Day 13: All Good Things…

Seaside FL to HOME
Rode 325 miles. Filed by B-B-B-Barca & the Bug

Made it! We left Sun-up at Seaside, or something like that, and, not willing to quit the ride and race across I-10 for home, took the scenic route through Apalachicola, where a sweet Venezuelan lady prepared us a tasty breakfast, which we enjoyed out in the crisp–well, OK, damp–morning air.

Route 98 from Apalachicola to Panacea (what a great name!) provided one of the trip's prettiest rides, spanning a long causeway and miles of a beautiful two-lane strip right along the water's edge. Then we turned south onto the Boot and drove like bandits to get home, arriving to a huge welcome at Pastor Blue's home at 1:15 pm, almost exactly thirteen days and some 4,650 miles (your odometer may vary) after pulling out from California Harley Davidson in Harbor City, California.

So here's thanks to LL, Dennis, Oil Can Al, and Dyna Dave for getting us on our way;
To Gene and Claudette Norton for opening their gorgeous new Bend, Oregon home to us;
To Dr. Ron and Kim Charity for their hospitality in Colorado Springs, Colorado;
To Dr. Terry Law, Scot and Kathy Law, and General Georges Sada for not being ashamed to be seen with us for lunch;
To Wayne Rivers, for giving us an E-ticket tour of Grace Fellowship, in Tulsa, Oklahoma;
To Drs. Jason and Amanda Thackery, for treating us like kings;
To the incredible Mrs. Bug for saving us at least an hour a day and several sleepless nights by finding the perfect accommodations for us every day;
To all our wives for doing double duty with the kids while we were gone.

While I'm at it, here's to:
Apostle Blue, who made the trip possible;
Barcalounger, for making it comprehensible, and for doing Windows HD as well as he does XP;
The Bull, for making it a real vacation, in scruffy, effortless style;
The Bug, for simply making it! I rode a cruiser, after all.

And thanks be to God, Who made the Pacific Coast, Crater Lake, Bend's weather, the high desert, Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, Pronghorn aplenty, the people of Kansas (both of whom stayed indoors), the Ozarks, wherever they were, the Florida shore, and home.

"Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen."

Day 12: The True Men Show

Hattiesburg MS to Seaside FL
Rode 240 miles, Filed by the Bug

What can you say about southern Mississippi's US Route 98 into Alabama? No, really what can you say? Because if you've got something, you're welcome to describe this day without having been there. And…you'll get it right! Let's see. It was straight, hot, with several Wal-Mart Supercenters. And did we mention straight and hot?

We stopped and took a picture of the "welcome to Florida" sign on the highway, and then quickened our pace considerably, due, I'm sure, to the twin facts that we were nearing our finish line and–more important–nearing home. Blue actually said he was glad to feel the Florida humidity! Can you spell "heatstroke"?

Actually the ride was relatively short, and the fun began once we had arrived at our destination, Drs. Jason and Amanda Thackery's "future" beachside condo, just east of the dollhouse town of Seaside. Jason describes it as future beachside, because it's a block from the current shoreline of that hurricane magnet known as the Florida panhandle.

The Thackerys were wonderful hosts for the evening, and they deserve huge thanks for their generosity in allowing three hogs and a schwien to wallow in their holiday spot. We enjoyed a wonderful seafood dinner together, during which Jason and Pastor Blue swapped fishing stories and tales about Pastor Ron, and then retired back to our comfortable digs for the night. Having run out of friends with condominiums, we decided we should motor on home to Gainesville the next morning at daybreak.

Day 11: We’re Not in Kansas Anymore

Rode 521 miles, Posted by the Bug

Today was supposed to have been a 325-mile ride to Vicksburg, Mississippi, but our early start (to beat the heat) got us there by lunchtime, so we stopped for a quick salad, only to discover that the four of us had become three. Turns out Blue got separated in the traffic, and wound up stopping in a different place.

We managed to reunite at a Wal-Mart Supercenter just east and a little south of Jackson, MS. (Hey, don’t laugh! It’s clean, got air-conditioning, food, sunscreen, magazines. A person could live in there!) Since we were now on the road to Hattiesburg, we decided to make it our destination. Once again the lovely Mrs. Bug came through and found us a brand, spanking new hotel (Courtyard), and we are ensconced in luxury. Actually the Bug is ensconced (with pizza); the others are somewhere having supper.

The Harley atlas prescribed today’s “scenic” route, but, to be honest, there ain’t nothin’ scenic about eastern Arkansas, nor the particular corner of Louisiana we cut through, nor—sorry Pastor Ron—U.S. Route 49 through Mississippi. We did pass a couple of sizable lakes (although they might have been mirages), with good ole bayou style to ‘em, right down to those half-sunken trees that hide gators in their shade. That’s when it hit me that we had transitioned from the Midwest to the Southeast: we’re looking for gators instead of deer. Bull hit the, er…Robb’s eye when he noted that day before yesterday we were in Colorado and now we’re in Mississippi.

It’s fitting that we’re spending tomorrow night in Seaside, Florida, where Jim Carrey’s “Truman Show” was filmed. Fitting because the last 3 days seem surreal: We’ve gone more than 1,300 miles on two wheels over three days in temps averaging from 105-109 degrees during the day. Maybe Ed Harris is somewhere overhead, fooling us into thinking we’re in Hattiesburg. Maybe we’re really still in Kansas. Oh, Auntie Em!

Day 10: Ramblings from the Road

Rode 320 miles, Posted by Dennis

I spent a little time this morning scouting south Wichita for a Starbucks and a place to wash the bugs off my hog. The front of my bike had become a virtual morgue for countless insects that met their end colliding with 900 pounds of Harley. I found a carwash and five bucks in quarters later my bike was clean. By the time I got back to the hotel the rest of the crew was ready to hit the road – or at least Starbucks.

We headed out of town around 8:30, hoping to beat the heat as we headed southeast to Tulsa. (You can tell you’re in Oklahoma by the constant tolls.) I-35 in Oklahoma looks amazingly like I-75 in north Florida sans the billboards. Guess they don’t allow them. By 10:00 am the temperature had already risen to near 100 degrees.

We had plans to meet Terry Law, Bug’s spiritual mentor, for lunch at noon. Behind schedule and with 100 miles to go, we sped towards Tulsa, while the mercury kept rising.

When a man is on the open road in 100 plus degree temperatures, his mind tends to wander and his “off” sense of humor goes even further off than usual. If you know me, you also know I find humor in most everything – or at least I try. We rolled into a toll plaza and there was a si gn that read “The Best Toll Collectors in the World Cross Here,” and I visualised a Successories Turnpike Edition catalog, where toll booth supervisors can buy motivational signs for their employees. Then, we rode past a sign that read “Cushing Oklahoma,” and I clucked to myself as I inflated one of the bladders on my seat to make it more comfortable – Barcalounger reigns!

Arriving in Tulsa after 175 miles of grueling heat, we met Terry Law, as well as General Georges Sada, former commander of the Iraqi air force, for lunch. The subsequent conversation was surreal, alternating between questions about our trip and discussions of the fate of Iraq and the Middle East. General Sada just returned from Iraq 3 days ago, having met with the Prime Minster and Cabinet, whom he still serves as Assistant National Security Advisor. (Jim says the guy could be president if he wanted. He’s one of the most trusted men in the country.)

After lunch we decided to take a break before pressing on to Fort Smith. Again, we found refuge in a movie theater where we saw Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker in “Rush Hour 3.” Let me save you $9 by saying it was basically the same movie as Rush Hour 1 and 2. Personally, I didn’t really feel there were any unanswered questions in the first installment that warranted a sequel, let alone two, but I’m no Hollywood producer. But the stunts were great and Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker play well off of each other.

We hit the road around 6 pm as the temperature hovered around 103. By the time we crossed into Arkansas my wristwatch thermometer read “only” 99. It’s amazing how cool a frying pan can feel when you’ve just come out of the fire.

Day 9 – Colorado Springs to Wichita, KS

Rode 489 miles, Posted by Bug

Somewhere in Colorado or Kansas there’s a town called Helenback, because we kept going there all day long today. We left Dr. Charity’s home at 7 am Mountain Time to beat the heat as much as possible, but by 11 am the temp was hitting three digits, and we were guzzling Gatorade, water, and even iced coffee by the gallon. When we finally pulled into Dodge City for lunch at 2 pm, every bank sign we saw said 107.

Any other time of the year, we’d have wanted to walk out behind Applebee’s to the Boot Hill cemetery to see where some famous varmints are buried. But today we felt too much like people shopping for plots, so we skipped that particular treat.

During lunch at Montana Mike’s, Apostle Blue suggested taking the entire afternoon off, and no one quarreled with the wisdom of his words. The only question was: Where could we truly relax in air-conditioned surroundings for four more hours? The movies at a small local mall provided a wonderful solution, so we bought tickets and entered a cool, dark chamber marked #3, prepared for a sweet, cheap snooze. But Jason Bourne, who was having a lot rougher ride than our own, kept us awake and suitably diverted until it was time to saddle up again.

It was still 107 when we headed back out onto Highway 400 towards Wichita at 6:30 pm. Fifty miles east of Dodge City we came to Greensburg, Kansas, which, until this past May, was unknown to the world. That’s when a tornado barreled right through the middle of that isolated little hamlet, killing nine people and destroying virtually the entire town. Our waitress, Sam, had told us what to expect, but the scene was still startling. The swath of destruction was probably half a mile wide, and looked like a battle scene from Iraq. Piles of lumber and debris were everywhere, and all the trees had been beheaded. Those that remained were, like the town, struggling back to life.

When we finally arrived at the Best Western Governor’s Inn tonight at 9, the air was still 93 degrees warm. But we’ve got loud window units and soft pillows, and we are three quarters of the way home.

Day 8 –Boulder to Colorado Springs

Rode 180 miles, Posted by Bug

Today’s initial 84 miles were mostly urban. The other 96 started with a ride through the Garden of the Gods, after dropping off our luggage at Ron and Kim Charity’s home, and ended at the foot of Pike’s Peak. GOTG is a series of golden, rocky outcrops that dot the desert between Colorado Springs and Manitou Springs, laced with a narrow, winding road (slightly wider than a golf cart path) for motorists, cyclists, and hikers. The Garden road ends where the gorgeous little town of Manitou Springs begins. Previously a plain little watering hole at the foot of Pike’s Peak, the town is now an attraction in its own right, at once rustic and frou frou, like a pretty girl in hiking garb.

We started to drive part of the way up Pike’s Peak, but Blue decided to take us on a harrowing tour of an ugly little hillside neighborhood full of gravel and hairpin turns, not a good combination for motorcycles. Navigating it was no problem for Blue, Bull, and Barca, but the Bug aged 15 years before we got back down to the main road.

To top it off, Blue got too far ahead of the other three of us, and wound up alone, whereupon he just headed back to town. Bull and Barca paid $4 to drive part of the way up Pike’s Peak, while the Bug drove back to town to find a drink holder that would fit his handlebars (got it). It’s been 100 degrees here, and the altitude, while they say its 6,000 feet closer to Heaven, feels like the outskirts of H-E-double hockey sticks.

Tomorrow we head into Kansas, breadbasket of America and several other nations. With the current heat wave, I expect toast.

Day 7 - Pinedale, WY to Boulder, CO

Rode 480 miles, Posted by Bug

Yesterday was perfect, but today…well, it wasn’t yesterday. A synopsis: Chill for 90 minutes, slowly warm for one hour, then bake for two hours; rinse thoroughly and blow dry on high for 20 minutes.

The longer version: We left Pinedale in the morning chill at 8 am today and headed south past some grazing pronghorn antelope towards Rock Springs and Interstate 80, doing the initial 95 miles in about 80 minutes.

Next up: Laramie for lunch and Cheyenne for a break at the Harley dealership. The Harley Davidson Company really prides itself on friendly dealers, so we were taken aback at the surly attitude displayed by the Cheyenne salesmen. PG—I mean Blue—started to sit on a 2008 red and white Screamin’ Eagle, only to be told that before he could sit on the bike he had to sign a contract to buy it. Then, if he didn’t want to make the purchase, they could tear up the paperwork. We were “gone in 60 seconds.”

Interstate 80 East surrendered to Interstate 25 South, and before long we were in Colorado, heading straight towards a massive thunderstorm. In reality, it probably wasn’t any bigger than the ones we get in Florida, but in Colorado, an expansive panorama of 20-30 miles in every direction lets you see whole storms when they hit. And to our west, we could see the huge curtains of rain falling from a beautiful, but intimidating thunderhead.

For a few minutes it appeared that we were going to skirt along the dry eastern edge of the storm, but then big raindrops began to pop-pop-pop on our helmets and windscreens. One thing I found out: Raindrops hurt when they hit your fingers at a Category-One 70 mph. Second, the winds that precede the rain are brutal, especially when they suddenly hit you from the side. In fact, one cold gust—I’m guessing it was at least 50 mph—hit us hard enough to blow us into the other lane.

Within moments we exited and parked under a bridge long enough to don our rain gear, then pulled back onto the highway just in time for the sun to come out. Now fully rubberized, we baked for several more minutes until we were sure no more rain was coming, then exited again to take the rain suits back off.

We finally hit Boulder a little before 5 pm and checked into the Hampton Inn Dolly had booked for us. (She’s saving us at least an hour of hotel hunting every day. Go Mrs. Bug!) Then we were off to supper with Pastors Erich and Leigh Hardy, of the Rock of Frontrange. I’m glad they didn’t call it the Rock of Boulder, which would have been as redundant as “Chai Tea” (chai means tea).

So, there you have Day 7, without pictures because there was nothing to photograph, except wind, which frankly refused to hold still and pose for us. Tomorrow we’ll be 2nd Day Adventists, with a one-hour hop down to Colorado Springs, and lots of time to be lazy.