Bike 1999

Two Lanes to Tulane: Clockwise Around the Nation

In the fall of 1999 I was one of many downsized in high tech Silicon Valley, but instead of the unemployment lines I settled in on the white lines of the highway for a well deserved vacation. I called all my relatives, kissed my divinely tolerant sweetheart, loaded up the motorcycle and headed east on a 10,610 mile adventure Clockwise Around the Nation.

When I was done I donated 10¢ for each mile I rode on this trip to Doctors Without Borders (Medicines Sans Frontiers). Others pitched in another generous 12¢ per mile. I will spare the preaching but to say this international, non-denominational, non-governmental organization has over the years quietly brought volunteer doctors to the worst conditions around the globe. The doctors volunteer and the vast majority of contributions are for medicine and other materials. This organization won the 1999 Nobel Peace Prize while I was on this trip. Visit them at DWB.ORG or at their international site MSF.ORG to learn more about the organization. Please consider joining me in making a contribution of whatever you can afford for this great cause, and I would love to hear from you if you’ve decided to help out.

Enjoy the ride:

The West

9/1/99
I’m cleaning out the office and expect to be done building robots and conveyors by Friday with a nice party the following day. Please drop by on the 4th of September in the afternoon to help out with the potluck Bon Voyage party. Then once all of the holiday traffic is back in the big city I will be taking off for a clockwise tour of the nation. First stop: Denver.

9/3/99
Final day at my first job as an engineer. A voice across the restaurant says “we can allocate future profits however we want,” and I can drift away, disconnected from the business of business. I’m committed to reconnect to the business of being who I am, finding comfortable neutral ground of Toniness by force of will and a long vacation’s implied potential for patience.

9/5/99
The party was a delight. A pleasantly simmering stew of old friends bound now by association instead mutual conscription. Friendships that will stretch out for years like the guys from your squad in the service or from your freshmen dorm. Now about the business of packing, discarding, shopping, and repacking. What does one need for two months on the road? How much rain will I have to deal with? How often will I be able to (have to) throw up the tent? How will I attach the portion of map that I am currently driving on within my view? A million details, few of which I have thought about, and only a few more that I will actually resolve before heading out and figuring it out as I go.

9/8/99, to Tonopah, NV
Nice ride over the hill with my one day partner, Phil Stewart. The smoke-filled air of the Sacramento valley gave way to clear air on the Nevada side of the Sierra’s. We explored the well cared for ghost town of Bodie near Mono Lake.

After a nice dinner with Phil in Tonopah I retired early. Deep sleep. I returned to Tonopah dimly, slowly, sometime after 11PM. The extra pillow over my head was enough for most of the trucks downshifting as they climbed the last hill into town, but there was a mechanical noise, like a fan bearing or a dying compressor from an old refrigerator. In time I found it to be a cricket in the bathtub hiding under the shower curtain and calling for all he was worth to his friends outside. Great acoustics, but he needs some work on his timing. I showed him out the front door.

9/9/99, to Grand Junction, CO
The dust and pollen of the desert has turned my eyes blood red, which along with the hair gives me an introduction as a crazed later-day Don Quixote storming the nation on mechanized horse. I blasted across most of Nevada and all of Utah, rising early and breaking late. I was 300 miles into Utah before I realized I was in Mountain Time Zone.

One charming woman keeps a gas pump and store at Lockes, NV, an oasis of love on a very bleak road. Everyone else I saw in central Nevada was involved with radioactivity, either cleaning up after an early A-bomb blast or getting ready for the new radioactive waste dump. The road is The Grand Army of the Republic Highway. Fitting.

9/11/99, Denver
Colorado has great mountain roads. The good news is that they have the most efficient systems for working on roads. The bad news is that they are always working on them. Heading south out of Grand Junction on US50 one experiences the clash of the panoramic titans with the Grand Mesa on the left versus the spectacular San Juan Mountains on the right. The mountains layer one range in front of another six deep and then cement the victory later when Monarch Pass dumps you at the foot of the majestic Collegiate Range.

9/12/99, Denver, CO
Some bad omens have come to me in the last few days. Not unexpected, but people keep mentioning the onset of winter. It started with the waitress in Salida that mentioned to her friend how much she hated winter and shot me a pitying look. Then at Home Depot today the entire sidewalk display consisted of snow blowers! I am more concerned about a the week or two of rain that a hurricane can dump on the eastern seaboard than I am of winter and snow, but in the fullness of time my challenges will be revealed. I’ll keep riding, hold up in a motel, or sell the bike and fly home. And some people say you can discover a person’s true character by playing golf with them. Ha!

9/16/99, Denver, CO
Denver has been a splendid vacation. Just a time to relax and enjoy each moment with my mother. We are both hopeless gizmo-goons so when my digital camera bit the dust we seized the opportunity to buy a new toy. Brother-in-law David Digicam Smyth was right on with the recommendation of a DC 215. Check out the latest in the gallery for quality. Too cool to slap the flash card into the laptop and see it like another hard drive. No more downloading.

I have more spaghetti here oozing out of various bags than I can fathom on a cycle trip. Connectors and cables for the tunes and the digital camera. Mice and modem cables and the power supply for the laptop. I can imagine what other bikers would say. Simply the quantity of spaghetti I carry would disqualify me as a biker to many. But its not what you carry, but how you ride the beast.

I’m off to Marquette, Kansas now to see my grandmother’s gravestone, and then off to Kansas City, Missouri to see my grandmother. Spring Green, Wisconsin by Sunday. TTFN.

The North

9/19/99, Kansas City, MO
Suddenly I was piloting a thousand pounds of free form mass into a tight cloverleaf exit with the power steering and power brakes out and 300 pound gorilla on the back seat violently lunging left and right to disturb the balance. That is what the flat front tire felt like as swung onto an exit in K.C., Kansas.

The lessons that motorcycles can teach are many and sometimes all at once. Little pop quizzes in confidence, self-reliance, clear thinking and, in this case, reliance on others. The closest place to stop was behind the Abundant Life Ministry. A kid materialized amidst a cloud of my silent curses and asked, “Do you got a spare on that thing?” For the next three hours Timmy would be my best friend. “Do they have Play Station out there?” he asked of California. Eventually we got a tow to Grams’ house in K.C., MO where I will repair the beast and be underway on Tuesday or Wednesday. No shops are open for the weekend. Grams fed me a delicious stew and we talked about Lydia Pinkam’s elixir and how much her father didn’t understand that new invention, the motor. Then I fell into a deep sleep.

Many of us, including my grandmother, wonder why she is still a firecracker at 92. She joined a community group of older women, but they were all too old. So she joined a younger women’s group, and now they are turning old, too. She drives, entertains and frequently has kids from the local college living in the spare room. You are as young as you feel and owe it to yourself to make the most of every day. Life is good.

PS: Thanks to one loyal reader for committing a penny a mile to The Cause. Greatly appreciate it, my friend.

9/25/99, Spring Green, WI

Once the surly KC shop mounted new rubber, I packed up and rode out for my sister-in-law, Marianne’s place on the wild Lower Wisconsin River.

I shot across Missouri on US 24, a nice and easy ride. From Hannibal I turned north to ride the Great River Road. Several prominent vistas appear out of a turn and slap the unsuspecting motorist, but largely the Great River Road is too far away to view the great river. Each town, of course, has a memorial river walkway and a bridge to view and many of these are worth stopping for a peek.

I pushed for Burlington, Iowa after sundown, but as the fates would have it there were no rooms left in town. So another half an hour through the darkness and in the forming river fog with a frost forecast overnight brought me to the Roy-El Motel. I entered and asked for a room with heat. There had been calls and there was in fact no heat that night. Just a hot shower and a toasty slumber under the covers.

The next morning at Prairie De Chien I turned to ride the river road Wisconsin 60 up the untamed (read “no dams”) lower Wisconsin River. Very nice twisties with some tractors and troopers to look out for, but these were the river views I was looking for. The Lower Wisconsin has many beautiful bluffs which were not scrubbed clean by the Ice Age that leveled the land to the north. This southwestern half of the state was spared the glacial scrub and geologically has been given the romantic name, Driftless.

Yesterday we dropped the bike off for a rear tire and brakes and toured the highlands away from the river where more maples have already started the turn. This previewed the process called Fall that I have missed in California and will experience over the next couple of weeks. The beginning of the end in the cycle of seasons. Glorious.

Going on a hayride today. After that I have no reasons to be here and will head to Boston. A northern storm is blowing across and I will head out tonight or early in the morning to out run it across southern Canada. Weather prediction in the Midwest is a less than exact science. As my grandmother says, something can come over the mountains or down from Canada or up from the gulf and you never quite know which it will be.

9/30/99, Brookline, MA

The hayride in Wisconsin was a gas. The coop Marianne belongs to is in Amish country, but is run by two incredible self-reliant women with two women helpers. The ‘new’ potato digger was originally from the 1890’s, but with a little welding here and there and changing from a harness to a tractor hitch it has new life. Kathy, Sandy, Dawn and Trini have invested a lot in an old life with new twists and I stand in awe of their passion.

[ Four Pics: Tom, Hayride, Potato Digger, Field ]

The map of my journeys shows last night’s take on the storm I outran from Madison. Mom thinks it is funny I chose water to be afraid of. My brother, Eric, kids with “Aagh, I’m melting!” In my experience riding in the rain is miserable and dangerous and largely can be avoided with a satellite loop and a little parlor meteorology. It is a challenging game with deadly stakes and a worthy adversary.

The northern route across Ontario on Canada 17 provided my longest day of 712 miles and a splendid scenic peek at the peak of fall foliage from Sudbury to Pembroke. The series of lakes and the ride down the Ottawa River put this road on the list of roads to ride. Also caught Vermont 104 through Smuggler’s Notch and Stowe on the way to the Mecca of modern ice cream, Ben and Jerry’s. Too many cars, but the leaf colors and the twisted road over the Notch were a treat to experience.

[ Four Pics: North Bay, White Silo, Water, Stetson ]

I’m typing smugly from the swing on my brother’s front porch with the wind and the rain beating the drum the drum around me. Can’t resist thumbing my nose and it looks like it will blow through in a day. My plans are not set for the near future, but the goal is to linger a bit between here, upstate New York and central Penn before lunging south on the Blue Ridge in a week or so. Will keep you posted when I get it figured out.

The East

10/5/99, Skaneateles Lake, NY
I am in a cottage that has no TV and is heated by a wood stove that we installed yesterday burning an oak tree that fell on the beach this spring. The lake in front of me is a mile wide and several hundred feet deep with some of the purest water in the contiguous 48. It extends six miles to the left and ten to the right, around the bend in both directions. Across the way the deep reds and darker oranges pepper forest green as peak colors are still a hundred miles to the northeast or a week in the future. John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk are playing back and forth to one another. I have calm and peace with no host to chat with and catch up on and no motorcycle directing my attention to the road just ahead. This is the first break I have taken from the trip, just a couple of days alone in my aunt’s beautiful cottage a quarter mile walk from the end of the road. I will of course have to return to the workaday world all too soon, but for now I am in heaven and know it. But I have jumped ahead in our story.

[ Four pics: Adirondack Chair, Rocks, Leaves, Cousins ]

My cousin Steve and brother Eric now live in Boston and Brookline, Mass. respectively. I’d never heard of Brookline, but it is a major component of metro Boston. Back at the turn of the century this was Boston’s first commuter burb with new single family dwellings just a train ride from Boston’s thriving financial and industrial juggernaut. We walked easily to great food and entertainment, hardware stores, bagel shops, fish markets, used CD shops, book stores, great schools, all the trappings of the city are within easy reach by foot, but the house is set several blocks away from the busy streets. A choice of T lines give an easy train ride to much of the city allowing a visit to the Science Museum with the girls.

From Boston I took the shortest leg of my trip so far to visit my cousin Randy and Tom in Rhode Island. In the last year Tom has built a massive loft office and a three car garage and this is the largest structure that anyone I know has built. The entire structure came vaguely from a plan and then branched generously into the abstract and individual needs of this land and these people. The space is so new that when I get into bed I brush the sawdust off my feet. Well done.

Now I have arrived at the lake in New York and I can’t bring myself to leave before the weekend. It is cold, expecting the mid-twenties tonight, but with a wood fire and the miracles of down filler I am comfortable.

GREAT NEWS>> The bunch of you have offered the sum of 11¢ a mile to match the dime a mile I am putting in for Doctors Without Borders. We’ve already committed to over a thousand dollars even if I don’t ride another mile. But your not off the hook that easily as I feel at least another 5,000 miles coming on. Thanks a million to those that can help.

[ Four pics: Science, Nieces, Boat, Wing-top ]

10/10/99, York, PA
After an old man in the sea experience at the lake I hit the road with a vengeance to visit three relatives within a stones throw of each other in as many days. Well, perhaps a virtual stone’s throw.

My brother in law David in Farmington near Rochester, NY is drawing toward the close of a successful long run with Kodak. Silly prediction #1 is that David, Kathy and the artistically prolific Eamon will move to Denver when we do in the spring and that Marianne will join us from Wisconsin soon thereafter.

My Aunt Jackie in Ithaca is a talented artist and is so full of positive energy and darned good looks that she was easily mistaken for a woman fifteen years her junior everywhere we went. Ithaca is a vibrant and tolerant town of 30,000 with two attractions above the rest. The planet tour downtown has monuments of the Sun on one block with Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars spaced in their accurate locations according to scale. Jupiter was a couple of blocks away, and by the time you get to Saturn you have to get in the car and drive. Ithaca has falls, too. Ithaca Falls in town, Taughannock Falls to the north and Buttermilk falls to the south. Very nice town. Things to do and nice unusual people everywhere you look. Everywhere.

Then I took a lovely ride down the Susquehanna River to a very pleasant couple of days to sit out a storm in York, PA. The ride I gave Cousin Cindy cemented the decision to buy a new Harley once Dave gets settled in at his new job at the HD factory. By the time Cindy was justifying motorcycles as healthy because all of the fresh air I knew she was hooked. Elena will be riding before we know it. Yahoo!

[ Three pics: Jackie, waterfall, Cindy ]

Tomorrow I think I cannot resist a picture of the Wing in front of the HD museum in town before I head south for Bull Run and Front Royal. Time for a history lesson.

10/14/99, Charleston, SC
Leaving the Harley tour there was no other next destination but the Vietnam Memorial in D.C., perhaps to add closure to my experience of working for Uncle Sam here as a Cryptologic Linguist several years after that horrid war.

When I got to the monument I could only bawl, tears in a flood. I could not talk. I passed thirty or so panels before I reached out and touched a name.

Every patriot that faced the danger of armed service has asked the question, is it worth it. Is that which I am serving to protect, that which I have back home, that which I was raised with, that which I was told but have not found the time or the courage to question, are all of these things in composite worth the risk of my life? There are 58,000 stories, some of whom asked the question, some who could not, but all are departed leaving us the question to ask as a society.

The Blue Ridge Parkway is was a treat. A wet treat, but a treat. Then the ride through South Carolina low country to Charleston. Today I ride towards Hurricane Irene and hope to sit her out in Largo, Florida.

One final goodbye to Applied Robotic Technologies at 4080 Pike Lane. The doors to the robot factory shut tomorrow for the last time. May all prosper and grow.

The South

10/17/99, Largo, Fl
Hurricane Irene was supposed to make landfall in Tampa a few nights ago, but instead she swung east into the Everglades and I spent the evening watching Tom Scott blowing a sax at the Clearwater Jazz Festival down on the waterfront. We barely got a drop from the whole storm here. My fantastic luck holds.

Doctors Without Borders received the Nobel Peace Prize, to my great surprise and joy. What a great tribute.

The South has proven to have great food from Stuffed Trout on the Blue Ridge Parkway to the plate full of Blue, Stone, and Snow crabs that I
just finished in St. Petersburg. As for the southern staple, good grits are very good, but bad grits are just better than poi on the disgusting food
scale.

[ Four pics: beach, volleyball, spa, nasa ]

Cousin David and Rebecca are very involved in the height of volleyball season. I tagged along for a rousing high school match with them refereeing and later U.S. versus Cuban Olympic teams for Americas Cup.

Could I resist posting pictures of me naked on the Internet? I’ll never tell, but I did spend hours catching up with Rebecca poolside with beautiful tropical cotton balls floating high overhead while David worked the ESPN2 booth. US-Cuba airs this afternoon on ESPN2 and today’s big US-Brazil match should air in a couple of days.

On to NASA at the Cape and New Orleans probably Wednesday night. Tulane bound!

10/21/99, New Orleans, LA
NASA is busy making the Space Station and making the dream happen. Two units up and four more ready to go including Italian-built Rafael.

Indications exist that the South would not be a successful place to live with my intolerance of religion. No wonder South Carolina votes for Strom Thurmond over and over again with no NPR and call-in talk shows whose callers start with “So, about the Apocalypse and all that…” and competing airwaves shouting “If you don’t fear God, you will fear everything else.”

After a week in the South I finally snapped. A sweet waitress in Apalachicola on the Florida panhandle wrote ‘God Bless You’ on my receipt in the prettiest Barbie-doll cursive. I could not resist and wrote next to it, ‘No God.’ An hour later my eyes started bulging out and itching from the inside. I have assumed it to be a food allergy, but…. Just glad I had my pills to counter the frailty.

Now I am just blocks from Tulane University. I made it to the French Quarter on Wednesday night to hang with Niece Laurel who just moved from Chicago a couple of months ago. Six hours after I arrived, Griffin was standing on his head with another bike. A non-witnessed hit-and-run took out both bikes doing bad damage and instigating a 4 A.M. tow. We’ll see how bad it is tomorrow, but it was probably a 20 mph hit to the left side of the front fairing and wheel. The forks seemed kind of straight, but I doubt he’ll ever quite ride the same. Fully insured and I cannot begin to express my pleasure at dealing with Honda Rider’s Club of America. With one call they do it all and a tow truck picks me up at Laurel’s bar.

So here is another test of attitude and so far I am doing just fine. New Orleans is a fascinating town and if I get stuck here of all places there is good that can come from it. I am eating like a king and drinking like a tourist. More on good and evil and the soul of the city later.

[ four pics: mansion, laurel, nasty, car ride ]

10/25/99, New Orleans, LA
Allstate will be taking four business days to get a claims adjuster to the bike and he had not heard of the most visible Honda cycle shop in town so I hope he is not completely ignorant of my situation. We’ll see tomorrow. I am annoyed, but have been making the most of what has turned into a vacation instead of a tour.

Sister-in-law Deirdre and her friend Erik have been down from Chicago to visit Laurel this week. Friday we took a white trash road trip to the north across the Florida Keys style causeway to Abita Springs. A visitor center told Laurel there was a Confederate Motorcycle Museum which turned out to be a factory making beautiful machines. We got the full tour by the CFO, leaving the shop guys thinking we were potential customers or venture capitalists. Then on to the best local brewery of Abita. To complete the trailer park wet dream, we were in David Duke country where they still casually use the N word.

New Orleans is a great place to go out and see everything from an Asian restaurant and drag queen show called Lucky Cheng’s to the beautifully ancient bar of Lafitte’s circa 1722. The city is chock full of beautiful houses in the beautiful neighborhoods of the New Orleans elite.

There is so much more to New Orleans than the French Quarter, but this is on the surface the most fascinating and dangerous place. In many ways it reminds me of soul-consuming explosion of humanity’s vices of ‘The Ville’ outside my airbase in Korea. In the midst of all this madness and temptation, if you can find and build your place to stand your moral ground and can hold onto it, you will be fine for life.

[ Four pics: Hellcat, Deirdre, Garden district, halloween ]

10/27/99, New Orleans, LA
The bad news is that the local Allstate guys are completely ineffectual. Now I have the California insurance agents applying pressure. It has been a week and the local agent has neither gotten an estimate from the shop nor visited the shop in person. Unbelievable! {Insert appropriate Bubba joke here.} Looks like I will be here in the town that knows how for Halloween.

The good news is that Miss Brigid will be driving down to visit and complete our twosome of cuteness. She has been in Colorado visiting with her sister, Marianne, who drove out from Wisconsin. She should be here by Friday to share a crawfish etoufee or a visit to the divine Bluebird Café.

[ four pics: Brigid, uptown house, park, sidewalk hazard]

Several long walks today through the uptown neighborhoods watching more interesting architecture: shotgun houses, camelbacks, Creole cottages, and those pseudo plantation columns everywhere. We are near the pretty campuses of Loyola and Tulane as well as Audubon Park. The city is actually six feet or so under sea level, protected by dykes and pumps, and the land underneath is sinking as the underlying water is pumped out. As a result the city has awful roads and ridiculous sidewalks.

Back West

11/1/99, New Orleans, LA
My insurance agent in California summed it all up with, “As much as I love to visit New Orleans, I can’t imagine trying to get any kind of business done there.” Amen. Periodic bursts of smoke and flame shoot out of the top of my head as I try to talk s l o w enough for them to understand that I need to get on with my trip. Cosmetic repairs can wait until California, but I should be safely mobile by Wednesday.

[ four pics: twosome, french quarter, house, celtic races ]

Brigid and I are together again after seven weeks. We’ve taken long talks and walks through the Quarter or Audubon Park. The local Celtic Festival had rowing races and a sheep herding demonstration. We have eaten divinely and had some nice laughs. Last night we made Bourbon Street for Halloween, and now are enjoying our last few days in New Orleans, but ready to turn our sights onward to the West.

[ four pics: sheepdog, watch cat, laurel halloween, new orleans ]

11/3/99, New Orleans, LA
Yesterday we went down the bayou to meet the nasty backwater Bubba’s I always expected were here, but found them far more charming and hospitable than the city folk. I napped on the shore as Brigid picked through the seashells. On the way home we stopped at P.J.’s Oyster Bar, one of many holes in the wall with the same name as fine restaurants in San Francisco, and had my best gumbo, yet. The local Acadian dialects were as delicious.

This afternoon we went out to our favorite local coffee joint, Rue de la Course, to celebrate the return of Griffin. After several careful test rides I got him up to 75 mph on the freeway without problems. Tomorrow we leave the welcoming abode of Laurel, Amber and Paula and caravan to Denver. I am again free to move about the country.

[ three pics: griffin, laurel’s house, courthouse ]

11/5/99, Amarillo, TX
During a nice leisurely break in the Main Street park in Newton, Texas we decided to skip Austin for lack of time and instead take US 287. This two-lane highway becomes the venerable Colfax Street in Denver a thousand miles further down the road. The same Colfax I went to high school on. The same Colfax that Jack Kerouac wrote of in On the Road. And most importantly the same Colfax my mother lives a block from. Heading back home in so many ways.

Crossing Texas we saw the transition from the South to the West over the course of a day. This is the merge that best defines Texas. The day began in Waffle House with bawdy, crass people yelling friendly insults at one another across the room. Grits with that, sir? We finished the day with a genuine Tex-Mex plate while being serenaded by a mariachi band. The hills turned to flatness. The damp Gulf air turned to dry desert with a zillion mile visibility. The Red River itself dried up. Big state.

In general, I do not fit here in Texas. Like the person you are never on the same wavelength with. I don’t know how many angstroms their wavelengths are down here, but mine got to be longer or shorter.

11/10/99, Denver, CO

This return to Denver brought another fine visit with Mom. My special Brigid crossed the mountains to California in two days, pulling a 900 mile day today. I am riding tomorrow on a more southerly route to avoid a Pacific storm. If the rain does get me I need not fear. My new cycle gloves have a rubber strip sewn into the left index finger to use as a visor wiper. Innovation is divine.

The job hunt begins in earnest with a makeover for respectability. The market for mechanical engineers here is slow, but I will persist.

[ four pics: mom, bandito, Jekyll/Hyde, Clouds ]

Now home beckons. The bed, the friends, the dear cat. It is time to wrap this fine adventure up and return to my life. As Bilbo Baggins would say, “Adventures make one late for supper.” Well, this is one late puppy. A very happy one.

11/15/99, Bay Point, CA
I had a sudden, but good interview in Colorado Springs on my way out of state. The place was literally in the shadow of Pikes Peak and just a mile from the Garden of the Gods. The road out of Colorado took me past the beautifully Cubist-styled Sangre De Cristo mountains and over Wolf Creek Pass, the usual recipient of the most snow in Colorado. November in alpine country and I am riding around without half my gear on. Sinful, but once in a while it’s a lot of fun.

[four pics: tendrils, garden of the gods, sangre de cristo, Wolf creek ]

The Navajo Nation charged me $1.50 to go to the Four Corners, which was fine as they own it. At Four Corners a Japanese tourist was surprised when he took my picture, and the picture showed up on the back of the digital camera. At Kalienta, AZ that night I met two Italians on matching red Ducatis with matching Ducati uniforms. Imagine two Europeans amazed at the length of an American’s ‘vacation.’ Love irony.

In Kingman the speedometer indicated this journey had consumed 10,000 miles just as I pulled into a gas station with five motorcyclists. “Hey, everyone! I just hit ten kay!” The usual biker banter followed. I picked up San Francisco’s KCBS before Tehachapi Pass and knew that even though the day was already long, I would get home. At 11:30 P.M. on Saturday night, after a record 900 mile day I arrived home, snug as a bug in a rug.

[ three pics: risky gear, four corners, newton ]

The trip took 9 1/2 weeks and covered 27 states, 2 Canadian provinces, and the District of Columbia. I traveled 10,610 miles, raised $2334 for Doctors Without Borders, was stopped twice, slept in 15 motel rooms, and visited 20 relatives including all of my cousins.

I owe very special thanks to little Timmy for his trust and help when I was stranded in Kansas City. The risks he blithely took letting a stranger into his house against years of conditioning in order to help someone symbolizes the risks Doctors Without Borders make daily around the world in places safe people do not go, not for a message, but just to bring care. Please, if you can, make a contribution to Doctors Without Borders.

[ three pics: trooper, timmy, griffin ]

I cannot possibly give enough thanks those of you that have opened your lives for a few days to me along the way. I already wish I could visit each and everyone of you again soon. But this satisfying trip has drawn to completion.

Now, anyone know of a good Mechanical Engineering job?

Epilogue: 01/28/00

This week truly marks the end of my trip with the last two dangling ribbons tied into a nice bow to adorn my present vacation.

The motorcycle was declared a total loss. Functionally it is fine, but too many dinged panels to replace. I’ve cashed a nice claim check and re-titled Griffin as a Salvaged Motorcycle, upon which I expect to log another hundred thousand miles or so.

As for employment, I’m starting at KLA-Tencor on Tuesday as a Manufacturing Engineer. I will be in the middle of a high-stress, fast-paced scramble to bring to market the best wafer inspection equipment in the world. The job is to take the lovely ideas out of Engineering and turn them into real products on the floor. Just perfect. We will not be moving to Colorado this year, but will move to San Jose soon.

‘BEST OF’ LISTS and some TRIP INFORMATION

BEST MEALS OF THE TRIP
Stuffed Trout at Speckled Trout in Bowling Rock, NC. Great from salad to coffee with bonus points for simple and comfortable jazz ambiance.
Crab Platter at Crab Shack in St. Petersburg piled snow, stone and blue crabs high. Blue collar sass makes the atmosphere.
Lobster feast at Eric’s house in Brookline, MA fresh steamed from Star Market. Succulence in abundance.
Cajun bouillabaisse at Jacques-Imo’s in New Orleans. Seasonings tickled each and every taste bud in my mouth. I want more.
Low Country Saute at the Vickery in Charleston, SC. Started with black bean soup and moved on to shrimp, crawfish, scallops sauted over
grits. Mmm.
FAVORITE ROADS OF THE TRIP
US 88 over Carson Pass with bonus points for Mormon Emigrant Trail.
California 120 from Lee Vining west to Benton has twisties, whoops (you gotta see it),high speed desolation, and Boundary Peak.
US 50 from Grand Junction, Colorado to Canon City, clash of the panorama titans with the mesas versus the mountains. The mountains win
handily.
Canada 17 or the Trans-Canadienne from Sudbury to Pembroke is a long, scenic series of unexpected lake and river views glimpsed through
the endless forest. A road that always enhanced, but never got in the way. Splendid.
Vermont 104 over Smuggler’s Notch from Jefferson to Stowe. Tight twisties through great color in last week of September. Too many slow
people so go early.
Skyline Drive through Shenandoah National Park, VA. Slow but spectacular. Connects to:
Blue Ridge Parkway, Waynesboro, VA -Asheville, NC
WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED TODAY?
Each day is an opportunity to learn from others.
Let go hell, and your fall will be caught on the roof of heaven. – ? –
Creativity is the sudden cessation of stupidity. – Dr. Land of Polaroid fame
A person’s ability is overshadowed by a person’s ability to work with others.
The smart thing is to be prepared for the unexpected. – fortune cookie
Never pass a gas station in Nevada without filling up.
We all have ruts, but mine is nicely decorated. – Marcie
A timely decision is more useful than a protracted one. – from A.R.T.
Debugging is best done at a gas station.
Happiness is a fresh tire.
TIMELINE:
9/3/1999 – Last day with Phase Metrics
9/4/1999 – Bon Voyage party
9/8/1999 – Bay Point, CA
9/10/1999 – Denver, CO
9/18/1999 – Kansas City, MO
9/22/1999 – Madison, WI
9/28/1999 – Boston, MA
10/2/1999 – Foster, RI
10/4/1999 – Finger Lakes, NY
10/10/1999 – Blue Ridge Parkway, NC
10/14/1999 – Largo, FL
10/20/1999 – New Orleans, LA
11/6/1999 – Denver, CO
11/13/1999 – Bay Point, CA
Route Taken:
US4, CA160, US12, US88, I-395 to Lee Vining, CA
CA120, US6 to Tonopah, NV
US6, US50, I-70 to Grand Junction, CO
US50, US285 to Denver, CO
US50, US56, I-135, I-70 to Kansas City, MO
US24, US67, US52, WI60 to Spring Green, WI
US14, WI19, US151, US41, US2 to Sault Ste. Marie, MI
Canada 17/417 to Hawkesberry, Ontario
ONT201, US2, VT104, I-89, I-93 to Brookline, MA
Many weird small roads to Foster, RI
RI14, I-395, I-90, I-81, US20 to Skaneateles, NY
US220, US11, I-83 to York, PA
I-83, I-95 to Washington, D.C.
I-66, Skyline Drive, Blue Ridge Parkway to Asheville, NC
I-26, SC6, US52 to Charleston, SC
US17, I-95, US301, I-75, I-275 to Largo, FL
I-4, FL528 to Cape Kennedy, FL
FL50, US27, US98, I-10 to Mobile, AL
I-10, MS613, MS26, I-59, I-10 to New Orleans, LA
I-10, US190, US287 to Amarillo, TX
US287, US87, US64, I-25 to Denver, CO
I-25 to Colorado Springs, CO
CO115, US50, US285, US160 to Kalienta, AZ
US160, US84, I-40, I-5 to Bay Point, CA