West 2007
  
 

Day 10

September 21

  
 

Today is the start of what I always call 'the long grind home'. It's just part of a trip like this and that is why I have my STs customized to be as comfortable as possible for long hours in the saddle. My Russell Daylong Saddle with a backrest has been worth every penny it costs, and so have the Highway Wings, large Clearview windshield, MC Cruise Control and my 20 GB MP3 player that lives in the top box, just to mention a few things that I have done. To me, long distance riding is not so much about how tough you can be but how creative you can be. Knowing what I've got to do today, I'm up and at it early. The temps are pretty cool but not too bad, so I make a note that I'll need to break out the Gerbing heated gear this morning. I stroll over to Margie's to check out there breakfast. When I walk in, I see the same feller that waited on me last night for supper.

"Man, you still here?" I ask him.

"Yes, I gotta pay the bills" he tells me.

"Well, I'm headed back to Tennessee on the bike today" I add.

He gets a faraway look in his eye -

"Yeah, that's something I've always wanted to do is travel on a bike. I've just got to get a bike."

"Well, you need to pull the trigger and go for it" I tell him.

He brings me breakfast quickly and his service is really good this morning. But I don't tarry long and finish my grub pretty quickly. If all goes well, I'll be in Flagstaff, AZ for the night, Elk City, OK tomorrow night and then the Holler after that. I figure today will be right at 600 plus miles with 250 of it on backroads - and that can make for a long day. I'm back to my room, clear out, check out, and put the wheels in motion. I take 101 north and the morning traffic has already reached a feverish pitch. Fortunately it's only 8 miles or so til I'm off on highway 58 and I'm mighty glad to see the exit. Highway 58 turns into a really sweet surprise and this morning I pretty much have it all to myself.

 
 
 
  It wanders through the farmland as it makes it way toward Bakersfield. The empty fields seem to run right up to the mountains in the distance, with very few houses to be seen anywhere.  
 
 
  Then I find me and the SweetTreat climbing up into the mountains that we saw in the distance. There's some great sweepers and I can make good time since there's no company out here - cars, trucks or patrolmen.  
 
 
  Back down off the high ridges, I pass field after field of freshly bailed hay. I remember those days as a teenager when I got paid a penny a bail for hauling that stuff. With a good crew and a close barn, you could make a decent day's pay if you hustled enough. The best spot was to be on the truck as stacker but I like everybody else started on the ground tossing the bales up on the truck.  
 
 
  I can't help but be amazed as I see a windmill farm on a distant ridge. The things just fascinate me so I add another windmill picture to my collection. I think they are a great idea to harness a renewable resource if energy if they just weren't so big and ugly and take up so much real estate.  
 
 
  Rather than take highway 58 straight through Bakersfield, I jump on I5 at Bowerbank and head south to highway 223. It will hook me back up with highway 58 southeast of the city. The plan works well and I avoid most of the city traffic. But I notice some ominous looking weather off to the east.  
 
 
 

Soon it's just a little dab of I15 at Barstow and I come to the modern mother road, I40, and a sign that I am very familiar with. It reminds me that I am still a pretty good distance from the house. It's sort of funny to think that this same interstate runs less than a mile from the Holler as the crow flies on it's way to Wilmington.

  
 
 
 

Just outside of 29 Palms Marine Corp base, I stop for fuel at Ludlow. Now that I am in highway mode, it's a quick gas up then back to it. I still keep one eye on the clouds and they sure don't look promising in the distance.

  
 
 
 

Once thing I've learned riding out west, is that I don't run the STs down to empty then start looking for fuel. Once I'm at the half tank mark, I start watching for highway signs as to where the next gas is. Some sections of I40 can get pretty lonesome and a feller that runs out of gas could be sitting for quite a while. I just keep steady at it, slowly chipping away at the miles. I find myself in a cycle of stopping about every 150 miles or so, gassing up and looking at the weather. At one stop a young feller, about 16, is outside picking up trash and sees my bike. He's drawn to it like magnet and carefully looks it over.

"You know I ride too, but I'm a motocrosser. I was racing my 450 in the dirt and it got away from me. The bike throwed me and then hit me and I was in a coma for 2 days. My momma was really worried that I wasn't gonna make it. But I came out okay except for a steel plate in my leg."

"Well", I tell him, "Bikes will hurt you when you least expect it. That's the reason I wear this protective gear."

And I'm thinking to myself that he's gonna know every time it's fixing to rain for the rest of his life.

"Yeah, I should have been wearing some more, but now I know better. I've got the bike rebuilt with custom parts and hope to be back racing in a month or so."

"Well, just be careful when you go back out. You'll have to deal with a tight gut until you get used to it again - that's just part of it."

He nods his head and then goes back to his chores.

I'm making good time so I decide to pull off at a Chevron in Kingman since I don't have enough tank left to make it all the way to Flagstaff. I can't help but notice a good looking Cutlass 442 ragtop sitting in the parking lot. Those things could burn off a set of tires pretty quickly if you didn't keep your foot out of it.

  
 
 
 

The sky doesn't look too friendly, so I mount up and head on. Not many miles down the road, I notice a real pick up in the wind speed. The sky grows darker and darker so I take the next exit off, figuring I'd better batten down the hatches and get on my rain gear. But it's almost impossible to get done because the wind has picked up so much. I wrestle with my rain coat and can't get one of arms in the sleeve the wind is blowing it so hard. Finally a feller in a nearby pickup truck gets out and helps me get it on.

"Thanks a bunch, man, I was having a real struggle there with the wind."

He says "Yeah, I know what's it like. I ride a Harley and it can get rough."

I thank him for his help then I make sure everything is secure. As I head back out on I40, I run into one of the worse storms I have ever ridden through. It's raining so hard I can barely see and the winds are blowing to beat the band. Up ahead I see two vehicles running side by side - a truck in the right lane and a SUV in the left. Their combined backwashes are killing me and the SUV is just staying along side the truck like a rolling roadblock. I lay back for a few miles, but the madness just continues. If I stay where I am I'm probably going to get hit from behind or blown off the road by the storm. There's no safe place to pull off and I sure don't want to be sitting on the side of the interstate in this mess. Finally, I decide I'll had enough of these monkeyshines. I drop the SweetTreat in a lower cog and pass the SUV on the left apron like he's parked. Boy do I get a surprised look as I almost take off his left mirror. It's certainly not a move that I would advise anyone doing, but sometimes you have to take extraordinary measures in extraordinary situations. Once I'm past them I run out of the worst of the storm pretty quickly and manage to arrive in Flagstaff in one piece. It's a Motel 6 again and I'm sure thankful to see this one alive and upright.

 
 
 
  I notice on the way in there's a Red Lobster about a 1/2 mile away, so I unload the bike, swap into some comfortable clothes and make the walk. It feels good to stretch out the old legs and the meal is not bad at all, though the service is a bit lacking. Seems if the lady waiting on me has a friend in the next booth who is much more important than any of her other customers. But sometimes that's just the way it is so you just get over it. After the walk back, I realize just how tiring the last part of this day has been. As soon as my weary head hits the pillow, I slip into a blissful semi-comatose state until morning.