Where in the West are SLOVFR and Reg71

Discussion in 'USA - Pacific Northwest' started by reg71, Jul 25, 2008.

  1. reg71

    reg71 Poser Staff Member

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    yeah, I'm here. I typed up chapter one, but I haven't put it together with pics yet. I'm gonna see what I can do tomorrow after work if I'm not too beat...
     
  2. reg71

    reg71 Poser Staff Member

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    Chapter One - How About A Smoke

    Preface - It's time again. Come to Reg's world and sit back while we take a ride. This ride will consist of multiple parts breaking the days apart to keep it manageable. I'll try to keep my facts fairly factual and my times fairly timely, but let's not forget literary license.

    Shall we?

    here's the map from day 1
    [​IMG]

    Chapter 1 - How About a Smoke?

    It was a good day. Any day that you get to ride is, though. We were not being rushed. The next nine days were to be whatever we wanted. The anticipation of the last month was propelling us towards the trip of a lifetime.
    After a few trips uptown to grab this and that we finally jumped on the bikes and got a quick pic to capture the moment. We were eager to get on the road and see what we could see. Personally, I had been looking forward to this journey for more than two years as I gazed at pictures from RVFR of roads that had not been tamed by me. Sure he had laid them down a few times, but it just not the same as me putting my own stamp on them.


    here's Brian cruising by on hwy 41
    [​IMG]

    Day one finds us on highway 41 heading north and east. The temp is warm but it's not that noticeable when you are just starting a trip and as excited as Newton being hit with an apple. Tooling right along at a brisk but never dangerous pace due to the enhanced load trial we are performing on our bikes simultaneously takes us probably fifty miles or so before out first small snag. Apparently neither of us (nor the GPS) knew of construction along hwy 41. Not so bad in an air conditioned car, a little tougher dressed in black leather sitting on a bike when the temps are rapidly crossing the 100 degree mark. At some point while waiting, I am fairly certain I saw Lucifer run bay saying, "It's too damned hot and I'm going inside." Anyway, after a while longer sitting on the bikes baking our family jewels, the highway crew moved us on at a brisk fifteen miles per hour. Joy.
    [​IMG]
    Eventually, we made our way to our first of many refueling stops. Up to this point, attitudes remain positive and things are going well. It's a little warm, but that's a given in CA in the summer. After stretching and talking for a bit, we venture onto I-5.
    Ahh, I-5. What can I tell you about I-5? Well, for one, it smells. Now granted, I like steak as much as the next carnivore, but let me tell you that Harris Ranch (famous for quality beef) is not the most pleasing place on earth to smell. In fact the aromas coming from that place inspire anything but appetite. I will have to estimate at this point, but I'm gonna say you could smell that place from something like 20-30 light years away. The methane emissions from there alone if captured are said to be sufficient to power three shuttle missions to Mars.
    [​IMG]

    Moving on. We slab it all the way up to Sacramento we encounter the first of many cases where the GPS decides that logic makes no sense so we can just take some random route that takes us eventually to the same place we were going anyway. We stopped in to visit my sister-in-law who lives (I kid you not) a few minutes from the highway. The GPS (a Garmin btw) decides that a scenic trip through the, shall we say, less affluent part of town would give us a tad of variety to start the trip. Eventually, we made our way to our destination where we visited for a bit and then headed out. Before leaving, Stacy (my sister-in-law) was kind enough to give us the directions for a shortcut to get back on I-5 past some construction that had a section of it closed down. Unbeknownst to her, the city police dept had decided that we really didn't need to go that way and redirected us back into downtown Sacramento where we proceeded to circle like vultures on roadkill until we eventually stumbled our way back to I-5 and continued on our trek.


    More fuel stops and more and more slab. The communicators help to kill the boredom. Not much worth seeing here. For those of you who have not ridden the area between Sac and Red Bluff, don't. It's God awful boring. It may be the worst stretch of slab with the exception of the entire state of Kansas (sorry to anyone uh fortunate enough to live in Kansas).

    [​IMG]
    Up to this point, we have seen the occasional areas of charred brush but nothing too major. Many of you have seen the headlines of our recent trials by fire I am sure. Well, once extinguished, it doesn't look like much, but when we made our way to northern california, the smoke became evident. Even though the sun was still fairly high in the sky, we were able to gaze directly at it through the filter of haze provided by the numerous fires attempting to consume northern CA.

    [​IMG]
    We continue on. Supper time finds us in Weed, CA. After fueling up the bikes, we find a local joint to grab a quick bite and try and move on to our goal of Crater Lake. To those of you following our saga, much of this will not be new. Brian has already given you a heads up. While sitting down and just about to start cutting into our prime rib special, another restaurant patron walks in uttering those words that you all dread, "I think some lady just backed into someone's motorcycle out front." I pretended not to hear and quickly sliced off a piece of beef. After all, it couldn't be me. I parked more than 4 ft behind the car nearest me. You'd have to be blind not to see my fire enigine red 98 VFR sitting there, right? Well, now might be the time for Stevie Wonder to reapply for a driver's license because apparently CA is friendly to the handicapped when it comes to driving. Visual capability not necessary. Come one, come all. Yes, that's right. She did it. She backed into my bike. Now, accidents can happen. I understand that, but did she have to keep backing until my bike went over on the left (over the kickstand) and fell into Brian's bike? We are standing there and I'm going over the steps in my head. Okay, we have her insurance. Do we need the cops? We are trying to make it somewhere tonight. Is this good enough. Damn, I'm hungry.
    Anyway, finish eating and move on down the road. We make our way out of CA and into OR. My first time ever in OR by the way. Yeah. By this time, my ass is numb, my wrist is numb, my back hurts, and my mind is numb. I don't realize we are in Oregon until later the rest stop when Brian says, "Didn't you see the 'Welcome to Oregon sign?'"

    here's Brian taking a gander at a map at the rest stop(a rare occasion for GPS boy. I had to show him how to hold it and explain why it didn't talk)
    [​IMG]
    "Nope" says I while I ponder the possibility of camping right here at the rest area. Did I mention I was tired? Anyway after a couple soft drinks and some debate about the feasibility of camping at any given place, we headed back out to the road. Ugh. After the GPS taking us on another tour of another unknown town before us finally noticing a sign to drag us into the KOA campground in Klamath Falls we roll in to take a look at the campground. To those of you who know me, this will come as no surprise, but here it is. I am a cheap bastard. This is day one of nine. Twenty-eight dollars for a mediocre (at best) campground in the middle-of-nowhere Falls sounds a bit excessive to me. My suggestion is to keep on keeping on. By this time we are in some weird zone where normal pain thresholds no longer exist so Brian easily agrees. We continue on thinking of heading to some campground near Fort Klamath. (For those not paying attention OR state law requires that anything south of crater lake near 97 or 197 include Klamath in the name, you can look it up). Somewhere in the Twilight Zone Brian notices a city park called Hegelstein Park and we think, "Why not." We roll in and prepare the campsite in about 10 minutes in pitch dark. Now, while the site appears quite scenic, the ambience leaves a little to be desired when the train goes by. Not to mention the continuous hum of the diesel engines cruising by to deliver whatever needs to be time delivered to northern OR atfter 11 pm. (read drugs) (<--- just a theory of course wink wink).
    Brian hooks me up with a set of ear plugs, and that coupled with the hours of slab time suffice to send me to a state of oblivion unattainable by most mere mortals. I sleep like a babe wrapped in his favorite blanket.
    [​IMG]


    Stay tuned for Chapter Two or 'Hey You're Taking The Display Eggs!'
     
    Last edited: Aug 12, 2008
  3. SLOVFR

    SLOVFR Member

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    Good Job Reg, you are catching right up to were I left off.... Ill add pics and my commentary as we go on.... By the way I must commend Reg as a riding and camping partner. I think we were working well together and he was patient with my slow pace to get going at any given notice ;)
     
  4. derstuka

    derstuka Lord of the Wankers Staff Member

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    Great stuff Reg....keep it coming.
     
  5. R.W.

    R.W. New Member

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    Epic ride guys! I wish everybody who rides a VFR could experience a well planed out road trip, the memories and comradery last forever, often when I reflect on my year in review, the motorcycle road trip is among my best memories :rockon:
     
  6. reg71

    reg71 Poser Staff Member

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    Chapter 2 - You are taking my display eggs!

    Chapter 2 - "Hey, you are taking my display eggs!"

    map of our route day 2
    [​IMG]


    Ahh, the peaceful slumber that one can only achieve after a grueling day on the bike
    gawking at countless trees, scenic vistas, passers-by and what have you. No sugar plums dancing in my head.

    "I'll probably wake up sometime around sun-up as usual." I say the night before. But alas this was not to be. No this night I sleep like a newborn babe swaddled in blankets upon its mothers chest.

    That is until I hear, "Crack of dawn, my ass." Ah, let me tell you it was a glorious
    awakening whereupon I decided I might have to make the rest of the journey alone because it might be too difficult for Brian to ride with his helmet placed where his head usually is. (sidenote: if you are having difficulty with figuring that last bit out, please post a public message so you can be ridiculed) (just kidding. don't be a pansy)
    Those of you following our saga remember we camped out near Klamath Falls and waking up to roaring semi-trucks and somewhere in the neighborhood of 1.25 trillion bugs per square inch. In fact, I no longer wonder why there aren't many bugs where I live in CA cause I now know they have migrated up to OR and live there near Klamath Falls patiently waiting to display the Kamikaze like courage on Hwy 197 (or is it 97...like it even matters).
    [​IMG]

    This is my first trip to Oregon and I mean to enjoy it. I have been told not to miss
    Crater Lake. It is a must see. Nothing like it anywhere. That's destination one. But
    first, coffee. Those of you who are coffee drinkers will understand. If you are not, then
    kiss my ass cause I haven't had my coffee yet and I don't have time to explain.
    Ok, camp is struck for the first of several times on this trip. About an hour after my
    most gentle "Crack of my ass" awakening, I'm sitting on my bike wondering if molasses courses through the veins of my most torpid companion. Apparently, I'm not the only one who needs coffee. I digress. We get back on the road and lazily glide along the road in the general direction of Crater Lake with the hope that some form of dining establishment will present itself along the way. Our requirements are not high. A sign with EAT painted on it in red will suffice as long as the door is open and the coffee is hot. Apparently the booming tourist industry that flocks to Crater Lake flocks from a different direction than we chose (or the way chosen by several proprieters of the now defunct restaurants along our path for that matter).

    this would have been fine:
    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]

    We wind our way up a scenic road through some towns that often look one step from
    desertion. Husks of buildings, cars forgotten and the like. The one absent
    thing...people. Not many people. Almost eerie. I chalk it up to being early, but it's
    really not that early. Anyway, we keep moving. Stop once for a quick look into a canyon and wave to the hippie love van at the little campground in the forest we recently entered and then keep moving. We make our way to the standard "Tourists are idiots and will buy this crap" store/restaurant that sits just before the Crater Lake pay kiosk and practically fall from our bikes and trip over each other trying to get inside to the first "OPEN" sign we have seen this morning. It has been over an hour and no coffee and no idea of when we'll have breakfast. I have already resorted to the hearty granola bars I threw in the bag at the last minute which hold me over for all of one minute per bar. I need grease! I'm from the south dammit!

    [​IMG]

    All right! It's a breakfast buffet. We are quickly led to a booth and Brian promptly
    informs said host that tips will be commensurate to the promptness of coffee refills.
    Yeah, I think he actually said that word, but I'm quite sure he couldn't spell it. Lucky
    for us, our waiter was a foreign exchange student apparently studying English. Oh joy! In actuality he was very nice and his English was better than most of my siblings. (That's not much a complement if you have met my siblings on my mother's side). Anyway, we ran to the buffet that was indicated by our sever and promptly began making plates. Now, being the pragmatic person that I am, I see four plates with eggs of different styles covered in plastic wrap under the heat lamp next to bacon, sausage, etc. I pick the one that looks most agreeable to me, tear off the plastic and begin adding other breakfast essentials to my plate. Brian, being the proverbial lemming in this particular escipade follows suit and we begin working our way down the line.
    "Eh, hem. Excuse me... Sir."
    "Excuse me, " we hear again. (The sir part through us off as we were looking for someone more important than us.) "Excuse me, but you are taking my display eggs."
    Perhaps I should rekey that. "You are taking my display eggs."
    Well, apparently in Oregon there is a big problem with people not know how to order egss so the think tank near Crater Lake came up with a brilliant solution, display eggs. That's right folks. You heard it here first. You don't have to say, "hmm, an omelette, what does that look like?" if you are dining at Crater Lake. No siree Bob. You just take a gander at the display eggs, then promptly call for the cookand point appropriately. Vocalization not even necessary although a grunt is never remiss. Now, I know what you are thinking (actually I don't but then again I don't know what I'm thinking half the time. I am a guy after all) why not stop me before I take the display eggs? Good question. My theory is that the cooks like to wait behind the kitchen door and take bets on who'll be the first person to take the display eggs and which ones they take. I don't know who bet on me, but I can tell you who lost. It was the larger than average slightly androgynous individual who mentioned something about taking the display eggs being "tacky". Me being the kind of guy I am, I try to keep the display eggs and eat them since the cook is gonna toss them anyway cause I ruined the plastic. Thank goodness Brian moves a little slower and those display eggs were snatched from his clutches before they could likewise be doomed to the ignominius end that my unfortunate eggs met.

    Anyway, the rest of breakfast goes fairly smooth with the exception of pouring our own
    coffee as our coffee cups obviously were taken from a child's prize tea set and our waiter didn't get the tip comment from Brian. We chat a bit with Hans or Ruprect or whatever from wherever,then settle the tab, and then work our way through the junk store...uh, I mean gift shop. No must-haves for me. Regardless, we make it to Crater Lake Kiosk and Brian pays his fee while I snap a quick pic for posterity (ok, really for you guys to see the cute girl at the booth, but for posterity, too).

    <insert pic of cure girl here when brian gives me link to picture from his camera>

    Than after he heads out and I collect the miscellaneous items he's dropping along the road along the way we make it to Crater Lake.What can I tell you about Crater Lake? Well, it is a big blue lake. That about sums it up. It is very beautiful. The water is very blue. Apparently that's what makes it famous. It's 5x6 miles so not huge. Avg depth of around 1100 ft so pretty darn deep.

    http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8b/Crater_Lake_Pan_Giampaolo_20040717
    _72_78.jpg/800px-Crater_Lake_Pan_Giampaolo_20040717_72_78.jpg

    It is definitely something to see. It is one of those things I enjoyed seeing because now I have actually seen it with my own eyes. There is something to that for me. For me, many things do not fully exist until I have actually been there and experienced them personally.

    [​IMG]

    Back to our illustrious travels. We head out from Crater Lake with the final destination
    of Brian's brother place in The Dalles, OR. The Dalles I have never heard of, but I looked at the map and it didn't seem too far given how far we had travelled the day before. The weather was nice and we were not really in any pain at this point. Our communicators were on the frits so I could no longer hear Brian but he was still lucky enough to hear me occasionally at this point, I believe.
    We work our way back over to 97 and proceed north all the way to Bend where we take a break and try to find a working communications solution. Brian picks up some Midland radios for a decent price at a place called Joe's that apparently is a pretty big sport goods chain I have never even heard of. It was a neat place to look around and kill some time, though. I got a couple bungees to help the tent stay in place. WE do a quick parking lot test and the radios are a little scratchy but seem ok. Once on the road we realize these radios are unacceptable but both of us suffer from that afflication common to men whereby turning around is akin to driving a red hot poker into one's own groin. Therefore we determined the most logical course of action was to keep on going.

    North, north and north we proceed. Eventually 97 splits off and we follow the more
    northerly 197 which will eventually take us to The Dalles. (Don't ask me about the name, I know it's weird. Try wikipedia.) 197 may be one of the most boring stretches of highway in the world. Okay, it's not really that bad, but it was the most boring on day 2. The noteable exception being the part where we worked our way down into a valley near Deschutes then crossed the river and back up the other side. That was a bright spot in a day about to get much dimmer.

    After crossing the river and climbing out of the valley, the road gets long straight and
    boring. Very little to see. The kind of roads where you just think about what comes after and don't think about how bad they suck if you can help it. Of course, we are talking about just coming from Crater Lake so it is a difficult comparison for most scenic places to stack up to. Brian tucks in and stretches his 4g out a bit. I'm starting to wonder a little about fuel. I checked on the last sign, though and I should make it to The Dalles ok. I hang back for a while just taking it easy but then start thinking we are getting pretty close to town and I have no idea where his brother lives so I should probably close the gap a bit. I reel him in a little and see the first oncoming traffic we have seen in a little while. A group of 2 or 3 cars led by a maroon ford contour. I glance quickly and start to accelerate but something strikes me funny about the contour. Lights near the rear view. "What the hell?" I think to myself.... The lights come on.
    [​IMG]
    Now, ladies and gentleman. Here is moral dilemma time. I glance down and I am proceeding faster than the suggested 55 mph. He is going the opposite direction. Brian is still well ahead of me. First instinct, run like hell. He doesn't know me from Adam. Unless he has one hell of a Contour, he's history. Radios are pretty fast, though. I ride up to Brian, pat my helmet and point back. He's already caught back up to us. Hmm, I think maybe he is slightly exceeding a safe rate of speed for a Contour. Well, we pull over and the rest, as they say, is history. Suffice it to say that courtesy and a friendly demeanor will get you nowhere with Wasco County's finest near Dufur, OR (pop 583, no 584, no 583...you get the picture).
    [​IMG]

    12 miles. That's how far from The Dalles. 12 miles. Well, day one my bike gets backed into. Day two, we get our awards.

    Finally at Brian's brother Scott's place
    [​IMG]


    What's waiting in the wings for Day 3? Stay tuned to find out...

    Next up Chapter 3 or I-5 The Washington Parking Lot
     
  7. SLOVFR

    SLOVFR Member

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    Pics of part 2:

    [​IMG]

    Our Hot Park Ranger :)

    [​IMG]

    Oregon Police Car - I guess this is what they look like Reg ?!?

    [​IMG]




    And no wonder my gloves were blowing off. I now see them on the rear bag just laying there. I thought the Lake was a block away so I didnt bother to put them on and forgot about them. Reg picked them up as they blew off down the road....Thanks Reg! your the best ;)
     
  8. SLOVFR

    SLOVFR Member

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    Reg forgot to mention that we wanted our monies worth so we took a scone each for the road. We didnt know that they, the cooks, would have the last laugh as the bottoms were burnt and not edible ......

    [​IMG]
     
  9. R.W.

    R.W. New Member

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    After reading day 2, being able to hear Reg's Missouri accent on "Getting up at the crack of dawn" & "The breakfast ordeal" makes it even funnier.
     
  10. RVFR

    RVFR Member

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    This is great stuff, should be wrote up in a magazine. :wink:
     
  11. drewl

    drewl Insider

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    Book. Write a book. Reg's Road Rages-Epic tales from the saddle of a VFR.
    Heck, I'd buy one.
     
  12. RVFR

    RVFR Member

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    I agree whole heartily
     
  13. SLOVFR

    SLOVFR Member

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    Ok get off the can or I am going to have to start round three ......
     
  14. RVFR

    RVFR Member

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    Yea, where's round 3 at? been waiting for some more good reading and photos, you haven't even got into the juicy stuff yet. so whats ya waiting for? ;)
     
  15. reg71

    reg71 Poser Staff Member

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    Been waiting to get through the BBQ Roundup. I haven't even glanced at my notes from Day 3 yet but I'll to to soon... maybe tonight if I get done with chores around here...
     
  16. drewl

    drewl Insider

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    Where's drewl? I was lots of other places, but back in Susanville now.
     
  17. reg71

    reg71 Poser Staff Member

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    Chapter 3 - The I-5 Parking Lot

    Chapter 3

    [​IMG]

    Yawn…stretch…Time to find some coffee. Ah, coffee, nectar of the gods. Strange the way something as simple as hot water run through some crushed up beans can seem to affect one positively in the morning.

    [​IMG]

    Brian’s brother was up early, as was I. Brian, contrary to the day before was not awake and moaning, snorting, and initiating his daily ritual of bodily functions as of yet. I had a few minutes to enjoy my coffee and read a few posts on VFRWorld. Interesting trip, this. Some of you are following along, I read. Good. It is what I had hoped.

    After an hour or so, the old man starts to move around a bit. All right, so I helped out a little by gently stating, “Wake the hell up, lazy ass.” Anyway, after knowing him for more than a year, I know that if I have any intention of leaving to ride in the next 3 hours, to get him going now. It’s still in the a.m. and if you get him going early he moves much better throughout the day. (more like warm molasses as compared to cold molasses running uphill.)

    The night before we had made a joint executive decision to beg off on the trip up through northern Washington with RW and some other riders as the miles were wearing on us a bit and trying to make a quick blast up to Olympia in the early a.m. was sounding less and less like something we ought to do. That gave us the leeway to plan a casual ride like a couple tourists west across Oregon to take in a few sights along the Columbia River gorge.

    Columbia River Gorge Visitors Association

    Today looks to be a nice relaxing day of riding, seeing sights, and meeting new people. Little did we know how much time we’d get to relax once we got to Washington.


    [​IMG]
    After munching on some breakfast at a local Denny’s we saddled up and headed west on I-84. It was a partly cloudy day and looked a bit ominous especially north and west of where we were. Not a good omen for those riders that were heading out in Washington at the same time we were in Oregon. (see thread) The riding was typical for an interstate although again I must iterate that I find Oregon speed limits ridiculous and downright nonsensical. This is a common theme for me while I am in Oregon. I’m beginning to believe that my grandma was the pilot subject for traffic studies in Oregon, and it was on a day when she had snorted benadryl and drank some warm milk, but I digress…

    The road was certainly adequate and moved us westward in a steady if not brisk fashion. As most of you know, though, interstate riding in general does nothing to quiet the inner turmoil that keeps the traveler traveling. This little stretch of highway is very pleasing to the eye if not the reflexes, though, and we enjoy watching the scenery until we find a place to pull off and ‘do the tourist thing’.

    [​IMG]

    We take a stop at Bonneville Dam. The day is still cloudy but still no tears from the gods for us two. We snap a few pics but only pause for a few minutes here. Given more time, it would have been an interesting place to take the tour and see the big fish and such. I think Brian even shot a little video of the strange river crossing on Dam Road (hehe he said dam road) riding along railroad tracks and gazing up at a part of the dam towering above us. At times I was forced to remember to put my eyes on the road in front of me rather than perusing all the sights.

    [​IMG]
    [​IMG]
    Shortly past the dam, we find our way to the historic Columbia river highway after only only minor incident where we thought our bikes should be allowed on the bike path and the cyclists in the pretty little spandex panties looked at us like we were about to step on baby ducks thought not. This road was the kind of thing you take these trips for. Were it not for the scads of tourists (like us), it would have been wonderful. As it was it was still very enjoyable and we took many pics like this shot from horsetail falls.

    [​IMG]

    We skipped by many of the falls due to tourist clogging but I find that cruising by and glancing at sights from the saddle oft times is just as impressionable on me as stopping and listening to the incessant droning oohs and aahs from other gawkers like myself. Here is a shot from Crown Point up above the gorge where we put in a call to VFRshorty to give her an ETA on us making it to her area. We were also getting directions to a cycle shop to see about some communicators (another theme common to this trip). Don’t even get me started on Radio Shack!
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    After that, we made our way down to NE Corbett Hill Rd and then back to I-84 and on to Portland. I regret not snapping any pics while in Portland. I always enjoy riding my bike into a new city. Something about riding in with the tall buildings staring down at me always inspires a bit of awe for me. Again, the speed limits make as much sense as oiling your new tires to make them look shiny.

    We work our way to the motorcycle dealership recommended by shorty and get further instructions to how to get to her place to meet up for a ride. Here is a pic on the way to her house where I stopped to brush my teeth again because I had eaten some beef jerky that my traveling companion, MacGuyver, had in the Pandora’s Box he kept atop his VFR for the journey. I still think there is a coffee maker option for that thing and he is gonna find and install it if he can just make his goal of going to every Radio Shack in North America (FYI he probably only has about 40 left to see). Brian is up ahead wondering, ‘Now why the hell did he stop?’

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    Anyway, we make our way to Scappoose (at least I think that was the name) and call shorty for an address for the GPS while Brian shops at, you guessed it, Radio Shack (39 to go). We work our way over there with only a little off-roading involved (gotta love GPS). It is always a thrill to actually meet someone face-to-face that you have exchanged witty banter with over our little virtual reality we have here.

    She led us to johhnyb’s place where we met him and family and some pretty bulldogs and got a look at his pretty Buell. That bike looked like a ticket to jail for me. It was bright orange and looked like it spent time on one wheel or the other as often as both at the same time. It sounded good, too. Not as musical as a VFR to my ears, but mean and nasty sounding like it would slap your mama given the chance.

    They rode two-up and kept us road-weary travelers working hard just to stay close enough not to get lost. The roads they took were nice, did not appear too heavily trafficked, and were quite fun. Given more time it would have been fun to ride with them more as I am quite sure they have a lot to offer but as Frost said,

    The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
    But I have promises to keep,
    And miles to go before I sleep,
    And miles to go before I sleep.

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    They pointed us to a turn to take us across the bridge into Washington. We headed over taking us into Washington, my first time in over ten years visiting there, and the first time ever to the western part of the state. We make our way on over to I-5 where Brian and I split for a few minutes because he is following the GPS and I am following the map but he comes back to the way I turned and tells me we could have saved a few minutes by going the way he was going. (My faith in the GPS so far is still only average). At this point, it’s getting on in the afternoon so we plan on just slabbing our way up RW’s place to relax and eat supper and drink a brew. It’s around 150 miles or so and we are figuring on a decent average speed given that we will just ride the interstate most of the way. Little did we know about the long parking lot that extends from 25 miles give or take south of Olympia and extending on to infinity. Apparently, they call the an interstate, but Washingtonians know better and around 4 in the afternoon, they start parking their cars here to store them for the summer whilst they chat with each other on their cell phones and congratulate each other on having air conditioning whilst the crazy guys on bikes bleed sweat onto the road in the 80+ heat. After much deliberating about the legality of lane splitting in WA we decide to come up with what we felt was a suitable compromise. We would quickly change lanes between cars if they were not side by side allowing us to move at a brisk 5 mph. Well, when I say we, I mean me and after glancing back and realizing that said compromise doesn’t work so well traveling in a group, I pause behind a cage to regroup. While sitting there and pondering the lethal limit of sweating in my black leather, I note something of particular interest in my current predicament. There are bikes riding up behind me but on the shoulder. Well, Brian has found his way into said group and me being the natural follower that I am, I jump in. We ride the shoulder for a couple miles before finally finding another gap in the traffic and heading back into the fray. After a few more minutes dribbling sweat like an Arizona gardener in August we make our way to a gas station on the side to call RW and discuss the legality vs. the fines for various traffic activities in WA. Oh, if I had only remembered that Jay (RVFR) lived in Olympia and we were probably only a few minutes from his home (which more than likely contained a cold beverage that I would have enjoyed). But alas, such is life. I did not remember and did not call. Woe is me! (insert other woeful Old English type phrases here at your leisure pertinency not required if it sounds good.) We made our way back onto the parking lot and eventually (upon further reflection I expect that the ambient temp of Hades at this particular time was significantly less than 32 degrees Fahrenheit) we made our way to RW’s casa of mystery and mayhem.
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    Apparently there is a little known practice in WA of house numbering wherein the houses are numbered like this 1, 2, 3, 4, 11, 12, etc. Now this is fine if you are looking for those numbers. But, if you are looking for say 6 and house # 4 sits next to #11with no house between and it’s getting later in the eve, this numbering system can be a bit frustrating. Eventually, we stumble upon a sliver of pavement that might go somewhere and follow it wherein the numbering system gets really weird. We stay on it against better judgment and noticed a VFR parked in a garage across a little stretch of gravel. Hallelujah! We have made it. Let the drinking commence! :drink:

    RW, knowing me from another trip we had made together last year, see thread, is of course prepared with beer in the fridge and I work my way to the kitchen and use my ever trusty nose to sniff out the barley pops. I waste no time in uncorking and polishing off a brew, then say “Hi”. He has most of his food prep done and starts in cooking whilst regaling us with his tales of torrential downpours on the ride we had decided to skip with him and the Canadians earlier that day. After a few minutes we stop him and say, “What is this rain of which you speak? We live in California and are not familiar with such terms.”

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    Meanwhile Mr. Julia Childs is whipping up his spec-EE-ALITY, a deep fried shrimp and oyster SAMMICH. (throw some extra lard on mine please, and have a cardiologist on standby). The fist sandwich gets done and I pass it over to Brian who has started to gnaw on his finger by this point, while I politely ask if I can get my sandwich with mayo and tomato if possible. Holy cow! You would think insulted his mother’s honor. (which by all accounts is impeccable in the brothel business (just kidding RW, don’t get your panties bunched)) Needless to say, once he calmed down, the tears stopped flowing and I acquiesced to extra mayo and tomato he was able to remove the pacifier and go back to his story. All joshing aside, the sandwich was very good the way he made it and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I was just in the habit of skipping mayo as a general practice and meant no insult to Helmann’s or anyone else making their livelihood from condiments in general. Excuse the faux pas.
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    We spend a bit of time boring each other with various stories and discussing possible outs on our various speeding awards for the past couple days. Totaled we are representing a donation of near 500 bucks to the various county and state agencies between the 3 of us in the past 2 days. After much deliberation and discussion about the festivities planned for tomorrow, I slither upstairs, into the bed, and dream of revving engines and railing curves around mountains tomorrow.

    Thus concludes chapter 3 of our saga. Stay tuned for Chapter 4...

    I’d like to take this opportunity to say Hi and Happy Birthday to one of my smaller readers out there. This is my niece, Tori.
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    She and her mother sit back at home in Missouri and read of my adventures. This chapter was written on your birthday, Tori! I hope it’s a good one, love, Uncle Brother.
     
    Last edited: Sep 1, 2008
  18. VFRShorty

    VFRShorty New Member

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    Yeah, chapter 3! You know (knock on wood) I consistently drive 5 - 15 miles over the speed limit (within reason always, depending on where, weather, etc) and have never gotten a ticket. Once you learn the way to drive in Oregon, its a much better place. :smile:

    Also, we have pit bulls (two are lab pit mixes). :tongue:
     
  19. RVFR

    RVFR Member

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    Hot Damn another great chapter, LOL only wonders whats to come? :cool:
     
  20. drewl

    drewl Insider

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    Ha ha, great mental picture of your grand mother snorting benadryl.

    Wait, did you say "uncle brother"?
     
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