A Birthday to Remember

May 31 - Memorial Day and my 53rd. birthday. Time to ride back to Columbus. It will be a day I won't soon forget.

We climbed on our bikes at the hotel at 6:00 a.m., determined to make it back by mid-afternoon so we could relax a little bit before starting the grind on Tuesday morning. The best laid plans of mice and men. . . the trip came apart at the seams pretty quickly when, barely down the street from the hotel, I did a last minute quick turn to the left onto the George Washington Parkway and Cheryl missed it. . . I heard her tires sliding, and prepared for the worst.

At the bottom of the ramp, I pulled over and ran back to the top, but alas she hadn't gone down - thank you God - and had merely slid a bit and rode on into a sleeping Washington DC. I pondered, then, what to do in terms of catching up with her. She called me on my cell while I was getting back on the bike and told me to meet her a mile up the road.

In starting my bike up, though, I noticed it simply wasn't running right. Later I learned it was running on only one cylinder, and I limped it into a scenic overlook on the Potomac about 3 miles down the road. Cheryl finally had gotten turned around and arrived about 10 minutes later. In that intervening time, I had called my Columbus mechanic, Bill, who told me that likely the "fall over switch" had tripped when I dropped the bike the day before.

A safety feature, the only way to reset it was to remove the negative battery terminal for a minute and then reinstall. Of course my toolset was woefully short of anything useful to do this, so Cheryl and I struggled, sweated, and sweated some more before finally getting the terminal cleared. But, the space to put the bolt back in was simply too tight and we couldn't leverage the battery up and out to get to it.

Hundreds of bikes blew by on their way home, each tooting their horn a cheery good morning. And, after an hour of struggling, along came Buck. Buck and Mary Buckshaw, from the west side of Columbus, pulled off to see if they could help. Not only were they a Godsend, they were characters right out of some story. Buck had waist-length long blond hair and a US cavalry hat, while Mary had cowgirl boots, some impressive artificial appendages up front, and an Alaskan fox fur hat! He could've passed for Leon Russell or an early Greg Allman, and he took charge.

Of course Buck was prepard with a full toolset, and we were able to quickly leverage the battery up and get the terminal reinstalled. It started right up to cheers of "hooray" and hugs all around. When I tried to pay them something for their trouble, Buck simply responded that he had trouble once and someone pulled over for him. Besides, he was from the west side and that's how they treat folks in need. They pulled away and we reloaded to get on the road about 8:30 a.m.

But, within 30 seconds I knew the problem hadn't been resolved and the drop switch wasn't the problem. I limped along at about 50 mph up I-495 onto I-270 before pulling off an exit to find a gas station. The owner told us there was a large Harley Davidson dealer about 13 miles away, so off we set. My bike was barely chugging up and down some of those hills, often dropping down to second gear just to make it. Cheryl trailed behind and, I'm sure, was very worried about how we'd handle this.

Sure enough, about 13 miles away we encountered Fredericksburg (MD) Harley Davidson and, to my surprise, they were open! In fact the Service center was open and there was a mechanic onsite. They said they'd take a look and we quickly went down the street to have a long-awaited birthday breakfast at Perkins. Unfortunately when we returned, the mechanic said he couldn't find the source of the problem.

For an hour, Cheryl and I waited while he looked further, but still no solution. About noon, we decided it was best for her to leave without me as it appeared I would have to stay overnight at that point. My heart sank as I watched her pull away, but knew it was best since she had a "can't miss" meeting for work this morning. So, I sat there talking with the locals.

Alas, at about 1:00 he found the problem. A wire leading into the fuel injector for the second cylinder had become frayed from rubbing against my throttle and brake cable. It was shorting out and preventing the second cylinder from getting gas. He quickly fixed it and took a quick "quality control ride" to ensure it was running properly.

Indeed it seemed fixed, so off I took at about 75 mph on I-70 headed west. The day was hot and very sunny, and my mood was good. I thought perhaps I could catch up with Cheryl if she'd pull over at a rest stop or somewhere, but that was not to be.

About 150 miles away from Fredericksburg, it was beginning to rain so I pulled off to the edge of the highway to get my rainsuit on. I thought I'd check my phone to see if Cheryl had called, and she had to say where she was. Unfortunately, I also had two "urgent" calls from the Harley Dealer, so I stood there with trucks and cars roaring past me and trying to understand their message.

Apparently in his haste to get me on the road, the mechanic had not reconnected the gas hose that connects the right and left side of the tank. Sure enough, the hose was clamped off with a cheap clamp and the nipple end where it attached to the other tank had a cheap rubber cap on it. He wanted me to go to a car parts store, buy a good clamp, and reattach the hose. After all, "those are cheap shop parts and probably won't hold". The failure to hold would mean gas would run out all over the engine and me. . . . not a pretty thought.

So, in a driving rain - the first of so many I lost count - off I went. About 10 miles up the road, there was a town with an auto parts store - closed of course - so I went to Dollar General - do they ever close? - and bought the American solution to everything - duct tape. I figured I'd let the clamp that was on there go and hopefully it would hold, and I duct taped the living hell out of the nipple with the rubber clamp. Time to start praying for both to hold.

For the next few hours, I had to pull over about every 80 miles because I only had gas from half the tank, so that afforded me a chance to check my handiwork and, yes, it was holding. Cheryl and I exchanged voice messages and I hoped to catch up with her just north of Morgantown, WV - the halfway point.

That, too, was not to be because Cheryl inadvertently went south on I-79 at Morgantown instead of north. She realized when she got to Charleston, WV that she had gone the wrong way. I learned this when I stopped for some dinner at Washington, PA after having ridden through rainstorms at least 5 times. I had quickly tired of putting on my rain suit, so I went without it and got completely drenched. The wind would dry me off pretty quickly, but then along came another soaking storm.

It was just short of miserable and I was worried, of course, about Cheryl riding in it. She's a good rider, but hardly as experienced as me. I've ridden for 40 years now and was having trouble with the weather. There were points were staying on the road was difficult, but it was the only way to get home.

We connected live with each other while I was at dinner, and in her own inimitable style, she ws cheery and upbeat and having a ball. In fact, she had stopped at a Dairy Queen outside Charleston and was enjoying a chocolate cone dipped in chocolate. She said not to worry and she'd see me at home.

About 8:30 p.m., I finally pulled in to home. The cheap clamp held, and so did my duct tape work. She had arrived about 10 minutes earlier and we stood in the garage hugging and cheering each other for about 10 more minutes (and of course, thanking God for delivering us safely!).

The trip overall was really great, and now that I lived through yesterday, will be one - from start to end - we don't forget. Hope you enjoyed tagging along vicariously, and we'll see you again soon on our next bike trip.

Rolling Thunder

Today is the Rolling Thunder ride - the 23rd. annual one . . . .a ride from the Pentagon parking lots to the Lincoln Memorial to honor POW/MIAs. We had heard before today that the event was a long one. The website called for meeting in the Pentagon's parking lots between 7 and Noon, and some of the other hotel guests said "don't be early" - prophetic words, indeed.

Cheryl had the great idea to start the day, instead, at Mount Vernon, George Washington's home and a mere 10 miles from our hotel in Alexandria, Virginia. They opened at 8 a.m. and we arrived shortly after to see a long line of school buses already there. After purchasing our tickets, we saw a great movie summary of Washington's life, focusing on his time as head of the Continental Army and some on being elected as our first President. The movie theater was Cheryl, I, and about a hundred high school kids pushing, shoving, giggling, and trying to make out with each other (at least those who were "couples") between admonishments from chaperones.

After exiting the movie, there was a circular path leading up a fairly long walk to the mansion. The high schoolers went left and Cheryl and I beat a path to the right. This was fortuitous, indeed, as the high schoolers were stopped dead at the end of a long line of other high schoolers, while Cheryl and I nonchalantly walked to the very front of the line, behind a group of - yes - high schoolers and into the queue at the front. No one questioned us so we simply stayed and progressed right on through the house instead of having to wait in the line with - yes - high schoolers for probably upwards of an hour. What luck!

The mansion was wonderful, and clearly George and Martha had a thing for each other. Their marriage lasted 40 years until he died of "quinsy", a condition that turned into acute laryngitis and pneumonia at age 67 in 1799. We think it was probably CHF (congestive heart failure) but will have to do some more research on that. Martha closed off the bedroom they had shared, and where he died and moved upstairs. She lasted another 3 years before she, too, died. From the mansion, we next visited the museum to see Washington artifacts including, the fabled lower dentures right along with swords, muskets, etc. The high schoolers were getting a lot of giggles over them!

At 10:30, we left for the Pentagon parking lots, thinking we wouldn't be too late for the noon departure. The sun was beating down and the temperature got up into the 90's, so plenty hot in DC. In fact, there are 3 Pentagon parking lots, and each was filled with motorcycles. We found the middle one, and hustled over under a highway overpass to stay in the shade. Noon, 1 p.m., 2 p.m., all came and went and no sign of getting this party started!

About 2:30, it was a mad rush to the bikes for the probably 50,000 motorcycles in our parking lot. Turns out one of the three lots (the one we couldn't see), actually left at 1 p.m. and it was our turn. A mad dash to the street and off we roared more or less side-by-side. The route was about 2 - 3 miles long, and almost every inch of it was covered with people cheering, thumbs up, waving, carrying signs of gratitude and thanks for those veterans among us. It was downright chilling and I know both Cheryl and I shed a tear over their enthusiasm, cheering, and clapping.

Instead of parking at the National Mall (because it was simply blistering hot), we decided to head back toward the hotel. Of course I made the mistake of having to stop at Thunder Alley to buy "just one more t-shirt" (that I don't really need). That made a big hit - not - with Cheryl who stayed at the bike while I walked up into the throngs of people trying to buy just one more t-shirt for themselves.

When I got back, my parking spot on some grass and in a somewhat precarious position. . . I tipped the bike over trying to get out. That was like throwing gasoline on the simmering fire created from too much heat, not enough water, and just general togetherness. Then, the overwhelming traffic jams (with much of the normal traffic patterns shut down and exacerbated by monstrous crowds), lit the fuse. We argued and fussed all the way back to the hotel.

I'm thinking that a couple hours in the air conditioning and perhaps she'll cool off. We're on our way home early tomorrow and hope we can do it without rain. One more post tomorrow evening on overall thoughts and to let you know we're home safely.

Honoring Our Veterans

Although the skies threatened rain for much of the day, once again we were blessed not to get a single drop. We got started early, leaving the hotel at 8:30 a.m. to be on time (early) for the Rolling Thunder wreath laying at the Navy Memorial - an event slated to begin at 10. Of course, it turned out that it really began at 11, but we enjoyed the extra time.

One Rolling Thunder member from New Jersey wearing a crisp Navy uniform struck up a conversation with us. He'd been retired for 17 years from the US Navy, but bought a brand new uniform (that fit his trim body like a glove) just so he could wear it on this day. He'd go back to biker clothes later in the day, but at this moment he looked like he could serve America right now, and well I might add.

The event began at 11 a.m. with a Rolling Thunder contingent (mostly veterans themselves) assembling front and center, while Navy Memorial dignitaries welcomed the crowd. Then, a retired Lieutenant Commander (also part of Rolling Thunder) gave some stirring remarks that detailed the Korean War, and the Navy's role in it. He talked about the indifference the Korean vets faced when return home, contrasting it to the disdain expressed to the Vietnam Vets, and the (far better) heroe's welcome today's veterans receive. He concluded by asking for prayer for all the remaining POW/MIAs, and that someday they be brought home safely. The playing of "Taps" concluded the event, and it felt good to have been part of it.

Surprisingly, Cheryl and I had no trouble navigating to the Navy Memorial from our hotel in Crystal City. And, finding our way several blocks to the west for Thunder Alley - the vendor area of Rolling Thunder - proved no more of a challenge than getting across the Potomac in the first place! And, there were plenty of vendors with bikers like us eager to spend money, so of course we obliged them. Gotta' do our part to keep the economy humming, you know.

Although it hadn't rained, it was the usual 80 degrees + and big-time muggy in Washington DC, and we felt it as we trudged around the National Mall. We walked past the Vietnam Memorial which had long lines in both directions (since we'll be there tomorrow) and headed toward the glorious World War II Memorial.

This one means a lot to me since my father, an Army medic, served in both the European and Pacific Theaters during World War II. And, with him gone now almost 25 years, it means a lot to be there to honor him and others of the Greatest Generation. I'm sure he would've approved of this monument had he lived to see it.

Finally, the day's only blip on the radar came when we got back on the bike to go back to the hotel to cool off, and my red light (meaning low on gas) was staring back at me. There aren't a ton of gas stations in this part of Washington, but fortunately there was one a couple blocks from our hotel,so no worries in the end.

Not sure what we'll do the rest of today since it is only mid-afternoon at this point, but tomorrow (Sunday) is the big ride. And, I can tell you, the volume of motorcycles (almost exclusively Harley Davidson) in the city is really impressive . . . . . . . . . . ..Rolling Thunder. Estimates are that there are somewhere between 250,000 and 400,000 motorcycles in town, and they are plenty loud. Stay tuned, and I'll talk with you tomorrow.

Lest We Never Forget

Our morning started with a short ride to the site of the Flight 93 Memorial near Shanksville, Pennyslvania. This is a "temporary" site while they build a fitting tribute closer to the actual crash site that is hoped to open by the tenth anniversary.

I personally believe the word "hero" is overused. Joey Votto of the Cincinnati Reds is an amazingly good baseball player; he's not a hero. But on this windswept hilltop in the middle of nowhere, it is clear that these 40 persons were truly American heroes. Their courage against overwhelmingly long odds is unspeakable in how they faced down terrorists who had hijacked United Flight 93 and, over Cleveland, Ohio, turned it toward Washington DC. It is believed the hijackers intended to crash Flight 93 into the Capitol Building (filled with a full session of senators and house members). After 11 of them called their loved ones to say goodbye, the good guys fought back with boiling water and a beverage cart.

None of us will ever forget hearing that Tod Beamer's perhaps final words were "Let's Roll" and that phrase is in clear evidence on this hilltop in Pennsylvania. Nearly 140,000 persons visit this hallowed ground each year to honor their memory, and it was as moving for Cheryl and I as Arlington Cemetery or any other places where American heroes have their final rest.

There was virtually nothing left of Flight 93 as it crashed into the ground at more than 550 mph. What was found of human remains was DNA identified and returned to the families. . . something from each of the 40 was saved. The black box was found 15 feet under the bottom of the crater, forced downward into the soil from the impact. The voice recorder was found at 30 feet.

The crash site is adorned by a large American flag on a fence in front of the crater, off limits to visitors and about 400 yards away from the temporary visitor center. It is, however, clearly visible from the hilltop where visitors leave tributes of all sorts to these American heroes. I hope, if you haven't visited, you'll put this on your bucket list because the courage these persons exhibited that day is nearly beyond comprehension.

From there, the somber mood was lifted as we rode down US 30 - a two lane highway - that wound down from a peak of 3,000 feet in the Allegheny mountains to eventually end up in Breezewood, PA. THIS is one of those roads that bikers dream of . . . gently rolling curves, down a beautiful mountainside, with panoramic views of valleys, mountains, streams . . . .unbelievably awesome. We were some impressed that we pulled over at the bottom of the final 6 mile descent (9% grade), looked at each other and said "wow".

After a quick lunch in Breezewood, we pushed toward Washington DC on I-70 with traffic picking up steadily as we got closer. Traffic leaving DC was unbelievable, but at two points we were at full stop which extended the last few miles by several extra minutes. And, of course, no GPS on my bike means we missed the final turn by got corrected after a short trip through Reagan International Airport.

We're staying at a Holiday Inn and it is filled with bikers. Many of them are veterans - Vietnam, Desert Storm, Iraq - proudly wearing the caps and badges on their leather vests and coats. ALL of them are friendly. We're expecting to see many, many more of them tomorrow as we go down to the National Mall to see what's happening and celebrate with out brethern.

One funny thing. . . .on the way up after parking our bikes, the elevator opened in the garage and it was filled with sweaty bikers. No fragance is quite like that, I can assure you. Leather, sweat, and stale beer. . . . .the door on the 9th. floor couldn't open too soon. But, everyone was happy . . . like one guy said "no road rash". Talk with you more tomorrow!

On Adrenalin

I should've known I could never keep the seemingly level-headed promise I made to Cheryl last week before leaving for a week of sales training in California. I promised her that, following my return on a red-eye flight from San Francisco, I'd take it easy and get at least a couple hours sleep before leaving for our excursion. But, things changed when I arrived home about 9 a.m. today after getting 2 - 3 hours of nodding off on the plane during the night.

A beautiful, sunny day was waiting to be had, so my first words off the plane were "Let's ride". So, we took Montgomery Scott (The Full Monty) to "the spa" - his favorite kennel, and we packed up quickly and hit the road by noon. We rode about halfway to Somerset, Pennyslvania for overnight at one of the world's 8 billion Hampton Inns. We're about 10 miles from the national park at the site of the crash of Flight 93, so that's first thing on the agenda for tomorrow.

The ride here was uneventful - pretty warm - so not much to report there. Only saw one accident and that was about 5 miles from Somerset, but it was serious enough to have the traffic backed up for miles on I-70. Bikers know there's nothing quite like sitting on an air-cooled, very hot motorcycle on a very hot day on a very hot highway moving barely at all. It put a little damper on an otherwise beautiful day, but the traffic opened up and we arrived safely none too worse for the wear.

Will connect with you again tomorrow with news on the crash site's park development with photos. The photos shown here are she and I getting ready to leave Columbus.

One Week Out and Excited

A week from now Cheryl and I head east on our bikes with our end point being Rolling Thunder XXIII May 30, 2010. Rolling Thunder is an annual motorcycle rally held in Washington, DC during the Memorial Day weekend to call for the government's recognition and protection of Prisoners of War (POWs) and those Missing in Action (MIAs). About 400,000 veterans and supporters will roar across Washington, DC on their motorcycles as a tribute to American war heroes.

We're planning on two days there culminating in the group ride from the Pentagon to the Vietnam War Memorial on Sunday, May 30. Bikers line up in the Pentagon parking lot from 7 a.m. - noon on Sunday then depart for a slow ride to the Memorial. Geez, I'm getting choked up even thinking about it.

On the way, we intend to stop in Shanksville, PA where some other American heroes took matters into their own hands and took over Flight 93 from cowardly terrorists intent on crashing it into the White House or the Capitol Building or God knows what. The crash site is now a national park to honor their courage and sacrifice, so I'm sure it'll be a moving experience.

Hope you can follow us on our short, long-weekend trip. Check back next Thursday evening for the first "on the road" update. God bless America and talk with you soon!