Hello, All,
I am sitting on the edge of my bed in a nice hotel in Red Oak, Iowa. We got here a few hours ago after driving from just inside the eastern border of Illinois this morning. We started in the rain and drove in it for a few hours. I don’t enjoy driving in the rain but I realize that it is part of motorcycling.
We have yet to drive an entire day without rain. After three days of rain the bike started to rebel. I lost the speedometer, which also knocked out the Speedohealer, the electronic device that compensates for the difference in the circumferences of the original tire/wheel and the one that is on there now. The loss of the speedometer results in obvious problems for me, since I am the leader of this small caravan. Luckily it didn’t last long and the speedometer started to work again. Since the Speedohealer was recycled when the speedometer was recycled, it didn’t show the accurate speed. It has been interesting! I made an adjustment tonight, so we’ll see how it acts tomorrow!
Driving through western Ohio, all of Indiana we were witness to the damage caused by the recent rains. Much damage was done to the crops and many people were asked to abandon their homes. In one of the hotels we stayed next to whole group of these poor people.
In the meantime Mary was kept very busy trying to keep the sidecar as dry as possible. We came thru some torrential rain and the sidecar had much water in the bottom.
Our spirits are high thru all this and we’re looking forward to the next few days.
I forgot to mention our visit to the Warther’s Museum in Dover, Ohio. I had been there before, so I knew the rest if the crew would enjoy it. Warther was a Swiss master carver, who never sold any of his hundreds of carvings. He made knives to put food on the table, which the company still makes. Here’s some of his carvings:
Click on image to see description.
His signature piece is a pair of pliers carved from one solid block of wood, as pictured above. They are for sale in the store at the end of the tour and I brought a couple home.
I believe I lamented about the unsafe brake lights on my rig. I noticed Charlie braking late, so I wanted to fix the problem as soon as I could. I had this problem before on another trip and the problem then was the switch which has a little return spring whose end I managed to dislodge. I was stressing over this, afraid that I was going to lose it and be in even bigger trouble. I sense that some of you have already tuned out by now, so I will stop. Long story short, the right brake light of the sidecar was out, so I wanted to replace it. To do that I needed some tools I didn’t have with me. Off to Lowe’s. It was not raining, so let’s unpack most of the trunk to gain access to the bulb. Bought three different wrenches and kept two.
While I was doing all this my three travel-mates kept me company. A few people came to talk about the sidecar and Mary answered all their questions. A guy came and kept asking more and more questions. He suggested we stop at a motorcycle place and even gave us directions. I quickly buttoned up the sidecar and off we went. We arrived at a rather large dealership, which sold and serviced everything but Kawasakis. I told the service manager our plight and he assured me that one of his technicians would be free soon to look at our problem. A large weight was lifted off my shoulders. As we looked around the vast showroom I found a set if aluminum ramps I think would work to replace the waterlogged wooden one Davin and Chris made me.
The service manager came to tell me that the problem was fixed and there was no charge for the task. They found the dangling spring and had put it back in its place. I thanked him profusely and we were in our way again. Thank you, mystery man at Lowe’s!
As I already described much of the land we traveled through was very much waterlogged. We saw several signs warning people of “high water” but none had affected our travels. We did come to a sign that alerted us of the closing of the road ahead. Only local traffic was to proceed. I made the right turn and pulled over to talk things over with Charlie. Neither of us had a solution and there was no one around, so Charlie flagged down the next car. Its driver turned out to be a nurse heading home from work. She got out pencil and paper and attempted to draw our proposed route but gave up halfway, saying that she had nothing else to do anyway, so she told us she would show us the way. And she did and would not take any money for those twenty minutes of her life. Nice lady!
With that behind us we are all caught up. We stayed at a very nice hotel which had a restaurant. The food was great and I had the best cheesecake for dessert! The Speedohealer is still off by ten MPH, but I am getting used to it! The skies are very overcast but no black spots yet, so I am wearing my rain-pants, just in case.
We see a bridge from a distance which looks very rusty and a sign warns us that there is a toll. The bridge turns out to be very narrow but there is no traffic. Once we’re across a little shack greets us. I pull up and shut off the engine, as the toll taker is busy talking with someone on the other side. Behind the shack is a large sign welcoming us to Nebraska. We had just crossed the Missouri River which, at this point, is not very wide at all. The charge for motorcycles is a dollar.
The man finishes his conversation and walks to us. Looks at the sidecars, asks a bunch of questions about them, then wants to know where we are going. He warns us that we’re heading into a bad storm with thunder and lightning and winds up to 45 MPH. Well, he was right. It wasn’t long before we could see the angry black skies in front of us and the wind was blowing from the right, at times wanting to blow me off the bike. I thought of stopping and waiting it out but there was really no place I saw in which I wanted spend any time. The scenery consisted mostly of flat fields, then a small clump of trees, then more fields. Traffic was very sparse and moving right along. I am guessing these people are used to this kind of weather.
A sign appeared alerting us that Lincoln, Nebraska was 38 miles ahead. I had never been there but the name had a familiar sound, so I said to myself, wouldn’t it be neat to go there. Well, as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for, we ended up right in the thick of it. Raining pretty hard and heavy traffic, longing to see yet another sign for Route 34, we drove on. The road was going to be closed ahead, so I pulled into an IHOP to talk things over and have some coffee. Long story short, we spent the next two hours in Lincoln, Nebraska, getting lost, asking for directions, and eventually finding our way out, all in the rain. I don’t ever want to go back to that town.
At a gas stop I noticed that the skies were bright and there were no dark clouds around at all. I quickly took off my rain gear and enjoyed the ride once again. Mary kept her top on all day making communications difficult. By “her top”, I mean the sidecar’s top, so don’t get excited!
We are staying in a motel called Horse Creek Inn in McCook, Nebraska for the night. My hip is doing well but the rest of my body parts are getting weary!
Wish you were here!
06/23/2015
Tonight’s the first time in a while I felt like writing to you. Nothing personal, I was just either too tired or aggravated. I am fine now, so here goes:
We left McCook, Nebraska under bright blue skies.
We soon found ourselves in Colorado and soon after that we entered the Rocky Mountain National Park, using our National Park Pass, which is still the greatest bargain in this country, short of being an illegal alien. This park is also beautiful with lots of twisties. It kind of reminds me of the Blue Ridge Parkway, albeit with much higher elevations close to 11,000 feet. On that topic, I was being very much affected by the lack of oxygen, experiencing headaches, light-headedness, shortness of breath and lack of appetite. I was reminiscing about a trip my friend, Woody, and I took to Colorado. Once we descended on the other side some of these have disappeared and all was better.
There was still much snow at the top and, at times, you could have a snowball/ice fight. We didn’t, in fact we just wanted to drive straight through. Much like the BRP, this road has a plethora of places to pull over and some of the more popular ones were full, causing a little traffic backup. The biggest of this was one caused by a huge buffalo meandering along the side of the road, heading for us. Mary was rather uncomfortable, for she had to look up to make eye contact. As he was coming closer you could hear him breathing. He glanced over to us a couple of time, then continued on his way. There must have been a cue of fifty cars in the other lane waiting for a glimpse of this animal.
We drove through Estes Park and arrived in Granby, Colorado where we gassed up. I noticed a small leak of brake fluid from the front brake reservoir and saw that the level was down quite a bit. Luckily there was a car parts store in town.
That night an awful mistake was made by Mary and Charlie, in that they agreed to stay at the Sulphur Springs Resort. The front desk people were rather snotty and the price of the rooms was no bargain.
After crossing the Wyoming border, we saw a sign for the town of Saratoga. This brought back some memories because we spent a night there on our 2008 trip. I remember the restaurant served Rocky Mountain Oysters which we passed on.
We stayed at the Roadway Pronghorn Hotel in Lander, Wyoming.
We woke up to a chilling forty-something morning, but the skies were blue again. After a few hours on Route 287 we arrived at the entrance to Yellowstone National Park. We were heading to Old Faithful, which is a geyser shooting scalding water from the bowels of the earth with great regularity, hence the name. The place was mobbed with people and we had a tough time finding the gas station. We had been here years ago with the Goldsmiths (another nice trip). The place has grown a lot and is not as friendly as it was the first time. Once out of there we continued past Mammoth Hot Springs, through some nasty construction zones lasting for miles at five miles an hour, ending up in Gardiner, Montana. I am writing this to you from the Yellowstone River Motel in town. It is laid out quite quaintly, consisting of small buildings, making each one private. It is our second night, feeling much refreshed after a day of rest.
It seems that every restaurant has waitresses of Bulgarian descent. When we were staying in the Izaak Walton Inn inside Glacier National Park in Montana the waitresses there were all from Russia.
News flash: for the first time ever I ran three of Mary’s toes over with the sidecar wheel. I told her to watch it but, apparently, not in time! When she complained over and over, I told her to just walk it off.
Wish you were here!
Hello, All,
I neglected to mention that a bunch of sidecarists rendezvoused at the end of the previous installment. There was a Honda Valkyrie/Motorvation rig that looked familiar. The sidecar doesn’t have much of a trunk but it has a luggage rack, like an old MG. on it were two carry-on luggage with wheels bungee-corded securely and on top of that was a little red gas can. They only get 20 miles to the gallon, so they run out of gas often. The owners, Don and Jane, are from Iowa, so I mentioned that there are two things I remember about Iowa from the previous trip: the smell of pig farms and a surprise sidecar rally in Anamosa. A look of recognition cane over his face, as he told me that he was at the same place and talked to me about our then-new rig. I looked at the pictures of that rally on my phone and found his sidecar. Small world, ain’t it?
There were several other rigs pulling campers, a black R100RS with Kelly green wheels and a BMW GS with an EML sidecar. Duncan’s wife wanted it yellow and he had a matching yellow Aerostitch riding suit. It is a striking rig he had recently put together.
The President of the USCA (Sidecar Association), Al, showed up and brought a chase van and trailer, in case of trouble. He’s been trying to push my buttons by calling the four of us “the Seniors”. Somehow I already acquired a reputation for driving fast.
Then there is the couple from Michigan, Buzz and Marge on a K1200LT with a Hannigan sidecar, which has no weather protection at all. Marge wears rain gear inside the car. When it rains hard, there is a big puddle in the sidecar. The seat, on the other hand, stays dry. Must be made out of closed cell foam.
The next day we were heading for Cody to visit the excellent museum there. There were four exhibits in all but I only saw one, the one about the plains Indians. It was very enjoyable and I took a lot of pictures. Mary particularly enjoyed herself.
That night we spent in an interesting motel called The Yodeler. Don’t know why it was called that; it had no ties to Switzerland or Germany. What made the motel interesting was that our rooms were below ground level. There was a window we could see out of and it was nice and cool. This was great because there was no air-conditioning in the room. The bathroom, too, was interesting: there was steam in the bathtub. Mary was first and she set the timer for 15 minutes and came out looking like a lobster but feeling wonderful. She has been problems with her face sinuses and I was hoping this would help her. I could only do half the time and I didn’t feel particularly refreshed but it was neat, nevertheless.
The next morning, we set out for the rally site, rather the motels which were going to be our respective homes for the weekend. Halfway there it started to rain and continued for the rest of the trip. We had reservations at the Franklin Hotel in Deadwood, South Dakota. Neat name for a town, eh? Charlie had stayed here years before, so it came with high recommendations. The hotel is right downtown and to check in you park in front, with traffic going around you. You have twenty minutes to load or unload your stuff. It’s an old hotel, built around the turn of the century. More importantly to Mary and Peggy, there is a casino on the ground floor. The two them tried their luck right away but there were no winners that night.
The next day we rode out to the rally site, a campground about twenty minutes from the hotel. On the way there were lot of up and downhill curves, down to 30 MPH recommended speed and it was a cool ride, with temps in the forties. Once the sun comes up, it doesn’t take long before it’s a gorgeous day. After registration we walked around a little, admired others’ rigs and answered questions about ours. I may be partial, but I think ours was the best looking one.
When we returned to the hotel there was a gunfight right in front of the hotel, followed by some Indians dancing. Down the street there was a Willie Nelson look-a-like. After a song he said: “Lobster tails and beer. Three of my favorite things in life!”
On Friday we visited the Chapel on the Hill in Rapid City. This is a replica of a Norwegian chapel. Every one of the over-sixteen thousand wooden shingles was made by hand. Both Peggy and Charlie enjoyed this serene experience. After this came the Crazy Horse Monument. The dedication and inner strength of Korczak has touched me in 2008.
Google it and be impressed yourself.
On Saturday we visited Sturgis. There is a motorcycle museum which was okay but nothing special. It can’t hold a candle to the one in Anamosa, Iowa. There was a Camaro event on main street, mostly the new models were represented.
Fast forward to today, the 29th. We visited the House on the Rock in Wisconsin. This place is beyond description and must be experienced in person. Took many pictures, will share a couple. If you’re ever out this way, visit this place!
Wish you were here!
We are home!
We arrived late Thursday afternoon amidst a very silent fanfare, greeted only by the envelopes gathered from our mailbox. Catherine made sure her father was amply supplied his favorite fruits. All traces of wild parties held in our house during our absence have been carefully erased and we were happy to walk into an orderly home. Thanks, Catherine!
Thursday’s trek was from Bradford, PA, a mere five hours away. Part of that was the entire length of Route 88, which now is full of construction zones. Traffic was very sparse, so that wasn’t the problem. What was is the general condition of the temporary roadway created to skirt these all-too-frequent work zones. It is apparent to me that those who create these surfaces don’t really care about what they create. They are very, very bumpy, uneven and bone-jarring. The fact that we were traveling in a sidecar made it even worse. There was one of the work zones with a temporary surface created on the surface to the right of the fog-line that was so bad, I had to slow down to twenty miles an hour. I tried moving around the lane, to no avail. Some sections of 88 are so bad I elected to drive in the left lane and there is one section where both lanes are terrible. I remember a time not that long ago, when that road was deserted and a pleasure to drive on. Its current condition is further proof that America’s infrastructure is crumbling and not enough is being done about it. By the way, I would like to strangle the bastard who came up with the idea of paving only half of a lane.
On another topic: While driving the roads of our wonderful country I have lots of chances to think. The topics are many, most not worth mentioning. The one that stands out is why travel thousands of miles, over all kinds of terrain, in possibly inclement weather just to attend an event lasting no more than two days, mingling with people, most of whom you don’t know and more than likely will never see again?
Good question and I don’t have the answer. Well, I don’t know the complete answer. I only know the reasons I do it. I have always put the journey way ahead of the destination. I have always felt sorry for people who complained about having to travel great distances between points A and B. They wish the people whom they visit at point B lived closer, so they wouldn’t have to spend so much time on the road.
With me, it doesn’t matter how far the destination is or how many times I have already been there, I will plan a different route each time and see different sights along the way. While traveling to work a few years back I had just gone through a traffic light. I wasn’t sure that it was green. This concerned me enough that from then on, I sought different routes, just to not be in “cruise control”.
On this trip my friend, Charlie, picked the roads to traverse and for that I thank you, Charlie. We both prefer “the road less traveled”, even though it takes longer to get there. It turned out to be a wonderful and memorable experience.
We saw some awesome sights familiar to both of us and experienced some for the first time together. We drove through Yellowstone National Park in Montana, drove on the Beartooth Highway and crested the Beartooth Pass at 10,990 feet of elevation, Estes Park in Colorado, Rocky Mountain National Park.
I was happy to show Charlie and Peggy two places Mary and I have been to before: Staavkirke (Chapel on the Hill) in Rapid City, SD
and the Warther Museum in Ohio.
Friends have told us about an attraction in Wisconsin called House on the Rock. Neither of us has been here before, so it was exciting to experience it together. I would recommend visiting this indescribable creation of a gifted man with a wonderful imagination.
As the four of us parted company at the end of Route 88 I couldn’t help wondering if this was our last “big” trip we will be a part of. I thought I detected a small tear in the corner of Charlie’s eye and maybe the same question occurred to him as well. This sad thought quickly left my mind and I am already thinking about the next trip.
(In 2016 Charlie was run off the road while on his way to Daytona Beach on his sidecar. He very nearly died and became a paraplegic from the chest down. As he didn’t want to stop riding, his son found him a three-wheeler which he can drive from his wheelchair. He quickly adapted to the new driving position and feels complete when he is out on the roads of Vermont. – Ed)
