As is my usual, I'm up early and quietly preparing for the day. I'll be following Bill over the Stockton Motorcycle Club this morning to meet up with some more riders that will join us for 'Bill's Birthday Ride'. Bill sees me up and asks

"You want anything to eat or drink before we go?"

Of course I'm always up for that, so I take a Diet Coke and a banana. I know it sounds like a strange combination, but after working so many strange hours in my previous job, I can pretty well eat anything and any combination at any time of the day. And I really like bananas and usually drink diet drinks, so it works out nicely. Soon we suit up and roll the bikes out of the garage.

It's a short ride over some quick four lanes to get to the club's location just off highway 99. We're the second ones there and a rider on a white Goldwing is opening up the gate. Bill introduces me to the folks that have showed up tells them -

"Phil just rode all of the Sierra Passes in one day yesterday."

I get a few interesting looks from the group.

"I got a picture of the bike at each pass sign while I was at it" I tell them. "I just wondered if it could be done, so I reckon that it can. It wasn't that bad, just made for real long day."

We talk about bikes and riding in general and a little bit about the club. It's pretty amazing to me that this club has been in constant operation since 1924. They do have trouble with graffiti, but they keep the place in really good order. I notice that the building is situated right on curve, so I ask Bill -

"You ever end up with some idiot in your parking lot cause they can't make that curve?"

"No, but we've had some close calls. A truck hauling tomatoes on the highway turned over on the ramp and sure made a mess. In fact those stains on the ramp are from that and they get slicker than you can imagine when it rains".

Soon a couple more STs show up and it's time to ride out to breakfast.

We make our way along some wonderful backroads that rise and fall with the landscape. The weather is just right for riding and pretty soon we arrive at the 50's Roadhouse in Knight's Ferry. My old friend, Alan Tryhorn, is there and I give him a great big hug.

"Man, it's good to see you again my friend" I tell him. He's one of the nicest folks I've met on the ST - and one of the tallest. Al and Deb Barclay from Canada also are there since they are touring in the area on their ST1100s. I tell Al -

"I'll hug you, but don't worry I won't kiss you!"

So I give him and Miss Deb a big Holler hug. Al and I had e-mailed back and forth about my Sierra Passes run but it didn't work out for us to do it together.

We wander in and they have a table already for us. We all order up some grub and it is really good. Nothing better that a good breakfast to kickstart the day. While the others are talking, I go up to our server on the side and say quietly -

"See that old gray-headed feller over there? Today is his birthday, so just put his bill on mine and I'll take care of it."

She says "Sure thing, I'll do it."

Alan sits next to me and we talk about the rides that we've been on together.

"You know Phil, I have to say you have more fun than anybody I know that doesn't drink" he says with a grin.

"Well Alan, I reckon I just have a big time wherever I am."

When the meal is finished, we all pay up and Bill looks a bit concerned.

"I didn't get a ticket" he says.

"Well, I guess it's a magic trick and it just disappeared" I say with a grin.

We're on the road to Yosemite on highway 120 and now I get to enjoy the scenery that I came through in the dark last night. I pick a place a little farther back in the pack this time so I can do a little flower-sniffing and take some riding shots.

Having been warned of the strictness of the rangers on speeders in the park, I tend to lag a bit behind the group. I've gotten a federal ticket before and have no desire to get another one. I figure I'll catch them when they pull off somewhere so there's no use in pushing it today.

Before long, we pull off for another break at a beautiful scenic rest stop. I am very thankful that I have the strength, the energy, the money and the time to be able to visit places like Yosemite. After Yellowstone, Yosemite is my favorite national park. The vistas are just incredible with the craggy mountains and the deep indigo lakes. It is a true jewel in the crown of the National Park Service and I appreciate that it was set aside for future generations like me to enjoy.

We pull out again and Bill and Don, a rider on a BMW, are in the lead and they are running hot. Since there's only one road to get where we're going, I'm just not going to take any chances. Before long I see Don pull out on a double yellow line to pass and my good old radar detector starts talking. I think to myself -

"Somebody's fixing to get burned really bad."

I see the Ranger SUV go past all of us, then I notice he does a bat turn in the middle of the road. As he comes back after us, I wonder if he's going to pull over the whole bunch. I slow down and ease over to the side, but he zooms on past me in pursuit of more promising prey. I breathe a sigh of relief and motor on just like a good citizen, observing all posted signs. Just out of the Tioga Gate, there's a pull off and the other riders are sitting there waiting for the rest of the story.

I'm still stuffed from breakfast, and I know Don Feyma is cooking up a batch of ribs for supper. So I just pick out a piece of scrumptious looking chocolate cake and set down to demolish it. We finish up our respective treats, then I say my good-byes and give my hugs to the folks. We are headed up highway 395 to Bridgeport for fuel, then the rest of the group will be taking highway 108 over Sonora Pass back toward Stockton. I'll be splitting off to head for Don Feyma's over in Smith Valley, Nevada. He has graciously offered me a place for the night and I am very thankful. At Bridgeport, I give Don and Miss Cindy a call -

"Well, I'm in Bridgeport gassing up. How long do you think it will take me to get there?" I ask Don.

"Oh, you're about an hour or so away" he tells me. "My house is on a gravel road, so be careful".

"I reckon then I'll see you shortly. I can smell them ribs cooking over the phone."

It's been a great day so far, but I relish the idea of being on a deserted backroad all to myself. Highway 182/338 turns out to be a real delight and I can crank the wick up just as much as I'm comfortable with. Triple digits come easy out here with no traffic and good pavement. But the scenery is so arresting and I just have to stop for a moment to let it sink in. How fortunate I am to be able to experience roads that some folks will never get to ride on.

As I pick up my speed again, I see something crossing the road in the distance. As I grabbed the binders to scrub off some speed, I finally recognize what it is - a rather large black bear taking his time crossing the highway. I quietly come to a stop and sit there, hoping he's a just passing through and has no appetite for a plump motorcycle rider. But I keep SweetTreat running and in gear just in case he gets curious. I say to myself

"Well, I may just get to see just how fast a black bear can run after an ST1100."

Thankfully, he finally wanders up the other side and out of sight leaving me to proceed alone.

Don's time estimate is right on the money as I find his road and make the turn off. The gravel is not too bad and I manage to make it to his driveway without a mishap. I had met Don at WeSToc VII in Oregon so we were not complete strangers. He holds the title of KOTL - Keeper of the List - the oldest ST riders online forum in existence. He does all at his own expense and on his own time. He and Miss Cindy have recently retired to Nevada and sold the ST1100 to buy V-Stroms, which are more suited to the dual-sport area they now live in. As Don guides me into his beautiful home, I see their two puppy dogs.

Their names are Sassy and Princess, with Princess being the older of the two. I sit down in the floor and we immediately become friends as Don finishes preparing dinner. They are rat terriers and I have never seen such a loving pair of dogs in my life. They just love to be cuddled and petted, which is right down my alley.

Don calls me to supper and we set down to a real feast. I tell him,

"I had a big breakfast this morning, so I sort of skipped lunch. And sure am glad I did. This grub is outstanding."

"Well, the ribs didn't turn out quite like I wanted them to" he says.

"Don, I don't reckon that it's slowing anybody down much" I say with a grin.

Ed, another former ST rider, has stopped by, so we have lively conversations about riding and such stuff. But he has get back to his house, so he leaves us shortly after supper. We wander out to his patio and sit a while around his chimera with Miss Cindy and the puppy dogs. The sunset from his back porch is absolutely stunning.