"The hard way"… Well, not really

I had just returned home from my sidecar excursion with the kids, and was trying to figure out a way to break it to the old lady that I was leaving again in less than 48 hrs to head back down south on another bike trip.

I had been kicking the plan around for weeks. I was to hook up with Bandit and crew, and ride out to the Smoke out in Cottonwood AZ. I had already started packing before I even told her about it. After a while, I figured I might as well get this over with and propose the idea to her.

I told her of my plans, and then waited for the backlash. To my surprise, nothing happened. She was cool with the whole thing, and understood my need for the open road. Did I mention how lucky I am to have this woman by my side? Anyway, that's a whole other story that I haven't really figured out yet my self. So Sunday afternoon, I called Bandit to see when he was thinking of leaving. He wasn’t home, but Nyla tells me they planned to pull out on Thursday morning. YIKES! I'm located about 3 days away, and still had a ton of shit to do to the Glide before I could hit the road.

Monday morning.

I hit the ground running that morning with the destination of Port Alberni (where my bike was located) locked into my sights. Once I got to the bike, I immediately began tearing in to it. One of my main tasks was to pull the fairing apart, and fabricate 3 of the 4 brackets that hold the thing on the bike. The LA roads busted the shit out of them on my last trip down there with the sidecar. I also want to change all the fluids as well as do a quick repair on the main bracket that holds the tour pack on.

As is usually the case, once I started working on her, I remembered several other items that needed tending. I had to rig a toggle switch to replace the ignition switch that had calved on me the week before. It totally gave up the ghost after I had gotten home.

After a few hours of cutting and torching, all brackets were fixed, ignition was working, and I saved about $200.00 on parts from the stealership. I would leave on time. Although it was raining heavily at my departure Monday at 3:00 pm, I doggedly rode ahead for the ferry scheduled for a 5 pm departure to the mainland. I just made it before the ship was ready to depart. It stopped raining while I was on the boat, and I thought I was in for a break. NOT !!!

When I got off the boat, the rain really started to come down. Adding to the drama was the fact it was getting dark as well. Riding in the rain isn't that big a deal on a touring bike, but riding in the rain and the dark, forget it! I tucked into some dumpy little motel right by the border, and thought to myself, I will hit it hard in the morning....

Tuesday morning.

I got up about dark-thirty and chugged a few Styrofoam cups of bad coffee while waiting for the daylight to appear. Unfortunately the rain was still lashing down like liquid knives ready to cut me to ribbons. I was encouraged by the rising sun hoping the new day would slow the rain, but I would have no such good fortune this day. So once again, I donned my rain suit, and loaded up for the road. Before I knew it, I was minutes from the border. I decided I would wait to eat breakfast until I crossed the border. I planned on some biscuits and gravy on the other side, a meal you can’t get in Canada. I rode for a couple of hours before finally stopping to eat. It was still raining off and on. My plan was to ride hard as long as I could, and head inland towards I-90, and then on to Yakima. I hoped to get a break in the weather as soon as I got over the Cascades. While it did ease up a bit, it still wasn't the best.

I took I-90 to Ellensburg, then I-82 to Yakima, and got on to Highway 97; 97 runs all the way from Northern BC to the California border. It is a great Highway with decent speed limits, until you cross in to Oregon.

What the fuck is up with Oregon?

That state has a no fun law as soon as you cross the border! I was doing 75 mph plus with no problem until I crossed into Oregon, then BAM! I had to slow down to 55. Oh well, carry on and make the best of it. The weather was starting to clear up a bit, but still grey and foreboding. I stopped in Bend to have a look at one of the Harley shops along the way, but once you have been to one, you have been to all of them.

After a while, with a bit of sunshine poking through here and there, it really started to look better out. I jammed all afternoon, staying on 97 and after seeing a few deer on the side of the road, I decided to shut it down about 8:00 pm. I have an innate fear of deer after hitting one on my bike about 20 years ago in the dark. Believe me, they leave a mark.

I was just outside of Klamath Falls Oregon, near the California border. I had ridden about 600 miles. Not bad for day one in the rain. I checked into a cheap motel and got the weather report for the next day from the girl behind the front desk. RAIN!!! WTF?!!! In Klamath Falls? It’s like a desert here, and I hit it the one day a year they get rain? Oh well....

Wednesday morning...

She was right, it was raining out. I sat in the lobby and filled up on the free continental stale breakfast muffins and cereal. In the dark I sat, waiting for the sun which seemed as if it would never come. Finally, I toweled off the bike with some complimentary super 8 towels, and hit the road. It was just after 7:00 am. I crossed over into California less than half an hour later still on 97, and heading for Weed, Cal.

It was really coming down, but I could see off in the distance there was some sunshine. The combination of rain and morning sunlight created some of the most brilliant rainbows I have ever seen. I just had to get past this one downpour, and I did, shortly after hooking up with I5. It was nice now. Clear sunny skies and crisp morning air. The bike and I were digging it now.

I rode hard for the next few hours and ended up in Redding just before lunch. I stopped for fuel, a bite to eat, and asked the station attendant how long he would guess the drive to LA from here was. He says, "Oh no sweat, you are pretty much there, only another 550 miles, and absolutely nothing to see between here and there". This guy wasn't kidding man. It’s a wasteland along that stretch, like something out of Chopper Orwell. The good thing about it is you can really make time, so that's what I did. This stretch of road was pretty uneventful, other than cooking along at sometimes up to 90 mph, and covering some major miles. I hooked up with another rider on an Electraglide like mine. We rode together for the next couple of hundred miles taking turns in the lead while really booking it. We never communicated, it was just an unspoken agreement, we were both in a freaking hurry, and would take turns riding out front…and risking the ticket. I finally lost him when I turned off for a rest after a 150 mile stretch without stopping, and he carried on.

The weather was nice enough now, I was down to a long sleeve T and a vest. This is the reason I ride all the way down here at this time of year. After some time in biker euphoria, I’m back on the freeway jamming. I knew I was getting close, and I didn’t want to stop. It was still warm when the sun started to go down, and I just needed to cross over the hills outside of LA and I would be done for the day. It got a bit crisp at the top of the hills, but was still warm enough to ride in a T shirt so I carried on making it in to LA before dark. I arrived in Santa Clarita around 7:00 pm, just as it started to get dark. I called Bandit to let him know I was there and that I would see him in the morning. He tells me I am welcome to spend the night at his place, but I am done. From where I am to his place was about an hour on some of the scariest freeways on the planet. Besides, it’s dark now, and I just rode about 700 miles. I'm spent. Thanks anyway Bandit, but I couldn't if I wanted to. I grab a room at the same Motel 6 I just stayed in a couple of weeks before with my kids, which is just down the road from Magic Mountain. It is familiar, and I am tired.

Thursday morning

I woke early, and was stoked. It was a sunny and warm day, and I knew I was on my way to ride with a legend. I called Bandit and told him I would be there in an hour or so. "No hurry" he says, "we are just getting ready to load the bikes in to the truck".............I said "Pardon"???.......................He tells me that he and the boys are loading up the bikes and truck them out of LA as far as Parker AZ. After the ride from Santa Clarita to Long beach, and Bikernet HQ, I ask him if there is room in the truck for one more bike. I don’t know how you cats that live down there do it man. Those roads are THE SHITS!! No 2 ways about it and I’m on a bagger. Now I see why he wants to truck them until we hit the desert. I wouldn’t last 50 miles in downtown LA on a rigid.

I arrived at the HQ just in time to meet Nyla, who is just pulling out. I told her I was just going to grab a quick bite to eat, but she says "hang around, I am just on my way out to grab some breakfast burritos with Glenn." She has Glenn Priddle from Australia with her, so I pull in to the high security compound at HQ, and a minute later Jeremiah pulls in on "The Hard Way", a bad as shit rigid him and Bandit put together for the Smokeout. I had met Jeremiah a few weeks earlier at the Salt flats, so we had a good bullshit for a bit, while we were waiting for Bandit to get out of the shower. I was looking over their creation, and was in awe of the details that went in to this bike. Bandit hasn’t done a feature on it yet, but I’m hoping he will. It is unreal. Not a big buck show bike, just a mean as hell, in your face, shovelhead, rocker foot clutching, jockey shifting, sprung seat, open piped, bitchin rigid ride. I loved it right away...

Some of the mounts on this thing look like they should be in a museum, and Jeremiah tells me they are all Bandits doing. The oil bag and the oil filter mount he whipped up should have a patent on them. Easy to see why Bandit was chosen for the one and only chopper build that Monster garage has ever done.

The man pulled up the big garage door and we started getting things ready to roll. Nyla and Glenn P pulled in, and I got to meet Glenn for the first time. We hit it off instantly, and you could tell right away that this guy is the real thing. I play official photographer as the boys messed with tie down straps and what not, loading up the bikes. I ain't touching these things..... Long story......

They got them lashed down, and we finished up our breakfast burritos, and hit the road. Bandit, Glenn, and Jeremiah in the Bikernet shop truck, and me taking up the rear on my E Glide. We were headed for Palm Springs to meet up with Larry Petrie from Chop N Grind racing team, and have a quick lunch at the "Handle Bar" right next door to the Harley shop. It is a dark and ominous place with waitresses that just oozed attitude, even in the middle of the day. I like it.

We had a quick lunch, then hit the road again. The landscape was surrounded by a thousand windmills sucking up the continuous gale force wind that this area is known for. I had never seen anything like it. Again, it reminded me of something out of Chopper Orwell; very futuristic.

We passed through Joshua Tree National Park and 29 Palms, on our way to the AZ border. It was downright hot out, but the roads were smooth and endless. I was still following the shop truck, but couldn’t stand the sight of these 2 beautiful choppers in the back of a pickup anymore. I had to twist the wick, pass the boys, so as to have the whole desert to myself, or so it seemed.

I love blasting through the desert on a bike, and this road is one of the most beautiful stretches I had ever seen. I know it was killing Bandit and Jeremiah to have those things in the truck, but we were just about at the unload point, in Parker AZ.

We crossed the border around dinner time, and I threw my helmet in the back of the shop truck at around 60 mph. Wouldn’t be needing that for a few days. We checked our room and went down the road to the local steak house. Several people had given us different directions but we managed to find it anyway. Had a great dinner, and then hit the nearest Casino for a few drinks and a bit of fun. Turns out Jeremiah is a master at the slots. He was winning small jackpots all over the place, but then started really searching for that one machine that would pay off. He found it.

He plugs a $5 bill in to his machine of choice, gives the side a gentle rub, like you would if you were trying to talk your old lady in to a night of passion, and then pulls the one arm bandit. Bells, lights and whistles fill the room... On his $5 bet, he wins $764.00.... Drinks are on Jeremiah tonight

We headed for one of the local taverns, had a couple of cool ones courtesy of Jeremiah, and shot the shit. We looked at the Thursday news on my little pocket PC so Bandit can make sure Sinwu is on the ball while he is away. After a few nightcaps, we headed back to our rooms. Glenn P and I shared a room and a late night bullshit session before we drifted off; another very good day. Tomorrow, we ride......

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