Rides – Page 4 – two wheeled thoughts

Back to the Dragon in 2018

In about two weeks, myself and between 2 and 5 other folks will be heading out of Milwaukee towards the Smoky Mountains. This route has become a sacred journey for me.

Last year, I set out from the Wisconsin Dells with the intent of making yet another trip to ride the 129 and the Moonshiner 28. This was the trip that I made instead of going to Devi’s Tower with Bart.

Tropical storms in the Gulf of Mexico pushed enough rain up into the Southeastern US that I got stranded in Knoxville, TN. I’m not a fair weather rider, rain is a part of life on two wheels. I pack rain pants and I don’t bitch about wet boots. But… There’s a difference between “I got wet” and “I can’t see my front wheel let alone the cars in front of me…”. I finally pulled over to the side of 75 north of Knoxville, I scooted Red Sonya in front of half a dozen cars that were already on the side of the road with their flashers on because it’d be less likely that I got mauled by a semi who didn’t see my bike. When I put down the kickstand, the water on the side of the road was running hard and up to my calves. This is what happens on a road trip, and the good and bad of having no plans and no reservations: I clearly wasn’t going to make it as far as I’d hoped but I’m fine sleeping on a picnic table in a rest stop or riding overnight on a decent road. I waited until I was feeling bored and checked out the radar: when it looked like I could scoot out in between thunderstorms I got ahead of the rain and stopped in northern Knoxville.

This was an important night. I found a motel and a restaurant. I came back to the room and I started thinking about how different life would be if Bart was still alive, the toll it had taken on me in just two months. I started thinking about the right and wrong ways to deal with losing a brother. I thought back to some Psych 101 level techniques and realized that writing letters to the dead would be perfect for this situation. The headspace of two months and 1200 miles finally let me fill in some gaps in my thinking. I sat on the balcony in my underwear, swilling 32 oz cans of local brew while local couples got into fist fights over who took the last cigarette and tried to imagine a future where I could take trips like this and not miss my brother; where I could heal by writing letters that living people would perhaps read, but the primary recipient was beyond reach.

The next day, it was clear that a 300mi wide storm was going to keep me from getting through the Moonshiner 28. Maybe if I’d gotten up an hour earlier, but it was still dicey. I did not have my tent and my MSS with me, so the idea of being stuck somewhere between Deal’s Gap and Walhalla, SC on roads that are treaturous in the best weather was not appealing. Maybe I should have tried: what’s better than a story of camping on your bike in the middle of nowhere? Still, I was not in a “level” frame of mind, and I knew I had friends in Nashville I could see. I turned West, and still had treacherous rain storms all the way to the music city. I had lunch with a good friend, stayed the night in Shelbyville, KY and toured the Four Roses distillery the next morning. I had nearly 2000mi of solo time and I am better off for it.

But I need to get back.

The weather in Robbinsville, NC shows thunderstorms every day for the next 14 days. I have to hope these are “spotty”. I’m coming back and I don’t intend to be defeated. I want to buy land in Western NC some day and I need to start scouting. Less than two weeks, I’m coming back.

Visiting and Riding for a Fallen Brother

Many people, in many different situations, wind up visiting the final resting place of a fallen brother. I do not mean a brother of the road, an MC, or an armed forces brother. This is my flesh and blood, my biological brother that I grew up with. He was also my riding buddy for sure though: life on two wheels figured heavily in our lives and our relationship. The one person I could count on for any number of miles in any weather, whether there was a bed at the end of the road or not. I cope as best I can: writing letters to someone who can’t hear me. Words for the dead is salve for the living. Name it to tame it, feel it to heal it.

Dear Bart,

It has been one year since I found you dead in your home. I have promised myself and others I would say no more than that.

It took me a long time to visit your grave. I put you in the ground with our sister, but I had not been back. We visited on Memorial Day, and I feel as though you would have appreciated the flags. I had not cried in quite a while, and I didn’t think I would cry today; when I saw your name on the ground, though, I broke down. I often observe how well my wife has handled the loss of her father by comparison: he was the deepest most meaningful relationship in her life but she is mostly OK. We walked by Tom’s grave to get to you, I feel like being close to Tom is something you’d like.

I have made a few gestures to you. I have an “RIP Jason ‘Bart’ Payne” patch on my vest. I feel like the bike rides had become so important to you that this would be the only way you’d want to be remembered. I have also ordered a couple of rings that I think you’d like: black tungsten with green Celtic designs in the center band; I don’t know if it’s possible yet but I’m trying to get them engraved for Lani and I to wear in your memory. I’ve also written you a couple of letters. You’ll find them here on this site.

Just now on June 23rd, the exact one year anniversary of your exit, I rode and partied with the Brothers in Chains MC out of Janesville, WI. They are good people who put on a good safe ride. Of all the rides going on, I felt called to do that one. Somewhere, on a wall in an MC clubhouse, is a hand written record that Damon “RR” Payne was riding for you that day.

Not everything is great, of course. Marc dropped your bike on his way to sell it, he hit his head and didn’t know who he was for a while: he blamed himself for forgetting about the new rear tire and fishtailing in the rain. I blamed you. He never should have been on your bike. Adam, I think, is also missing the discipline of his dad. He’s still doing super well in school but he’s not respecting people the way he used to. His mom says he walks around the house with his helmet on, I know I need to take him riding. Soon. For various reasons it has to be me, and that’s OK. I’ll be there for him.

I think about riding in your car and listening to the Dropkick Murphy’s “The Green Fields of France“. The sadness of that song, looking down at a grave, wondering what kind of life the man would have had. I know what that’s like now. It’s not fair that I’m planning these rides without you. It’s terrible the burden of guilt that you’ve placed on Mom. I think about how you’d react to me training for the Hoka Hey or saving to buy land for a cabin. This too shall pass. Talk to you in a year.

Respect.

Slimy Crud Run Spring 2018

The Slimey Crud Run is a grass roots event that takes place twice a year in South Central Wisconsin.

There are no big ad campaigns, no corporate sponsors, no local or regional newspaper or TV promotions, not even the usual obligatory one-size-promotes-all beer banners with the name of the event emblazoned on a huge blank white spot.

Despite all the makings of what should be an unknown event, the Slimey Crud Café Racer Run in southern Wisconsin is attended twice each year, on the first Sunday in May and October, by riders from all over the country and routinely has participants from at least five states in the upper Midwest.

Its origins are nearly as murky as Stonehenge, dating back to the early Seventies, according to one of its co-founders, former Triumph/Bultaco/Matchless racer and former Triumph dealer Lyall Sharer. From humble beginnings, the event has become an organic thing that thrives on its own energy. At each gathering, it isn’t uncommon for anywhere from 1,000 to 3,000 machines to show up.

The Crud Run meanders across the scenic Wisconsin River valley from Pine Bluff in Dane county to Leland in Sauk County. The distance between the villages is less than 30 miles in a straight line, but the road mileage can vary from about 70 to, well, who knows? No specific route is prescribed, so the best way to go depends entirely on your imagination.

Despite the name, the event is not limited to the sheathed-in-plastic sportbike set. In fact, while there’s something for everybody in every class of bike, the event seems much more like a rolling vintage and classic bike show.

I set out to see some bikes, get some miles, and represent ABATE of Wisconsin. Yes sir, thousands of bikes descended on the one-stop-sign towns of Leland and Pine Bluff and it was fantastic.

Representing Abate:

Look ma! Bikers! I would not want to live across the street from the Red Mouse.

I did not go alone. After losing Bart, I started looking for other ways to find people to ride with, and stumbled upon a Meetup group called The Lost Motorcycle Riders of Milwaukee. I’ll write about this at some point in the future, but this turned out to be a great way to find a group.

While there’s no corporate sponsors, a few people do get permission from one of the bars to set up a racing demo station or a brat fry, and of course there are bikes for sale and people looking to be seen.

This year, however, the weather was not cruddy at all. No, this was The Amazing Sunshine run. There are many different ways to get between Leland and Pine Bluff, and you’re encouraged to find your own way. May 6th in Wisconsin there’s still a lot of sand and salt on the roads, but there were plenty of sharp corners and views to make it a fantastic day.

It’s all about the bikes though:

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

A 1 stop sign town

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

Cops from all the neighboring towns

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

Shirts, but no patches…

Mater, that you?

The only bike you need for the zombie apocalypse

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

Back when saddlebags were luggage.

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

Not for me, but I can appreciate the looks of a Guzzi.

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

I don’t get it

Wanna race?

If I buy another black bike, it’s going to get flames.

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

Been seeing a lot more Indian motorcycles at events.

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

Of course you’ve gotta have some custom Harleys.

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

I am reminded that the last SCR I attended was with my fallen brother. I didn’t really think about it during the ride: just the night before and after I got home. Wind therapy still works.

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Across WI, 04.30.2018

A mental health day riding across Wisconsin.

I told my boss: the 1st 70 degree day of the year he would not see me. When such a day seemed certain on the calendar I confirmed, and ditched work. I shared this on Facebook, and people were all over my ass. “Must be nice to have no responsibilities, loser@!”; “Must be nice to be able to ditch all your responsibilities!” Ok, so, I have two kids and while Mrs. Roadrunner is extremely chill I can’t just disappear as I please. Seriously folks, if you see someone taking off on a weekday, maybe assume they have cleared it with their work and family and not that they are some independently wealthy dipshit.

I needed a mental health day, and I knew some people who surely did too. My friend Harley Curtis answered the call. He showed up at Payne Manor at 8:15 am and we got ready to ride.
I got us lost, we got it figured out, we ate miles towards our destination, we didn’t exchange more than a couple of words until we were sitting down at Fort Mulligan’s in Prarie du Chien, Wisconsin. Then we talked. Work. Family. Bikes.

Isn’t it funny how that works? Bikers meet each other and don’t talk until 4 hours down the road. Bikers understand the value of clearing out your head and then talking to a trusted brother about what’s going on.

I picked Prarie du Chien because I didn’t feel like putting on heated gear and heading to The Hurricane Highway. I also didn’t bring a real fucking camera. But I did take a couple of pictures of a really cool town on the Great River Road. It wasn’t an Iron Butt day, but a 380 mile day in April in Wisconsin is a rare treat. I was able to shed 3 layers as the day grew much warmer than predicted. I came home and grilled for my family, and I went back to work the next day with a clear head.

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-Y

Planning Multi-Day Group Rides

I’m planning a six day group ride right now, and this will make a few years in a row that I’ve done this. It occurs to me that before, during, and after each trip my friends are sure to thank me for doing the planning. I plan the rides so I have people to go on rides with, not for high fives or to be known as some Exalted Road Captain, but maybe others could benefit from my experience? Here goes: you’re planning a group ride that stretches more than a day and a lot of miles. What do you need to think about?

Use the Tubes

Everything you’re about to read below, I coordinate using email, Facebook, Google hangouts, Meetup.com, whatever. Our lives are too nutty to have a single phone call or in-person meeting and assume everyone will show up on the day of the trip. Make sure everyone has everyone else’s cell numbers and email addresses.

Preview and Circle Back

I tend to start out with a big group of people that I tell I’m planning a trip. This will always be a big initial group because shit happens. Seventeen people saying “Hell yes!” 3 months away will turn into 2 actual travelers by the time the day rolls around. Life happens, people make choices. Additionally, even your friends who’ve never ridden 300 miles in a day will still be pissed if you pass them over for the invite, so invite everyone who would theoretically like the trip, not just those who might actually do it.

I tend to let my friends know vaguely and then tightening it up as time passes:

These are the trips I’m thinking about this summer…
…OK we are doing the Moonshiner 28 in July!
All right I’ve got these dates off work and here’s a potential route, who’s really in?

I like to be at step 3 2-3 months out. Maybe your friends are different, but trekking across the country for 6 days is a lot different than meeting up for a Sunday afternoon bar hopping run. This kind of vacation is highly individualistic and sometimes takes some finessing with the family if one parent is leaving the other one home with the kids and the chores.

Get the Gear if You’re Going To

Gear for YOU is whatever you’re comfortable in. If you don’t mind riding in wet denim, you should be aware that some people do mind very much. Talk about what your rain plan is going to be: wait it out in an underpass, get to a gas station and put on rain gear? Stop and put it on when the radar shows rain ahead? Is everyone OK riding at night? Rain plans are good but what about your “shine” plan? Will your planned gas stops be enough sunscreen for everyone?

Do some people Bluetooth headsets? I’ve ridden a lot of miles without them but maybe I’ll try it some day. Different Bluetooth systems are likely incompatible, and you should experiment before the time has come to put home far behind you. What about tolls? If you’re all leaving from the same area then tolls are a fact of life in a lot of the USA. For me getting around Chicago can be a shitshow so I carry an iPass and I get the people I’m headed south with to get one as well, or I add their plates to my iPass. Parts of Indiana, Florida, Tennessee, Georgia, and others also have tollways. Be ready.

Be Flexible

This is the #1 thing. Weather, humans, tires, and hotels won’t always cooperate. People you know well will act out of character for reasons that aren’t apparent. Be committed to the spirit of the trip, not the agenda you planned out. You can always go another direction, arrive late, leave early, skip a stop, or take a long lunch to keep the group from melting down.

Be ready for something to go wrong. Who’s bike leaks oil? Does someone carry both metric and standard tools? I carry a flat kit and two flashlights. I carry aspirin, a knee brace, an elbow brace, an ACE wrap, and a small towel in case bodies get sore. Depending on what direction I’m going, I carry an Octane Booster as well. Sure, modern v-twins have anti-knock capabilities, but it seems to me that my bike isn’t quite the same (until the next tune up) after running 1,000miles on low octane in South Dakota.

Communicate the Pace

I’m an Iron Butt. That’s part of the life for me, but I don’t expect the same from everyone and I sure as hell don’t look down on anyone who doesn’t push it that far. You need to look at how you’re carving up your precious vacation time and what you’re trying to do vs. what’s realistic. I find a 500 mile day is about perfect when it comes to multi day trips. You cover a lot of ground and you can stop in time to have a relaxed dinner and maybe recover from any aches and pains your body discovered during the day. On the trip I’m planning right now our second day puts us at nearly 700 miles of freeway time. You can avoid a lot of pain and suffering by communicating things like that up front and confidentially: no one wants to bow out in front of a bunch of friends who are gung ho to roll hard.

A lot of us smile the widest on two-lane roads going no more than 55, but you have to balance your desire for two-lane America and family owned gas stations in the middle of nowhere with the size of the country. It’s best to use the freeway system to get close to where you’re going and then slow down and enjoy the curves. I’ve learned this the hard way: just start in Milwaukee and try to get around Chicago with the Harley nav system’s “Avoid highways” setting on. Stoplights every block for hours will suck the good time out of a trip as much as a bad rain.

Don’t just assume everyone in your group is happy to ride 80mph either. Depending on the size of your machine and the gear you’re wearing faster speeds can mean more wind buffeting on your body and you’ll wind up taking longer breaks and losing the minutes you were trying to gain back. Personally I tend to go about 4 over the speed limit unless I’m in SD and the speed limit is already 80. Just make sure your group knows what to expect so no one is getting frustrated at your slow riding or worried that their riding faster than their experience.

The Pace also includes stopping frequency. Again, someone on a soft tail and used to doing poker runs may have different expectations than the Road Glide and Gold Wing riders they wound up traveling with. At the very least the leaders should be aware of the range of everyone they are traveling with, and expectations of how often you’re stopping. Personally, I have a hard time staying off my throttle and wind up stopping about every 120 miles even if my whole group have big-tanked touring bikes.

Bottom line: make sure everyone knows what they’re getting themselves in to.

Plan the Formation

Every biker I know is comfortable riding staggered formation from gas station to lunch station on a rustic road, but don’t assume people are comfortable riding side by side in a lane on the freeway. That being said, a tighter ride formation can save a lot of frustration with the cages on a long day of freeway riding. Even if the cars see you, they are likely not familiar with group ride concepts and will try to cut in between bikes if there appears to be a car-sized gap in your formation. Encouraging a little bit tighter formation to discourage misbehaving cages is maybe the one place where I try to get people to ride a little bit out of their comfort zone.

At every leg of the trip, make sure there’s a leader (road captain) and tail (sweep). Make sure the sweep understands when it’s appropriate to help block traffic to help riders merge together.
Make sure everyone understands the common hand signals as well as the “tighten up” signal found here.

Plan for & Personalities Activities

You just have to know the group you’re riding with. Who drinks? Who doesn’t? What are the meal expectations? Personally I skip breakfast nearly every day and don’t eat until noon: that won’t work for a lot of people. Who drinks a shitload of coffee and is going to have to stop 80 miles down the road? Which two people are you going to have to warn ahead of time about the other so they don’t get into a political or religious argument and bring everyone down?

Framing the “Personalities” consideration is the activities. Yes, activities. Sure, the whole point of this trip is to ride, but man cannot live entirely on two wheels.

Were you planning on hitting a brewery tour or a distillery on the way?
Does the group agree about camping vs. hotels for each night of the trip? Are you going to book hotels ahead of time or wing it? If people want to try sharing rooms can they do so without killing each other? (see below)
Is one person in the group going to be on their bike itching to ride while everyone else is ordering pancakes inside the greasy spoon?

The down time is an important part of the trip. This has never happened to me, but I can imagine a group being too tired to ride further and yet bored with their surroundings for the evening. I carry some small electronic gadgets to play movies on hotel TVs, some playing cards, and a flask of bourbon just in case things get gloomy. I’ve never really needed to dig into my bag of tricks though: there’s something about riding and sunshine that puts folks into a pretty good mood.

Plan Where You’re Staying, or Agree to Plan not to Plan

From “Communicate the Pace”, above, I like to use the good ole US freeway system to get close to where I’m going before disappearing to the 2-lanes. I tend to plan places to stay in the middle of a trip, but maybe less so on the to-and-from legs. Personally, I’ve lived out of my car for week and have had some of my best sleep in a pile of leaves. I can lean towards pulling over to a rest area and sleeping on a picnic table if need be. Talk with your group about what happens if there’s no room at the inn.

The perfect kind of place to look for is one where you can park your bikes at a hotel and you’re a short walk to food & drink so there’s no getting lost in an unfamiliar town at night after everyone’s had a couple of drinks.

Consider Capturing the Route

I’m going to get in trouble from Mrs. Roadrunner for this one, but here it is: your family might want to hear that you’re OK. They might even want to tell you about the mundane every-day-shit that’s going on back in reality. That sucks. Anything beyond “I’m fine, love you, lookitwouldberudenottodotheseshotsbye” can break the spell of a trip. One compromise I have with my family is that I use a phone app and Spotwalla to track where I’m at. It’s passive, so I don’t have to check in, they can see me rolling and assume a moving bike means a still-alive Roadrunner is making his way in this topsy-turvey world. Later, when I run into my “bar hopping or poker run only” friends, I can watch them weep as they count the number of state lines I crossed on my last adventure. Really, it’s win-win.

Bring a Real Fucking Camera

This is one I wish I’d realized earlier in my journeys. Cell phone cameras are just too fucking decent and convenient, but they are not good, and there’s real value in taking a picture and then moving-the-fuck-on. My daughter is 15 as of the time of this writing and until recently had never held a real camera. After 15 seconds with my basic DSLR she was amazed. “Wow, it takes pictures so fast, and you can zoom the lens in and out!” Truly, not everything is made better being moderner and smaller.

If you can pack it without your bike rattling it to pieces, bring a real camera. They take better pictures, and more importantly: most of them don’t upload to Instagram. Imagine: taking pictures that you will later edit into an album and maybe upload or print after your trip is over. Imagine one less thing to break you out of the magic of the journey. This is what we used to do, and you’d be hard pressed to find a different blogger out there writing about how we used to be less happy than we are in 2018. Something about the character of our lives has changed, and I don’t think being ever-connected to everyone else’s carefully curated narratives about how great their lives are is helping us. Take the pics, post them later.

Don’t break the spell until you have to. If you’re worried about losing memories, take notes on your phone or bring a notebook to write in.

You’re Making Memories, Not Checking Boxes

Just to dive home points already mentioned: be flexible. You never know when someone’s shortcut to a flea market or an off the grid bar will turn out to be either the coolest secret you ever experienced, or the disaster you talk about for years to come. When people go through some uncomfortable shit together they bond over it. Remember that most Americans are really, really good people, and it’s a really safe place to be. Take a chance, take the road less traveled. Be real. You’ll recover from the mosquito bites and the skunky beer. Get out and live a little, be uncomfortable, and tell your kids stories about it.

The first real ride of 2018

I don’t winterize my bike (that’ll be important later). I ride everywhere except first snow to last salt. In Wisconsin that means a lot of cold riding, but with chaps and heated gear I do all right. 2018 has been a shitty winter in Wisconsin. Maybe it’s a normal winter, but a normal winter here is not great. Still, I’ve been able to get out on the bike 3 times already this year, and started my bike several times besides.

Imagine my joy when my bike didn’t start this morning for the first time ever.

I was meeting people. High of 52 in Wisconsin in March. Sun is shining. 23,000 miles on a 2 year old bike. Are you fucking kidding me? The clock is ticking…

My battery was fine, it was turning the starter over. I had a nagging worry about gas. Ethanol draws water, and I had ridden enough that my tank was nearly empty. You really want a full tank to keep moisture out of your fuel. I fucked with this for a while, then ran out in my car to get some fresh gas. I siphoned the tank out (fuel injected Victory isn’t easy to just pull a line to drain the tank) and barely got anything so I put two gallons of clean 93 in. Roll the bike around, shake the tank up, try to start. Put the battery charger on. Pick up trash in the yard and sweep out my garage to pass the time.

Repeat.

Roll the bike forward, then roll it backward and jump on the front break to stop the bike. Shakes the tank up. Try to start her again. Two hours past when I was supposed to meet some folks, she starts up. A test ride, restart, and I’m in business. It’s already 54, hotter than it was supposed to be today. Two miles from the house I stop and top off the gas tank for more fresh gas and to make sure she still starts.

The rest of the day I’m on the back roads with a couple other guys. Listening to David Allen Coe and the Moonshine Bandits on roads that are not ready.

See, in WI it could have been 50 degrees for a while but there’s still snow under a shade tree and maybe some of the smaller lakes are still frozen over with people ice fishing on them. Even if the roads are clean, there’s excess salt and sand that makes the roads less sticky than you’d want. When you’re rolling with guys who insist on doing at least 60 in every 35mph curve, you have to ride careful.

I got a great tour of the kettle moraines in SE WI , I got a little sunburn, and I got a smile so wide it may last me until the next 50 degree day. We ended up at a bar near where a couple of us live, and a few folks from my riding group who’d been elsewhere today happened to land there as well. Good people, smiling from a great day out in the sun, clean beer and greasy bar food. Today was everything it needed to be. Today was a tiny taste of how great life can be: you fix a problem, you spend a day with your knees in the breeze, you shake hands with some great folks. You make plans for rides to come. You come home, make dinner for your family, and you get ready to pay the bills for the next 5 days.

Yea, I got out for a few miles when it was 30 and 40 degrees, but this was the first real ride of 2018.

Waiting for Riding Season

Maybe someday I’ll live in a warm place, where there’s no “Riding Season” because it’s all year round. For now, though, in the frozen wastelands of the north we shovel snow and look lovingly at the motorcycle in the garage. I was actually able to get out recently, quite possibly my first ever January ride. Just a few miles to put a smile on my face and it never fails to work. I never “winterize” my bikes. I ride until the salt hits the roads and sometimes afterwards, giving her a good wash if it hasn’t rained enough. I don’t have a rule for a particular temperature. I’ve ridden as low as 32 degrees although I guess the leather and heated gear makes the cold feel like a non-issue as long as it’s at least 40 degrees. The first and last ride in the calendar year, though, I take a pic of an odometer.

Maker:L,Date:2017-8-26,Ver:5,Lens:Kan03,Act:Kan02,E-ve

Dear Bart Part 0

Dear Bart,

I just got back from a motorcycle trip. I guess this is the trip that I took instead of going to Devil’s Tower with you and your son Adam. I had business in the Wisconsin Dells and so did Wingnut Dave, you remember Dave, we did the Bun Burner Gold 1500 not quite a year ago. Our intent was to ride hard for the Tail of the Dragon area, do the Moonshiner 28 and some roads that only SC and GA locals know about according to Wingnut Dave.

We stopped the first night in Normal, IL and had dinner at a place that doesn’t even server beer. What the fuck is up with that? I didn’t realize Wingnut Dave’s wife was riding with us, but whatever she’s cool. The next morning we got a very late start because she had food poisoning symptoms. Turns out, quite a few people who ate pizza at the Kalahari were sick that week.

Despite me not sleeping for shit, Thursday was going well. We hit Kentucky 64 East and passed the hotel in Shelbyville we’ve stayed at several times now. I gave a big salute as we road past, we had some really good times there with Dad two years ago and Harley Marc last year. Our plan was to stop in Knoxville that night. You know my requirements for a road stop: a roof and a place I can walk to get a drink and food. About an hour out of Knoxville, Dave’s wife had just had enough, they were going to go home to GA instead. I understood: when I planned this trip I had counted on zero company so 700 miles of riding buddies was just a bonus. Wingnut Dave travels with a GPS on his handlebars and peeled off long before he should have, and I soon saw why. The Weather Channel radar had fucked me and I was about to get super wet. After realizing I needed to prepare for a lot more rain I pulled off at a rest stop so I could put on rain gear and re-plan. It seemed like I could get through the storm quickly so I again headed south on 75. Weather Channel radar fucked me again, however, and the mountains were extremely dangerous.

Apparently no one in TN turns their lights on when it rains: it got to where I was riding with my 4-way flashers on, at 25 miles an hour on a 70mph highway, I couldn’t see the road, I couldn’t see the cars in front of me. I had to admit defeat and pull over. Jen and some friends asked me “what about getting under an overpass?” While Knoxville is only 886ft above sea level, the stretch of 75 north of there is as “up” as it gets: there’s no overpasses. I saw a line of cars and pulled off in front of them so a semi didn’t maul me. When I put the kickstand down and put my feet down I realized the water on the shoulder was flowing up to my calves. Yea, this is not safe.

I had my rain gear on and my helmet on. I stood in the rain for an hour until things chilled out.

I got to NW Knoxville safely after that. I found a shitty motel near some gas stations that sold beer and an Outback Steakhouse. I got dinner and across the street I bought some tall boys and headed back to my room. Now this had become the trip I planned: me alone with my thoughts and the struggle of how to deal with losing you, Bart.

I sat in my underwear on the balcony of my room, drinking Pabst tallboys, as the denizens of Knoxville went about their business, not quietly. It took a long time to figure it out, but hey, you have nothing but time when you’re traveling alone.

See, Bart, you and I are smart. Really smart. I won’t quote the IQ tests we’ve taken, but we’re the kind of smart that often makes it difficult to interact with other people. Sometimes this intelligence comes with an unhealthy amount of ego, and I plead guilty there. See, it’s the correct thing to do to talk to a shrink at this point, and I don’t deny that this might help. But, I’ve talked to shrinks before and I’ve never met one I could really level with because they weren’t as smart as I was. How shitty does that sound? I can treat an MD as a “body mechanic” without hesitation but I’m not going to let someone work on my mind. Nope, I was not going to talk to a shrink about this, but I also knew just riding a lot of miles and drinking a lot of bourbon wasn’t going to do it either. So like any asshole self-diagnosing arrogant piece of shit I realized I would take one of the shrink’s techniques and apply it myself: I needed to talk to you honestly to get things out of my head.

60 ounces of Pabst and some extremely bitter local IPA later, I felt like I’d made a breakthrough and went to bed.

The next morning it became clear that I was not going to make it through the tail of the dragon and the moonshiner 28: there were 6+ hours of storms moving from West to East that day. Memories of the unbelievable deluge and lack of safety north of Knoxville left me with uncomfortable fantasies of being stuck in the mountains on roads that are death traps in the best conditions with nowhere to sleep. So I sent some texts and sure enough my buddy Fawad was eager for a lunch date in Nashville.

Once again, the Weather Channel radar fucked me. Far east of Nashville I got into rain bad enough I absolutely had to pull over. I spent an hour and a half talking to the polite Indian woman in the gas station and texting with CarSpot Andy. There’s a lot of memories there as well: CarSpot may have been the last time we were both truly happy with our careers.

Once I finally got back on 40 West to Nashville, I was glad I’d stopped. Traffic through the mountains was stop and go, and I saw guardrails obliterated and pickups with UHauls attached being pulled up out of ravines by winches. I couldn’t help but think “turn on your lights idiots!” but of course I don’t know what happened. I made a 1:30pm lunch with Fawad in Germantown on the northeast side of Nashville.

Fawad is a dear friend. He rides a sport bike but schedules have so far not aligned for us to carve up the Dragon together. Honestly, when he asked me about you it dug a little bit deeper than most others. He really means it: he has brothers of his own and he can’t imagine what I’m going through. When he heard, he held off calling me for weeks because he didn’t know what to say. Whenever I think I’ve somehow failed to make connections with other humans, I think of Fawad, he’s genuine and proof I’m not a complete sociopath. We have a great lunch, and I leave thinking I hope I get to see him at least once in 2018.

I’ve decided to head to our favorite place in Shelbyville: A Ramada next to a fantastic liquor store with a ton of bourbon and a Cattlemans’ restaurant and a log cabin sales shop. There’s a lot to think about in that little parking lot off of 64. They’ve got a room, and they tell me I can park my bike under the pavilion. We never thought of that, did we Bart?

So I head to the liquor store and get some local micro brew to stash in the fridge in my hotel, and then I head to Cattleman’s. The same server who has taken care of us two summers in a row is there and she takes care of me. I can’t remember her name, but I’ll bet she’s there next summer.

I head back to the room and have a couple of beers, deep in thought. I decide to head down to check on my bike and there’s a smokers’ convention down there. I wind up talking to a guy who has family in Leavenworth, KS, close to where we used to live. He has a Sportster and he claims to understand why I do what I do. I’m skeptical, but simple conversation with salt of the earth folks is a part of spending time on the road.

The next morning, I decide to head down to the Four Roses Distillery. I don’t generally like whiskey but Four Roses is my favorite Bourbon and since I was robbed of some parts of my trip by storms, I figure why not. The distillery is great and I buy a 4 roses patch to add to my vest, and I ride home.

This was in August. I’m writing this in October now. I think I should have started writing this a lot earlier, Bart. You’ve left a pretty big hole in our lives. I think I understand why you did what you did, but I don’t think I can forgive you, for a lot of reasons. Firstly, I’m the one who found you. I have promised myself I won’t ever tell anyone what I saw, but it’s horrible man. You know. You’re the only one who knows what I wake up to some nights. I also have a theory as to why you gave up, and a part of me understands. I think it was money. But, Bart, if you only knew what we spent taking off work and cremating you and burying you, it would have been easier for us to just write some checks to get you through the hard times than to do what we wound up doing.

I think Adam is a bit less respectful than he was when you were around. Don’t worry, I’m spending a bunch of time with him, as much as I can. Amy is overwhelmed, being a single mom is hard. I am committed to making sure Amy is a part of our family forever.

There’s a lot of other things I need to tell you about. I’ve seen your best friend Marc a few times, cleaned out your house, tried to find other riding buddies, tried to keep mom from crying so often.

The last thing I’ll tell you: took me a while to find a place that made it easy, but as bikers do I had a patch made for you. I cried for a while after I ordered it. Still pissed at you brother.

Vest2017

Riding to Mama Tried 2017

It’s the time of year where I am just dying to ride. My car feels like, well, a cage, and my body is screaming for sunshine. Due to some unseasonably warm weather the ice melted and on Saturday, February 18th I started the riding season.

2017 Start

This was my first time at Mama Tried, and due to the unusually warm weather it was a shitshow getting inside, even with my ABATE vendor badge. For a while they weren’t even letting vendors inside, and kept only letting people in as others left late into Saturday. Me and Bart got to skip most of the line, but here’s a panorama where you can see it wrapping around the block.

PanoramicLine

This is an important event for Abate of Wisconsin, since this year we’re all about connecting with the next generation of riders. Mama Tried has a very grass-roots custom builder feel to it. Choppers, cafe racers, flat track racing, and usually ice racing. The ice racing had to be cancelled this year because it was too warm! People building and racing their own bikes is a part of the past, present, and hopefully future of motorcycle riding in the USA; some notable people seem to agree with me.

I’m not much of a salesman, but I did get a couple of people to join Abate of Wis, and got to see a lot of interesting bikes, bikers, and gear. My only regret is not getting there in time to get a Mama Tried patch for my vest. I’ll definitely attend next year. I should have taken some pics of bikes, but I’m a moron and I had to work the booth besides.

MamaTried

Wisconsin Rustic Roads

I can’t help being a little competitive. When I got back into motorcycling, I started thinking about the patches people wear on their vests and jackets. I don’t run with folks in MCs so I’m not talking about an MC patch with a bottom rocker. I’m talking about the patches you see when you’re around other bikers at casual events. You’ll see a lot of HOG rally patches and pins. You’ll see “I support the 2nd Amendment” and “Don’t Tread on Me” and such quite a bit. I respect those patches and pins, truly, but I don’t ask people about them. A lot of those stand purely for group affiliation or political ideology. Good patches are like a good tattoo: it’s a personal emblem, but it’s also the start of a story. “Hey what does that mean?” “Oh hey I rode the dragon’s tail last year too!”

So, if you’re a goofy looking guy riding a Victory in the heart of Harley country near Milwaukee, you might feel the evil eye on you a little bit when you’re parking your bike, and that goes double if you’re flying some “Victory owner” patches. I started collecting patches about where I’d been and what I’d done. The first one I earned (other than by buying a motorcycle) was the Wisconsin Rustic Roads tour.

If you’re near Badgerland, check it out: http://wisconsindot.gov/Pages/travel/road/rustic-roads/default.aspx

Now if you’re under the age of 40 you are likely familiar with the notion of Achievements in video games. Achievements award you for doing something that’s already fun: playing the game. But you get 50 headshots in a row, and you get a special badge. Depending on where you live and your age, again, you may be familiar with the notion of BoyScout/GirlScout patches. I built a fire, I get the fire patch. I caught a fish, I get the fish patch. Well, I took pictures of my bike in front of rustic road signs in Wisconsin until I got the rust roads patch. Riding motorcycles is obviously already fun, but if I do these certain things I’ll also get a badge/patch/cheevo. My favorite photo from the rustic roads tour is my muscle bobber (a Victory Gunner) in front of the sign right across the street from the Potosi Brewery in Western Wisconsin, right across the river from Debuque.

By the way, this fun little bobber started my mind on the topic of: What is the correct number and kind of motorcycles to own? More on that in the future.

At any rate, I got a patch, and I earned it. I proudly sewed it on to the front of my vest in a random place because I’m not an artist and I’m a pretty shitty seamstress.

vestfront

Still, while no one has really struck up a conversation with me about this particular patch, my other patches have started a lot of conversations. It’s primal, this is one of the oldest ways of interacting with other humans. Your clothes, jewelry, scars, or tattoos say something. You mark yourself. People ask you about your markings. You make allies with people who understand your stories. I like marking myself as a biker with certain patches and tattoos. I may work in Corporate America, but I am proud of my tribal scars.