I awoke at 6 a.m. on Tuesday morning in Pooler, GA, to find a couple of voicemail messages on my cellphone. They were from my wife advising that her mother had passed away during the night. That meant my northern progress was halted and I needed to turn south and head for home. After some discussion with my riding partners it was decided that we would all pass on the Mighty 8th Air Force Museum (more on that in a minute) and go our separate ways; me heading home via the fastest route possible (Interstates all the way, baby!) and them continuing northward to Virginia.
After having what must be the sorriest, cheapest, most pathetic continental breakfast in modern America, I packed up my stuff, loaded the bike, and made my final preparations to depart for home. The other fellas did the same and decided upon a basic strategy that altered the originally proposed route and stops. Instead of heading up to central North Carolina for an overnight, they elected to press as far north into Virginia as they could to position themselves within easy striking distance of Front Royal, VA, and Skyline Drive. Once they were loaded up, I bid them adieu and wished them well in their travels. It was really odd watching them roll out and knowing I was no longer going to be riding with them. What was more odd was the weird sensation I got watching those guys roll out to finish "MY TRIP"!!!
The "MY TRIP" plan looks like this: Ride from home to Pooler, GA and visit
the Mighty 8th Air Force Museum. Ride from Pooler to my sister's home in
central NC for an overnight stay and visit. Ride from there to Front
Royal, VA to reach the northernmost point of the Skyline Drive. Then,
ride the complete length of Skyline Drive until it meets up with the Blue
Ridge Parkway. Having done that portion of the ride, the next phase of
the plan is to continue the southerly trek on the Blue Ridge Parkway,
riding the entire length of that great motorcycling road. In this
current version of the plan I would have then joined other friends in
Sylva, NC, for a week of riding in that area of the southern
Appalachians.
This is "MY TRIP" because I have been trying to make it for the past two years, but something always derails me from succeeding. In most cases my attempts have fallen apart at various points in the planning and scheduling process. However, the last two attempts have failed in the final and early moments of execution, respectively.
My most recent attempt at making this trip was this past October (2008) when I planned to set out on my own, make the aforementioned loop with a second sister visit in south-central PA thrown in for good measure, before meeting up with my riding buddies in the High Country around Boone, NC. That trip fell apart only two days from departure for reasons that were beyond my control. I had the bike packed and ready to go, but ended up instead having to put her on a trailer a week later and pulling her up to the NC rendezvous.
Then there is this attempt in which I actually made it to the museum's neighborhood before being recalled for reasons that are once again beyond my control. I am starting to think that there is something about this trip that has the fates working hard to keep me from making it. Oh, well, like they say, the third time is the charm! October is looking good for another attempt!!!
Okay, so that's the background on the whole trip plan.
With my riding pals saddled up and gone north, I finished my travel preparations and loaded up the bike to set out for home. After gassing up and activating a long playlist on my iPod, I turned south on I-95 and headed for home at 9:45 a.m.
The entire trip of 352.1 miles from the gas station in Pooler to my home in Florida was made with only one stop for gas about 24 miles north of Daytona Beach, FL, where I also took on some water and a peanut bar for myself.
I rolled into my driveway at 3:06 p.m., with the previously mentioned 352.1 miles on the trip meter. If my math is correct, I made the ride in 5.37 hours and averaged a respectable 65.6 MPH in the process. I feel pretty good about that average given that my time includes the gas stop near Daytona, and numerous stretches of slow going for construction along the way. I was also delayed by a wreck in southern Georgia where an entire semi-tractor-trailer rig was overturned and shredded by the guardrails. That truck was literally disintegrated by the shredding action of the rail posts.
I was also delayed (or slowed down anyway) near Sanford, FL, for about 10 miles of riding through a torrential downpour that limited both vision and traction.
And finally, in eastern Polk County, right in front of Fantasy of Flight, I was delayed by a car fire on the side of I-4. The car had burst into flames just moments before I arrived at that spot. As I rode westbound I saw a thick column of black smoke rise up just beyond an overpass ahead of me. Knowing I was near Fantasy of Flight I was concerned that a plane had gone down. As I got closer to the smoke column I could tell that it was pretty much in line with the approach path for the attraction's runway; only adding to my concerns about one of the vintage planes having gone down. But, once I got closer I could see that it was a car on fire rather than a plane. I felt an odd sense of relief at seeing that "we" hadn't lost another piece of history in the form of a vintage aircraft. No, instead, it was just a run-of-the-mill compact sedan on fire. And by "on fire" I mean fully engulfed! There was no saving that car as it was burned completely and the tires were already melted. Fortunately it appeared that everyone made it out of the car safely as there was a small group of people standing about 50 yards west of the vehicle watching it burn.
Like I mentioned earlier, I was on scene pretty much right after the car ignited and this meant that the road wasn't blocked off yet. There were a few vehicles ahead of me and we all slowed down to a crawling pace and moved to the extreme southern edge of the roadway to get past the burning car. Just as I reached the car and saw that there was no one in distress, the first fire engine arrived and the crew went into action very quickly to extinguish the blaze.
The remainder of my ride was mostly uneventful -- just putting up with typical, overly-aggressive Florida drivers -- and I made it home without further delay. I am here to support the family in this moment of sorrow and grief. If things work out I'll load the bike onto my friend's trailer and head north again on Friday to meet up with the fellas in Sylva, NC, for a week of mountain riding.
Here are a few observations from my ride yesterday:
- It is amazing what you can see on a relatively short trip if you pay attention. 350 miles on the Interstate system exposes one to a lot of interesting and diverse sights. You never know what you'll see up ahead.
- There are a lot of interesting people sharing the roadway with you. Take time to look at them as they pass by and try to figure out what their story might be. Very interesting way to pass the miles.
- Interesting people aside, there are a lot of jackasses out there, too. And many of them seem to have little regard or appreciation for the vulnerabilities of motorcycle travel. I was tailgated, cutoff, and generally harassed by more vehicles that I care to recount. What's up with that, people? What amazed me was the number of these jackasses that just don't seem to be able to see a motorcycle even when it is right in front of them or right beside them. I was cut-off several times and had two severe instances of lane incursion where a car to my right just came over into my lane even though I was at the other driver's side mirror!
- Semi trucks are the scariest! The drivers are really pros and you can pretty much depend on them not to do anything crazy, but I don't like being in their blindspot and I really don't like being stuck beside those big wheels.
- Florida is a horrendously aggressive place to drive on the Interstate highways. All through Georgia the pace was relaxed and enjoyable. But, no sooner than I crossed into Florida it was like someone dropped the green flag and the race was on. Within five miles of crossing the state line the aggression level of the other drivers seem to shoot up to the point of hyperactivity. And it continued this way all down I-95 and only seemed to get worse the further west I went on I-4, with the Orlando area being the worst of all.
- Logging miles on a motorcycle is both a physical and a mental test of endurance. You need to be in relatively good shape to stand up to the demands of logging miles without frequent breaks, and you have to have your mindset adjusted to stay alert mile after mile. I am convinced that a motorcyclist's safety and success in logging hard miles is directly tied to both physcial and mental readiness to undertake the demanding task at hand. I'm not saying it's difficult, just that it is demanding and you need to be properly prepared for the challenge.
I have my fingers crossed that I'll be able to meet my responsibilities here over the next two days and then be able to head north again to get in that planned week of mountain riding. Tune in here for updates!
After having what must be the sorriest, cheapest, most pathetic continental breakfast in modern America, I packed up my stuff, loaded the bike, and made my final preparations to depart for home. The other fellas did the same and decided upon a basic strategy that altered the originally proposed route and stops. Instead of heading up to central North Carolina for an overnight, they elected to press as far north into Virginia as they could to position themselves within easy striking distance of Front Royal, VA, and Skyline Drive. Once they were loaded up, I bid them adieu and wished them well in their travels. It was really odd watching them roll out and knowing I was no longer going to be riding with them. What was more odd was the weird sensation I got watching those guys roll out to finish "MY TRIP"!!!
The "MY TRIP" plan looks like this: Ride from home to Pooler, GA and visit
the Mighty 8th Air Force Museum. Ride from Pooler to my sister's home in
central NC for an overnight stay and visit. Ride from there to Front
Royal, VA to reach the northernmost point of the Skyline Drive. Then,
ride the complete length of Skyline Drive until it meets up with the Blue
Ridge Parkway. Having done that portion of the ride, the next phase of
the plan is to continue the southerly trek on the Blue Ridge Parkway,
riding the entire length of that great motorcycling road. In this
current version of the plan I would have then joined other friends in
Sylva, NC, for a week of riding in that area of the southern
Appalachians.
This is "MY TRIP" because I have been trying to make it for the past two years, but something always derails me from succeeding. In most cases my attempts have fallen apart at various points in the planning and scheduling process. However, the last two attempts have failed in the final and early moments of execution, respectively.
My most recent attempt at making this trip was this past October (2008) when I planned to set out on my own, make the aforementioned loop with a second sister visit in south-central PA thrown in for good measure, before meeting up with my riding buddies in the High Country around Boone, NC. That trip fell apart only two days from departure for reasons that were beyond my control. I had the bike packed and ready to go, but ended up instead having to put her on a trailer a week later and pulling her up to the NC rendezvous.
Then there is this attempt in which I actually made it to the museum's neighborhood before being recalled for reasons that are once again beyond my control. I am starting to think that there is something about this trip that has the fates working hard to keep me from making it. Oh, well, like they say, the third time is the charm! October is looking good for another attempt!!!
Okay, so that's the background on the whole trip plan.
With my riding pals saddled up and gone north, I finished my travel preparations and loaded up the bike to set out for home. After gassing up and activating a long playlist on my iPod, I turned south on I-95 and headed for home at 9:45 a.m.
The entire trip of 352.1 miles from the gas station in Pooler to my home in Florida was made with only one stop for gas about 24 miles north of Daytona Beach, FL, where I also took on some water and a peanut bar for myself.
I rolled into my driveway at 3:06 p.m., with the previously mentioned 352.1 miles on the trip meter. If my math is correct, I made the ride in 5.37 hours and averaged a respectable 65.6 MPH in the process. I feel pretty good about that average given that my time includes the gas stop near Daytona, and numerous stretches of slow going for construction along the way. I was also delayed by a wreck in southern Georgia where an entire semi-tractor-trailer rig was overturned and shredded by the guardrails. That truck was literally disintegrated by the shredding action of the rail posts.
I was also delayed (or slowed down anyway) near Sanford, FL, for about 10 miles of riding through a torrential downpour that limited both vision and traction.
And finally, in eastern Polk County, right in front of Fantasy of Flight, I was delayed by a car fire on the side of I-4. The car had burst into flames just moments before I arrived at that spot. As I rode westbound I saw a thick column of black smoke rise up just beyond an overpass ahead of me. Knowing I was near Fantasy of Flight I was concerned that a plane had gone down. As I got closer to the smoke column I could tell that it was pretty much in line with the approach path for the attraction's runway; only adding to my concerns about one of the vintage planes having gone down. But, once I got closer I could see that it was a car on fire rather than a plane. I felt an odd sense of relief at seeing that "we" hadn't lost another piece of history in the form of a vintage aircraft. No, instead, it was just a run-of-the-mill compact sedan on fire. And by "on fire" I mean fully engulfed! There was no saving that car as it was burned completely and the tires were already melted. Fortunately it appeared that everyone made it out of the car safely as there was a small group of people standing about 50 yards west of the vehicle watching it burn.
Like I mentioned earlier, I was on scene pretty much right after the car ignited and this meant that the road wasn't blocked off yet. There were a few vehicles ahead of me and we all slowed down to a crawling pace and moved to the extreme southern edge of the roadway to get past the burning car. Just as I reached the car and saw that there was no one in distress, the first fire engine arrived and the crew went into action very quickly to extinguish the blaze.
The remainder of my ride was mostly uneventful -- just putting up with typical, overly-aggressive Florida drivers -- and I made it home without further delay. I am here to support the family in this moment of sorrow and grief. If things work out I'll load the bike onto my friend's trailer and head north again on Friday to meet up with the fellas in Sylva, NC, for a week of mountain riding.
Here are a few observations from my ride yesterday:
- It is amazing what you can see on a relatively short trip if you pay attention. 350 miles on the Interstate system exposes one to a lot of interesting and diverse sights. You never know what you'll see up ahead.
- There are a lot of interesting people sharing the roadway with you. Take time to look at them as they pass by and try to figure out what their story might be. Very interesting way to pass the miles.
- Interesting people aside, there are a lot of jackasses out there, too. And many of them seem to have little regard or appreciation for the vulnerabilities of motorcycle travel. I was tailgated, cutoff, and generally harassed by more vehicles that I care to recount. What's up with that, people? What amazed me was the number of these jackasses that just don't seem to be able to see a motorcycle even when it is right in front of them or right beside them. I was cut-off several times and had two severe instances of lane incursion where a car to my right just came over into my lane even though I was at the other driver's side mirror!
- Semi trucks are the scariest! The drivers are really pros and you can pretty much depend on them not to do anything crazy, but I don't like being in their blindspot and I really don't like being stuck beside those big wheels.
- Florida is a horrendously aggressive place to drive on the Interstate highways. All through Georgia the pace was relaxed and enjoyable. But, no sooner than I crossed into Florida it was like someone dropped the green flag and the race was on. Within five miles of crossing the state line the aggression level of the other drivers seem to shoot up to the point of hyperactivity. And it continued this way all down I-95 and only seemed to get worse the further west I went on I-4, with the Orlando area being the worst of all.
- Logging miles on a motorcycle is both a physical and a mental test of endurance. You need to be in relatively good shape to stand up to the demands of logging miles without frequent breaks, and you have to have your mindset adjusted to stay alert mile after mile. I am convinced that a motorcyclist's safety and success in logging hard miles is directly tied to both physcial and mental readiness to undertake the demanding task at hand. I'm not saying it's difficult, just that it is demanding and you need to be properly prepared for the challenge.
I have my fingers crossed that I'll be able to meet my responsibilities here over the next two days and then be able to head north again to get in that planned week of mountain riding. Tune in here for updates!
1 comment:
Hope it works out got you. We all want to see you in Sylva on Friday.
Post a Comment