Long Reach Long Riders
Day One - July 9, 2006
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
| At the Philadelphia Art Museum |
Alice and Christine | Rob | David and his Dutch Friend |
The Support Crew | |
 |
 |
 |
|||
| Gassin' up in West Virginia |
Somewhere In WV | Bill's Mascot | |||
Bill writes from the East Coast: July 9, 2006 And then it was up the Schuykill Expressway. Destination...Athens, Ohio. We've got a few new guys with us so it was important for all of us to get a sense of how each of us rides. We have eleven bikes and a chase car. It can get a little precarious in heavy traffic if your not in sync with the bikes around you. It didn't take long for all of us to begin to feel comfortable. We made it to Gettysburg by lunch. The original plan was to stop for more pictures on the battlefield somewhere but there was a motorcycle rally and a battle re-inactment going on. We couldn't get near the place so we had to move on. We dropped down from Gettysburg and picked up US 50 west. When we got into the West Virginia the road turned into a wonderful twisty mountain road. One lane in each direction. We had a great time. I didn't take any pictures as there wasn't really any place to pull off. Besides, I was having too much fun to stop. There was lot's a fooling around on the straightaways.... Matt scared me half to death went he came up beside me one time and let loose with his new pipes. They're loud. And Mike Sapsis and I haven't gotten into a single fight...but the trip ain't over yet. We finally made it in to Athens, Ohio around 8 PM. A long day but well Rte 50 made it well worth it. Tomorrow we're off to Carlyle with a lunch break set up for us by Dana Taylor and the Mount Vernon High School Chapter of USITT. We haven't been able to reach Scott so we don't know how he's feeling or if his bike is running. We're all hoping he's OK. See you later. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Greg also writes: July 9, 2006 What is the deal with the drivers in Philly? I noticed Bill didn't mention a couple of incidents, which can only mean that it's the norm there for drivers to careen from lane to lane with wild abandon. While still in the city, parallel to the park, a young lady of about 17 years was riding in the far left lane. Her exit was on the far right. Between her and her goal rode a bunch of bikes and a chase van. No matter that, she didn't even signal, just started into our staggered line of bikes. Matt was riding 3rd from the back, in front of me and Bill. She nearly clipped Matt's rear tire, and since Bill and I were in the very back, we were left to dance with her Toyota. Alice and I applied as much brake (and horn!) as possible without "high-siding", and watched in one of those slo-mo moments as Bill and the concrete barrier got closer and closer and closer to each other. As Rob observed later, you could almost sense the confusion in the girl "That's my exit, there's these bikes, but that's MY exit! It's so much trouble if I miss MY exit!" I finally cleared enough room that Bill could dance away from the barrier and behind the car, and she brought the car to a dead stop with the nose of her car against the bright yellow apex of the guardrail dividing the exit from the highway. She sat there huddled over her steering wheel as we rode on. Rob and Scott said she was still there when the exit went out of sight around a curve. Maybe the car's still there. Somebody ought to check on her... and teach her to drive. About 3 miles later, the _exact_ same thing happened with a small red car, only this time the driver managed to shoot the gap between Matt's bike and David Edelstein's bike. We all scrambled in the back behind the brake lights. After that, it was relatively smooth sailing. The turnpike was instantly forgettable, which was I suspect by design. Gettysburg was packed wall to wall with tourists and bikers (how dare they!). Highway 50 made it all worthwhile. Highway 50 will take the kinks out of any morning. Highway 50 was put into place specifically because of motorcycles, I'm sure. Matt wanted to stretch his legs on the Buell with its amazing 52 degrees of lean angle, so he manuvered up near Moe & Mike Maynard, and had some playtime in the twisties. West Virginia and eastern Ohio both have some amazing old houses that dot the roads, but you can't see them from an interstate. You can trace the family development on the land with the different age houses on the same tract.
Once in Athens Ohio, I bought some medical tape and put an "L" on his left boot, and an "R" on his right boot, so he can just look down before broadcasting which direction he's calling and check himself. Now if he can just remember to put his boots on the right foot...
|
|||||
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Good to go! | Grits and leather | Leaving San Diego | The Western Cast & Crew | Red Rock | Porqua at Bun Boy |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
| Going to Zion | Bikes and Arch - Zion | Kenneth in the Narrows | River walk | Leaving Zion | Virgin Goods Utah |
Loren writes from the West Coast: July 8, 2006 No, the ride didn’t really start until we left the smog at the foot of the Cajon Pass—a grand, winding road that splits the mountains and divides the temperate coast from the scorching desert. With Woodstock leading the way, we slithered among the slower traffic with the Toyota Chase Conestoga struggling to keep up. Victorville came and went, Barstow was just a blip for lunch and then Baker, where we stopped for gas near the famous Bun Boy restaurant. Bun Boy features a 100 foot tall thermometer, which, at the time we arrived, indicated 115 degrees! The heat abated slightly as we climbed out of the valley and slipped by Primm, Jean and Sloan. Finally the Las Vegas Strip materialize out of the shimmering desert, but just before we hit the Strip we turned to the west for Red Rocks and the Bonnie Springs Motel. The Bonnie Springs Motel was built in the 1950’s and never left the decade. It features an old west town, complete with ol’ timey melodramas and daily hangin’s, a petting zoo, trail and train rides and, kitchiest of all, each room has faux hardwood carpeting. For those of us who came of age in the 50’s and 60’s, the motel is a little like stepping back into childhood. Not to mention it sits at the feet of some pretty stunning rock mountains. Dinner at the motel diner and that was the first day. July 9, 2006 The Harley Dealership was closed, so we hit the motel in Hurricane long enough to change into shorts. We left the bikes at the motel and headed up the road in the Conestoga for Zion National Park. The shuttle bus took us up the valley of indescribable natural pulchritude—great vermilion cliffs topped with whipped limestone and a sprinkling of pine. Buckeye wanted (nay—demanded) to take the River Walk all the way to its nether end, despite the sudden thunderstorm forced us to take cover under a puny cottonwood tree. So we walked a mile in the rain to where the canyon narrows and the trail ends. We waded in river and soaked in the beauty around us. Woodstock thought of her brother Michael, who died of the terrible disease we are riding to fight, and, despite the rain, we could see the tears in her eyes. Sox filled up his 1 gigabyte camera card, so it was time to head back. Woodstock cadged a plastic bag from a hiker and collected old water bottles, newspapers and a diaper that less fastidious @#$@% visitors had left at the end of the trail. At least it had stopped raining. Cold and damp and tired we stopped at Wendy’s and used the Wendy’s Dollars so thoughtfully provided by Moe and his contacts at the company for a take-out dinner we consumed by the pool at the motel. And that, after a well-deserved shower, was the second day. Tomorrow—Arches National Park! |
|||||
