You Can't See Brooklyn From Here

Tonight we are in Manhattan, Kansas, home of the K-State Wildcats, and a whopping 158 miles from where we started this morning.

Today was a "workday" for both of us.  Donna is evaluating some manufacturing software at her job, and it just so happens that one of the major manufacturing players already using it is Harley-Davidson.  The rep sees Donna's Harley stuff in her office and asks if she would like him to set up a meeting with the engineers who run it in the plant in York and see it in action?  Well, we're going on vacation, so "no."  But if you could work out Kansas City next week, well, that would be great!

Done.  So, we rode our Sportsters back to the place they were born for an 8:00 with John Willis, who led us to his office and on a personalized tour through the plant and the various work cells.  We were 100 feet from the 2012 models, which are top-secret until the official release on Friday, but we couldn't convince him that we had no use for the inside info, and certainly would never put anything like that on the web!  So, no sneak preview.

After that, we headed the 10 miles to the MetLife Kansas City office for a long-overdue visit with some folks I work with but haven't seen in a long time.  From there, we went to lunch at the BBQ joint I wanted to have dinner at the night before, which is a really neat biker-themed place full of Orange County Choppers, antiques, and, oh yeah, great Kansas City Barbeque.  http://www.backfirebarbeque.com/

By now it's after 1:00, we are exactly 10 miles west of where we started, and it's 100 degrees again.  Not wanting a repeat of yesterday, we agreed on a reasonable goal that we could make in a couple hours, and here we are in Manhattan.

That worked out great - the ride here was hell and couldn't end quickly enough.  We dragged our asses into town, crawled into a Wendy's and ordered a Frosty and a gallon of lemonade, and booked in at the Comfort Suites right next door while we were sitting there.  So we were in the pool by 4.  Once our core temperatures stabilized, we were able to get gas, a turkey baster, replacements for a broken pair of sunglasses and an empty bottle of cherry vodka, all within a 3-block radius, and then walk for a BBQ and a beer.  A happy ending in KevAndDonna land.

I'll tell you about the turkey baster and why it's part of our packing list some other time, but it was the one thing we forgot this time, we just didn't get to procuring one yet, and I was about 2 minutes from desperately needing it today.  So we were getting one, one way or another, and with the heat it was nice that the Wal-Mart was right across the street.

Tomorrow will be funny.  And hot. 

One Hundred Seven

Well, *that* was quite a day. 

As detailed below, we had a little bit later start today.  That sounded real good at 8:30 when we were eating breakfast.  We set out about 9:30, clipping the corner of the Ozarks on I-44, before picking up the ghost of Rt. 66 again just past Springfield.  Little did we know we'd just be pulling into tonight's hotel with the same thing displayed on our watch. Eating lunch at the "It'll Do Diner," we came to terms with the fact that getting through to Oklahoma and back up to Kansas City in time for dinner was pretty much not going to happen.  I called to make a status report, and got us off the hook for our dinner plans.

We then lucked into an awesome afternoon of sightseeing and batting the breeze with one of the most entertaining and interesting people we've ever met in Paris Springs at the Sinclair station.  Had we not decided to make a u-turn, we'd never have had met Gary, and we'd have about 50 less pictures.

Following 66 into Joplin, we came to a chilling scene we will remember forever.  Coming from the north, everything looked like a normal Midwest town of 16,000 people.  Cresting a rise at about 20th street, the scene changed almost instantly to a war zone.  We were awestruck by both the destructive power of the tornado, and the precision with which it struck.  Just two blocks away there was no sign of damage.  But the tornado's path was wide, and ruthless. 

We continued on 66 through the 12 miles that pass through Kansas and into Oklahoma, just to say we were there.  A few miles down the road, we turned back toward Kansas and made a beeline for KC. 

Did I mention it was 107 degrees through all this?

We drank probably 2 gallons of water today and dumped at least that much over ourselves.  I employed the old biker trick of taking off my shirt and soaking it, which works amazingly well at cooling you down at at speed, until 3 minutes later when it's completely dry again.  The last leg northward, through untold miles of nothingness, was unbearable.  And I blame Donna entirely, because she said after all the rain we've ridden through this year, she didn't care if it was 100 degrees every day, as long as the sun was shining and she was getting a tan in her spaghetti strap top. 

Ask, and ye shall receive.

But honestly, we have a strict 'no whining' rule, and we both held up our end of the bargain, just like always.  The alternative was to go nowhere and see nothing, which to us isn't much of an alternative at all.  Right now, we're both cool, clean and happy, even if dinner did come out of a vending machine in the lobby and our gummi bears are melted into one big blob.  We're ready to give it another go tomorrow, but I can tell you that we'll be off the road *much* earlier.  Even though excused from dinner, we had to keep plugging to get here because of an appointment tomorrow.  Check back in and see what it's all about.

Gettin' Our Kicks

I'm pretty sure this title was used for another post somewhere back in the archives.  Maybe even two, if you go back to my old blog.  But, hey, what else would you call it?

We're in Rolla MO, about 100 miles down the Mother Road from St. Lou.  Old Rt. 66 has been decomissioned long ago, but we're finding traces of it as we pop on and off I-44.  (I know I said just below that we'd be on I-70 for days.  We're doing well enough that we could afford the detour to see some sights, and we're headed down 66 to Joplin, a peek into Oklahoma, and then up to Kansas City and back on I-70

This post was almost titled "Kevin Goes to White Castle" because I was in a tizzy Saturday night when we had stopped at a neat Mexican place, only to end up checking into a hotel RIGHT NEXT TO A WC.  Now, we don't have many of these things back home, and I absolutely love them.  I almost ate twice.

But we stopped for gas today in Terre Haute, and it was lunchtime, and I ended up with my sliders at the very next meal.  So everything is OK, no need to call for help, thanks.

It's HOT - After a great start, yesterday was the kind of hot where it's 8 am and you're sweating while loading up the bikes.  Oh well.  Donna said after all the rain we rode through this year, and freezing in July, she'll take hot, humid, sunburn without a whimper.  And she's true to her word.  We both are happy as clams.  We'll see if it lasts.

We got in kinda late again Sunday night, but at about 4:00, we called ahead to book a hotel with a pool, so we at least had that to look forward to.  And we got to see the World's Largest Ketchup bottle and Largest Rocking Chair, so I mean, it was worth it, right? It was about 9 when we got out of the shower, fixed a cocktail and took a dip, and that's after gaining an hour during the day.  We hung out with some 8-year old kid and his Grandpa, who we bedazzled with our tales of adventure while our body temperatures stabilized. 

So here we are behind the 8-ball already for today; I still have to shut laptop down and pack everything up. Our hopes of getting some miles in before the heat really gets going are dashed.  We have a room booked for tonight, and "only" about 325 miles to cover, so we're good. Check back tomorrow for some pictures.

Enjoy your day at work!

Richmond, IN

Beautiful day, 0% humiditiy, and no holdups.  We were hoping to cover a lot of ground today, and we actually got 50 miles more than we'd hoped; 560 today.

Today's funny moment:  Donna usually asks me at gas stops, "what's next?"  I give her the towns we're heading for, routes, turns, etc.  This gets her "engaged" to use a corporate-speak term, but more importantly, she can pull up alongside me and smack me if I'm daydreaming and miss a turn.

So after one tank (110 miles) we're fueling up before getting on the PA Turnpike, and she asks, "what's next?"

I tell her, "Well, we're getting on the turnpike here, then in Breezewood, I-70 will merge in.  When they split, we'll keep to I-70 and stay on that for a couple days."

That oughta be easy.

Wagons West!

It's almost time for KevAndDonna's annual week on the road.  This year, we're having a double-coupon special:  We're going to visit the Wild West, and take two weeks to do it.  Our crazy week is progressing along nicely, the bikes are ready, and we're on target to hit the road first thing Saturday.

Our itinerary is just a rough framework, taking us to Wyoming via Kansas, and back home through South Dakota, Iowa, and on eastward.  We're planning to hustle like crazy the first couple days and then again the last couple days, and in the middle we hope to

be able to stay in the same place once or twice to slow down the pace and smell the flowers.

We'll pass the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, cross the Continental Divide a few times in Colorado, spend a day at a rodeo in Wyoming, and then spend some time in the Badlands before heading east.  We're also both planning to visit friends from work that are based in places we'll be passing through.

Cross your fingers for us that all the rain chronicled below is payment in advance for 2 weeks of sunshine, and that we'll have good luck and no mishaps along the way.  In return, we promise that we'll update this as often as we can (but not every day) to let you know where we are and what kind of neat stuff we've come across.

Disaster Tourism

Saturday morning, we rode to the same little place for breakfast, because damn, we've never had homefries like that before.  And, it's half the price of the buffet at the Holiday Inn.  Our timing was perfect; we got there just as the V-Max club was saddling up to leave.  Always loved those things since Yamaha introduced them in '85.  They're some badass hot rods - the original musclebike in many eyes.

The forecast was a little better, but you'd never know it sitting there.  Our agenda for today was the Quecreek Mine rescue site, a ride to the highest point in PA, and a stop at the Flight 93 Memorial .  I had wanted to visit Fallingwater and maybe Kentuck Knob, two neat Frank Lloyd Wright-designed houses, but decided they had to wait for another day.

The mine rescue site was really neat, and the farmers who own the site have a ton of artifacts and stuff, which they're happy to describe in as much detail as you'd like.  Nice people.  Leaving Quecreek, I realized I needed not only my leather jacket, but the sweater I'd left behind in the room.  No lie.  I had to stop at Wal-Mart and buy one, which isn't a simple thing to do the week of the summer solstice.  We got to the top of Mount Davis, and at the base of the lookout tower I could see my breath.  June 25.  Seeing my breath.  What.  The.  ????

We endured the day's ride wondering when the cold, gray sky would spritz on us again, and it continued to answer us periodically.  We visited the Flight 93 temporary memorial, and then, chilled and tired, we headed back toward Johnstown.

It was then that each of us came to a realization.

I love nothing more than strapping that pack on the ol' girl and riding off into parts unknown.  Now I am doing it with my princess right alongside, and I just can't describe how good that feels to me.  I can honestly say that I have everything I want. I can also say that I don't mind a rainy day now and then; and in fact sometimes it's actually kind of neat all nestled in my little cocoon with the rain pinging off me and the windshield as people look at us like we're crazy.  (Crazy?  Us?)

But honestly, right then I was just plain sick and freaking tired of riding my motorcycle in and out of rain.  Even when it's not actually raining, you're looking up wondering.  It's on your mind.  When it starts, do you pull over and suit up, or will it be brief?  I never feel as dumb as I do after guessing wrong and putting a rainsuit over soaking wet clothes.... Or, in places where you just missed the rain, your boots and legs are soaked from the wet roads.  The bike has been cleaned 4 times in the last month and is filthy again.  I'm freezing.  I had had enough.  For the first time that I can ever remember, I just wanted to park the damned thing and do something, anything, else.  For this reason, I cannot entitle a blog entry a "Flood of Good Times."

Donna's realization, which she shared later on, was that we'd basically spent two days in the area looking at historical sites that are based upon some kind of disaster or other.  And, she's right.  Kind of weird for the vacation bureau to have to say, "Come visit us and see all the calamity for which we're famous!"  And of course, there's so much more beauty and legacy there, but what's the first thing everybody goes to look at?

Just outside town, the sky got lighter and we stopped at a genuine bikers-in-a-field party with all kinds of freaks and hairies doing all the freaky things that happen at those sorts of things.  We were too late to sign up for the bike games that I love to do, so we watched the slow race and keg roll, etc. and left in the middle of the weenie bite.  Saturday night was pretty lively in town, and we spent our last night finishing up the booze and watching all the action.

Sunday morning, we hit the road (after our daily breakfast at the Corner Coffee Shoppe,) and never did a mostly-cloudy day look so good.  On the way home, I thought again about how cool it is to be able to do this stuff with my parents, and how good a set of traveling companions we all are - which you're probably sick of reading about by now.  But if you could have seen Mom and Donna laughing and carrying on like a couple teenagers that first night, soaked from the knees down from splashing around in a water puddle in front of the stage, you'd probably have to agree.

Photo Album

She'll Be Comin 'Round the Mountain

I was looking forward to titling this post "A Flood of Good Times" or some such play on the great Johnstown Flood. And it was a good time, don't get us wrong. And we did get to the site of the breached dam, and all the historical exhibits about that fateful day in 1889. But...

We go to these bike week things to party, yes, but we don't wake up at 11 and start drinking. We are there on the bikes, so we're gonna ride 'em. Take in the sights, do the tourist thing, and do some cruising around on our days off. Then, we always pay the premium (read: price gouging) rate for the hotel room in town, so we can park the bikes, and *then* act like idiots.

Which we do pretty well.

Anyway, back to the "but." Once again, we had the rainsuits on during the ride out. Not the whole way, but still... We got the lay of the land, then came back and worked our way into a bottle of Jose Cuervo, and danced to some good music between showers. The next day (Friday) was looking like more rain than Saturday, so we decided to stay "close to base," and did the flood stuff (actually 15 miles out of town) before moving on to some transportation history where the "way west" in the early days was blocked by the mighty Alleghenies. The South Fork Dam, which broke to flood Johnstown, is tied into that history as well, along with the Portage Railroad, Gallitzin Tunnels, and Horseshoe Curve, all of which we also visited Saturday.  In the rain.  Ended up wet and 40 miles from "home" instead of 65. Way to take the safe route.

Interestingly, we happened upon something that railfans come from all around to see but rarely do. Horseshoe Curve has 3 sets of tracks that carry trains up the long grade over the ridge. Pusher locomotives based in Altoona help them up and then brake them down the other side. If you visit long enough, you'll probably see a train.  Since we paid to get in, we decided to climb the steps to the viewing area, and within 2 minutes, a train was heard climbing the grade. Then, lo, along the downward slope came another. Wouldn't you know it, they met head-to-head directly in front of us at the center of the horseshoe, where your valiant reporter snapped a photo. So, two bikers who couldnt have cared less happened to record something that probably would have made a rail buff's whole vacation but will never get to see. Then, while those two trains were clanking by, a heavy coal train came around the bend, slowly and deliberately making its way down the grade. Trains on all three tracks. Neat.

So, we spent the day seeing what an ordeal it was to cross the mountains in days gone by (the Portage Railroad shortened the trip from Philly to Pittsburgh from 26 days to nine!), something you never think about as you zip through the tunnels on the turnpike at 70 miles per - or fly over them at 500. We got back kind of late, and found ourselves with some partying to catch up on.

Which we did pretty well.