4010 Miles
14 Days
39.48 Miles Per Gallon
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Day 14 - Pensacola, FL to Spring, TX
545 Miles
Got up fairly early and hit the road by 7:15 a.m. Dreary day with dreary prospects. Knowing today was going to be the last day of the trip I said "to heck with it" and committed to the interstate, opting to just get it done. Frankly, without going pretty far out of my way there's not all that much on the Gulf coast which captures my interest. I didn't even stop at the casinos for some poker. Weather forecasts indicated I could expect more rain riding and the thought of going into a casino in wet riding togs just didn't appeal at all.
Speaking of weather forecasts, why are they almost always right in the negative? If they say it's going to be bad, it usually is. The other way they seem to miss as many as they make. The result is a bad day in either case. Maybe that's why we don't take them very seriously.
Pulled into Mobile with the weather starting to close in. Like I said, a dreary day.
Wanted to take a picture of something so I pulled into Battleship Parkway and shot this pic of the U.S.S. Alabama.
I was fortunate there was no ground fog. It could have easily happened. Instead, it was up a hundred feet or so.
A Katrina casualty? Probably from one of the hurricanes that came through a couple of years ago.
Headed below Mobile bay.
And down.
And up.
Plugged on with slight, intermittent showers starting after Mobile and into Mississippi. No big deal...for a while. Just east of Lake Charles, the slight and the intermittent went away. It became a full-fledged downpour. Adding some excitement was a few lightning strikes, but, fortunately, all were at least 1/2 mile away from me. The good news here was the heavy rain cleaned the love bugs from the windshield. Yep, they were out. As you go down the road you see these small dark shapes coming toward you only to be diverted by the air stream from the windshield at the very last moment. Well...diverted most of the time. They come flying in looking like little mini-Messerschmidt Bf 109s bearing down on the tail gunner of a B-17. Every now and then, just as in the skies over Germany, one actually veers right into the target. Many German pilots actually survived such an incident. Can't say the same for the "passenger" flying with the love bug males. None survived as far as I can tell. And I'm not sorry. They're just not as tasty as some people say they are.
Motorcyclists lie. Almost all say the rain doesn't bother them or isn't so bad. This is only true about light sprinkles on hot days. The rest of the time, even with excellent rain gear it's not what you want. It can be scary on many levels. First, the traction becomes suspect. This is not a good thing when you are only putting two wheels on the pavement. My experience is traction is about the same as a car as long as you are careful about applying power, especially on turns.
Then there's the visibility thing. I don't know how the full face shields hold up under such conditions, I wear goggles that fit over my glasses. The lens of the goggles is "shooting" yellow to provide brightness. They do that well, and it's a good thing, but they still are covered with water and visibility is always less than optimal. I am constantly looking upward so the air bouncing from the brim of the helmet "pushes" the water down the lens clearing the top sections. This works pretty well until a major downpour. Once it reaches a certain intensity you're basically looking through distorting sheets of water. As I rode through such a downpour today and started seeing all these cars pulled to the side of the road and under overpasses, I questioned if, perhaps, I should do the same thing. Nah...macho motorcyclist thing...those folks sitting in their nice, dry cars saying, "Boy, I bet that guy on the motorcycle is miserable," would then know they were right and we can't have that, can we? Motorcyclists lie.
Betsy looked more like a wet puppy than a Kaw.
But at least we were in Texas.
The bad storm cells ended by the time I cleared Beaumont. From then on there were just a few sprinkles and it was over. I pulled into my driveway, once again unhappy that a trip was over.
Can't say enough about Betsy though. Yet again, she pulled through all of it with zero problems. Cranked first time, every time, and did all asked of her. Any problems I've had with this bike have been with after-market things, i.e., the dealer wiring installation on my after-market horns, or the slits which developed on the after-market exhaust pipes this trip. But the Kawasaki stuff has worked and worked damn well. I'm proud of Betsy.
Got up fairly early and hit the road by 7:15 a.m. Dreary day with dreary prospects. Knowing today was going to be the last day of the trip I said "to heck with it" and committed to the interstate, opting to just get it done. Frankly, without going pretty far out of my way there's not all that much on the Gulf coast which captures my interest. I didn't even stop at the casinos for some poker. Weather forecasts indicated I could expect more rain riding and the thought of going into a casino in wet riding togs just didn't appeal at all.
Speaking of weather forecasts, why are they almost always right in the negative? If they say it's going to be bad, it usually is. The other way they seem to miss as many as they make. The result is a bad day in either case. Maybe that's why we don't take them very seriously.
Pulled into Mobile with the weather starting to close in. Like I said, a dreary day.
Wanted to take a picture of something so I pulled into Battleship Parkway and shot this pic of the U.S.S. Alabama.
I was fortunate there was no ground fog. It could have easily happened. Instead, it was up a hundred feet or so.
A Katrina casualty? Probably from one of the hurricanes that came through a couple of years ago.
Headed below Mobile bay.
And down.
And up.
Plugged on with slight, intermittent showers starting after Mobile and into Mississippi. No big deal...for a while. Just east of Lake Charles, the slight and the intermittent went away. It became a full-fledged downpour. Adding some excitement was a few lightning strikes, but, fortunately, all were at least 1/2 mile away from me. The good news here was the heavy rain cleaned the love bugs from the windshield. Yep, they were out. As you go down the road you see these small dark shapes coming toward you only to be diverted by the air stream from the windshield at the very last moment. Well...diverted most of the time. They come flying in looking like little mini-Messerschmidt Bf 109s bearing down on the tail gunner of a B-17. Every now and then, just as in the skies over Germany, one actually veers right into the target. Many German pilots actually survived such an incident. Can't say the same for the "passenger" flying with the love bug males. None survived as far as I can tell. And I'm not sorry. They're just not as tasty as some people say they are.
Motorcyclists lie. Almost all say the rain doesn't bother them or isn't so bad. This is only true about light sprinkles on hot days. The rest of the time, even with excellent rain gear it's not what you want. It can be scary on many levels. First, the traction becomes suspect. This is not a good thing when you are only putting two wheels on the pavement. My experience is traction is about the same as a car as long as you are careful about applying power, especially on turns.
Then there's the visibility thing. I don't know how the full face shields hold up under such conditions, I wear goggles that fit over my glasses. The lens of the goggles is "shooting" yellow to provide brightness. They do that well, and it's a good thing, but they still are covered with water and visibility is always less than optimal. I am constantly looking upward so the air bouncing from the brim of the helmet "pushes" the water down the lens clearing the top sections. This works pretty well until a major downpour. Once it reaches a certain intensity you're basically looking through distorting sheets of water. As I rode through such a downpour today and started seeing all these cars pulled to the side of the road and under overpasses, I questioned if, perhaps, I should do the same thing. Nah...macho motorcyclist thing...those folks sitting in their nice, dry cars saying, "Boy, I bet that guy on the motorcycle is miserable," would then know they were right and we can't have that, can we? Motorcyclists lie.
Betsy looked more like a wet puppy than a Kaw.
But at least we were in Texas.
The bad storm cells ended by the time I cleared Beaumont. From then on there were just a few sprinkles and it was over. I pulled into my driveway, once again unhappy that a trip was over.
Can't say enough about Betsy though. Yet again, she pulled through all of it with zero problems. Cranked first time, every time, and did all asked of her. Any problems I've had with this bike have been with after-market things, i.e., the dealer wiring installation on my after-market horns, or the slits which developed on the after-market exhaust pipes this trip. But the Kawasaki stuff has worked and worked damn well. I'm proud of Betsy.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Day 13 - Lake Helen to Pensacola
461 Miles
Got a semi-late start hanging with Ron and Donna this morning. They're always a hoot. Took SR 44 west and stopped to visit a little more with Mom before finally hitting the road about 11:30 a.m. That's lunchtime at Ruleme Place and you don't stand between those old folks and their meals. Mom gets a kick out of helping the less mobile and then helping clean up the table after eating. She just wants to keep a hand in and, if she likes it and wants to do it, I'm all for it.
Pulled out of Eustis still on SR 44 west through Leesburg and on toward Crystal River. Turned north there on US 19/98 branching on US 19 to I-10 at Capps. Took I-10 to Pensacola and landed here about 6:30 p.m. (after a time zone change). Landed is the operative word because I flew...through the rain showers. Had intermittent rain all day on all roads. Usually spotty and rarely heavy it was just enough to make me keep the Tour Master jacket on all day. The theory behind the jacket and the pants is that, should you go down, the first layer needs to not be skin. And with the roads wet I don't take chances. Used to riding on wet roads doesn't mean taking them for granted. The good news was the rain showers sort of kept the temperature down and, with the wind factor, kept me cool for the entire trip.
Entering Inverness on SR44 I noticed the water lilies were blooming on Henderson Lake and stopped long enough to snap a few pics.
Water Lily blooming on Henderson Lake
(Click to enlarge)
Didn't once think of Cottonmouth moccasins as I walked through this cypress stand to take a couple of pictures. (Thought of them at least four times.)
Pretty place.
Got a semi-late start hanging with Ron and Donna this morning. They're always a hoot. Took SR 44 west and stopped to visit a little more with Mom before finally hitting the road about 11:30 a.m. That's lunchtime at Ruleme Place and you don't stand between those old folks and their meals. Mom gets a kick out of helping the less mobile and then helping clean up the table after eating. She just wants to keep a hand in and, if she likes it and wants to do it, I'm all for it.
Pulled out of Eustis still on SR 44 west through Leesburg and on toward Crystal River. Turned north there on US 19/98 branching on US 19 to I-10 at Capps. Took I-10 to Pensacola and landed here about 6:30 p.m. (after a time zone change). Landed is the operative word because I flew...through the rain showers. Had intermittent rain all day on all roads. Usually spotty and rarely heavy it was just enough to make me keep the Tour Master jacket on all day. The theory behind the jacket and the pants is that, should you go down, the first layer needs to not be skin. And with the roads wet I don't take chances. Used to riding on wet roads doesn't mean taking them for granted. The good news was the rain showers sort of kept the temperature down and, with the wind factor, kept me cool for the entire trip.
Entering Inverness on SR44 I noticed the water lilies were blooming on Henderson Lake and stopped long enough to snap a few pics.
Water Lily blooming on Henderson Lake
(Click to enlarge)
Didn't once think of Cottonmouth moccasins as I walked through this cypress stand to take a couple of pictures. (Thought of them at least four times.)
Pretty place.
Day 12 - Ocala to Lake Helen
69 Miles
Stayed in Ocala on the off chance my occasionally disappearing-into-the-ether son would answer the page I sent him. He's been torqued off at me for quite awhile and, based upon multiple failures to connect, odds are he still is. I suspect in the end it'll come down to a matter of wills. And I have one.
Pulled into the metropolis of Tavares, FL to visit my sister and her husband.
Jim was kind enough to demonstrate why I own a condo.
My (twin) sister, Judy with granddaughter, Kylie. Kylie has the greatest smile, but was able to ration it whenever I tried to take a picture. She is unable to hide that Meg Ryan-downturned mouth. That's why the smile (on both) is so good, it's juxtaposed with a starting frown.
Had a nice visit with Judy and left with a book of Dorothy Parker stories (one of my favorite authors). Judy is always good for a good book. Must run in the family.
Next stop: the person responsible for all this, my Mom.
Don't let the smile fool ya. This is one of the toughest people I've ever known. When she gets riled, she can go bear hunting with a switch. (Hint: look at the sign on the door.)
Had a great visit with Mom, reminiscing of days past. Fortunately, my sister wasn't present. Whenever they start reminiscing together it usually entails a history lesson on all the dastardly deeds I've committed in my life. Hmmm, come to think of it, scientist studying memory loss in the elderly should look into the fact that together they can remember every crappy thing I've ever done, but separately, they can hide their own Easter eggs. There's some kind of cooperative brainwave thingy going on here that merits study. And it ain't good for the fat kid.
After visiting with Mom, I stopped at King's BBQ for a couple of slabs and rode over to Lake Helen to stay with my brother Ron. Everyone has their own favorite BBQ and all argue their relative merits. King's is undoubtedly the best in the country and I don't care if you want to argue Kansas City, Memphis, North Carolina pulled pork, Texas brisket. It just doesn't matter. This is the best BBQ in America. Proof? Yeah, a priori, but yeah.
King's is located in the center of the Afro-American neighborhood in Eustis. I don't know when Mr. Thomas first started serving BBQ on Palmetto street, it's been there as long as I can remember. To my knowledge, there has never been a racial incident there; not even during the height of racial confrontation in American in the late 1950s and 1960s. And central Florida has a deserved and terrible history of oppression and Klan activity. For some reason, though, King's was sort of an undeclared demilitarized zone. If you want ribs or chicken you drive to King's get in line and place your order. It's been that way forever.
Ron and Donna live in Lake Helen right next to Cassadaga, Fla. This proximity is appropriate where my brother is concerned. He's been something other than normal as long as I've known him. He still ain't right, though he seems to do everything that way. If you've never heard of Cassadaga, it's essentially the central point for mediums and paranormal activities in America. (See recent Rolling Stone article at http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/album/13990886/review/14010793/cassadaga).
In any event, my brother just ain't right (probably ain't fittin' either). But he married well. Donna is one of the neatest people I've ever encountered. She shares a lot of traits with my Aunt Francis. And that's high ground in anyone's book.
See what I mean about him? He suggested this Grant Wood take-off. Were Wood still alive he'd undoubtedly be looking at a career change.
Nephew Lee. Jury's out on just how much this guy takes after his father. Yeah, we're worried.
Ron and I went to the pickin' and grinnin' session later. The guys get together every Friday night and play and sing, and carry on. The wives let it happen because it keeps 'em off the streets and away from hookers. (Hey, I'm just guessing here...what other reason could they possibly have?) Worked...didn't see a single one.
Finally started checking my eyelids for holes at about 1:00 a.m. That's awfully late for an old guy like me. I need my beauty sleep, plus I've got to start for home tomorrow.
Ring, Ring Goes The Bell
Got a very pleasant, and needed, surprise from Ron when I got here. He replaced my lost bell (see Day 4). This is significant, because, for the bell to work its magic it must be given to you, you just can't go buy your own and put it on your bike and expect gremlin-free operation. It just doesn't work that way. Ron remembered that he had a bell that would be the perfect replacement for my loss. And he was right. Thanks, brother. Made me much more comfortable on the ride home.
Stayed in Ocala on the off chance my occasionally disappearing-into-the-ether son would answer the page I sent him. He's been torqued off at me for quite awhile and, based upon multiple failures to connect, odds are he still is. I suspect in the end it'll come down to a matter of wills. And I have one.
Pulled into the metropolis of Tavares, FL to visit my sister and her husband.
Jim was kind enough to demonstrate why I own a condo.
My (twin) sister, Judy with granddaughter, Kylie. Kylie has the greatest smile, but was able to ration it whenever I tried to take a picture. She is unable to hide that Meg Ryan-downturned mouth. That's why the smile (on both) is so good, it's juxtaposed with a starting frown.
Had a nice visit with Judy and left with a book of Dorothy Parker stories (one of my favorite authors). Judy is always good for a good book. Must run in the family.
Next stop: the person responsible for all this, my Mom.
Don't let the smile fool ya. This is one of the toughest people I've ever known. When she gets riled, she can go bear hunting with a switch. (Hint: look at the sign on the door.)
Had a great visit with Mom, reminiscing of days past. Fortunately, my sister wasn't present. Whenever they start reminiscing together it usually entails a history lesson on all the dastardly deeds I've committed in my life. Hmmm, come to think of it, scientist studying memory loss in the elderly should look into the fact that together they can remember every crappy thing I've ever done, but separately, they can hide their own Easter eggs. There's some kind of cooperative brainwave thingy going on here that merits study. And it ain't good for the fat kid.
After visiting with Mom, I stopped at King's BBQ for a couple of slabs and rode over to Lake Helen to stay with my brother Ron. Everyone has their own favorite BBQ and all argue their relative merits. King's is undoubtedly the best in the country and I don't care if you want to argue Kansas City, Memphis, North Carolina pulled pork, Texas brisket. It just doesn't matter. This is the best BBQ in America. Proof? Yeah, a priori, but yeah.
King's is located in the center of the Afro-American neighborhood in Eustis. I don't know when Mr. Thomas first started serving BBQ on Palmetto street, it's been there as long as I can remember. To my knowledge, there has never been a racial incident there; not even during the height of racial confrontation in American in the late 1950s and 1960s. And central Florida has a deserved and terrible history of oppression and Klan activity. For some reason, though, King's was sort of an undeclared demilitarized zone. If you want ribs or chicken you drive to King's get in line and place your order. It's been that way forever.
Ron and Donna live in Lake Helen right next to Cassadaga, Fla. This proximity is appropriate where my brother is concerned. He's been something other than normal as long as I've known him. He still ain't right, though he seems to do everything that way. If you've never heard of Cassadaga, it's essentially the central point for mediums and paranormal activities in America. (See recent Rolling Stone article at http://www.rollingstone.com/reviews/album/13990886/review/14010793/cassadaga).
In any event, my brother just ain't right (probably ain't fittin' either). But he married well. Donna is one of the neatest people I've ever encountered. She shares a lot of traits with my Aunt Francis. And that's high ground in anyone's book.
See what I mean about him? He suggested this Grant Wood take-off. Were Wood still alive he'd undoubtedly be looking at a career change.
Nephew Lee. Jury's out on just how much this guy takes after his father. Yeah, we're worried.
Ron and I went to the pickin' and grinnin' session later. The guys get together every Friday night and play and sing, and carry on. The wives let it happen because it keeps 'em off the streets and away from hookers. (Hey, I'm just guessing here...what other reason could they possibly have?) Worked...didn't see a single one.
Finally started checking my eyelids for holes at about 1:00 a.m. That's awfully late for an old guy like me. I need my beauty sleep, plus I've got to start for home tomorrow.
Ring, Ring Goes The Bell
Got a very pleasant, and needed, surprise from Ron when I got here. He replaced my lost bell (see Day 4). This is significant, because, for the bell to work its magic it must be given to you, you just can't go buy your own and put it on your bike and expect gremlin-free operation. It just doesn't work that way. Ron remembered that he had a bell that would be the perfect replacement for my loss. And he was right. Thanks, brother. Made me much more comfortable on the ride home.
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