I'll stick with Potted Meat

 

I am disappointed that I did not get any credit for the assist on this one.

Sorry Rick - the western version of you and Tonya were there in your stead - Damon and Jen. In all honesty they reminded me of you two, which is a high compliment by the way.


Mini-ride report for Woods only - Written in reverse order

Day 5 - going home.

Yesterday's ride home was not so much fun, but no disasters thankfully. It started out great at low 60s, cloudy, and riding through the Black Hills. What's not to like? Even the interstate ride was okay at first with light winds, okay scenery and the road to myself as the world hummed past at 85 MPH. The first stop went without event although they had no "canned coffee" so I chugged a Red Bull and ate a Cliff bar - breakfast of champions! I was actually enjoying the ride up to that point and I was a little cool so I put my down vest on under the leather jacket and motored on.

Rolling east at that point, my biggest concern was rain, which would be preferable to the 101 degree heat I experienced on the way out (Que the foreboding music). I could see plenty of clouds ahead, which was a blessing as they blocked the rising sun. The road was wet here and there and the wind seemed to be picking up - from behind! Yes!! A Tail wind! I kicked the bike up to 90 knowing that the push from behind would help my MPG. Life was feeling pretty good at this point.

Pushing east and nearing Sioux Falls, the temps started to rise. The wind started picking up and shifting. Now it was straight out of the south, but not horrible. I dialed it back down to 85 to compensate however. The closer I got the Sioux Falls, the hotter it got. I would need gas shortly and the way I ride, right to the "Lo Rng" readout, I had to take whatever was there to fill up. And I knew from my ride out that gas stations west of SF were sparse. I saw the Sinclair sign and the timing was good. What wasn't so good was that the station only had regular gas. I wasn't thrilled with that but I've run regular before. The other thing I noticed is that it was quite a bit warmer - low 90s. I ditched the leather and vest and changed into the mesh jacket. Chugged a canned coffee and another Cliff bar. It was 11:30.

At this point it was plenty warm and the winds were now from the SE. Which really sucked because I had a similar situation on the way out - strong winds at my front corner which is enough to significantly drop MPG and move the bike around a bit. Which really sucked and just didn't seem right. I get a headwind going both directions?? &%$#@(&^*!!!

Also of concern was Minnesota. Minnesota does not give one **** about their roads like South Dakota does. The second you cross into MN the road goes straight to hell. There are bumps that pepper quite a bit of I-90 and they are sufficient to kick you up off your seat and knock out the cruise control. That happened a few hundred times in an hour and at this point I was getting annoyed.

I'm well into the ride and about halfway through MN. My range had dropped significantly due to the now strong winds. My gas warning notification came on at 150 miles. WTF? I saw that Blue Earth was coming up and that's where I almost always get gas - not sure why. I was pondering the "whys" of this as the exit approached and thought "Surely there must be another gas station down the road.". My countdown to empty was at 11 miles so I kept going.

Ten miles later nothing. Not an exit, let alone a gas station. I nervously scrolled through the POI function of the Infotainment screen and saw that every gas station was behind me. There was one that was 7 miles away so I pushed the route button. A couple miles down the road I took an exit in the middle of nowhere MN. The gas station was 6 miles off the highway. *&%$#@&%!!! My "Lo Rng" indicator came on and I conserved gas best I could hoping it would quit right there. I could see a water tower ahead and knew that must be the town I needed so I had hope.

I pulled into town and it was right out of an old western. Empty streets and I swear I saw tumbleweeds rolling through. The gas station had clearly not been in operation for many years. My heart sank. I was screwed royally by the Infotainment advice. My own fault really as it's never been updated and from 2014. I saw some old guy sitting in his Chevy Astro van in front of a diner/grocery store across the street, so I figured I would ask him were the nearest gas station was. Let me say that the first things I noticed were his crazy eyes. The dude looked insane. I should have backed away then. But I forged ahead and asked. "Well it's just around the corner." Me - "Yeah, well the pumps are all bagged and they are clearly out of business. Know of another one?" Him - "What year is that Harley?" Me (puzzled) "Uh......2014......." Him interrupting "I had serial number 1 (which pegged my bullshit meter)! It was a 53. (Jesus.......) I bought it for $1500 and sold it for $1700. (wtf........it's 99.9 degrees and this crazy eyed fool is going to give me a history lesson right here in the street). Hey, take one of these (he hands me a 3x5 card espousing 2A rights). Me - "You're preaching to the choir brother. Oh well.....I'm going to go ask inside about a gas station." Him - "Here - take more. I like to put them in as book markers at the library so people see them. I have a book store back on highway 16. You should come by." Me - (starting to loose my patience) "Not going to happen on this trip. Like I said, I'm damn near out of gas so I need to get on fixing that." and I started to walk away. He just kept talking as I walked into the store.

Once in the store the not so attractive cashier just looked at me. No Hello, no greeting of any kind. Just a puzzled expression like she just saw a bug unlike anything she had ever seen before. Not a remarkable bug, but a different one none the less. Me - "Know where I can find a gas station nearby?" Her - "Closest one is in Keester, about 7 miles away." Me - "Well I'm not going to make that. Know anyone that will sell me a gallon of gas?" Her - "No, I don't live here." You'll have to find a way to Keester." Well ****. This sucks. So after we had a minor debate as to what constitutes a right turn vs a left turn in her route description, I left to find Keester.

Turns out it's really "Kiester". After a few frustrating attempts to enter it into the nav system I did a Google map search and saw the proper spelling. I successfully entered it and it was, indeed, 7 miles away. I wondered how many of those 7 miles I would be walking.

I did whatever I could to get as far as I could on whatever gas remained in the tank. It was hot as hell and I took note of the few homes I passed in the event that I would be on foot at any given moment. Not adding to my happiness was the fact that there was absolutely no place to park here in the middle of nowhere if I ran out, as the just outside the fog line was large rocks and steeply sloped. I chugged along in 5 gear at 35 MPH towards another water tower off in the distance.

I made it to the "Welcome to Kiester" sign. Thank God! I saw the main street that the cashier told me about and turned in to the gas station. It looked much like the other abandoned gas station with old analog pumps and my heart sank. That bitch told me it was closed, but took credit cards! Dammit! I hate &^*%$^&#$ Minnesota! (or that part of it anyway) I looked for signs of life to ask if there was another gas station, but much like the last town, this one appeared deserted. I walked to the door of the gas station to read the sign and see if there was any help there. The sign said one could use a credit card to buy gas when the station isn't open. Hmmm.....really? They sure look like old pumps to me. But as it turns out, there was a stand alone device that took credit cards. Well I'll be damned! She was right! Which is not to say I took back any of the nasty things I thought about her.

I had rolled the bike back to "pump 1" because it was closest to the card reading device thinking maybe it was the only pump that worked when the station was closed. Turns out you could choose any of the 3 pumps. As I'm filling up with "regular" (%^$*&^$%!) some woman in a clapped out minivan pulls up right behind me, clearly intending to wait for my spot. Why she could not use one of the other pumps, I had no idea. I sure as hell wasn't going to hurry, but I would move the bike once done to organize, which I did. She pulls up, looks at the pump, and then drives away. &%^$&$#bitch^&%*&^#$! WTactualF!

From my newly found parking spot I grabbed my phone and texted Cheryl that I was ok and ready to roll again. She called me (her misfortune) and she got to hear how much I hated Minnesota, riding in high heat, I-90, and that bitch back at the diner even though she didn't really do anything wrong. Cheryl calmly told me to relax and get home for a great birthday meal. Just then a Pit Bull runs by me and I hear "Hey mister - catch my dog!" Some little girl comes running out after that dog with another in her arms. I'm thinking wtf is this - Children of the Corn? There's no one in this town but this little blond girl and she wants me to chase her friggen dog in the 98 degree heat. I half-heartedly attempted to retrieve her dog which did solve the problem as it decided going to her was a better option than dealing with me. I could hear Cheryl laughing on the phone.

I worked my way back to I-90 - about 8 miles (%^$&#$*!) and I was 45 minutes off my pace ($%&^#$%&^@!). Based on my remaining miles I would need to make one more gas stop if I could do two legs of 150 miles each. That meant I could haul ***, which I did. I ran her up to 90 and set the cruise. Minnesota came and went like a bad one night stand. I felt sullied, tired, dirty, and regretting my actions (passing Blue Earth for gas).

The Mississippi River welcomed me to Wisconsin and my spirits lifted a little. The tall bluffs shielded me from the hot 5 o'clock sun and the river looked beautiful. But my joy was short lived. As much as I complain about drivers from other states, Wisconsin is among the worst. Any time I go anywhere, I am reminded of that as soon as I cross the state line and am greeted by idiots blocking the left lane. I had covered nearly 3000 miles at this point and nowhere is there a preponderance of ******** occupying the left lane like in Wisconsin. And it did not let up. So I did what any reasonable person would do by responding in kind by being a Class A ******* rider. I cranked it up to 95/100 and basically lane split when necessary and probably flipped off half the state of Wisconsin. I even had one A-hole from Minnesota (%^$*&^&%$!) come into my lane with about 3 feet of space, which normally would have sent me into panic brake mode. Not this time. I just went into the left track and was perfectly willing to swap paint. I let that idiot know they were number one in my book when I was inches away. I would like to say I am ashamed of my actions, but screw them! At that point it was 100 degrees, I was tired, and I wasn't going to let some dickweed driver slow my roll.

And that's how it went for my remaining 150 miles. I stopped for gas, drank Gatoraide in the air conditioned station, and went out to do battle again. It never let up. Idiots did whatever they could to slow me down and I punched through the entire way. It was with great relief that my exit came up and I bid farewell to probably the shittiest long ride I have ever done, and I've had some pretty challenging rides including 1000+ miles in 40 degree rain. That was a fun parade compared to this 850 mile/13.5 hour ride. I had been considering making the shift to trailering for awhile now. Living in the Midwest means I'm surrounded by hundreds of miles of shitty interstate to get somewhere. I could take 2 lane, but it adds a ton of time and the scenery is pretty boring. I think this may have been my last long ride. I don't say that with any regret. It's not like I will give up riding. I just want to enjoy the riding I do more. Riding with everyone in the Black Hills was amazing. Sure, there were some parts that could be aggravating (more on that later), but overall it was fantastic. I will continue to do that for as long as I am able. But the endless drone on shitty, poorly maintained interstates is something I can easily put in my rear view mirror.

The day did end nicely. It was my birthday and Cheryl had prepared a wonderful Seafood Alfredo dish for me -



We dined outdoors and I told her about the best part of the trip - my association with the finest people you will ever meet. It's hard to put into words what the WS gatherings are like, but I guess the best way to put it, and this is what I told Cheryl - The riding has become secondary. I just enjoy hanging out with like minded, intelligent people that I can laugh and have fun with. In fact, even if one removed motorcycles from the equation I would still look forward to these gatherings.


Next up - Day 4 - Where's Chuck??

 

Morning Larry. Well we have a temporary outhouse that will be used for another week or two I suspect. Like camping at home. If all goes well the plumbers will be here Monday to excavate and repair. My requirement to them is that they contain the dust. If they can not, or will not, I will have to tent the room and excavate myself. I really don't want to do that. The 5 feet I did already sucked enough for one lifetime.

 

And Mick!

 

 

I grew up riding as a passenger in TR3s. My Mom had a red one just like that, and then a white one.

 

Bob, it could be worse, you could live here... Strangely enough, I like riding in Wisconsin, the drivers seem so much better there. Maybe I've just been lucky. And the roads are considerably better, both for pavement, curves and scenery.

My first trailer trip was WS18, the previous Hills get together, and for anything where time is a factor (and probably most other trips, too), I'm sold on trailering. Comfortable, no matter what kind of weather, and get there without feeling like needing a day's rest before doing anything. Nice to be able to talk normally with anyone riding with you, too. What to bring - anything you want, spare parts, tools, food, and clothes for all occasions. When the battery completely died on the last day, that trailer really came in handy! Thanks again to the WS18 guys for loading a dead Harley on the trailer, I couldn't have done that by myself. Not even the little 560 lb sporty.
My days of riding into some woods off the road to crawl into a little pup tent or just sleeping under a gas station awning are long over, the old body doesn't handle that well any more. I also learned there are bears in the woods...

Kevin of DK Customs tried a toy hauler a few years ago and he's hooked on it, goes to an area to ride and uses it for a base camp. Says it saves him over an hour a day just not having to pack and unpack for a motel night, and the overnights he does do, only has to pack what's needed just for those 2 or 3 days - but that's a lot less than they take for the month or more rides they do every year. Likes having his own bed and pillow, motels can be questionable for those. I'd love a toy hauler, kind of regret not getting a small one instead of my cargo trailer, only cost 5 or 6 times as much...

Know what you mean about digging that pipe out, Bob, jack hammers are a real workout. I rented a Hilti, Goldwing of jackhammers, really takes the vibration out, but damned heavy, can't get away from that.


That wasn't the worst of it for me, though, getting down on hands and knees digging around the pipe, and replacing it all the while bent over was a back killer for me, had to do it in several stages to keep the back in usable condition. Hope the plumbers can do it right for a decent price for you, much easier.

 

I had a '66 Triumph Spitfire, if anything even smaller than the TR3. Probably wouldn't fit in it now. I drove it to Florida once, could pick up oranges off the road that fell off open top semi trailers hauling them. Granted I have long arms, but that's still riding really butt close to pavement. Tiny as it was, still managed to get two strippers from a nightclub in it. Shifting was interesting...

 

 

Flounder did it-our first rejection. I can only assume that she thought Chris was some kind of creeper when he told the story and she retreated to the “No photographs” protection policy of Sturgis H-D. Regardless, I turned her into Louie material for being a little bitch.




Using my advanced Louie skills for a reflection Louie.