Epic Motorcycle Ride Day 4: Little Rock, AR to Lenoir City, TN

I was planning to have breakfast with JP and Rosi then get on the road, but I woke up early. I kept evaluating the ride ahead, and decided to leave, because I had so much ground to cover. I thought about this, as I rode, realizing it was a metaphor for life, this thinking that our plans are solid we that we always have more time with the people we care about.

Hopping on the bike and gearing up, I found I had lost a glove taking JP for a spin yesterday. I am an idiot. Damn! I ran the route we took, but did not find it. Still, I had my throttle hand glove, and I was good to go. JP and Rosi told me to try Route 70 as an alternative to Interstate 40, and I was really glad I did it. What a beautiful road.

I stopped to get gas, and I had become so used to riding without a glove that I forgot to put the one I had back on. And, I lost that one, too. Are you kidding me? I am a total idiot. Double Damn! I stopped in an O'Reilly Auto Parts and bought a pair of $9 gloves to hold me over and provide some protection.

I was really surprised by Arkansas. I thought I knew what rural was, living as close as I do to Lancaster, PA, but I have never seen rural areas like this. Surprisingly beautiful, Arkansas' farms spread for miles and miles, with alfalfa, soybeans, and even rice paddies. The road kills were also unusual, consisting of armadillos and snakes. So. Many. Snakes. But, when I remember Arkansas, it will be the beauty of it that I remember.

I rode into Memphis, Tennessee, crossing the Mississippi on Interstate 40. There is a HUGE pyramid at the edge of the city, on the river, and it now houses a Bass Pro Shop and Ducks Unlimited. There is little attractive about the pyramid or the town, from the brief pass-through I did. Apparently, Danny Kaye is a big deal there, and I decided not to stop at Graceland, because I just could not do it without Mrs. Fish. It was something that we always wanted to do together, from the time we were dating. Still not crossed off, and that's okay. The King can wait.

After Memphis, I hopped on and off I-40, going back and forth, on and off. I hit Nashville and wished I had time to visit this city. It is, in my opinion, the prettiest city in Tennessee. I was there once, more than 15 years ago, and though I am not a country music fan, I really liked this city. I will definitely come back to Nashville, and would love to check out the music scene there.

Route 70 goes from town to town, with space inbetween to really get out and ride. You slow down in the towns, then let her go in the spaces between. One of the more interesting towns I went through was Ozone Falls. It actually lived up to it's name that day, and it smells and feels like a cloud has descended on the town. It's cool temperature and misty appearance, coupled with the smell of ozone, made it a multi-sensory buffet, like flying through a cloud.
 
Route 70 continued to weave through towns like this, and, occasionally, I would see a fire road shooting off to the side. I decided to take one, and was not disappointed. The road wound sharply upwards, then opened up to a view from the top of the entire valley.

At the bottom, you can see lakes, which I would wind down and down to, then ride alongside for many miles. Tennessee was probably the most beautiful state I visited, and Central Tennessee was the most beautiful area of that state.

Coming down the mountain, I saw a dirt road shooting off to the right. I switch the Multistrada into Enduro mode and went to investigate. I took a short, dirt road ride...

...and arrived at an overlook of the valley below, where I had just ridden.

 I eventually got to Lenoir City, Tennessee. I was riding the Tail of the Dragon the next day, so I was looking for a place that was close by. A quick web search showed the EconoLodge to be a bargain.

As I was checking in, I started talking with the lady behind the front desk. She talked about how "particular" the owner was about his property, and what a wonderful boss he was because he was demanding but a great guy. He empowered them to make decisions to help the guests. She talked about how he called her at home when she had surgery, always asking if he could do anything for her. He sounded like a nice boss, and it was clear she respected him.

Then, I checked into my room. I have stayed in a lot of hotel rrooms, but this was the most ordered, clean, and "particular" room I have stayed in. Everything was laid out perfectly. The bed was made with military precision. And, it was spotless. It turns out the guy does run a tight ship. I slept like a baby.

Epic Motorcyle Ride Day 3: St. Louis, MO to Little Rock, AR

Brad and I woke up at Keith's and went out to get some breakfast at the Kingside Diner. The Kingside is right across the street from the National Chess Museum (who knew there was such a thing?), and this area of town has decided that chess shall be it's theme. Okay by me, because I was on the chess team in high school (and might be the only person in the history of high school chess teams to ever come to physical blows with a teammate).

As a person with gluten sensitivity, I have to say the quinoa pancakes were a thing of majesty, but even more spectacular was the very first decent cup of coffee we had on the entire trip. And, we only had to go 1,000 miles to find it.

The architecture in St. Louis is really cool, and I found lots of interesting accents and touches. With all of the trees and greenery, it's a city I could (almost) live in (if not for the Mississippi River humidity). I really like this city and the people in it. 

Brad and I said our goodbyes to Keith, thanking him for his kindness and hospitality, and then got on the road. After a short trip together, we split off, and I was solo for the first time on my epic road trip, heading southward to Little Rock, Arkansas. It's interesting to me how different the roads are north and south of St. Louis. North, the flat roads are squared, everything progressing in logical grids, with towns sprouting up where the roads intersect. South, the Ozark Mountains begin, and the roads undulate and weave to accommodate the varying terrain. 

Oh. And, it's hot. I thought it was hot before. Then I hit 98 degree weather with 90%+ humidity and I began to realize what hot was. Enetring into Arkansas, I stopped at a rest area to snap a quick photo to commemorate my entry into the Natural State.

I also needed to get some gas, so I pulled off to fuel up and get some shade and fluids. While I was there, a guy pulled up in an old, red pickup truck, straw hat perched on his head, bandana hanging out of his left rear jeans pocket, dog sitting at attention in the front seat. He looked like someone had sent him straight out of central casting to play a role in my movie. I was not dissuaded that I wasn't on Punk'd when he drawled, "Boy, I sure do miss mah, Ducati." I thought he was having fun with me, but we ended up talking as he filled up and I drank cold Gatorade. It turns out that he was in Italy for a year, and used his Ducati to follow the racing circuit there, travelling from town to town on his Duc to watch the races. You meet the most interesting and unexpected people on the road, if you take a moment. Lesson learned. 

Heading south, I found a truck graveyard. I pulled off to take some more pictures, sending them to my 18-year-old daughter. She is a budding photographer, and likes things with decay in them. It's not very often that I am able to impress her, but this time I actually managed to succeed. GO ME!

 

I continued to ride south and it continued to get hotter. I pulled off a couple of times into the shade just to hydrate and cool off.   

I like this little post office I found...

...where I also managed to pick up a hitchhiker.

The decay in the south is so much more active, visceral. I saw buildings taken over by vines, or with trees growing straight up out of them. It seems to happen more quickly down here, and many times I was reminded of those scenes in Southern Gothic novels where they describe the landscape, and nature is almost like a character in the book. I understand that now in a way I never did before.

I finally arrived at JP's place, and it was great reconecting with him. We had met initially when I was cleaning my life up and getting fit for the first time in 15 years. JP ran a Fitness Summit, and I went, and some of the people I met through that experience have stayed friends to this day. It's weird how quickly you can continue on with someone you haven't seen in a long time, and JP is one of those people. He invited his girlfrien, Rosi, over, and the three of us talked about art (JP's brother is a Disney animator, and you would recognize his work; his daughter is also extremely talented), theater, the oceans (Rosi grew up sailing the south Pacific), and so many other things. I was so busy enjoying the time together, and eating the pork gyro on naan, that I forgot to take pictures of us, something I really regret.

I also took JP for a ride on the Multi, his first time on a bike in a loooooong time. I am not going to say he caught the riding, bug, but I am not going to say he didn't either. I would not at all be surprised to hear he got a bike and is enjoying it, tooling aroundd through the great back rroads of rural Arkansas.  

My biggest regret on this leg of the trip? Not knowing that Steve Winwood and Steely Dan were plaaying that night in Little Rock! Had I known, I surely would have bought a ticket and rocked it. Note to self: we regret the things we don't do far more than the things we do.  

Epic Motorcycle Ride Day 2: Dale, In to St. Louis, MO

We woke up super early to get a head start on St. Louis traffic. The first step was to clean off the helmet, which I had failed to do the night before. This is a learning experience, and I learned. I won't soon do that again. Seeing this entymological carnage, I honestly had to question how people ride without helmets.

Step 2 was to grab my RBICI t-shirt...

...and then we were off to grab an early morning cup of coffee. 

We stopped at the Chuckles, hoping to get our first cup of decent joe on the whole trip. And, failed. At least they know how to make gas, so I filled up the Multistrada... 

While Brad filled up his Connie...

...and off we went. The approach to St. Louis is cool in that you come around a highway bend and see the Arch a long way off, a sort of amuse bouche, as you approach the city. We went across the Martin Luther King, Jr. bridge, and the roads were surprisingly empty. Not unclogged. Not light. Empty. It was a little spooky at that point, almost like something had happened and we were uninformed because of a lack of attachment to news outlets. Weird. First stop? The Arch, of course!

There is a boatload of construction around the Arch these days as they refurbish the grounds of the monument. As such, parking is at a premium, and we were not really sure where to park. Brad pulled into a church parking lot, but we were not sure if it was legal and permissable to park there. As we pulled up, we saw two women who we thought could answer our question. 

After a short and friendly conversation, they said it was okay for us to park there. Friends in high places. Sweet. 

I knew the Arch was big, but standing under it gave me a new appreciation for just what an undertaking it must have been. 

With zero wait, we got in the queue to board the pod and take a four minute ride to the top. 

The entrance is a four-foot tall door, entering into a claustrophobic pod.  "Four minutes to the top. I can do this," I told myself. "Just breathe." I hate tight spaces, perhaps even more because it had been so long since I was i n one, and quite the opposite, having been on the bike so much. Still, I had a feeling the trip would be worth it, and this is something I definitely wanted to cross off my bucket list. "Open the pod bay doors, Hal."

The view did NOT disappoint. There were three things of note. First, Busch Stadium, home of the Cardinals. They were not in town, but the stadium still had some activity in it. It must be a pretty place to see a ballgame, and I'd love to do it sometime (Bucket List, with Wrigley and Fenway). Brad was talking about how he grew up listening to Jack Buck, and never realizing just what an incredible game-caller he was, because he was just the hometown guy, and you take those things for granted, especially as a kid and young man. I had the exact same experience, growing up listening to Harry Kalas, voice of the Phillies, and it was his voice with Richie Ashburn, that formed the soundtrack of my Summers for many, many years. They don't make them like that, anymore. 

Second, the Mighty Mississippi. I don't think it's wider than the Susquehanna at home; it's just bigger. What lies bbenath that muddy surface is unmistakeably powerful, and not to be trifled with. 

Third, you can see everything! This is a shot of the construction below. In the center, you can see the church, and to the left, our bikes parked. 

When Brad and I went down to get back on, there was a woman, decidedly unfriendly, stuffing leaflets in our bikes. I thought she was a fan of Italian machinery. I was wrong.

Her: Are these your bikes?

Us: Yes

Her: You can't park here.

Us: Actually, we talked to someone in the church who said we could.

Her: I'm the only one who works here.

Us: Oh no. They most Definitely worked here.

Then Brad showed her the picture, and while she did not get any friendlier, she did relent and told us to move along. Weird that our first unfriendly person should be encountered in the Midwest, where kindness and hospitality are an important part of their way of life. Off to visit Brad's friend, Keith. 

Keith was a GREAT host, his hospitality washing away the rudeness of the parking attendant. He showed us the town of St. Louis (it really does feel more like a town than a city). We saw beautiful architecture, tree-lined streets, and incredible homes right in the city. At one point, we snuck into a PRIVATE community, and I picked out a house I wanted. Keith stopped, and I jumped out so Brad could snap a pic. There goes the neighborhood.  

We went for drinks, poolside at a local hotel and a steak dinner at the Missouri Athletic Club (Nice, but no sign of Joe Buck).

Then we headed for Keith'ss home for a deep, deep night's sleep. 

Epic Motorcycle Trip Day 1: Harrisburg, PA to Dale, IN

This is my first long trip on the motorcycle. I loaded up the Ducati Multistrada, using all three cases to maximum effectiveness. I packed and repacked half-a-dozen times, shedding weight, gear, and space each time. At 4.30 AM, I rose, kissed Mrs. Fish goodbye, and went downstairs to the bike.

I laid everything out the night before so it would be easy to get started.

My riding companion, Brad, has been riding forever, and is largely responsible for getting me into this hobby. The plan was to meet at the Middlesex Diner in Central PA, and ride out together to St. Louis, MO. Then, we would split off, with Brad riding out to Vegas then Seattle, while I went south to Arkansas, then noodled back east toward home. The Middlesex had the perfect start to the perfect day...

...only, not really. Coffee, people! Make me a decent cup of coffee. You're a diner, for crying out loud.

As soon as we walked outside, it started raining. Fortunately, we both had Frog Togs, but I wasn't really digging trying them out 15 minutes into our trip. One of the things about being Baptized into a long road trip is the Baptism itself, and I had forgotten that Baptisms require water. So, into the Frog Togs we climbed, then off we went.

We rode south into Maryland, then took Interstate 68, running west into West Virginia. We were going to go south into West Virginia, along some of the beautiful roads there, but every time we looked south, the skies were darker and darker, forming a bruise across the sky, or a burned out light bulb. It was raining pretty hard, so we pulled off at a rest station to see what the storm was going to do. Brad asked, "What's going on with your pants?" I looked down to see they were shredded below the knee, from the wind whipping them on the motorcycle. Also, I took my gloves off, and my hands were stained purple from the rain on the leather of my gloves.

We waited and waited, but the storms kept getting thicker, so we decided to continue west into Ohio, through Columbus and Cincinnati. Fortunately, the next rest stop had a Cabela's, so I popped in there to score a pair of waterproof riding pants...at half price!

Unfortunately, we went through Cincinnati on I-71 at 5.00 PM. Rush hour. And, while it's nothing like Philadelphia, it's still a major city at quitting time. Not cool. It took us a while to get through the tangle of traffic. We headed south into Kentucky, the storms dogging us the whole time, but I was just glad to be on the trip.

We rode into Louisville, Kentucky, across the Ohio River, into New Albany, Indiana, where we stopped for the Chinese Buffet. Because you simply MUST eat at the Chinese Buffet when you are traveling with Brad - it's required! I like Chinese food. I do not like Chinese buffets, mostly because they are sketchy, at best. There is one in Harrisburg, PA that got busted about a year-and-a-half ago for serving groundhog in the buffet. But, because it's required, we went. I figured the sushi would be fine, and it was.

As soon as we walked out, we were greeted with a downpour of Biblical proportions. Again, we waited for the worst of it to pass, then dug out the rain gear (didn't we JUST put this stuff away?) and got back on the road.

We journeyed another hour westward, to Dale, Indiana, where we called it a night. There is nothing spectacular about Dale, Indiana, but my pillow was soft, and my bed was comfortable, and after watching a show with a Murder Nova and a Farm Truck dusting off souped-up Trans Ams in illegal street races, I drifted off to sweet, sweet sleep.

Corners

I am reading this article on cornering and found this:

Before entering the corner, you should have the correct speed, be in the correct gear, and have the throttle (slightly) turned on. Then you lean in, and you stay in the outside of the corner.

I didn't realize the throttle should be ON going INTO the turn, but as soon as I read it, it made sense. I couldn't help but think this would make a big difference in cornering smoothness and accuracy. I have been turning the throttle in while I was in the turn, since I started to ride. 

I went for a two hour cruise through some of Southcentral PA's back roads and the difference was immediately noticeable. Smoother, and I also felt a lot more confident. 

 

Ducati: Up in Da Club

One of the toughest parts of my job is the road time. It is not unusual to put on 300-500+ miles per week. This time of year, I can do a lot of that by motorcycle, getting in to the office early, suiting up (yes, I stiill wear a suit and tie) and tagging a colleague to drive to client meetings for the day.

This week, we had presentations at the Lehigh Valley Country Club in Allentown, PA. I took the highway up to the Club and got some looks as I rolled up the long lane to the parking area. I am guessing they don't get a lot of motorcycles in the Club?

I went to the event, mixed, mingled, networked, then hopped on for the best part: the ride home. When I do this, I will get off the higway (I-78) quickly, then try to find a good road home. I look for a fairly good-sized, asphalt (there are still more than a few dirt roads in PA, but that's a ride for another day) road that is heading the direction I want to go, in this case, West.

We have had rain in PA for nearly one-month straight, and the result is subtropical greenery. The entire center (centre for my international readers) of the state is a gorgeous, deep emerald, and it makes for great scenery with the surrounding mountains through which I rode today. The deep (Penn State) blue sky offered an additional focus point.

There are a lot of corners on these roads, many of them quite severe, and it reminded me of how much more I need to learn, but also how far I have come. Long sweepers, and even more abrupt turns, where I can see the exit point are good for me. I look all the way through the turn and the bike glides effortlessly around the turn. I am also learning to read the contours and signs of the road (following the line of the telephone poles through the trees, watching the vanishing point in turns to see if it's decreasing radius).

But, blind turns still make me a little nervous, I find that I go into some turns too hot, and my lines are not at all clean, worse still on the sharper turns. I am trying to practice each of these, and more riding has been a good start. I think the other key is more deliberate riding, focusing on each of these things specifically and intently.