Embarking on a multi-month adventure not only requires careful planning and preparing for what awaits us on the road, it also means saying goodbye to friends who are so much a part of our lives when we’re not traveling. We’ve tried to say goodbye every time we think we’re seeing someone for the last time before setting off.

Today we had some of our friends over for a cookout so we could say goodbye one more time and let them know how much we value their friendship. The house is too small to have all our friends for dinner, so we’ve had to say our “so longs” to others individually and in different settings.

But tonight we reminisced and laughed with friends we ride with the most. We will miss them but we’ll enjoy getting together again on our return to share stories with them of our adventure. They’re good people and we’ve logged thousands of two-wheel miles with them. They would all like to join in this Great Alaska Adventure, and we would love to have them along. Maybe in the future . . .?

To all our friends everywhere: Thanks for making our lives richer, fuller and a hell of a lot of fun. You have added a joie de vivre to our lives and helped turn an unremarkable canvas into a master work awash with color and movement and light. We will think of you as we travel new roads and see new sights. And we will miss you. Very much.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Orange Park, FL

1000 miles down and only 11,500 more to go. Actually 1,034 and I’m only guessing about the 11,500 since my 12,500 mile estimate will probably be off by a couple hundred miles one way or the other. But the Key West leg of the Great Alaska Adventure is behind us and it was a good start.

In the Navy, a “shake down” cruise is taken by a ship before it sets out for a long-term deployment. It gives the ship’s crew a chance to–in some cases literally–see what shakes loose when the ship is underway at full power and vibrations cause equipment and parts to shake apart.

The Key West “cruise” we just wrapped up was our shake down cruise. I’m pleased to report that the bikes and their crew stayed together pretty well. No serious problems with either bike and the crew of each bike managed tolerably well with no vital parts shaken loose. Still working out some communications issues but I’m getting better at obeying commands with the alacrity expected of one in my subordinate position. The CB radios have some static at 70 mph, but they’re working a lot better than they did before I re-secured the cables on Marilyn’s bike prior to beginning the trip. The rain gear, donned at least briefly each day of the three-day shake down cruise, performed well, though Marilyn’s concern about bulky gaiters will be addressed Monday with the purchase of some simple water-proof overboots of the same style I bought for Hanna.

We forgot to pack a couple of non-essential items (shorts for Marilyn and Jack Daniels for me) that we’ll be sure to include in Monday’s packing for the longer leg to Fairbanks and back.

Everyone who straddles two wheels is reminded nearly every time they roll down the road that the pilots of cars are frequently pre-occupied with such essential activities as gesticulating wildly while talking on the phone to an unseeing correspondent, stuffing a greasy full-pound double cheeseburger with bacon into a semi-toothed mouth, or entering a trance-inducing zen-like meditation phase. This shake down cruise was no exception, but at least Marilyn and I were able to work on keeping two bikes close together while responding expeditiously with auto-bike collision-avoidance maneuvers. The Miami area seems to be well-populated with people who enjoy practicing vehicular weaving skills in their $80,000 sport convertibles using lesser cars and elderly motorcycle riders as mobile pylons. And the Florida Turnpike was a Talladaga-like NASCAR track except with no turns where all the drivers are drafting and everyone’s waiting for the “big one” that transforms expensive driving machines into scrap metal. If you ride, be careful out there.

Really, though, the Key West trip was a good start. Now we have a couple days in Orange Park to wrap up unfinished business, say goodbye to friends, make a couple last-minute purchases, get the bikes serviced and take a deep breath before cannonballing into the deep end.

The blog, for what it’s worth, will continue daily. Thanks for stopping by. And to those of you leaving comments: THANKS A BUNCH. To those of you who haven’t yet chimed in, PLEASE DO.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Orange Park, FL

As I planned the adventure on which I’m currently embarked, the ride was always going begin at the southernmost point in the United States and wind it’s way to the farthest north point I could go. The northernmost point that can be driven to in Alaska is Deadhorse but that would require the final 500 miles to be on gravel. For both mechanical and domestic reasons I ruled that out and Fairbanks became the northernmost point I could go.

But the southernmost point was easy. Key West, Florida. We’ve lived in Florida for 12 years but had never made it to the state’s southern extreme. So the Great Alaska Adventure seemed like the perfect opportunity to make the trip south. Today, Marilyn and I rode across the Florida Keys, which appeared to be a single small town with a 100-mile-long Main Street and a speed limit of 45 mph, until we reached the Southernmost Point. At which Point, we executed a precision U-turn worthy of advanced motorcycle skill training and headed north to Fairbanks.

Well, actually, we executed the U-turn then went to see some of the sights in Key West. My Key West “to do list” had three things (besides visiting the southernmost point.)

First, I had to see the Hemingway House, where one of my favorite American authors and a formative force in my early decision to major in English in college wrote some of his greatest works from 1931 to 1939 while living there with his second wife. Check.

Then I wanted to visit one of Hemingway’s favorite drinking haunts: Sloppy Joe’s Bar. “Papa” knocked back many a glass of rum or whiskey at the original Sloppy Joes and at the current location on Duval Street so I went there and raised my glass to honor the great man (and because I was hot and thirtsty). I also had a “Sloppy Joe” for lunch. Check.

Finally, since I was in Key West, I had to have a slice of Key Lime pie which, as legend has it, originated not just in the Keys, but specifically in Key West, and uses limes which are native to the region and quite different (e.g. they’re yellow) from green, grocery-store variety limes. Check.

Today’s ride of 280 miles round trip was threatened by rain on several occasions, but other than a few sprinkles we never went through any storms like yesterday’s deluges. And the weather during the four hours we spent in Key West was perfect. Upper 80s, maybe low 90s, a slight breeze to cool things off and billowing white clouds soaring in a Carolina (go Heels) Blue sky. Hard to find a better day to be a tourist in America’s southernmost city.

Like many first visits, this initial trip to Key West only whetted our appetites for more of what the Keys offer. We’ll come back, I think, and bring friends.

Tomorrow, the ride north continues with a brief return to Orange Park to say good bye to friends, do some final motorcycle maintenance, and pack those things we remembered we had forgotten on this first leg.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Key West, FL

Recently my younger daughter Hilary went to Greece on vacation. She had an ear-to-ear smile for a week before she left and during the entire ten days she was there. I suspect it’s still stretching her face into an abnormally happy shape. I know how she feels.

When I got the the bikes loaded early this morning I knew this great adventure had really begun. Finally.

And MY idiot grin distorted my fuzzy face for the entire 380-mile ride from Orange Park to Homestead, even though we went in and out of rain more than a dozen times from Cocoa Beach to today’s destination south of Miami.
We were out of the rain more than we were in it, but we stayed in rain suits for about 5 of the 8 hours we were on the road. Only occasionally did the precipitation precipitate butt-cheek clenching concerns when I couldn’t see the car in front of me, but those heavy rains only lasted five minutes or so at a time. I’ve ridden in a lot worse and will no doubt ride in worse again during the next two months. Marilyn, with a death grip on her grips, soldiered on without complaint. What a trouper.

We had some equipment to dehydrate after we checked in to our hotel, as the picture of Marilyn drying the hair in her boots with the hotel’s Conair suggests. But we stayed dry for the most part in our new Harley Davidson rain suits (money well spent) and I was especially happy with my dry feet ensconced in my new AlpineStarts Gor-Tex boots.

Marilyn had to choose between slightly damp feet and awkward gaiters and opted for the former. I think tomorrow (which is predicted to be a lot like today) she may choose gaiters and dry feet.

We walked across the highway from hotel to a decent Cuban restaurant where I ate more vaca frita than I had a natural right to. But along with the fried plantains, hot, fresh bread and black beans and rice, it hit the spot. Good Cuban food in south Florida. Who’d have thought…?

Tomorrow we reach the southern most point on our journey to the Great White North. I’m looking forward to playing tourist for a few hours in what the Spanish originally called Cayo Hueso and what we now know as the home of Sloppy Joes and Papa Hemingway: Key West.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Homestead, FL

All of us have shared a common experience. Christmas Eve as a kid. The day before “The Big Day.” We had done everything possible to make sure “The Big Day” lived up to it’s name. We behaved ourselves. We did quotidian chores with a burning passion in case a parent (or “Someone Else”) was watching because we thought a good outcome the next day demanded such youthful excellence. And Christmas Eve–the longest day of the year–all we could do was wait. And wait. And wait. We didn’t know for sure what “The Big Day” would bring but we knew it would be big. We imagined fantastic scenarios where we got everything we had been dreaming about for months. And the anticipation was palpably painful as we waited. And waited. And waited.

That, my friends, has been my day today. I’ve been waiting for the past five years. For the past month my life has been one long “to do” list that seemed to get longer the more “to do’s” I checked off. Pay all the bills. Check. Take care of mail delivery. Check. Buy cold weather gear. Check. Buy more cold weather gear. Check. Fill all prescriptions. Check. Create GPS maps. Check. Get the bikes ready. Check. Arrange for lawn service. Check. Pre-Pack. Check. Pre-pack again. Check.

Check. Check. Check.

Tomorrow is “The Big Day.” And today, after double-checking my to do list check-offs, I waited. And waited. And waited. The anticipation has had me bouncing off the walls and, probably, driving Marilyn crazy. BUT I’M EXCITED! I’M READY FOR “THE BIG DAY.”

After counting off years, then months, then weeks, then days, now I’m finally counting off hours. 11 1/2 to be exact. 690 minutes. But who’s counting.

The Big Day is almost here. I can’t wait to see what’s under the tree.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Orange Park, Florida

If you followed my western U.S. adventure last year, welcome back. If this is your first visit to hdriderblog, thanks for coming.

Everyone who has heard me talk about motorcycle riding (and that’s about all I talk about) knows I’ve been planning this Great Alaska Adventure for more than five years. This is my long-dreamed-of retirement ride. And as the planning unfolded, the ride, in my twisted mind at least, got better and better as I plotted and re-plotted the 12,500 mile route.

Marilyn, with only three years of piloting her own bike, will keep her ’07 Deluxe pointed at my tail light and follow where my new Ultra Classic leads.

And for one month of the trip, our newly-minted high school graduate granddaughter, Hanna, will saddle up behind me on the princess seat for a butt-numbing graduation present few 18 year olds can only dream of.

The ride starts in five days when we begin our northern adventure by heading south to Key West. There we’ll execute a u-turn and set our compasses for the majestic vistas and open spaces of the spectacular 49th state.

I’ll start posting regular, daily updates on Wednesday, May 29, (the day before we leave) and leave a blog trail of textual and photographic crumbs for you to follow for the next two months. Please feel free to post comments and let me know how jealous you are. Thanks for coming along and letting me share my dream with you.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”

Location:Orange Park, FL

Despite Hurricane Isaac’s efforts to slow my pace, I made it home about 2 hours ago, 28 days and 8, 843 miles after I left. As anyone who has been reading the blog knows, it was a great trip. But it’s good to be back.

Yesterday was a dry day. I went about 700 miles from Wichita to Tupelo, Mississippi (birthplace and boyhood home of Elvis). A pretty easy ride. I was careful to follow the posted speed laws in Oklahoma. Arkansas and Mississippi were, of course, a different story. Today clouds from Hurricane Issac were overhead from the time I left Tupelo until the time I got home, but I didn’t see any rain until 10 minutes after lunch; then I had rain or wet roads the final five hours. I kept going through the outer bands of the circulation from Issac. In Twisted Rider speak that’s known as “punching through.” But I stayed dry inside my rain suit and got home safely.

This will be the last blog post for a while. When I ride again, I’ll start it up and try to let everyone know.

Thanks again for following along and letting me share my experiences.

DrD

I’ve had a couple days while visiting family in Wichita and trying to plot a route through what will be a hurricane soaked South to consider the August days that made up the Ride West.  If anyone wants a recap of the locations I visited and the roads I covered, I suggest just going back to the daily blog entries from Day 1 to Day 25.  The summary in today’s blog will be more a reverie of various thoughts that occurred as I contemplated the past month’s activities:  the things I’ve seen and done, the people I rode with (and didn’t ride with) and people I met along the way.

The Ride West reaffirmed my belief in several things.

Belief #1:  This country is beautiful.  Other parts of the world are beautiful also, of course, but the Western United States has a unique beauty unparalleled anywhere.  In many ways, it’s a perfect place to ride a motorcycle, whether cruising at sight-seeing speeds or careening through colorful canyons and topping high mountain passes at speeds that preclude much more than a brief glance at the rugged scenery and the dangers that lie therein.  Geology, history, pre-history, culture, nature, wildlife:  the West has it all.  I recommend to all my friends (riding and non-riding) that you visit as much of the West as you can as soon as you can.  I saw more evidence of dramatic and rapid changes that bode ill for future rides like this one.  Very little snow in the mountains and disappearing glaciers.  Green trees turned brown by a pernicious beetle supercharged by changing temperatures.  Lakes and reservoirs drying up.  Charred remains where gigantic forest fires have blackened the verdant landscape.  If the 95% of climate scientists who say climate change is real and deadly are right, the land I saw will grow less hospitable as the years progress.  And I believe they’re right.

Belief #2:  Riding a motorcycle is an experience like no other.  Those who ride know what I’m talking about. And it doesn’t matter what brand of bike.  Pick an adjective:  Exhilarating, exciting, stimulating, dangerous, daring, joyous, intoxicating, liberating, invigorating, exalting, inspiring, emancipating, spirited, exuberant, formidable, precarious, intimidating, rewarding, frustrating, powerful.  Motorcycle riding is all these and more.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s a religious experience, but it is clearly a sensual, life-affirming, mind-altering experience.  You cannot, I think, ride thousands of miles through the widest varieties of weather on hundreds of different roads with thousands of different scenes racing past you, coming in contact with hundreds of people and not, when you put the kickstand down and climb off, be a different person than you were when you first fired up the engine.  It will change you.  And for the better.

Belief #3:  People are basically good.  Almost without fail when I’m riding a motorcycle the people I meet are friendly, curious, helpful, accommodating, interesting–in short: good.  Of course there are exceptions.  But once again on this trip I was reminded repeatedly of the good.  This was only my second motorcycle trip with my younger brother.  It won’t be my last.  A good person.  I reconnected with old friends who, in short order, reminded me why we are friends and will stay friends.  I rode with new friends whose backgrounds and experiences may be different from mine but who unfailingly welcomed me into their midst, made me feel like one of their own and made me a better motorcycle rider.  Good people.  Other travelers listened to my stories and shared their own.  Waiters, waitresses, hotel clerks, limo drivers:  all willing to give helpful advice that made the trip more enjoyable and memorable. Small town residents who went out of their way to make sure the trip was pleasant and whose suggestions added to the incredible menu of opportunities from which to choose my course.  Good people.

Belief #4:  There’s no place like home.  Since I’m writing from Kansas, I thought I’d throw in the cliche from L. Frank Baum’s Wizard of Oz.  But it’s true.  I miss my friends from home who share with me some of the same passions I have for the freedom afforded by motorcycle riding.  And, most of all, I miss my wife who puts up with and even joins me in some of my motorcycle craziness.  She is my best riding buddy who has been with me on some pretty rough roads.  I look forward to dragging her off to the Alaskan wilderness next year.

Belief #5.  I can’t wait to get on the road again.  I started the Ride West blog by quoting Willie Nelson.  Although I’m ready for a (brief) break from cross-country riding, it won’t take me long to recharge my batteries and get on the road again, making (road) music with friends, seeing things I’ve never seen, going places I’ve never been, a road gypsy with good friends.  I strongly recommend it.  Retire and ride if you can.  Just ride if you can’t retire.  But get on the road.  Again. And again.  And again.

Thanks, everyone, for following along.  I’ll post once again when I get home to let you know how wet I got.  And then the blog will probably go silent.  Until I’m on the road again, of course.

I had planned to write a trip summary today, but ended up spending two hours at the Harley-Davidson dealer getting a new tire and new rear brakes.  The tire had no tread in the middle but enough rubber to get me home.  But since I’m heading into Hurricane Issac, I thought it might be a good idea to replace the tire before riding through heavy rain.  For some reason, I wore my brakes out riding in the mountains.  Must have been all the “Holy Crap!” hairpin turns I tried to take with the BMWs, Yamaha, and Gold Wings.

Looks like Brian made his Iron Butt 1500 miles in 36 hours on his way home to Florida today.  Congrats.

Will try again for trip summary tomorrow before setting out on my final two days back to Florida.

Not much to say tonight. I rode with the Twisted Riders from Westminster to Salina, Ks, where we parted ways as they continued on their ride home to Indiana, with an overnight stop near Kansas City.

Rode through some light rain in western Kansas and some heavy rain south of Salina. The spray sealer Curt sprayed on my rain pants seemed to work. No leaks!

Going to bed early for a change and will work on a ride summary tomorrow.

“I can’t wait to get on the road again.”