Day One ~ Sunday June 26, 2005
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Send-off in Springfield , VA |
At the Washington Monument |
Moe and his bunny |
Mascots |
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Slick's Place |
Lunch |
Dinner in Lexington, KY |
Lisa and Moe |
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| Porqua is ready to ride |
Grits & Porqua gassin' up in Barstow |
Porqua succumbs to the heat in Baker |
Porqua relaxes in St George |
CB Quote of the Day: Greg W: (regarding the lumpy streets in Washington DC. ) "This would be a damn fine place to put a street!" |
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Uncle Bill reports from the East:
We got off to a good start this morning. The weather was cooperating but you could tell it was going to get hotter later.
We went back up to DC for a loop around the mall and a photo op at the Washington Monument. Note the policewoman in the photo. She had come over to chase us away but our charm won her over and she joined in the group shot.
We said a reluctant goodbye to Cris Dopher and then set out for Lexington, KY. At 557 miles, this was going to be the longest day of the trip. It took a little while, but after the first 100 miles or so we were riding as a pretty cohesive unit. When we wanted to. There were times when one or more of the bikes are new and the guys wanted to see what they could do. I now know how fast my Shadow will go.
Lunch was at the ubiquitous Subway. The last time I ate at one of these places was on last years' trip. I didn't much care for it then and I'm of the same feeling after this one. But it was better than the other place we saw. No one was even remotely interested in eating at Slick's Place.
And so we hit the road. Mascots are becoming a tradition with this group. I have my jibber jabber doll (he makes noise when you shake him...just like me). Moe has his bunny and Pat has traded in his monkey for a cat. (frankly, I think the cat looks like he's about to be operated on.) The bunny constantly flaps his arms and legs in the wind. Can't tell if he's waving or pleading to be rescued.
By mid afternoon it was really hot. Greg is making Matt keep his leathers on and the rest of us sweat just looking at him. But we made it into Lexington about 5:30 this evening, 10 hours after leaving DC. Dinner at the hotel was fun. Lisa, our server got a T-shirt and her picture taken with Moe. Mike Banvard has joined us for a day or two and Christine and Alice are on the way. We'll have a full group tomorrow for the ride to Columbia, MO. Unfortunately, the weather report is calling for rain. And you know how much I like to ride in the rain. Ah well.
Grits Reports from the West:
I left San Diego on Kate's Honda Magna 750, with my baggage tied down to the tiny back seat with ratchet straps and bungee netting. It was kinda jury-rigged, but it would have to do. The last minute bike swap left a lot to be desired. The clouds hung low over the hills as I started up I-15 and the chill added to the loneliness. This would be a solo trip until I hit St. George, Utah, except for my porcine pal, Porqua a stuffed animal pig I acquired in a skit where I recited Hamlet’s “To be or not to be” soliloquy in pig Latin (it’s harder than you think).
I started with a full tank of gas, so imagine my surprise when, around 107 miles, the engine faltered and I went on reserve. This meant a range of less than 120 miles, which would not be good when I joined the rest of the riders. We were all supposed to be able to ride 150 miles without stopping. Oh well. I gassed up in Norco and headed up into the desert.
The desert has a stark beauty and an infinite variety of color and shape, and in the morning light was especially poignant. But I have been over the route so many times that I wasn’t seeing much anymore. Still, the weather was warm, the sky clear and the bike was running like mercury—fast and slippery in the weekend traffic. All is good.
Porqua and I stopped for gas and a photo op in Barstow and headed out for Baker, home of the Bun Boy Burger and the world’s largest thermometer. It was hot and we were both pretty wilted by that time. I gassed up again with $3/gallon gas and we hit the road for Vegas. Having no particular affection for Sin City, it went by in a blink thanks to Kate’s Magna. Now it was the last long haul into St. George.
After a long flat stretch, I-15 follows the Virgin River through a narrow, winding gap in the steep, chiseled mountains surrounding St. George. It was a biker’s dream, slipping into the curves and accelerating up the hills and around the RVs, SUVs and other acronyms. I pulled into St. George on the last drops in my reserve tank and gassed up yet again before rolling up to the Comfort Inn Suites. We were hot, tired and happy to be home for the night. Porqua immediately grabbed the remote and turned on the Animal Channel while I went looking for Wayne “Razz” Rasmussen—the only other rider coming from the west. (Well, after he rode all the way from New Jersey to ride back from the west.) In his bright yellow riding suit he wasn’t hard to find. He showed up in the lobby just about the time I went looking for him. Dinner at Denny’s and that was the first day.
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