I've known Lowrider for 25 years, he's the reason I am in Florida. Great
guy, stuck in the 60's.. rebel without a cause, still a hippie. He drives a
20 year old Lowrider, coincidentally enough, which he chose to paint
'Day-Glow' green just before the trip. I only met Joe when he pulled into
Lowriders' driveway. A big boy, on a Full dressed Harley. Neither of these
boys wasted alot of soap and water on their vehicles.
My bike, is nothing but shine and chrome. It has a bunch of performance
tricks, and runs well. I am nuts about it's care, and took a bit of a hard
time on this as the trip progressed.
Of course it rained in the afternoon as we considered what many would call a
ridiculous trip. Lowrider and I had 10 days, Joe was staying up north
longer as he, being a civil servant, had 21 days to putt through the
countryside. A break in the clouds occurred around 7:30PM, as Joe pulled up
to Geoff's (Lowrider) door. In a matter of minutes we were on our way...
first stop; Jacksonville Florida and Bobo's house, an old friend of Lowrider.
We got to Bobo's in about 3 hours... lost just a bit, and got wet with 5
minutes remaining. Geoff is quite a navigator, we will come to find out.
Bobo is a great guy. His family owns a Jaguar dealership, and he and his
lovely wife made us very welcome. His young daughter flirted, his 16
year-old was ready to jump on the back, and we were sorry not to have more
time for them, but we left around 10:00 in the morning for Charleston, South
Carolina.
We decide that there was to be no interstates on this trip, so we took some
winding routes through little Georgian towns, that had their heyday before
the interstate came through... These were poor towns; almost ghost towns,
but the hills and fields between them were beautiful. We stopped for lunch
just outside South Carolina and could not believe how hot it was. It was
very comfortable as we left Florida, and without stopping, we had no idea it
was well into the nineties. My much fairer skinned friends were in for
some serious sunburn!
At the border of South Carolina, we stopped. My bike had turned 10K miles
and we took this picture in front of the 'Welcome To' sign.
That evening, we were taken to a club by the ocean. It had Harley parking
up front, but was not a typical biker bar. They had live music and a beer
garden outside. I have never been to a club where the male/female ratio was
so favorable to the men, nor one that had such a high percentage of gorgeous
ladies! Good thing we didn't stay too long, as our trip may never have
continued.
The next morning promised a day long ride without helmets toward the
mountains of Asheville N.C. South Carolina is pretty flat, so the ride was
a bit uneventful. The one thing that did occur, that persisted throughout
the trip, was when we stopped. 'Where you headed', 'Beautiful Bikes', and
on and on. Not once did we stop for gas, or a drink without folks from all
around the country, stopping, commenting on the bikes, and talking about
everything from racing to the election. What a great way to meet people!
Everyone was nice, and we shared a million smiles over the trip with these
folks.
The moment we hit the N.C. border, the roads turned into 'Bikers Paradise'.
Good thing, as none of us were happy to put our helmets back on. UP and
down, left and right, beautiful scenery; this is God's country. We were
headed for the Blue Ridge Parkway the next day, which rides the mountain
tops all the way to Roanoke. I like to twist the throttle a bit, so I found
myself enjoying the roads, and waiting for my buddies to catch up; but when
we finally stopped in Asheville, it was high fives all around. We knew we
were getting what we came for.
Early the next day, we found the rode to glory. The Blue Ridge Parkway is
for non-commercial traffic only and has a 45MPH speed limit. In many spots
you can't go that fast! It's up one beautiful mountain and down the next.
While these hills are not the Rockies, elevations reached 3,900 feet, which
brought with it a serious temperature change my friend in the T-shirts were
not prepared for. I, no forethought at all, happened to wear long sleeves.
We stopped at a summit where the clouds were coming up the left side, over
the road, and down the right side. Office.... what's an office ???
We spent the rest of the day in this blissful setting, and camped out just
outside Roanoke for the evening. We camped in a Hotel; how crazy do you
think we are? If 10-12 hours on 850 pounds of vibrating steel makes you want
to roll a blanket under the stars, I'd suggest you see a therapist. At most
the hotels we chose, we were able to park the bikes on the sidewalk, right
outside our first floor windows.
In the morning we aimed our steeds at northern PA where Lowrider's dad lives
in a 150 year old farm house. The roads were still gorgeous, but the hills
a bit milder. As we wound through a rural Virginia area, my bike just
stalls at 50 MPH. What is with this? I turns out, a cable vibrated loose,
and after a roadside fix and a nice conversation with a farmer on an ATV, we
were back on our way.
Just after reaching the PA border, the skies turned gray, and I knew we
were in for a bad one. Just before it rained, we stopped and got prepared.
Rainsuits, jackets; whatever we had. We put bandannas over our faces like
old west outlaws, to reduce the stinging of the rain on the face (and
consequently fog our glasses). It soon started to come down hard. Trucks
whizzed by, making it almost impossible to see. I soon ducked under an
overpass as this was getting dangerous, but Geoff and Joe were in front and
pushed on. When it let up a bit, I tried again, stopping at the next exit
to see where the boys may have taken shelter; no sign of them.
'Oh great', I thought. Three days in and I'm on my own. Still pouring, I
tried another few exits, stopping at all overpasses to let my glasses clear.
They are nowhere to be found! Finally, I get off the highway, and as I
reach the top of the hill, I spot them under the bridge below. Whew! Much
better now, I ride the wrong way down the exit, and join my party with a much
lighter heart. Shortly, the rain slowed to the tolerable stage, and we
pressed on, knowing good and well the farm just outside of Elmira, NY, was
not in the stars today. We decided, State College P.A., home of Penn State
University was as far as we were going tonight.
We got a room, and spread the wet clothes out all over it. We enjoyed the
spoils that a college town of this sort had to offer, and revamped our
itinerary based on this setback. Geoff and I wanted to blast down Park
Avenue in Manhattan, but realized that the days were slipping away, and it
was not likely to happen.
The next morning, we visited a Harley Dealer just outside of town, where I
had a much needed oil change performed, and my broken cable was repaired.
We all bought T-shirts, and miscellaneous spare parts, and set out for
Lowrider's fathers place. A bit more rain as we wound through the
Pennsylvania country side, but we dried off before reaching this piece of
heaven that Mr. King calls home.
Geoff's dad is 85, and has more energy than I do. His farmhouse is stuffed
into the side of a hill, on a long gravel road. It rained a good part of
the day, but the beauty could not hide behind the drops. We all tried to
fell a tree that died in a lightning storm, but couldn't complete this until
the morning when we threw a rope over it, and ran like crazy away from it
as it fell. We shared many stories and a great meal that day, got
Lowrider's father on the bike in the morning for a picture, and we were
soon on our way.
It was July 4th; Independence day. What a perfect phrase for a day to
travel the country the way we had been doing. At this point, Geoff and I
turned toward home, as we had 4 days left. Joe headed for NY, to spend the
holiday weekend with his family. We said goodbye to him, and agreed we will
do this annually.
So now it is just Geoff and I. We have traveled so many miles over the
years together, but none were as precious as these. Our goal this day was
to get through PA, and crash in Virginia somewhere. Crash we did, as his
bike sputtered to a halt just outside Leesburg VA. It was a dead coil,
which we replaced 200 miles ago with a spare I had brought. I left him at
roadside, and went into town trying to find help or parts. Let's see...
July 4th, 6:00PM, town is having a parade to the fireworks site, headed up
by every tow truck within 50 miles. Needless to say, very little luck. So
I went back, and we locked up his bike before heading into town for a room.
Once settled we went into a Biker bar for a brew. Here we met Tony, and his
lady friend.
Tony not only had the part we needed, he came with us to fix it. 'If this
don't getcha runnin, I'll get the pickup... we aint leavin this baby on the
highway', he said. The part did the trick, and Tony invited us to join him
and his lady to watch the local fireworks. They owned a house on the edge
of the fairgrounds and we parked our bikes on the sidewalk, as others stood
in traffic trying to get a place to put their vehicle.
As I sat there, listening to 'Loving Spoonful' cranking out some old tunes,
I thought...'How unlikely is it to be in small town America, in someone's
back yard, 800 miles from home, watching July 4th fireworks... what a Great
country!' We thanked Tony, and exchanged addresses, and he was on his way to
bed; he had to work in the morning.
Geoff and I lost some time so we pressed on pretty hard the next few days
for home. I could bore you with all the small conversations and sights we
saw, and the great places we passed through on our eastern swing back home.
Suffice it to say, that this was a remarkable adventure.
While it is impossible to convey what we experienced during this journey, it
brings up something that had slipped from me in recent years. Long before I
could afford to jump on a plane to go wherever I needed to, with it's
frustrations and dehumanizing effects, I would drive back to N.Y. amongst
other places, to get where I needed to go. Mostly in cars. These trips
also left indelible memories and experiences. This is the way to get in
touch with yourself, your friends and family, and the people we share this
insanity we call life with.
Forget the airport! Get in the car, or on a motorcycle, or even a bike,
and smell the farms as you pass them! Meet the people and enjoy the accents
that change with every gas stop. Get back to your roots, and hope that the
therapy lasts until you get a chance to do it again.
It finally came... Friday 6/28/96 (ironically my anniversary with my ex).
Haven't had a vacation in years. Now myself, Lowrider and Stroker Joe, are
gonna get on the Harleys and go... some ideas of where we want to go, but no
specific itinerary...
We took off our helmets, as S.C. is the only state we traveled that does not have a helmet
law... What a difference; it was Great! We reached Charleston around 3:00PM,
and went straight to the Restaurant that Twocan's (Geoff's ol' lady) family
owned. The nickname came from Shannon's inability to consume large
quantities of beer. The restaurant was neat as can be; a jazz restaurant,
with a blues club upstairs. They served Cajun food (Shannon's brothers are
the Chefs), and we were given the Royal treatment!
