Alamo Run '06 and beyond

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I took a couple of weeks off for a motorcycle ride.  The timing was dictated by a gathering of Goldwing owners in San Antonio, TX.  I added a side trip to the Smokey Mountain region to ride the Tail of the Dragon and some other roads in the area.  Then it was off to Washington DC to visit a friend and back to Denver.

The trip to Texas was uneventful except for following a major thunderstorm across Texas.  As I approached Lubbock, lightening was playing in the sky all around in front of me.  When I pulled in for gas, someone warned me about golf-ball sized hail directly in my path.  I figured I'd pull over if it got too bad.  I had my kevlar coat and helmet on. I found a local country radio station and they talked about the storm they had but weren't reporting anything new.  As it worked out, the storm went east and I went south around it.  I did get about 10 minutes of decent rain from it.

The hotel let me check in at 5am Friday as a Friday check-in so I could get a few hours sleep without paying the extra night's charge.  It took a couple of tries to make sure I was at the right place.  No motorcycles were in the parking lot.  When I pulled up, I saw Jeannie's trike under the eve at the entrance.  Upon closer inspection, I found other bikes and trailers tucked into various nooks and crannies under the balconies.  'Seems the storm I was chasing came through town and they had tucked their bikes up out of the hail.

A side note here.  The first part of the trip is called "The Alamo Run".  It was started by George Mandry to thank some guys that bought him a motorcycle during a point in time when his luck was running sour.  This was about 10 years ago.  Today he has a house outside of San Antonio sitting on about an acre.  The garage houses a sweet 1800 Goldwing.  The interior of the house is gorgeous.  And when his wife comes home and adds her charm and beauty (of which she has plenty), you wonder if a guy can have much better luck.

I bagged a few hour's sleep then headed over to George's place to see how things were progressing.  George goes by the handle of The Texas Redneck or TTR.  Last year, some doctors were playing around inside his chest cavity so his daughter painted his toenails while he was under.  He is now Twinkle Toes Redneck or Twinkles.  He was mixing this and adding that to various concoctions and getting a fire started in the grill.  Jeannie and Artie were returning from the local Honda shop where they were spending their gift certificate.  When they returned, George put us to work setting out and cleaning chairs and tables, and "counting beans".  Counting beans is more like sorting - the broken and icky ones get discarded.  I tried to tell him of experiments with using pigeons to sort since they have such good eyesight.  He didn't seem any more impressed than the Food and Drug Administration which has yet to approve the procedure for examining pills.

Back at the hotel, people were trickling in at a moderate pace.  One guy showed up with about 20 antennas sticking up from his bike.  Instead of streamers on the handlebars, he had antennas - not really but he could.  I quickly guessed that might be Ray Davis.  He was busy explaining which ones did what and how he had his extra two fuel tanks were attached.  Other people came along and every so often it would come up that I was the one with the car tire so I'd preach on about the benefits.  I don't know if I converted anyone.

Groups kind of assembled in the parking lot and around the pool.  Talk of trips and bike predominated the discussions.  At the poolside, a young lady with a Barbie-doll figure and thoroughly bronzed skin was lying on a lounge chair with three small pieces of triangle fabric tied on in appropriate places.  I found an excuse to start a conversation and she was interested in all the bikes.  She like motorcycles (+1) and liked to go fast (+2).  She really liked Harleys and was not interested in imports....well it was good chatt'n.

Evening time rolled around and it was time for dinner.  The quietest motorcycle gang in all of America fired up their machinery and purred off the two miles to the restaurant.  A few people along the way took a look at the procession but I don't think we scared too many little children.  Dinner was ordered and served without significant incident. Afterwards, I was heading back to the hotel and found I didn't want to stop.  I asked around a little about a ride and Jeff Sawyer agreed to show me around.  I saw a roughly 70 mile loop around a lake that looked good.  He led me off into the area but his wife was sleepy so they headed back.  The map had pointed out a road that looked like a good side trip.  Of course I didn't look at the map close enough to know that that road was also this road and the other road went back this direction also.  The net result was finding some road closed at a river crossing which had been flooded earlier and still had debris consisting of trees strung across the bridge.  As I left, I did note the area well enough to find it again Saturday morning and get some pictures.  Locals talked of water 20 feet deep where it was now a couple of feet.  Driftwood in the branches 20 feet up in the trees confirmed their estimate.

Back at George's Saturday afternoon, the street was getting lined with bikes as dinner was getting served.  By the time dinner was over and four helpings were consumed, the next dinner did not seem too appealing.  I took off to check out the San Antonio night life.  I found a couple of bars with some country music but was more interested in watching than joining.  After watching the local scenery for a couple of hours, I got back on the bike and got lost again for a few hours.  When I returned, Jeannie and Artie were packing up to leave.  I got a few hours sleep, had some breakfast, chatted with LDComfort founder Mario about how to properly wear his gear, then headed off to New Orleans.

New Orleans is still a mess.  Then again, some would say it has always been a mess.  Piles of trash line the streets.  I saw no indication anyone was picking up any of the piles.  About a third of the houses in the flooded area were "occupied".  I have no idea what the occupants had for utilities.  I found the French Quarter and the casinos by the river.  I guessed I'd find good rates on a Sunday before the season when the place looked deserted.  Not quite.  The casinos wanted $220.  I found a Comfort Suites for $79.

A section of sidewalk in front of the entrance of the hotel made a fine parking spot for the 'Wing.  I walked over to Bourbon Street.  The "clubs" were begging people to come in and offering free admission or drinks.  I wondered past them and found a patio band with a little cafe where I could get some authentic New Orleans food and listen to a little jazz.  I ended up with some deep fried catfish that wasn't very good.  Of well, after long rides, my appetite is usually shot anyway.  A few bars on the east end looked busy so I wondered on down.  I glanced in the door of one and found a topless dancer on a stage.  The second glance brought into focus the male gender of the dancer and explained the flat chested-ness.  A look around revealed a gathering of dudes dancing and snuggling with each other.  Depending on your particular preferences, you might or might not want to stick around.  I don't care what you prefer but thought you might want the information.

The following morning was more disaster tourism along the Mississippi coast.  US Highway 90 goes along the Gulf Coast.  The road is in decent shape but the bridges at Bay St. Louis and Biloxi are out.  Again, I saw no activity with regards to clean-up and rebuilding with the exception of the casinos and a little work on the bridges.  The bare foundations and stilts sticking up were the most striking evidence of the damage.  100 yards back from the shore, houses and building were partially crushed.  The gulf was whispering calm.

My next stop was Deals Gap via the Tail.  I picked up the slab around Mobile and followed it to Tennessee.  At some point, I looked around and realized I was in hills again.  I had not seen appreciable elevation changes in the past week.  The hills were not quite the mountains I'm used to.  It took a few minutes to figure out one key difference.  The vegetation is certainly greener and more colorful, but it is lower.  The pines and firs of the west reach 100 feet easy and 300 feet in the right areas.  The oaks and hardwoods make it maybe 50 feet.

I found the Tail around 10PM and ran it at a moderate pace.  The rear tire felt soft and the brakes were howling.  A number of people were gathered around the fire at Deal's Gap.  Once I knew where I was, I went back through the Tail to near Maryville where my cell phone worked again.  I made a call to check in and re-ran the Tail back to Deal's Gap.  The check-in to the rooms was closed so I set up my cot and heated some supper.  The following morning, I used my air pump to touch up the tire, got some breakfast and gas from the station, and headed back to Alcoa (near Maryville) to find brake pads for the rear brakes.  The shop opened at 10am and I showed up about 9:30.  I took the time to get the brakes off.  I don't normally carry a c-clamp so compressing the pistons was a challenge.  By using a couple of wrenches and a lot of squeezing, I open it up enough to get the new pads in.  I was out by 11.

My next route was essentially around the Smokey Mountain National Park.  All the roads were fun.  Even I40 east of the park is a twisty.  My goal was Cherokee where I know a lady working for the Cherokee reservation.  I found her in the Attorney General’s office.  It took her a few moments to recognize me.  She has kids to take care of but got out for a ride for a couple of hours.  We found the entrance to the Blue Ridge Parkway and started up.  I told her to let me know if I went to fast.  She said not to worry.  She also said she preferred high RPM's to the howl of lugging so along one straight stretch, I ran the RPM's to six grand in third and fourth gears.  (I know you rocket riders are thinking six grand is barely in the power band but I'm on a GL1800.)  Fourth gear wound out on a 'Wing is just tickling triple digits.  The next corner was quickly approaching so I stole a quick hug by shedding about 60 of those mph's right now.  She thought that was pretty fun.  Understand, this lady is about 5'9", long dark hair, deep brown eyes, and has a ... lets just say she's very pretty.  The question is, "How much does a guy rearrange his life over a drop-dead gorgeous brunette who lets him run the Blue Ridge Parkway at 100mph?"  Tempting, very tempting!

The next morning, I finished the circle of the park by following highways 19 and 28.  I ended up on something called the New Fontana Road.  Since I was going through a town called Fontana, it seemed reasonable.  The road went into the park for about 10 miles before it dead-ended.  It made a nice compliment to the Tail.  Highways 19 and 28 both had nice areas.  Back at the gap, I re-ran the Tail both ways.  The first way, I re-counted the curves and got stuck behind a couple of vehicles.  Coming back, I ran it fairly hard.  I kept it under 60 even on the longer stretches and did not shift as much as I could have.  I had two other vehicles but they moved out of the way quickly.  My time was between 18 and 19 minutes.  (I just used the bike's clock.)  I figure I could shave maybe one more minute if I was willing to push it.  Oh yeah, I counted 250 curves one way and 245 the other.  Call it 250 curves in 11.8 miles.  Not bad but not 318!

Then it was off to DC to meet up with some people.  I planned to set up an Ironbutt motel but got about a half a day ahead of my schedule.  I arrived in DC around 10pm and everyone was shut down for the evening.  (What happened to the all-night, every night partying???)  Not wanting to set up an Ironbutt motel in the heart of DC, I checked into a hostel, got some rest, and decided to ride New York City the next day.  My GPS routed me up a series of toll roads to the end of the New Jersey Parkway.  I was supposed to exit onto the Lincoln tunnel but it didn't happen.  A short tour of Jersey City later, I was back to the tunnel and on my way under.  Out the other side, I found myself southbound on Broadway!  Not bad for a Montana boy out from Colorado!  I had gone from riding some of the most open road in the country to some of the most congested.  I made it south past Wall Street, headed east to Park Avenue, and back north.  At 57th, I headed over to Central Park.  I parked my Goldwing on the sidewalk in Central Park and took a little stretch break.  Back on the bike, signs kept pointing me east.  I needed to go west to get back to the tunnel.  I promising u-turn landed me behind the barricade I was in front of a few minutes earlier.  On the 'Wing, I put it in second gear and just idled on through without attracting too much attention.  Plus, I figured I could plead "lost old man riding a Goldwing from the west about to have a heart attack in the big city" if local law enforcement officials took notice.

It took a few tries, but I found the entrance to the tunnel and made my way back to the New Jersey turnpike.  Things were looking good until I was settling in with some fast traffic at about 75 and the rear end got squirrelly.  It didn't take too long to realize I was experiencing the run-flat feature of my car tire.  I got to the side of the road and refilled the tire to about 20 pounds.  I couldn't hear a leak but the traffic was heavy.  I took the tire off for a closer look.  A highway worker pulled over and we sprayed some soapy water he had on the tire.  We found a small piece of staple in the tire that did need fixing but wasn't the cause of the rapid deflation I had.  I filled the tire up all the way, put it back on, and took off.  Within a minute it was flat.  The basic procedure was tried a couple more times until I ran it flat for a few miles to the next service station and tried some flat fix.  Again, it was good until I got some speed going.  I finally found a full service station but they would not work on the bike.  They did allow me some air so I ran it up to 40 lbs.  Then, I could hear the leak.  It was the valve stem.  I had looked at it earlier but hadn't noticed that if it pulled forward, it would leak.  The spinning of the tire pulled it forward.  I had heard of a Honda shop and got some directions but after looking around and not finding it, I used some wire to rig a system to keep the stem from shifting.  I got back on the road and found the Honda shop at the other end of the block!  I would have paid $250 for a valve stem at the time.  The shop charged me an hour's labor plus parts for a 45 minute job.  Not bad.  Then they threw in a t-shirt so the deal was good.

The GPS routed me to an entrance on the New Jersey Turnpike that didn't exist.  I had a short ride through the countryside getting back to the slab but finally got on my way.  The weather people had been talking crap about rain but the skies were sunny so I bagged off the rain pants.  The rain liner for my Cycleport mesh coat also provides a bit of warmth which I needed so it was on.  The little drizzle I went through was not an issue.  The downpour was.  Ya know, I always like riding past cages that have pulled over due to weather!  Wimps.  My torso stayed relatively dry as my boots filled with water running down my leg.  However, I was supposed to be having dinner with a favorite lady and was pissed at being late.  The rain probably saved my kevlar coat from melting due to the heat I was generating from being so mad.  The good news was the five inch wide rear tire with huge water ejecting tread was rock solid in the worst of the rain.  I will never own a bike that doesn't allow a car tire on the rear.

By the time I got to DC, the rain had subsided.  When Katherine met me at door, the entire trip and anything else that might happen on the trip was worth the cost and effort!  'Course she refused to so much as give me a hug!  Five minutes of changing into dry clothes solved that issue.  We had just enough time to find a little Italian restaurant for dinner.  They had an awesome ice-cream  desert.

Friday, everyone had to work so I slept most of it.  We got back together for dinner that night then people were getting ready for a party.  I didn't want to party through a night then try to ride 1,644 miles back home.  I packed up and left town around 11pm hoping to do a DC-Denver run in 24 hours.  I have qualified a BBG from Denver- to "almost DC".  At 23:50 hours I was 60 miles from DC with 1,580 miles covered and needed to grab my last receipt.  I had a few slow downs on that trip and want to bag the true trip in 24 hours.

I got on the bike knowing the front tire would need replacing when I got back.  Side note: don't try to get the last 1,000 miles out of your tire when you have 1,644 miles to go!  In Kansas City, I had a rice-grinder shop on one side and a Harley shop on the other side of me.  I pushed on.  At the next town, I checked the tire and had just an indication of tread left around the center.  I wouldn't even mind having no tread but I didn't want to wear down into the cords.  A Harley shop sat near the highway but it looked closed.  Who'd close a shop before 6 on a Saturday?  It was actually 5:25 and they closed at 4.  By the time I got to the next shop, it was 6:15 and they closed at 5.  450 miles to go and almost no tread on an Avon Venom.  I've heard they are tough; let's find out.  I set the cruise down to 55 and settled in for a long finish.

I still had visions of getting to Denver before 1 or 2 in the morning.  I slammed a few caffeine tablets to help.  The wall presented itself - hard - at about midnight.  I got a room and slept for a few hours until the caffeine wouldn't let me.  The remainder of the trip turned into a game of survival stopping every 30-50 miles.  I did get an hour's sleep at one rest area.  Me, the 'Wing, and the carcass of a tire crawled into home at about 10am.  The tire showed no more wear than when I started running at 55.  I wonder how many miles a person could get out of a tire at 55 and not screaming into corners?

It's now Friday and I'm fairly well recovered.  Food is easier to swallow but my neck still objects to turning.  However, my mapping program is up!  Denver to DC along I80 is 13 miles longer than I70 but Nebraska has a 75mph speed limit verses Kansas's 70.  Unfortunately, Iowa is 65 compared to Missouri's 70.  I want doorstep-to-doorstep in 24 hours!  And Katherine wants to listen to the Marine Corps Band.  When's the next three day weekend???