Come along for the ride

Between 4/16/09 & 5/13/09, I took a ride on my motorcycle around the USA.

Crazy ... I know.

I rode over 10,000 miles through 28 states. Kathy met me in Sedona, Ariz., and then again in Chicago.

I had never taken this much time off (well not since grammar school), and I really wasn't sure if I was going to be able to stand myself after a day or two.

Every three days or so, I would send back little stories, or letters from the road. They were fun to write, especially for an engineer, and I believe they are entertaining. Hope you enjoy them.

If you are not living on the edge ... you are taking up too much space.

-Teddy

CLICK HERE to read the first dispatch, then follow the "Next" link at the end of each item, or click "Newer Posts." You also can use the "Archive" index in the right-hand column to choose posts by date.

No. 9: Heading home

Last night I was in Pittsburgh. I like Pittsburgh. It's got that blue-collar, neighborhood feel about it. I was in Cleveland the night before (to see the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame). Cleveland is nice ... prettier, cleaner ... but it is not Pittsburgh. Pittsburgh is gritty ... in a good way.

I went to Pittsburgh for an engineering conference a year or two ago and I ate at a great little joint (17th Street Cafe), so I went back last night. Once again it was a culinary delight. Afterward, I went to Carson City Saloon (voted #1 sports bar in Pitt) to watch the Penguins/Capitols game. It was pandemonium (I'm not sure what that means but you get the idea). People screaming, cheering, crying ... it was something I will not soon forget.



Today, I rode the Appalachian Mountains and the Pennsylvania countryside. I visited Fallingwater (home designed by Frank Lloyd Wright), the Flight 93 memorial site (crashed 9/11), the Gettysburg battlefield, and Amish country.

All were impressive and thought-provoking in their own way. I decided that my little beard doesn't make me look like a bad dude at all. In fact, I fit right in with my Mennonite brothers (say Amen). Don't worry Gen, I will shave before graduation (Genevieve gets her Masters from Tufts this weekend).

There is one thing that has been on my mind, and i know Vivien will have the answer. What happens to the soap? I have spent the night in over twenty hotel rooms in the last month. Every night I take a shower, use the soap like crazy (the face bar because it is usually about 1/2 the size of the shower bar), trying to use it up, and I don't make a dent in it. I hope that they don't throw those things out.
Look at the bar in the picture - it is a special massaging bar and it still has the little nubbies on it. Do they recycle these things? Even the cute little shampoo containers ... do they get refilled? When i was in Santa Fe I got sick (I can't eat Spanish or Mexican food) and ended up staying an extra night. I had to change rooms, because the room I had was booked. I brought my slightly used soap with me ... it seemed like the right thing to do.

I think that I am ready to go back to work, now.

-Teddy

No. 8: Rocky and Buddha in the Black Hills

Tuesday, May 5, I spent the day in the Denver area. I got my tires changed - oh sweet joy and happiness - then I went to visit Johnny Ponytail at his jobsite. They are pouring 20,000 cys of concrete using symons forms; thick, tall walls and heavy slabs. I asked him why they weren't using doka's, or peri's, or something big. He said that his boss got the symons forms really cheap. I was thinking that we have some tin pans that we could sell to this guy really cheap. Gildo probably has some too.

When I was leaving the site I dropped my bike and scratched it. I put my foot into sloping soft ground and, adios amigo, I was lying down admiring the western blue sky. Stupid! I had dinner with John and Robin, they are well, John is ponytailless, and says hi to all.

The next day I was off to the Black Hills of South Dakota ... in search of Paul McCartney's Rocky Raccoon. I looked in Deadwood (I saw the graves of Annie O. and Wild Bill H.), Sturgis (lots of Harleys there), Hot Springs, Rapid City - but I only saw buffalo.



I also went to Mount Rushmore and saw the world's greatest blasting job. It took 13 years to complete; Turner would have thrown them off the job after nine months.



Meanwhile that song kept going through my head:

Her name was Magill
and she called herself Lil
but everyone knew her as Nancy...

Rocky Raccoon
checked into his room
only to find Gideon's Bible...

I opened the drawer of the night table in my hotel room that night looking for Gideon's Bible, but instead I found a book on the teachings of Buddha. Wow, they certainly have come a long way in the Wild West. I opened it in the middle (like cutting a deck of cards), and read ...

Often people disregard the affinity of their true mind for Buddha's enlightened wisdom,
and because of it are caught by the enlightenment of worldly passions, becoming attached
to the discrimination of good and evil, and then lamenting over their bondage and suffering.

If Rocky Raccoon had read that before he went to meet Magill's new boyfriend, he never would have gotten shot.

Next: Heading home

No. 7: Chris is my co-pilot

Oh the weather outside is frightful
but the fire is so delightful
and since we've no place to go
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

I don't know about you, but this little ditty does not apply to any Americans that I know (especially the Big Apple variety).

We don't like to sit around, we want to go, and we want to move. Sometimes I will drive ten minutes out of the way to avoid five minutes sitting in traffic ... and I know that it is idiotic, but I've got to keep on keepin' on.

This morning I wake, have my coffee, check the weather forecast for my route, load the bike, and I am off. Today, Colorado's 'million dollar highway' awaits, from Durango through Silverton and Telluride and then east to Denver. A good plan ... lots of twists and turns through the mountains. I dress warmly because I know that it will be cold, but the roads are clear and I want get up on those snow covered peaks.

I leave Durango, 60 degrees and I am sweating with all of the stuff that I am wearing. But within 10 miles I am over elevation 7,000 feet, and the temp is now down to 43. I see my first elk (it looks like a deer on steroids). About 10 miles south of Silverton it starts to snow. How very quaint. The road is dry but everything around is like a freakin' winter wonderland. The temp is now 31 and I am at an elevation of about 10,000 feet. I am cautious, but hey, the weather channel said this road was going to be OK. In five minutes I can't see fifty feet in front of the bike. This is bad ... twisty road, steep drop-offs, no guard rails (no guard rails or motorcycle helmets in Colorado; as one guy explained it to me, "Hey, who wants to be a vegetable?"), bad front tire, and slippery conditions. Timeout.

I pull into Silverton; right now I am ready for some more coffee and some breakfast. Today's special: banana pancakes. It felt like I was stepping back 45 years in time to my Grandma Maggie's Brewster kitchen with my Uncle John at the stove making pancakes with all kinds of stuff in them - berries, peaches, bananas, bacon. It was nice, a really good feeling. I calmed down.

Turns out that the chef (and owner) rides a hog (Harley Davidson) and he just got in last night from Pittsburgh. He told me that it rained from Pittsburgh to Denver and when he got past Denver up into the mountains he hit blizzard conditions. There were cars in ditches all over the place.

It scared the heck out of me. He told me that my route wouldn't work and he recommended a different, longer way. He told me it would still be bad around Vail but only for about six miles (love that local knowledge). I showed him my front tire ... he recommended a good hotel in town.

At this point, in my hand, I noticed the St. Christopher medal, which is on my keyring. I got this medal about four years ago, and although I have had my share of vehicular mishaps, if I am using this key ring with Chris, no problems. I gave the situation some thought, and decided that my best course of action would be to turn around, head back down to Durango, and drive south around the San Juan mountain range and then north, east of the mountains to Denver - about a three hour detour. Chris agreed. Six bucks for breakfast, four dollar tip for the waitress (owner's wife), and I was off.

It was now 29 degrees, and the road was icy. But within ten miles I was back down to about elevation 7,000 feet, the temps were up, and the pavement was dry. I rode back to Durango. It was 70 degrees when i got there. Fifty miles on the road, but only 30 miles as the crow flies from Ice Station Zebra.

Seventy degrees ... maybe I should spend another night in Durango. Chris convinced me that it was a bad idea.

Next: Rocky and the Buddha

No. 6: Acquiring a taste for the desert

I was in Lake Tahoe (well, not in the lake) and I went to dinner at an eyetalian restaurant. I picked the place because the parking lot was full. My mother didn't raise any dopes ... a full parking lot means that all of those people think that there is something good about this place. And I was right. I ordered chicken parm, that's what my son Pat would have ordered, but only because they didn't have rigatoni bolognese. It was good (not as good as Mezzaluna). Rain and snow began to fall and it looked bad for traveling the next morning.

It was here that I got a great piece of what we sailboat racers call local knowledge. A drunk guy at the bar (he reminded me of Doc McCosker, so I knew that the info was good) told me that if I crossed the Sierra Nevada's and headed south hugging the mountain range the rain would disappear. Incredibly the guy was right ... I high-tailed (is this a word?) it to Las Vegas.

Meanwhile, after dinner I drove back to the hotel that I had checked in at, which had about two hundred rooms, and apparently, I was the only guy there. The sign on the road said No Vacancy, and the office was closed. There were at least 15 cars in the lot when I arrived at 5 p.m. and that's why I picked the place (see paragraph one about my mother not raising any dopes). Now I felt as if I was in the middle of a Stephen King movie. I wedged the chair under the door handle, moved my motorcycle three doors down as a diversion, closed all the lights, and didn't sleep a wink.

It's times like these that you miss your own bed.

Next morning ... over the mountains, through the rain, and back in the desert. For the last three days, I have been avoiding the rain and in the desert. Now I must admit ... I have been no big fan of the desert ... but I have come to believe that it is an acquired taste. I have grown to like the desert. It is really hot, or really cold, it is stark, lonely, or beautiful. It is the land of extremes ... it is stunning. This picture is from a canyon in the Utah desert.



Saturday, I drove out to Hoover Dam. Check out this picture of a new bridge being constructed over the Colorado River, just south of the dam.



Gildo ... they left the middle out!!! Look's like somebody %$@&'d up the layout.

I then headed east into Utah. I pulled into Richfield, Utah (I was exhausted and parched) and discovered that there were only two restaurants in town. I ate at Steve's Steakhouse (I have been eating at the bar every night, but Steve had no bar, so I ate at a table for four). No problem. Best steak since NYC. Appetizer, salad, entree, three beers, oh and raspberry honey butter with hot bread (unbelievable) ... $32.00. The kid who served me did a great job and reminded me of Vivien so I gave her a $20 tip. She chased after me in the parking lot to thank me.



Today after nine hours on the road, and all kinds of beautiful national parks behind me (see picture above), I am in Durango, Colo. I had dinner tonight at Diamond Belle's saloon, which dates back to the 1800's, listening to live western music. The band had a yodeler, which was cool.

Next: Chris is my co-pilot

No. 5: What I've learned in two weeks

Yesterday, I drove the Pacific Coast Highway and it was great, best ride of my short motorcycle career.

I had sushi last night with John (Gen's beau), he's a nice kid. This morning I pushed out of Palo Alto at sunrise. My bike said it was 37 degrees. I wanted to continue riding north but at eleven it was still only 42 and i was only 100 miles north of San Fran. I was in redwood country near the coast. The woods were big enough for guys like Paul Bunyon and Roy Barnaby, but too big and too cold for this Bronx boy. I decided it was time to turn East.

So here i sit in a little cottage on the shores of Lake Tahoe (another magnificent place), pondering these past two weeks. I believe that i have seen and learned a few things. Here goes:

1) Something that may seem bad at the time, may be really good after all. Example: in August of last year, I was pulled over by a NYC police officer in Manhattan for not wearing eye protection. As a result of that, I purchased a new helmet with a full face shield. On Day 3 in Missississippi (crazy ssss's) my shield - not my face - collided with a big green bug at 70 mph. I think the bug was green because the two inch diameter splat was green. Every day I get a whole spectrum of colored splats on the face shield. Thank you officer...

2) I figured out why the desert is so deserted ... because it is horrible On that subject, things that are horrible, add Phoenix to the list. 97 degrees in April is crazy (disclaimer: I apologize to anyone I know who lives in Phoenix, has friends or relatives there or is ever intending to move or visit there).

3) Tom Cassidy was right. Texas is really big ... and I saw a lot of steers there too...



4) The Grand Canyon is a really big hole. Kathy met me in Arizona for the weekend and we checked it out.

5) Snakes do cross the roads in Mississippi ... and they don't like motorcycles.

6) Motorcycles, unlike sailboats, do not like wind on the beam (crosswinds, for all you landlubbers).

7) It does rain in southern California ... in the desert.

8) These United States are truly a wonderful place ... except for Phoenix.


Next: An acquired taste

No. 4: Reaching the Pacific

So yesterday I reached the Pacific Ocean.

This picture will verify that I am truly on the West Coast. I have not been hiding out in Hoboken, nor have I jumped a subway to San Diego (a la Rosie Ruiz). I am here ... in California.

Today, I am actually in Morro Bay. Great town ...

Today was also a great riding day for me. Five hundred miles ... four special roads, and I found the Treasure of the Sierra Madre (eat your heart out Bogie). It is State Road 33. Sixty miles of twists and turns, ups and downs, I was smiling so hard my jaw still hurts. This may be the best piece of asphalt that i have ridden yet. Sixty miles... After twenty I had enough.

The road ends in a town called Ojai, which is also spectacular.

Tomorrow, Highway 1 past Big Sur. This is it. The mecca of motorcycling, highway numero uno. I hope that I am up to it.

Tomorrow night, dinner with my future son-in-law ... I hope that I am up to it.

Next: Lessons

No. 3: On the reservation

OK so now it is day seven and I found the sweetest piece of pavement yet.

I was in the Fort Apache indian reservation (I have already visited the Navaho, Zuni, and Cherokee Rez), on the New Mexico/Arizona border and I came upon Salt River Canyon. The road twisted and turned up 5-to-8 miles, then down 5-to-8 miles, again and again for over fifty miles total.

This wasn't the deepest drop, but it was the only place where you could get a picture. Thanks to a couple from San Diego (I'll be there Monday) for letting me pose.

Next: Reaching the Pacific

No. 2: Tarkington's

On day 3, I was riding down the Natchez Trace Scenic Parkway out of Nashville, Tennessee on my way to Jackson, Mississippi. I realized that I needed gasoline, so I went to my trusty Garmin and hit the fuel button.

A bunch of stations popped up so I went for the Exxon station which was the closest (4.2 miles). And I believe Exxon is the biggest oil company in the USA since it merged with Mobil.

After riding down roads which got smaller and smaller, I ended up on a gravel road which literally ran through a stream, and at the end of the road was Tarkington's.



I didn't quite know what to make of the place, but I needed gas so I shut the bike engine down and was greeted by the dog on the porch and a couple of roosters.

As I walked up to the porch door I could smell the fresh coffee and baked bread and pies. I opened the screen door, walked inside, and the woman behind the counter asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee and something to eat.

I told her that I needed gas and she said I might as well have a seat because it was going to take a little while for the pump to warm up. She threw the switch on the pump and poured me a cup of coffee. I passed on the food.

Her husband was watching me suspiciously from the next room, and I him. She asked me what I was doing in those parts and I flashed my U.S. Merchant Marine card at her and told her that I was a special government agent down from New York investigating UFO sightings.



She didn't ask me any more questions.

The coffee was free....the gas was eight bucks.

America is a great country.

NEXT: On the reservation

No. 1: Getting started

My second day out from NYC, Friday April 17.

This a view of the Smokey Mountains in Tennessee from the Cherohala Skyway ... a long way from New York. If I can find more roads like this one it is going to be a great trip. Lots of leaning and downshifting ... eeeehhaaaa!!!

NEXT: Gas up at Tarkington's