Fall 2010 Cross Country Ride (LA>NY)

[danman]

Sounds like fun, Danman. You're getting us all antsy here in the Pacific Northwest Rain belt. Need summer weather badly.

You mentioned starting out with new tires, what tires were you and your buddy running and how did they look by the time you got to NY? Also, how did the Futura compare to the VFR? I see the range isn't as far, what about performance, handling, that sort of stuff?

Don't remember what tires the Futura had on it, but my VFR needed new ones when I purchased it. The guy who owned it before was using it for freeway commuting (which was obvious as the rear tire was flat - part of the reason I bought the bike, don't think he ever leaned it over!). I bought Michelin PP Front / PR2 Rear based on reviews from this forum. They looked fine after the trip, but I'll check them again when I pull her out of storage (soon I hope).

The Futura was a nice bike and inexpensive, but wasn't particularly reliable. You'll see in upcoming installments. The VFR was slightly faster, but it was very close. It did have nice features like USD fork, Brembo brakes, and a general fancyness factor, but the Honda was better built. Can't comment on handling as I didn't ride it enough, but it seemed pretty good.

More gas related chronicles coming shortly...

- Dan

[midlifeVFR]

Take a glance at a NY map and see how far you are from the Bear Mtn or Cold Spring area. Lots of nice roads

in Orange, Ulster and Putnam counties. Maybe we can set up a group ride in the next few weeks where Pearl White

will outnumber Red

[danman]

Day 2: Baker, CA to Mount Carmel, Utah ~300 miles

When I walked outside, took a dusty breath, and stared deep into the armpit that is Baker, I felt a sigh of relief knowing the adventure had really begun. We were now deep in the desert and all of America waited ahead.

Joe plotted a course the previous night that would take us through Vegas and into Utah. We would stop at a motorcycle shop along the way for a few forgotten supplies, then blast into Utah working our way through Zion State Park. We weren’t sure how far we would make it, but Joe had hundreds of miles of great roads picked out from motorcycleroads.com, so things were looking good.

We blasted out of Baker and quickly crossed our first state line into Nevada. The trip through Vegas was pretty uneventful though we decided to drive down the strip as Joe had never seen it. While I’ve certainly become jaded with Vegas after years of tradeshows and other hijinks, it was pretty damn cool to roll down the strip on my motorcycle. This was the first time on the trip I realized how different ones perspective is on a motorcycle versus a car – places I had seen many times before took on a completely different feel and affect.

Once through Vegas we got off of I15 and headed toward . This was the first time we were off of major highways, and the two lane roads were wonderful. Unfortunately the traffic at the Hoover turnoff was out of control, so we skipped the damn and headed toward the canyons.

Thumbs up for first real road!

We followed Valley of Fire State Park all through Nevada. The roads were great – fast, smooth, and lightly trafficked. We were able to keep a lot of speed without pushing too hard while leaning into some real corners for the first time. Even fully loaded, I was impressed with the handling and sure-footedness of the VFR. The bike was agile and willing, emitting a fantastic growl coming on VTEC as I ripped out of corners and flew down straights.

After rapidly crossing the Arizona and Utah borders, the landscape morphed from stark grey to clay red, roads turned deep tar black, and canyons bloomed in the periphery. Unlike the higher speed riding earlier in the day, corners were increasingly tight and slow - mostly switchbacks with plenty of old-timey tunnels. Joe accidently pulled his first wheelie snapping on and off the throttle inside a tunnel, attempting to release the "v-twin thunder" (his words, not mine). I doubt either of us would have noticed had his raising headlight not lit the entire ceiling of the tunnel - pretty cool effect!

One thing we did not expect was waiting for us on the decent. Zion National Park was under construction, and about 5 miles of downhill switchbacks had been torn up and were now loose gravel. I shat a brick. My bike tracked violently in the grooves and dips with the lightest application of throttle or brakes caused a complete loss of traction. Furthermore, speeds were so slow that the bikes were unstable (parking lot speeds) and we had to let cars pass, even minivans. Eventually we made it to the bottom, exhausted, but satisfied at what we had conquered.

Now at this point you’d figure things would be easy and we’d just eat some miles. Before we had left we made the general guideline of hitting the road around 9 and getting off by 6. This was to minimize poor visibility and keep us realistic about how many miles we could cover (target of 300 per day). I was anxious to keep racking up miles as we missed our target by 30%+ the previous day, but Mother Nature had other ideas. The temperature started to drop rapidly, from the 60s into the 40s. And then the sky opened up. This was the first time I had ever ridden in heavy rain, and while it wasn’t that bad from a riding perspective, it was nearly impossible to see. Fortunately the gear I purchased was doing a great job of keeping me dry and warm. We exited the park and stopped at the first motel we saw, the Thunderbird Lodge. A classic American motel full of truckers, Harley’s and Nic-nacs galore. We proceeded to watch my beloved Redskins get beat in the last drive by the Colts, ate some pretty decent food in the hotel restaurant, and hit the hay hard. The day ahead promised fantastic riding through arches national park, and we were excited.

Day 3: Mount Carmel, Utah to Bluff, Utah ~400mi

Day 3 was the shit. The most unbelievable riding experience of my life – one I doubt will ever be matched (not that I won’t try). The combination of the weather, the roads, the situation – pure perfection. Just enough went terribly wrong to make the whole thing terribly right.

We woke up to a cold and wet but no longer raining morning. We packed quickly, skipping breakfast, and bundled up. Temperatures were in the low 30s, and even with the right equipment, that is damn cold. We headed into the hills, stopping early for some Powerbars and hand warmers. I also had the scare of my life. While listening to some music, I was suddenly shocked by my mother’s voice loud and clear in my helmet. Apparently I had enabled auto answer on my SENA – her phone call being immediately transferred to the bluetooth. “Honey? Why is it so loud?? Where are you???” It almost knocked me off my bike. I managed to rush her off the phone and pulled over immediately to kill the auto answer feature.

As the morning wore on, the temperature began to rise and the sun came out. The timing was perfect - the roads got great just as the weather got great. We pulled over, removed our liners and neck warmers, put on the summer gloves, and got ready to tear it up. We had amazing views as we rapidly ascended out of the valley. We jumped off the bikes to snap some pics and chat with some fellow road trippers.

We were making good progress over the next few hours, making fewer stops as we tried to burn up some miles and enjoy the sites. However, when we reached a particularly beautiful point in Glen Canyon (I think), we could no longer fight the urge to take a photo break. A constant tension through the trip was when and why to stop. I’m a firm believer that I was on that trip to ride, not to pull over, and therefore taking pictures was secondary. Joe had other ideas. Seeing what he thought was the perfect overlook, he pulled off quickly into what a reasonable man would quickly identify as a gigantic gravel trap. I watched him fishtail about as he desperately tried to stop, nearly missing the roads edge and plummeting to his beautiful but sure death. I radioed him that I’d find a safe spot ahead and wait for him there.

I saw a perfect turnoff ahead and went for it, even though it was a bit out of sight. I thought I’d go about snapping some pics quickly and be back on the road in time to catch Joe. However, the scene was epic and was unable to take it in quickly.

When I returned to the road, Joe was nowhere in site and I knew the odds of finding him would be minimal. I made a quick run backwards to see if he was still there (he wasn’t) and then realizing he was probably trying to “catch me,” I turned around, twisted the throttle, and made chase. Now I’m all for being a reasonable man on public roads. I’ve spent a large part of my life racing cars and know the difference between a public highway and racetrack. However, I needed to catch my buddy, so my better judgment was lost and flat shifts, trail braking, and knee dragging (in my head anyway) ensued. For thirty minutes I rode the bike near the limit of my abilities through the most beautiful and thoroughly untrafficed roads any man has ever seen. I regularly hit huge speeds on the straights, took turns in the triple digits, and for lack of a better analogy tore that road up. It was fucking epic. Typing it now, as in my better conscious then, I realize how stupid and reckless that kind of riding is on public roads – but having made it through – it is easily one of the top experiences of my life.

So, taking a step away from riding like a jerk, I was starting to get nervous about Joe. I had been riding very fast (certainly faster than Joe could be riding...right?) for quite some time without seeing him. Thoughts ran through my mind of Joe actually falling off the cliff during his ill-advised gravel stop. Just when I was starting to get really nervous I came to an intersection, and in the distance, I could see Joe. I was exuberant – I approached him waving and giving thumbs up, but he had no reaction and seemed thoroughly displeased.

As one would figure, Joe reaction to loosing his riding partner was the same as mine – I need to catch him. He had been engaging in the same high-speed antics, and despite my initial doubt of his cajones, clearly kept up a good clip. He was sure I had perished in a twisted and awful accident – how would he find me? How would he explain it to my mother?

A good bro hug followed by a rapid download of our incredible feats of speed and adventure smoothed things over. His reaction to the “chase,” outside of his fears of death, were similar to mine – pure exhilaration, epic beauty, and the embodiment of why we went on this trip. However, there was just one small problem…

Joe was out of gas. *&%$#@!!!

Now when I say we were in the middle of nowhere, I mean it. The closest gas station was 50 miles out, approximately 45 miles farther than Joe could ride. We flagged down motorists, eventually learning there was a ranger station that had emergency gas 10 miles down the road. We rode extremely slowly, coasting down hills, and doing everything possible to keep the Italian hog from drinking up all the precious hydrocarbons that remained. We made it to the station, filled out more paperwork than required for a Cuban visa, and got a few gallons of precious 85 octane swill (at $4 a gallon thank you very much).

I smile for gov't spec fuel

Full of low quality gasoline and seriously drained, the rest of the day was a slow and careful ride toward Mexican Hat. As we pulled up to a T-junction, I decided to pull over for a stretch and a map check. The problem was I chose to stop in some gravel and promptly dropped my bike, on my foot, and it hurt. Joe was coming behind and I motioned to him that I was in pretty severe pain and unable to get out from under the bike. He heroically jumped of his own bike to rescue me. Normally this would be followed with an embrace and expression of gratitude, but all I could do is laugh hysterically.

You see, Joe has a Hit Air jacket (www.hit-air.com) . Now I had given him a ton (A TON) of shit about his purchase earlier in the week as I thought the cable-activated system was more trouble than it was worth. When Joe jumped off his bike, he neglected to release the tether, causing his jacket to inflate fully. When I looked skyward to thank my brave rescuer, I was greeted by the fucking Michelin man! ☺ Furthermore, he somehow managed to drop his bike during the same graceful dismount – on the kickstand side – with the kickstand down. To add fuel to fire following the “chase” incident, Joe did not have any extra C02 cartridges, so his fancy jacket was now worthless.

The bikes were both fine, and a quick jump later (remember my battery issues) we were on our way to the Desert Rose Inn. We got there just as it got dark, checked into a very nice room, and had a great meal. I treated myself to some delicious Coors, checked in with the lady friend, and had one of the best nights of sleep anyone could ask for.

- Dan

[FHR]

Dan,

Excellent narrative and great photos. I can imagine the cloud shadows rolling across the terrain in your Glen Canyon photos. Really brings it alive!

Poor Joe. No good deed goes unpunished.

[Rice]

Great write-up!

I'm loving it.

The "Michelin Man" part got my fellow office dwellers to turn their heads.

Keep it coming!

Oh, and if you're sticking around in NY, we should go for a ride.

[vanion2]

Michelin Man...

Keep it coming. I'm totally digging it.

[Frogfoot]

Sounding like a great trip so far. Though a big part of me (being an over preparer for this type of trip) I'm sitting cringing at things "omg you never, and omg you didn't do that first, and you didn't check to see.... " So definitely not how I would have prepared but....

Loving the adventure and can't wait to read more.

[JustinR]

good stuff

[i_needit]

Uhhh, how about more?

[BonusVFR]

I think if I had a Air Jacket, I would need a machine gun belt of CO2 cartridges. Right now, I forget almost every time I get off the bike about my wires for heated gear and electronics.............and it gets worse the older you get.

[Olive]

The problem was I chose to stop in some gravel and promptly dropped my bike, on my foot, and it hurt. Joe was coming behind and I motioned to him that I was in pretty severe pain and unable to get out from under the bike. He heroically jumped of his own bike to rescue me. Normally this would be followed with an embrace and expression of gratitude, but all I could do is laugh hysterically.

You see, Joe has a Hit Air jacket (www.hit-air.com) . Now I had given him a ton (A TON) of shit about his purchase earlier in the week as I thought the cable-activated system was more trouble than it was worth. When Joe jumped off his bike, he neglected to release the tether, causing his jacket to inflate fully. When I looked skyward to thank my brave rescuer, I was greeted by the fucking Michelin man! ☺ Furthermore, he somehow managed to drop his bike during the same graceful dismount – on the kickstand side – with the kickstand down. To add fuel to fire following the “chase” incident, Joe did not have any extra C02 cartridges, so his fancy jacket was now worthless.

Enjoying the photos - that territory looks really familiar. Utah offers some gorgeous riding. I can sympathize with both you and Joe. I did the "pin foot under bike at zero speed drop" my first long distance trip into the states; and I've also participated in the panic stop, jump off bike and have it hit the road (in my case it was right after I saw another rider hit a deer and parked downhill in neutral - bad idea as the bike rolled and the kickstand folded back up). I have to admit that I was laughing as I read your description. Sometimes those stories make the trip all the more memorable.

Looking forward to the next installment.

[tyrroneous]

Great report! Good balance of words and pictures. Keep it comin'!

[danman]

Day 4: Bluff, Utah to Tucumcari, New Mexico ~475 miles

Day 4 represented a shift in the trip. Now through Utah, we knew the landscape and quality of road was in for a change. We would start riding many more miles at a time as the roads lost their curves, but the effect was still very much the same. I was surprised to learn that I enjoyed burning up mile after mile on straights almost as much as the curvy stuff. The morning began as one would expect, with Joe being forced at knife point to buy a fuel canister. Packing it in the panniers wasn't easy, and I had to take some of his luggage (good thing the Honda bags are so big). Now it goes without saying that Joe would never need to use the gas can on the trip, but the piece of mind was well worth carrying some of his unmentionables.

Bluff, Utah had one restaurant - Twin Rocks Cafe. We had dinner and breakfast there, and the food and service were pretty good. Bluff, population 340, is a quiet place with a majestic setting.

Twin Rocks Cafe and its amazing background

Fried Bread - the breakfast of champions!

As we headed east, the ride took us through four corners - we didn't stop to get out, but did ride through the Utah, Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico borders in less than 15 minutes (did wonders for my states visited map). We followed Route 550 south east through New Mexico toward Albuquerque. A few days in, we were now becoming more competent tourers - able to ride longer stretches without stopping. I remember feeling incredibly relaxed on the VFR, confident for the first time that we were actually going to make it all the way to NY.

Arriving in Albuquerque, we decided to ride briefly around the town to check it out and discuss our next route over coffee. I had friends in Santa Fe, a short 65 mile ride from Albuquerque, a place I was told I "had to visit." But I also had friends in Tulsa, OK, a whopping 650 miles east. While there was no way to make it that far in one day, if we pushed hard into NM we could end up with doable 500 miles ride for the next day. Tulsa brought with it the promise of a nice house and good home cooked meal, and we decided it was worth it. No longer presented with the excitement of twisted roads and epic views, we took the challenge of burning miles head on.

Leaving Albuquerque we had our first miles on I40. We would wind on and off I40 for the next 6 days and nearly 1500 miles. I40 was straight as long as the eye could see, the earth under its mighty lanes tamed and flattened for this purpose. Occasionally Route 66 single lanes would come into view, weaving and curving through hills and around dilapidated buildings, succumbing to the natural topography rather than taming it - a stunning contrast.

As you might guess, there really isn't much going on in eastern New Mexico. We hadn't picked a place to target for the night, but a fellow traveller at a gas station recommended we check out Tucumcari a hundred or so miles away. We were told it was a town full of old motor hotels and steeped in Route 66 history - we were sold. Exhausted as we entered the town (and completely dark), we made a b-line for the Motel 6, electing to bypass the endless stream of vintage motor hotels for something more predictable.

Safe and sound at the Motel 6 in Tucumcari after our longest day yet

The free shuttle to the Historic Pow Wow restaurant. Door to door service, not bad (also the van was pimpin!) Food was pretty good too.

Day 5: Tucumcari, New Mexico to Tulsa, OK ~500 miles

I was excited waking up on Day 5. I knew we were in for some classic motoring awesomeness. If you've ever seen the animated movie "Cars," Tucumcari was Radiator Springs. A once vibrant town, ideally positioned between Albuquerque and Amarillo, Tucumcari was home to endless stream of motor hotels, restaurants, and activities for the tired traveller working their way west in the 1940s and 1950s. The 1960s would bring the beginnings of Interstate 40 and the slow and painful decline of Tucumcari. I40 runs along the north side of town, never actually going through it. The Motel 6 we stayed at was right off I40 and clustered with your standard McDonalds, motels, and gas stations. Most people coming through Tucumcari probably never enter the old part of town.

We rode out through Route 66 - right through the center of the town. We passed decrepit old motels (with their iconic vintage signage still in tact), old fueling stations, and an endless parade of shuttered businesses and crumbling infrastructure. The streets were vacant and the town quiet, the roar of I40 in the distance the only thing reminding us we weren't in a ghost town. We continued on Route 66 east toward San Jon - the next town east. What we saw was beautiful and haunting - the pictures speak for themselves.

Having taken in a piece of motoring history, we headed back toward I40 and buckled down for 500 miles of highway riding. The ride through eastern New Mexico and northern Texas is as flat and straight as it comes. The scenery was farmland, occasionally broken with a site like the 19 story cross in Groom, Texas and the "Alanreed Travel Center, post office and trading post" where we gassed up.

We made it to Oklahoma in great time and headed toward Tulsa. On our way up the toll road, we stopped for a coffee at McDonalds (we did this a lot, much easier/cheaper than finding a Starbucks and just a good). I leave you with a picture of the worlds nicest McDonald's, complete with fireplace, couches, and all black Stig.

[Monk]

And, "The beat goes on"........... Thanks again for the continuing saga, well done.

I rode 66 from Diego to St.Louise in the 60's..... I've heard a lot of 66 is still useable ...........

[wrestler]

wrestler, please don't quote the entire thread for a 16 word reply. We've already read it once.

Sorry Lee, I goofed when making the comment. I'll go back and edit it.

[wrestler]

Dude, stay in school but consider a career with Road Runner Magazine. Thanks for the commentary.

[VFR4Lee]

Nice.

Your map in the first post got me thinking about a ride from LA to NW Arkansas for a visit.

[danman]

It's amazing that's it's been nearly 7 years since this ride. Shortly after finishing the cross country trek, the bike went into extended storage at a buddies house in LA - I just couldn't make sense of keeping it in NYC.

 

Fast forward to today and the bike is now at my home in Los Angeles. It's time for her to find a new owner as she hasn't been ridden since the epic journey. I just completed a full service (fluids, filters) and have her purring again. Should you know anybody looking for a 2006 VFR w/ panniers, Leo Vince exhaust, and Corbin seat with 12.5k miles - please let me know.

 

Dan