Canada 2011
  
 

Day 01

July 25

  
   
   
   
  I know it will be hotter than three shades of blazes today, so I'm up way early to try to get out of Dodge before the heat ramps up. It's been in the high nineties all week with nasty humidity to match, so an escape to cooler temps will be nice. SweetTreat is ready to hit the road, so I ease out of the Holler around 3:30 AM.  
   
  I've got the road pretty much to myself as I slip around Briley Parkway to catch I65 north. Sometimes as I glide through the darkness, I wonder a bit about my sanity. Why am I up before the chickens hurtling through the wee hours for a 750+ mile ride mostly on the Interstate? Such questions end up in the realm of metaphysics so I just enjoy the cool air flowing over the windshield. Then I realize that in my haste to make my exodus, I have left my cell phone back at the house. This is gonna make things a little 'interesting' as I need to contact some folks along the way. But I survived many years without one and it's too far to go back, so I'll just sort it out as need be.  
   
  The sun has greeted me a while back by the time of my first gas stop. I take a little break to shake out the cobwebs and make sure my gear is riding as it should. I ask around and finally find someone that can point me to an ancient relic of the past - a pay phone. I'm toting some ST1300 seats that I have sold so I call Tony, who bought them, and leave a message as to my approximate arrival time.  
   
 

As I make my way through Kentucky, I pass a sign that I have seen many times before. It always brings sadness to my heart for what happened on that day -

'Site Of Fatal Bus Crash May 14, 1988'

27 precious souls passed on through a fiery death because of one drunken driver on a Saturday morning going the wrong way on the Interstate.

  
   
  I hit Cincinnati just as the morning rush hours starts. Normally I stop at a Bob Evans on the edge of Louisville for breakfast, which puts me past this time. But since I need to get just north to meet Tony, I wiggle my way through the traffic pretty quickly.  
   
  When I pull into the parking lot of the 'target' Bob Evans, I see a van that I figure is him. He is a fairly new ST1300 owner and we talk about the bikes and other such stuff. But he's got work to do, and I've got food to eat, so we wish each other well and continue on with our respective days.  
   
  Breakfast is good and needful, and I now have my cholesterol level up where it can be properly monitored. The heat is rising, but not near as bad as it has been back home. Traffic is not too thick, and the wildflowers along the Interstate at least provide some visual relief to the drab sameness of the concrete.  
   
  Most of this route I have traveled many times before and I once again recognize the decorated noise divider to my left. It is always interesting how places and roads and such I can easily remember, but people's names always give me a fit.  
   
  The nice thing about my ST1100s is the distance that I can travel between gas stops. With a 7 gallon tank, what kind of mileage I can get is more a function of how much I have to twist the wick. I tend to get better mileage when I can use the electronic cruise control I have installed.  
   
  But when I hit construction zones, I have to go back to 'manual' pilot as a precaution as to what might roll out in front of me. This trip starts out with one construction zone ...  
   
  after another construction zone ...  
   
  after another construction zone ...  
   
  after another construction zone. Before this trip is over, I will have passed through more construction zones in 14 days than I have been through in the last 14 months!  
   
  As I move into New York, at least I get to see some nice farm country. This appears to be a well kept local vineyard from the looks of it.  
   
 

But the sky ahead does not look promising, so I mentally rehearse where I have my rain gear stowed in case I need to get to it in a hurry. When I travel long distances via two wheels, I always prepare for the worst and hope for the best. That's why I carry my full rain gear and my full heated gear, even though I may not need them. As I always say -

'Better to have it and not need it as to need it and not have it!'

One of the tough things to do is to try to determine if the rain up ahead is a 'settled in for a while' rain or just a cloud burst that you can pass through quickly. Usually if I see blue sky in the direction I'm headed, I'll just tuck down and try to ride through it. This is not a fool proof strategy as more than once I've ended up wetter than a drowned possum.

 
   
  Fortunately by the time I arrive at the Microtel in Henrietta, I have only ridden in the rain for about 5 minutes. Dean, who is a local ST1100 rider, has graciously decided to ride down so we can break bread together. As I wait for his arrival, I strike up a conversation with the motel clerk. I recognize his accent but can't quite place it. As it turns out, he grew up in London quite near Wandsworth where I rent my motorcycles for my European trips. Soon Dean arrives, and we decide to walk the short distance to a local eatery I discovered on the web in my earlier forays. It's pretty good grub, and it's great to talk in the flesh with another ST rider that I have corresponded with on the web. It's a wonderful way to end a long day on the road.  
   
  But my flesh is weary and tomorrow will be another day so we both decide it's time to send old Shep after the cows and get them in the barn. When my head finds the pillow, the long fingers of sleep pull my eyelids shut in short order.