The Go Meet Everyone Cross Country Trip

I lost a lot of time yesterday having to run unexpected errands so I am about to walk out to the garage and start prepping the bike. There's not that much to do but for some reason, I suppose obvious, I'm dreading the task. There are too many ghosts in the garage now and I've grown to dislike turning wrenches alone.

I need to:

1. Replace the front brake lines. I had tried to install a new set before the October trip but I destroyed them on install. Stupid mistake. The ones on there now are too short. 
2. Replace the tires. This will take the most time. Michelin no longer makes my favorite tire in sizes that fit my bike, so I'm going to try the Bridgestone BattleAx T33 Sport Touring Tires. We'll see what I think of them.
   
   The '92 BMW K100RS has a problematic 160/60ZR18 sized tire on the rear. 
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3. Oil and filter change. 

I need to finish packing and going over the equipment list, which shouldn't take long.

It's going to be a crazy hot ride so I'm trying to prepare for that best I can. Hydration is key so for the first time on a street trip I'm going to be wearing a Camelbak.

I've also ordered a cheap evaporative cooling vest which hopefully will be helpful in the desert heat.
I suspect it won't do much in the soup of the Southern States. I do have an evaporative base layer that I've had good luck with, called Heat Outs from CycleGear. I'm not sure if they still sell them. I'm on the fence about the gear to wear. The plan is to wear the Transit Suit. It flows pretty well and reflects some heat, but it'll reprise its title of Toxic Suit pretty quickly. The flies will be in danger. Sadly, Aerostich does not have any of the new pants in stock. I replaced the jacket but am still running the told, now not water proof, pants, which sucks. I suspect there will be a lot of rain and some storms. 

Then there's making sure I have all my development tools synced on the development notebook. I plan to do some work and hopefully some writing from the road. 

While unwise, after a major six month push, I've finally installed all the latest software so I have a video call with Wayne to go over all the work that has been done. There are a lot of new features in the map editor. As you can see from the planning map, I now finally support routes that loop back on themselves where a single place can represent multiple stops in a trip.

 

As seems to be the rule rather than the exception, I did not get everything done in time so I hit the road well after the crack of noon. I had wanted to be in Los Alamos by Sunday evening but it looks like it's going to be Monday evening. With this shoulder and back of mine, my 1000 mile days are likely behind me. 

It has become a tradition to stop at Bob's BMW (now "Motorcycles") to say hello to Drew.  

 

Last year when I went on the Colorado/Moab trip, I stopped by to say hello to Drew before heading out. Now it's tradition. If all goes well, I'll loop back and say hello again when I return. 

I geared up to leave and as I got on my bike, helmet on ear plugs in, a guy walked up and asked about my bike. 

"I like the vintage bikes." he said. "What is it?"

"'92 K100RS. I'm not sure how I feel about the word 'vintage'." 

He asked some questions about the bike. It is an odd bike after all with the engine laid on its side the cylinder head on the left sticking out and the lower end on the right. The look of the cylinder head when the bike is underway gave it the nickname, "Flying  Brick." Today I was thinking it has the aerodynamics of a brick so aptly named.

He then asked about all the gear. "Are you touring? Where are you headed?"

I told him I was just starting out and that my intention was to head to Los Alamos, then Moab, then Seattle, then San Diego, and so forth. He seemed interested in the trip and asked if I was documenting the trip and asked how to follow. 

People keep asking me to write, but the words have been silent for so long. Even now. There are thoughts, ponderings, insights, but the fatigue sets in ... 

Because of scheduling complications, I am not going to be able to take a meandering trip cross country. I want to ride with Bruce around New Mexico and Colorado but he has a limited time window. So despite saying I would never do it again, years and years ago, I'm heading out Interstate 70, a.k.a. the epic super slab in an attempt to make good mileage.

I suspected my view for the next four days would resemble this.

Knowing that I would soon be passing into the Outer Lands, I decided it would be correct to pay my respects to a local religious institution. Soon I will be in areas where they practice strange foreign traditions known as Wawa and Royal Farms among other lesser know sects.  

 

It has been years upon years since I've spent any significant time on super slab. I saw the brake lights ahead and pondered a slowdown. I did not expect a complete stop. I sat there for some time and eventually turned the bike off. It was ridiculous. 

After some 20 minutes, I noticed a rider stopped on the side of the road next to the long line of tractor trailers. Overheating and deciding to brave the potential ticket I rode along the shoulder passing by the stopped vehicles. A short distance up ahead was one of those emergency vehicle turn arounds.

"Have you seen any law enforcement?" I asked him as I rolled up. "Just the one that went through the turn around a few moments ago." 

He complimented my bike and then I noticed his was a very recent R1250RS. I said, "If I were to ever get a new bike, it would probably be that one." 

"It seems to be the spiritual successor to your bike." he answered. 

I agreed.

I told him I was going to risk it, so I headed to the illegal turn around and raced back to the last exit with the intention of making my way around all this nonsense. 

The first country road I came across that was heading jn the right direction had a "Road Closed" sign prominently displayed. I have learned that these are often lies so I thought I would check it out. 

As it turns out, just before the turn that would have led me around the traffic jam there was, in fact, a closed road. The bridge was under active construction.  

So I backtracked with the intention of looping North along a route that looked promising when, at a stop light, I saw the R1250RS rider pass by and wave. The light turned green and I caught up to him. I deduced he had come to the same conclusion I did.  

As is so often the case, interruptions and misdirections lead to a more interesting trip. These were wonderful side roads that then eventually merged back onto route 40 which is itself gorgeous in Western Maryland. 

The R1250RS rider was a serious disciplined rider. He was good to follow. 

It was a risk but we found an onramp and to our good fortune it was past the epic traffic jam.  

I followed the R1250RS rider for some miles when he veered off to Hanock presumably to get gas at the infamous ghetto Sheetz. I continued on to route 68 and points West.

I was using my app which displays the route I had laid out along with my current position. I find I prefer it for navigation. The routing engine I used for it is an open source project called GraphHopper. It does a really good job of calculating routes based on a set of way points but sometimes it chooses routes that differ dramatically from Google Maps. It's a feature, not a bug, because I tend to end up on interesting roads as a result that I wouldn't if I just blinding followed Google Maps. 

There is a downside, however, My app, having static routes that are used offline, is not traffic aware. 

3 miles from the exit to the hotel room I had reserved, I came across this epic traffic jam. 

I relented and switched over to Google Maps and it gave me the bad news.  

8 minutes was a lie. It was more like 40 to go all of a half mile. I ended up getting off the bike. The trucker behind me laughed and shrugged. 

We did not move for some time.  

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I got to an off ramp and was able to make my way along a service road to the hotel. It was a good thing because traffic was at a complete standstill.  

I rolled into the hotel parking lot just after 8pm. Given I spent well over an hour sitting in traffic and got a crazy late start, the fact I was able to even do 300 miles without too much pain is encouraging. My left shoulder hurts and the feeling that it is going to be much worse looms large but today was not a bad day. 

If I can get an early start tomorrow I may be able to muster 500 maybe 600 miles, which if I can do it will be longer than any day I've done since the injury.  

I approve of reserved motorcycle parking right in front of the lobby. 

I'm at a MicroTel Inn and Suites. This place is surprisingly nice for what is relatively inexpensive by modern standards.  

 

So far the bike has been running well. These new BattleAx tires are surprisingly good. I think I can get used to them. It's strange how personal a thing like tires are on a bike. Ever since I came across the Michelin Pilot Road 2's back in 2010 I've exclusively used them. Before that I ran Metzelers which I had been running since I was a teenager. They have a different profile that is much sharper, more "race track", so when you turn they tend to turn in very quickly, which is what you want on a track.

The Michelins in contrast have a more street oriented profile and provide a much more gradual lean in, which I have grown to prefer. 

I ride on the street and like equipment designed for the street. 

Interestingly, these new tires have a similar profile and provide a similar feeling of stability. And they seem to grip really well. 

Not bad. 

It was warm today but not too hot. As is the case whenever new gear is introduced, it's taking some time to get used to wearing a hydration pack with all the street leathers, but it's better. Despite having it and drinking more water than I would normally I arrived at the hotel severely dehydrated. I seem to be more sensitive to that than I ever used to be. Change is a constant. 

 

This is a very rough draft. Sorry, I ran out of time.

 

As I was packing up the bike to get ready to go, I came across these two riders who took an interest in the bike. The Beloved Blue Oil Burner has been getting a crazy amount of attention on this trip. It's almost unnerving. Everywhere I stop some person or other walks up to ask about the machine and then where I'm headed. 

These two walked up to ask me about the bike. They had met up here in Wheeling, West Virginia. One came in from Ohio and the other from Fort Washington, Maryland, the to adjacent to where I grew up. They told me their names and, of course, I no longer remember.

I was a bit concerned about the bike because I couldn't see any oil in the window. I thought maybe it was because of the incline. I was trying to keep the bike level off the center stand but it's really awkward to hold the bike and look at the sight glass. I asked if maybe they could hold the bike up while I looked closer. Maybe I hadn't had enough coffee because I was having a Stupid(tm). They asked me about my concern and they mentioned a shop nearby where I could have it checked out. 

I looked at them quizzically for a second and then came understanding. "Oh, I just put the bike back together again with my best friend". That changed the conversation. 

Then I realized the oil level was correct. It's just really clean since I had just changed it. For the last two years I've been doing too much work on diesel engines. It's weird how knowledge atrophies.  

They asked me some more questions about the bike and then moved on to how many hours I could ride non-stop. I told them that I prefer taking more stops rather than fewer.

"It's the stops where the magic happens." 

They how far I was going and I mentioned Los Alamos. 

"Is that your final destination?" 

"Oh no. From there I'm planning to head to ...." and so forth. 

This led to a longer conversation about motorcycle travel. 

"Man, I've been dreaming about a trip like that for years, but I don't know. I'm even retired." the one guys said. 

"So just go. There's nothing to it. You've already ridden 300+ miles to get here. Just pretend this is where you are starting and go another 300+ miles in that direction. Repeat a few times and you'll be on the West Coast in no time." 

I spent the rest of the day thinking about this encounter. There's a fear of the unknown. The mind gravitates to the 1 in 100,000 stories of misfortune. Talk to people about sailing and they will inevitably worry about sharks. Yet, those same people are not concerned about ticks and mosquitoes, because the latter are familiar and they already know and live with the much larger threat daily. However, it's the unknown risk that prevents actions. Of course, now that I mention sharks, I do have a friend who lost someone to a shark attack in the islands. 

I remember for the Trans America Trail trip I was really concerned about bears and wolves in addition to venomous snakes. I had heard stories. I encountered bears and snakes and heard wolves in the distance and none of it was a problem. The only critters I had a problem with were dogs and bugs

"There's nothing to it." kind of stuck with me. Once one has done something successfully, the intimidation of the thing seems to dissipate almost instantly. The Alaska Trip is "only Alaska" now as I immediately think of people who did the really scary thing and rode down to Argentina. They talk about the ones who rode across Russia. And so forth.

It reminds me of conversations I have regularly with my friend Andy. Andy started running distance in earnest back in 2020 and did his first half marathon which seemed like a crazy accomplishment to me. He then went on to run a marathon, and then a number, and moved on to ultra marathons. And each time he would say the same thing, "Once it's done then it doesn't seem like that big a deal." When he finished his first 100 mile in under 24 hour ultra, he said, "Well, it's only a 100" and started training for the 200. 

I regularly tell him I know no other human who has done anything like this to which he always replies, "I don't know anyone who goes on the kind of adventures you do" which always catches me off guard. It's only a little ride unlike the big ones real adventurers do. Then he tells me about the elite people in his sport that stretch the limits of human capability.

There's nothing to it. 

Just go. 

The fear of the unknown limits experience and confines the spirit to a smaller life.

Of course there will be problems. Of course it will be hard. 

"If you're not doing the hard things, why even bother?" Andy often mentions. 

Maybe it will go badly. Maybe the bike will break. But it's just a little ride from gas station to gas station, hotel to hotel. 

If not now, then when? Time is short and we are all one unfortunate event away from not being able to do it at all. 

Just go. 

As I put on my helmet they said, as almost everyone does, "Ride safe." to which I replied, "I'll try but not too hard. Safety third." 

That's the thing. There is nothing "safe" about riding a motorcycle. No amount of training or gear will ever make this safe. There is a constant threat of an immediate life altering negative outcome. Barreling down an interstate at 75 bad things can always happen. I look down at the pavement and always think about my demise.

This is not safe. There is no such thing as safety. There is only risk management. Training. Practice. Gear. Caution. These mitigate the risk but do not eliminate it.

But the reality is nothing is safe. There are only different risk profiles. 

Cars are dangerous. Walking is dangerous. Being in a house is dangerous. 

But sitting doing nothing is also dangerous. 

Living is dangerous and I find that the attempt to seek security, certainty, "safety" is one of the root causes of the harm human beings do in this world. 

There is no safety. There never has been.   

I rolled off to head to points West. 

There are these old towns I pass and every time I find myself wanting to explore them, but I never do. 

At one point there was a sudden slowdown in front of me. It's not every day you see an accident like this.

Construction was relentless. It seems like all of I70 is one big construction site. 

And there was so ridiculously many tractor trailers. The last time I rode along I70 there were a fraction as many. I pondered how much the population in the West has grown in the intervening years and wondered if that might be the root cause of this incredible increase in tractor trailer traffic. 

Ridiculous construction. 

When we say "Super Slab" this is what we mean. 

At one point I was rolling along and looked up to see this.  

Another thing that struck me is how much the trucking industry has grown. Want to buy a tractor trailer? Well, over there there's a tractor trailer dealer. One of many.  

I missed the Welcome to Ohio sign but caught the leaving Ohio sign. I was doing pretty well. My should hardly hurt at all. 

Traffic was relentless with an ever greater density of construction sites.  

I encountered precious few motorcycles. This guy rode up with temp tags on his brand new bike.  

And the super slab continued. 

Another state.  

Towards the end of the day clouds started streaming in. I had learned about these clouds, what they are called, and what they mean in one of the sailing courses I took, but I have since forgotten. 

I see them and I think, "Not good." 

For the first time in years I managed to do 550 miles in a single day. I used to regularly do much more but this back and shoulder of mine has limited my abilities. But today for the first time since the injury it was all manageable. I have a Camelbak and was diligent about staying hydrated. Maybe that helped. Honestly my biggest limitation was the seat. I dawns on me my beloved and coveted Saddleman Seat is 12 years old now and no longer as comfortable as it used to be. I'm going to buy an AirHawk and have it shipped to Bruce's. That should help me to do more miles. 

But of course, as I write this my shoulder is starting to act up which is disappointing. 

When I rolled up to the hotel these guys were there and challenged me to a race. They complimented the bike and we got to talking about travel, as you do. As I went up to my room, they brought the little bike with them.

"Huh, if they let you take yours I wonder if they'll let me take mine?" 

 

 

The day before yesterday I stopped for my first visit on this Visit Everyone trip. I met Michael and Michelle about 12 years ago when they rode out to meet John and I when we were heading across country. I remember thinking there was an instant feeling of familiarity and we have stayed in touch ever since. In 2016 when I was broken down in Fort Smith, about 100 miles away from where they live they drove down to meet me. Sadly, some years ago Michael had a huge motorcycle wreck and no longer rides. He was sad that I had not visited him years earlier because there were so many roads around where he lives in Arkansas that he wanted to show me. 

They put me up in a comfortable room and Michelle then proceeded to make a very carefully done steak and asparagus dinner. She had paid careful attention to my posts and already knew about all my limitations. They read all the warnings about "Do Not Feed the Yermos" but disregarded them completely. 

"You realize, I now owe you a life debt." I told her. 

We talked all evening and then again all morning. We got to know each other better in those few hours than in the preceding years. There are just some souls you come across that get it and for a brief moment you're not alone. But then, as is always the case on journeys like this, the moment is over too soon. I hope to be able to visit them again before another decade passes. 

I needed to cross another 769 miles to get to White Rock where I will be staying with Bruce and Ha. Bruce and I intend to go on a loop ride for a few days. We're not yet sure where we'll go, but it'll be good to spend time with him. For both of us it's a bit hard. Duncan was the third band member and for most of our lives if we did a motorcycle trip it was always the three of us. His loss follows me where I go. It just all feels so wrong that we'll never get the band back together.

The slog across the Big, Flat, and Hot has not been as bad as I feared. I suspect because of the heat, that problematic shoulder/back muscle on the left side next to my shoulder blade has not been cramping up nearly as badly as it usually does. So far, it hasn't come close to hampering my range of motion. When it's bad I can't turn my head which is awkward on a motorcycle.

Honestly, the seat or my terminal case of old white man's saggy ass syndrome has been the biggest problem. It makes doing three hour 200 mile sessions challenging. (The fact that I've multiple 200 mile sessions now is a bit mind boggling given where I was just 8 months ago.)

I imagine if I can get that back muscle to calm down and somehow lessen the pain in my rear and legs that I'd be able to go much further in day. Yesterday, as I clicked off 495 miles in crazy heat, possibly due to heat exhaustion, I started pondering whether or not I should build up to try an "Iron Butt SaddleSore 1000" which is to long distance motorcycle riders what a marathon is to runners.

The Iron Butt Association runs a rally called the Iron Butt Rally which is an 11,000 mile event over 11 days run every two years on odd years. It's like a motorcycle ultra-marathon. 

It is an invitation only event. I've only ever known one person who's run it and he ended up placing third, which is impressive. If things go to plan I'll cross paths with a Facebook friend, Kerri, who is a long distance riding fiend and clicks off 1000 mile days the way Andy clicks off marathons. She has also run in the rally. 

To open the association up to more riders, they started an authenticated challenge for us mere mortals called the SaddleSore 1000. The idea is you set out to ride 1000 miles in a day and you have to document the ride carefully according to their rules which includes getting receipts at every gas stop among other things. If they accept your documentation they send you a license plate frame. It's a silly thing. I've done 1000 miles in a day two, maybe three times, years ago. However, in the last decade the most I've done in a day is about 760 and that was on the DR650. That hurt. 

Until last October I wasn't even able to ride 90 miles at a stretch without being in agony that verged on dangerous. With some changes in how I ride, some exercises, drinking a ton more water, and maybe random chance, it's  improved dramatically as evidenced by how this has been going, but it is still there and I know that in the cold it'll cramp up. 

But it is better than it was. Much better. I have to think some of the effort I've put in has helped effect this change.

So that got me to thinking ,now that I have these limitations, I ponder whether or not trying to do a 1000 mile day in some kind of official way might not be a nice way to frame attempting to further resolve these issues. Duncan always wanted to do it and we talked about giving it a try but things went down hill and he was no longer able to ride distance then not at all. Broke my heart. 

As I ponder challenging myself, I have often been told when I describe what I am facing that, "Well, you're not exactly a young man any more." 

There's this prominent idea in this country that age implies disability. It's part of the culture. 30 is old and when bodies start creaking, backs start going out, knees hurt, and in general everything goes down hill. The aches and pains and mobility limitations are all a result of, well, simply being old. And we just have to accept this gracefully, walker on the ready. 

But this has never seemed to make sense to me.

Ever seen some of those guys from Papa New Guinea? I watched a documentary about their life style and they were interviewing this guy, 70 years old, absolutely ripped and moved like a 20 year old. That made an impression.

When I was little kid I hurt more than I do now. I threw my back out for the first time when I was like 6 or 7. I was immobile for over 24 hours. That would happen pretty frequently over the years. My shoulders have been a problem since I was about 18. Of course, by that point I had been working in front of a computer for 11 years and for that last four years or so it was crazy hours at the keyboard. I've been sick my entire life. So I guess that makes me see things differently.

There came a moment when I was introduced to the concept that I could actually have an effect on my own outcome. That concept is what led me to eventually discover the diet and the misery that is my life was lessened dramatically.

I could have an effect.

In 2020 I had come across an online physical therapist who worked with me and got me to a point where I could even start practicing guitar again. Simple exercises done in specific ways and suddenly muscles that had been locked up for ages released and my hands worked again. 

Did I keep that up? Of course not. Soon back to my old habits, long hours in front of the keyboard, and all the problems came back. Sadly, she is no longer doing physical therapy and I have not been able to find anyone that's been able to help me the way she did. And did I document what she had me do? Did I take notes? No. 

So over the last couple of years or so I've taken it upon myself to start learning the topic and have made some progress which is evident by the fact that I'm now in Amarillo, Texas. 

So back to age. Of course there are things that degrade over time that are directly age related. My vision is not what it was. Memory is failing, but that may be because I have trouble sleeping. Pain does hurt differently. I suspect that is age. 

But, I question if the problems I have riding are "age" and maybe it's more "time since last exercise". 

Have I taken the shoulder rehab work that I know to do seriously? No. Inconsistently at best. Have I been doing squats, RDLs, and other exercises to address the saggy ass syndrome which would help dramatically with the sitz agony? No, of course not. 

Have I worked on the mobility constraints arising from spending a lifetime at a desk in front of a computer? Not consistently. 

So until I have put full consistent effort into doing the things I have demonstrated can at least improve things, I can't say that it's age. When I was younger, and much much sicker, I still moved much more than I do now. Life was less sedentary. 

Somewhere along the way with the stress of life and burdens of obligations, I began to move much less. My shoulders bowed forward. I developed what they call the "tech hump" at the base of neck. Muscles atrophied. 

Age? 

Maybe. 

But until I take responsibility and make The Work a full priority, I can't say for sure. Obviously, at some point it will be. It waits for us all. But maybe if I can somehow muster the discipline and consistency to do The Work in all its facets, I may be able to say:

"Yes. Some day, but not today."

So maybe a Saddlesore attempt is in my future. 

We'll see.