Day Six (and Seven) – Mind Pictures

Start - Madawaska, ME

Stop - Mentor, OH

Today's miles - 1,095

Total - 5,208

Sometimes on long trips, one day sort of blends into the next. That seems to be what is happening today.

I began Day Six in Madawaska, ME.  You can't say that it is in the middle of nowhere because it feels more like it is on the edge rather than the middle.  And Canada is right across the river. I don't know what is. I do know It is 100 miles from the end of I-95. It is a delightful little place, but other than "I grew up there", "I have relatives there," "I'm a boot-legger" - if not for the Four Corners - I have no idea why anyone would go there. Nor did I expect the surprises and good time I would find there.

When I first arrived at the motel, I noticed two other motorcycles in the parking lot. When I got up in the morning, one of them was gone. 

Then the welcome wagon arrived. Joe LaChance is the person behind the establishment of the four corners monument in Madawaska. He likes to be there to greet all the riders as they come through. I was really surprised to see him. I read his story on the Internet but never expected to actually meet the guy.

Then Joe told me that the other bike in the parking lot belonged to a guy who goes by the name "Gonzo". I knew the name immediately. I was reading his ride updates for almost 3 weeks before I left Houston. 

Gonzo was in Madawaska as his final stop on what is called a Four Corners True X ride. That involves going to each of the corners and then, after hitting that corner, riding going to the center of the United States, Lebanon, Kansas. Four corners with three separate trips to Lebanon. This was the first stage in four months on the road for Gonzo. He plans on riding every famous motorcycle road in the country. We just had to get our picture taken together.

I got gas and the required gas receipt and then headed to Dolly's restaurant for a home-cooked breakfast. Soon I was joined by Joe, his wife, and Gonzo. Great people. 

Before I left we exchanged business cards, telephone numbers and email addresses and now we're on the same team forever. I told them I have a trailer and a truck so they both know they have someone they can call in Texas if they ever break down or need help. . Gonzo said if it's the same for him in Southern California. I think that's pretty cool.  It was also cool that Gonzo picked up the check.  I owe you one.

Now here is the weird thing - I had ridden 889 miles the day before, through brutish traffic, foreign roads, and 280 of those miles were in the dark in temperatures that I came to find out dipped below 40.  I didn't get to the motel until 4:15 AM and I was out of bed at 8:00 AM.  And yet I couldn't wait to get back on the bike and go.  I have places to go and a short time to get there.

As it was, with the pictures and the lunch, I didn't leave town until about noon.  I decided to take a different road back to I-95.  First, I followed US 1 a little ways down the road to where it all started in Fort Kent. US 1 is the first highway in the United States highway system and it runs all the way south to Key West. I just had to take a picture.

By the way, US 2 also begins in Maine. These two highways began the tradition of north-south highways being odd-numbered and east-west highways even-numbered. I'll pick up US 2 in North Dakota and take it all the way to Washington state.

From Fort Kent I took Hwy 11 down through Maine until it connected back up with I-95.  It actually reminded me a lot of the Pacific Northwest - trees, hills, logging, a very picturesque kind of place.

Again, they should call this road "Moose Alley" for all the danger and warning signs that were posted. And guess what? I DID in fact see a moose.

I came over a hill and there it was, in the ditch on the right-hand side of the road. Fortunately she was walking slowly into the woods and I slowed down to watch her go. Moose are not to be messed with. They are as heavy as a buffalo, fast a as a horse, and in a contest with a car or a motorcycle, they will win.

There was no time for a picture, but that doesn't matter to me. I'm not much of a picture taker, I'm more of a storyteller. The pictures that I take with my mind are far more valuable to me than the ones taken by cameras. I'll take Garrison Keillor over Ansel Adams any day.  On this trip I have already taken more pictures than I ever have before.  I've promised three a day.  I won't keep that. (Who is Ansel Adams?)

By the way, Jesus was a storyteller too but he did throw a bone to the visual people out there when he drew in the dirt while interceeding on behalf of the woman caught in adultery.  So there is that.

After I gotten back on I-95 and on the down the road a bit  it started to rain so I pulled under a bridge to put on my rain gear.  No sooner did I pull in than another bike ridden by an older guy (OK, older than me) pulled in behind me. We started to talk.

A friend of his had died and the funeral was in Maine. This guy said that only a motorcycle could make such a sad occasion a little more fun. Plus it gave him time to think so he rode up to the funeral from near Boston. 

He and I rode together for the next couple of hundred miles. When we stopped for gas, he invited me over to his house for dinner. But I told him I was in a "I need to get there frame of mind" and I declined. 

Encounters like those help explain why I love to do what I do.

So I headed back into the madness of the turnpike system in New England. It wasn't as bad on a Saturday night so I decided to get as far as I could. Which is why I say, sometimes one day sort of blends into the next. I just kept going.

By the way, there is something about that turnpike system that feels...well...either UnAmerican or HyperAmerican.  I can't tell which.  But here's the deal - if you want to go where I wanted to go, the various turnpikes are the only games in town.  There aren't other options.  Then, once you get on, they charge you whatever it is that they want to.  Sometimes just $1.  $3. $6.30, $12.50 Once it was actually .85 cents.  What is the ryhme or reason to any of those?

Then, when you hit the big time I-90 they have these service centers.  You can't park your bike by the door so you have to leave your stuff out in the open where some ne-er-do-well could snag them.  You can't buy coffee unless you go to the cafe section.  Don't tell Kelley but, since I didn't get to taste lobster in Maine, I bought a lobster sandwich last night.  She asked me, "Small, Medium, or Large."  Whenever people ask me that I just look at them.  Are you kidding me?  YES, large.  I want to tell them, "Look at me.  You don't get this way without trying."  

(Here is the part not to tell Kelley.  The sandwich, one bag of Baked Chips, and one cup of coffee, cost me $29.  I thought that was ludicrous but I'm from North Dakota and we have a tough time taking things back.  And I did want to try lobster.  I took it outside to eat it where I coiuld watch my bike.  It had a hard shell piece in both of the first two bites.  It was crappy. )

About midnight I needed gas before a service center was in sight so I took an exit near Springfield.  There was an Econo Lodge right that at the corner so I made the quick decision to pack it in and get some sleep.  It was booked solid as was the Holiday Inn Express just up the street so I just got some gas and jumped back on the road. 

I don't like to ride tired and I know that sleep is the only thing that wakes you up.  Ironic, that.  So during the night I took two separate naps at the Iron Butt Motel. Here is how that works:

You find a parking spot in the corner of the service center parking lot up against the curb. You turn off your motorcycle. You put the tank bag on the ground for a  pillow. You lay down and you fall asleep. I pretended that Kelley and I were on a nice bed in the Waldorf Astoria and I fell asleep immediately.

Another by the way - I can imagine people thinking, "Isn't that dangerous?  And aren't you embassassed to be seen lying on the pavement like a homeless person or afraid that someone is going to hurt you?"  Quick answers - I don't notice other people while I'm asleep.  Besides, what are the odds that I'll ever see THOSE people again in my lifetime?  What is dangerous is me riding tired.  Sleeping on the ground is just like camping...except without the tent, or the sleeping bag, or the appropriately wildernessy environment.  And finally, if anyone ever has the guts to jump me in a parking lot then I can assure you that they need whatever it is that I have to give them far more than I do.  So I slept as well as you can when you are laying on a public parking lot worried that some gangsta is gonna mug you.

One hour of sleep gave me two more hours to ride. As soon as I sensed myself getting tired again, I headed to another service center for a nap.

That explains why I started writing this blog from the first rest stop in Pennsylvania. And that I am doing the final edit from a motel room in Mentor, OH.  That rest stop didn't leave me feeling rested.  So I decided that 24 hours on the road was enough.  But I got another 1000 mile day in. 

I need to get as far as I can tomorrow so that I can be waiting at a Harley dealer somewhere when they open on Tuesday to get my bike serviced.  Now for nap time so I can rest up enough to go to bed tonight at 7:30.