National Parks Tour - Rebel Edition

I am a son of the south.  I just happened to be born and raised a yankee, in Philadelphia, PA.  I still say yes maam and no sir unless I am speaking to children, much to the chagrin of the lady folk.  Sorry Miss Kathy... Dixie's colors flew above my dining room table as a child.  For all of her egregious faults which that flag may represent,  the people of the south are different than the one's which I call neighbor.  It's time for a visit.

I had the opportunity to live with my grandparents on a sand road in the back woods of South Carolina.  We spent a week there for Easter every year, but those 2 summers so long ago changed me in many ways.  The house was in the middle of a tobacco plantation, with the owners 4 acre hog pen 20 feet from my window.  My grandparents had a "garden" larger than most community parks where I grew up.  They were a self sufficient lot.  They received protein from the fruit of their hens, and occasional supplementary income from the prize money of the hot blooded males.   I shot bb guns with gusto and proved Newton's second law true more times than I can remember with the local songbird community.  I shot the 22, which I now have in my possession, quite a bit as well.  Though, I was sent back to bb land due to the minor levels of destruction on objects I thought were junk.  I met my first black folk.  They lived across the street in a house they built out of construction scraps.  There was a rusty coffee can over the makeshift chimney.  Peaches, the only other person within 5 miles of tobacco within 5 years of my age gave me a different perspective on life, as did her father Mack and the rest of the family.  He was a modern day share-cropper with an infinitely small percentage, as he used Mr Johnson's tractors, diesel and spray.  The man worked from sunup to sundown.  I knew because my grandfather got up every day at 3am for coffee and a pipe on the porch.  A porch no black man dare step upon. Though many came to call, all knew the unwritten rule of staying 2 feet from the bottom step. Oddly, it felt like a world of bi-directional respect, not of racism. Another time, another world.

Back to motorcycles.

IBA National Parks Tour.  That's how this article started.  I have 6 states down.  I have a strategy, time will tell if it is successful.  I care only about states and I care about the one's furthest away most.  PA, NJ, MD, WV, VA, OH and DC I am considering in the bag and can hit all of the above in a winter day-trip.  That gives me 13 I will consider done.  Barely 1/2 way to the 25 required.  I am leaving in 2 weeks for my trip out west.  Here's the rub on the NPT.  To get the stamp, you have to visit the center between 8-5, 9-4, sometimes smaller windows.  That makes planning crucial, and also makes the distances a bit of a challenge.  The windows for hitting these do not coincide with good mileage strategies.  What to do?  Well, time to head south and pick up some insurance.  Other side benefit is that I will get 2,000 miles or so on the oil and can send it away to see how the new 15w-50 is working out.

Did I mention the bike was out of commission since my northern excursion?  It's good to be back on 2 wheels.  I am hoping to visit the Carl Sandberg National Historic site.  It's off my route, but anyone known by the phrase "Who am I, where am I going and where have I been?" has to make my book right? 

You can follow along on spotwalla as this weekend plays out.

IBA National Parks Tour (NPT)

So, I think I caught a new bug.  We will see on Saturday when the adventure begins with knocking 8 states off of the IBA National Parks Tour challenge list.

I read John Ryan's blog at http://longerfasterstronger.wordpress.com, and started to total up my park admission fees for my upcoming trip out west.  There was a single line in John's blog that really struck me.

"The Iron Butt Association’s National Parks Tours are the best way for people who don’t enjoy 1,000 or 1,500 mile days to earn an IBA membership, and are probably the best way to earn that membership overall."

Technically, I have already earned my IBA membership, thought I have a long way to go in my personal goals.  Coming from a guy with that much "cred" behind him, that sentence gnawed at me for a few weeks.  So, the route remains similar, and all the states are still being hit for my map, but now a new challenge has been added.  The IBA National Parks Tour challenge.

Where I live, the 50 stamps would be an easy accomplishments.  Not even up to the challenge status, except for that little gem of a caveat.  25 states.  That changes the ballgame and this trip is a perfect opportunity to level the playing field.

This weekend starts the clock on 365 days to complete the challenge.   It is also a great excuse to go see my brother in NH.    Spotwalla track below will show my progress.

Happy Independence day

Couple of things to catch up on here.

First, It's independence day and I am dependent on a British bike.  I found that quite odd on my way in this morning.  Almost unpatriotic, but satisfying in a world peace kind of way.  In the end, I don't care, I love the bike and 1/2 of its bits and pieces have been put on in the US anyway at this point.

Speaking of "in work", I'm working today to make up for the day off yesterday for the fork/suspension service and parts bonanza.  One more farkle discovered.  Expected to buy the racetech 1.0 springs and have them installed as an upgrade from the factory .6, and they were already in there.  I liked the suspension setup, but it dove like crazy on braking which I did not care for at all. Figured I would do the upgrade since I had to get new seals anyway.  Turns out it already had racetech 1.0 springs in there, but whoever did it, didn't cut the dampening tubes down correctly and left them at stock length.  Had the tubes chopped about an inch and it is night and day.  Also lowered the front since I lowered the rear 25mm and they needed to be lowered anyway for the tube cutting.  I was told that was part of my handling issue and why my front tire looks new but cupped compared to the nearly destroyed rear. Special thanks to Jim Hamlin at Branchville Motors in Connecticut for doing the work, and letting me assist start to finish and giving the bike a thorough once over for the trip.  Now I have to install a lot of crap I just bought.  19T sprocket, clutch cable, thermostat, radiator cap, tires.  Most of the loose crap he found shouldn't fall off now at least.

I firmly believe I have one of the best commutes in the mid-atlantic.  20 miles of twisties and farm roads each way, though I do have to pass the dump which can at times be an assault.  Getting behind a garbage scowl is worse, but both are typically short lived.  Today, my heart sank as I turned on to Applebutter road.  Cinders EVERYWHERE.  Cinders still there through the first chicane pair.  I have no idea what happened, but my beautiful banked asphalt must have had one too many cracks and pothole repairs (almost none were in the line).  I really hope this is just a base layer. It looks and behaves like tar and chip and it keeps going and going and going for 5-8 miles with the top 1/4 inch being just cinders.  It was kind of heartbreaking.  Also pretty impressive since I rode it friday and they didn't even have signs up and now there is not a construction vehicle in sight and no signs other than "No Road Lines" here and there.  They couldn't have just gone right over the road surface could they?

Please join me in a deep prayer/meditation/seance that this is just a perfectly rolled base layer and I will be getting my country road moonlighting as a racetrack asphalt back.

Happy Independence day to all, especially the veterans in my family and yours.

Non Sequitur Alert

LDRider is having a moose vs meeses nonsense discussion, as they do so well. This brings me to my non sequitur of a point. I still have never seen a moose in the wild. I tried desperately for 3000 miles last year, even following a moose tour bus for a bit. I really hope I see one at a safe distance next month, or maybe on Saturday, when I go for lunch in Montreal.

Karma in the age of cell phones

Yesterday was a great day. Little girl had been after me for a month to go see Brave, and it was only to be in 3D. Disney is wise in their promotional abilities, and they start early. "Coming Soon" means 6 weeks. 9 year old girls don't always get that, but with age, comes the understanding of calendars. Perhaps age will also bring patience. She has hit a home run so far in everything else so far. Perhaps patience is more of a necessity for fathers than fair maidens.

It was hot, and McDonalds was cool and within eyeshot of said matinee movie, so I threw out the offer which was eagerly accepted.

We always have a great time, and I mean always. We were chatting about what we thought the movie would be like, and how magnets make the kids meal toy cool. I then spotted a very lonely cellphone in the empty booth adjacent to ours. After a bit, I grabbed it as it was clearly abandoned. Much like a woman's purse, I was reticent to explore it. I can run a lot of my life through mine and the thoughts of a stranger fondling it don't sit well. My thoughts turned to me in South Dakota in a few weeks and what my feelings would be should the same happen to me. I guess I am a serial LD rider because I wondered if he had spot enabled through Google latitude...

It was android like mine, and a top of the line 4G HTC at that. I flicked the screen and found the number for home and dialed. Fax line. Tried again various times with fax or just dead air. Phone number was a 704 area code which was NC and 600 miles away at least. This person was screwed. I waffled a bit on whether I should take it with me and keep calling, or take it to an AT&T store and drop it off, or donate it to a high school kid who moonlighted as a cashier at this establishment. If it was me, I would retrace my steps and adding extra steps to the puzzle would not be appreciated, especially if the Samaritan was holed up in a high priced theatre. It must stay.

I sent the guy an email from his own device in case he checked it from a hotel, letting him know it was found and where, and that I was leaving it with great reticence with the restauranteur.

I hope he has found it by now, and wish him well on his travels. Nice phone dude. "Android lost" is free, hopefully you have that installed. I hope Karma is a beautiful mistress for you, I know she has been for me.