled to the complete stop. And it took us at least an hour and a half to go THREE miles. And that in sweltering humidity. Occasionally I would zip up a small portion of shoulder, but I carefully resisted the temptation to go between the rows of steaming traffic. At one point we chatted with a couple of guys from Pennsylvania, and told them about the trip. Also gave ‘em a pen with our website link so they check out the ride. A bit later they came up beside us, and the passenger guy was smiling and held up a camera phone and took our picture. We hoped he’d send it to us.
Shortly thereafter, moving along at a good clip again, while soaring down the highway, we lost the first thing off the bike. A handkerchief I had sloppily stuffed into the tank bag unwedged itself and flung free onto the highway….

Into the evening, we encountered wonderful coolness – especially appreciated after the day’s heat. The roads were long rolling and clean. It was many miles of pure delight.
By the time we arrived at my cousin Leslie’s home it was seven-and-a-half hours after take off, and a practically dark 9pm. Leslie and Marc own a big sumptuous home set back from the suburban south of New Haven road. A dirt and rock drive snaked up to the front door, and I tentatively purred the bike along that driveway, hoping not to end the day with an embarrassing fall along the uneven surface. It had been a couple years since seeing Les, and she greeted us warmly. Karen met her for the first time. She welcomed us in, and it was great being with her again. We were too late to go out with my uncle for a dinner, but Leslie provided us with all we desired – cold water, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for me, and a bowl of borsht for Karen. Also, a bowlful of cherries. My uncle Sam, an affable guy, came over after a bit, and with Leslie and her husband Marc, we sat on comfy plush sofas, caught up on family news, good-naturedly joked around, reminisced about old times, thought about people now passed away, and pondered about our trip ahead.

The calm conversation couched the defining moments of an auspicious day. We were thankful to be there after the day’s efforts and miles traveled.