Author Topic: '73 Honeymoon  (Read 7007 times)

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Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #25 on: August 03, 2011, 08:12:34 am »
Yeah, I didn't get a chance to update the thread much during the trip itself.  Honeymooning is busy work.  Couldn't very well spend all my nights tapping away on a computer.  Ahem.

Thanks, Stev-O.  I'm a lucky dude.  I don't think she'll take the next trip on the 350 though.  Something tells me the next trip (if there is one) will be with twice the CC and a windshield.
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Offline Jerry Rxman Griffin aka MuthaF'er

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #26 on: August 03, 2011, 11:44:20 am »
Godzilla did 191 from Price to Vernal. Said he liked the scenery and the ride. Lack of other vehicles but road was a little rough.
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Offline Bankerdanny

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #27 on: August 03, 2011, 01:45:23 pm »
I totally get what you are saying about low speed shakes Anders. My 550 felt like the front end was made of limp spaghetti at slow speeds when fully loaded for the Rally last week.
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Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #28 on: August 04, 2011, 07:30:46 pm »
Price to Vernal was one of the more scenic bits.  Also witnessed a semi blow out a tire in the opposite lane.  Felt all sorts of little rubber bits hit us.  Don't remember the road surface one way or another.  Weird how you forget these things so fast. 

So, Farson, WY is next, I think.  The nastiest place we stay all trip, The Sitzman Motel.

The lady who runs it is nice enough.  Her house and office doubles as a repository for antiques and cat boxes.  After 10 minutes of wandering around in her private space, she finally answers the bell.  She does indeed have a room, six of them in fact.  We are the only guests tonight.  She shows us to our room, and explains she'll be right back with a pitcher of water.  How nice, we remark.  Not at all, she says.  You can shower in the water, but you wouldn't want to drink it, she explains.  She's right by halves.  We wouldn't want to drink it, but bathing in it would be a bit dicey too.  Her water is either contaminated with sulphur, or lying in close proximity to her cesspool.  Can't tell, don't care.  Its beer for dinner tonight, washed down with beer.  If it doesn't come in a can with a pregnancy warning, I'm not consuming it tonight. Also, the woman seems to be the den mother for a community of wild cats that numbers in the dozens.

Nic sits in the hotel room, finds a channel with some Werner Herzog interview and that's that.  She's on IR, and she's done for the day.  Its all very surreal and weird, but its only 2pm or so.  Time to gas up and explore southwest Wyoming.  Some 25 miles northeast on Hwy. 28 I happen upon a historical marker for "The Parting of the Ways", where wagon trains either followed the Oregon trail to Oregon or turned left and headed for California.  Its fascinating to think of hundreds of thousands of people subjecting themselves and their family to unimaginable peril, for a better life.  Their flight would be regarded as child endangerment, if not outright abuse in the eyes of the law today.  Its a nice change of pace from American history as seen in Chicago.  I am literally nowhere, in the middle of a giant expanse whose sheer size was often lethal to those who travelled through it.  Chicago history is primarily what happens when you put ten different nationalities and ethnicities into the same square mile, adding alcoholism and slave wage jobs.

The outsize scale of the landscape dwarfs everything.  As I ride, I look up at the sky and then to the horizon and I feel like I'm almost standing still.  75mph might as well be 25.  As terrifyingly vast as the South Pass seems to me, it must have seemed edenic when the first settlers saw it.  Here was a flat pass through the Rockies, with water to boot.

With an evening of rest, relaxation and festive argumentation behind us, we eat at Mitch's Cafe and take off along the same Hwy. 28, off towards Riverton.  As soon as we clip the bottom most tip of the Tetons, it gets incredibly windy and beautiful.  Grass and hillside are clawed away to reveal bright red earth and bluffs.  We pass the Red Canyon, hit Lander, WY., and head north to Riverton.  Riverton’s a fine place, chief among its fine qualities is the clean, big-name hotel we splurge on.  We’re hardy souls, but this is a honeymoon.

Next we press north, first to Shoshoni, then on Hwy. 20 to Thermopolis (Home of the World’s largest mineral springs!), then on Hwy. 16 to Ten Sleep, where we stop for lunch.  Ten Sleep is gorgeous and filled with bikers.  As in, bicyclists.  Its the Tour de Wyoming, and the usual cadres of Harley-riding t-shirt enthusiasts are mixing uneasily with spindly lycra-clad cyclists who are high on endorphins.  The Tour participants easily outnumber anyone else, but give this tiny town a festival atmosphere.  Its a good thing I like cyclists.  I’ll be dodging them for the next 2 days.

We leave Ten Sleep, and have a hard time not stopping every mile or two.  Every mile presents a backdrop out of an old Hamm’s beer sign, complete with rolling water and lush, verdant valley.  We’re heading into the Bighorn National Forest, and for the first time all trip, we’re in a great spot to camp.  Threading the needle between roughing it and refinement, we stay at Deer Haven Lodge and cough up $15 for a camping spot.  This way we can sleep under the stars, have a campfire and buy more beer if we run out.  Just as nature intended.  We gather wood for a fire just in time, as the skies open up and start dumping rain.  Not to worry, we have rain suits and marshmallows.  We outlast the rain and are treated to a pink sunset.  Drunk on Coors for the first time in my life and reeking of Swedish bug spray, its a good time.  It better be, because our tent is about a foot shorter than either me or Nic.  The Texas-themed tent maker does not believe in Texas-sized tent acomodations.  Oh well.  Sometimes sleep needs a healthy dose of passing out.  Done and done.
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Offline BeSeeingYou

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #29 on: August 04, 2011, 10:30:56 pm »
I have this memory of a beautiful red cliff just outside Ten Sleep to the west. :)

great writing.

Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #30 on: August 12, 2011, 07:52:43 am »
I think I remember some amazing red cliffs around Ten Sleep, but to the east.  Called Red Canyon, in fact.  There's probably quite a few canyons that are red.  No wonder the settlers started naming places after how tragic or triumphant their experience with the place was.  Otherwise there'd be, like, 50 Red Canyons, instead of only 5.

---------------------

The next day we shake it off and push on to Buffalo, and alas, I-90 for a stretch.  Hwy. 16 out of Deer Haven Lodge is gorgeous, though filled with huffing and puffing cyclists.  For the first time all trip I feel slightly more fortunate about my choice of vehicle than someone else.  Besides Nic, I mean.  Nic still won’t trade bikes with me, though I secretly find her logic sound.  She says that if she rides anything else, it’ll be too hard to go back to her bike.  My argument is that a few days off from the 350’s vibration and windward tendencies would help us make our trip goals better.  But she’s not having it.  In her defense, its not as if the 350 is holding us back as far as cruising speeds, since 70mph isn’t a problem on even roads.  So, I learn the marital art of saying “OK” and giving up. 

The stretch of I-90 from Buffalo to Gillette is not as bad as we thought.  There’s not much wind and traffic is light to non-existent.  Its a 70 mile convenient distance and sprint, since there’s nary a gas station to be seen on the way.  We get to Gillette, check out the old downtown, pick a giant cowboy painting’s nose and watch dozens of rodeo contestants check in and out of the hotel.  Hey, there’s a rodeo in town.

Today is the day we’ve been waiting for for weeks.  Today we’re finally reaching the Black Hills.  We didn’t know much about where the trip would take us, but we did know it would take us here.  For reasons akin to why a moth aims for a lightbulb, we’re heading to Sturgis and Deadwood, despite overwhelming testimony and evidence that there’s nothing to see there unless the Rally’s happening.  Doesn’t matter.  This is the spiritual home of unwise road trips, wandering souls separated from better sense and bad t-shirts with lightning and wolves on them.  If we should be anywhere in this country, we should be here.

On our way, we stop at Devil’s Tower, load up on small souvenirs and are about to leave when we get roped into the prerequisite conversation about the bikes with some older guys.  This happens a lot, and its nice to trade stories with people who appreciate older bikes.  Usually the stories start with how the 350 or 750 was the first bike they ever owned, and ends with them talking about the Wide Glide or Electra Glide they own now.  Without fail.  We haven’t see a bike that isn’t a Dresser or a Gold Wing in about a week now.  And they always fawn over Nic’s 350, while looking at my bike as if it was a pack mule.  No matter, its nice to put away the myth of These-Riders vs. Those Riders.  If anyone is casting judgements one way or another, we haven’t noticed.

Soon we’re back on the road and passing towns with populations barely above 1 digit.  They seem hardly worth the trouble of a state-issued sign marker.  Also, we are unmistakably beginning an unfortunate return to something approximating the Midwest.  We’re a ways off, but farmland is becoming more and more common.  But then we cross the border into South Dakota, hit St. Onge, take a right, and soon the Black Hills provide temporary relief. 

"Yeah, I'm hip about time. But I just gotta go."

Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #31 on: August 12, 2011, 09:50:31 am »
Pics.

1.  Rain suits aren't just for riding through rain.  They're for drinking through it, too.
2.  Closeup of '52 Indian Chief with foot mounted headlight switch.  Unrestored example, Sturgis Museum.
3.  Former WI State Senator's "Million Mile" '91 FXRT.  Detail of patina and dirt, etc.
4.  Custom built 1925 Henderson KJ V-8.  Imagine doing a plug chop on that.
5.  Where Wild Bill Hickock ate his last meal, now with Sushi.  That's Deadwood, SD for you.
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Offline mrbreeze

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #32 on: August 12, 2011, 04:23:23 pm »
Good read there Skonny. DAMN!!!!.....you 2 really know how to honeymoon!! I lived in Riverton from 92' till 04'. It was a great place to live in the summer and pure misery in the winter. It could stay below zero for days on end. The summers were short but man......those people know how to live it up when its nice out. How did you like the Wind River canyon on the way to Thermop??? We camped in 10 sleep one weekend when they had a nonstop concert with around 50 different bands. It was me and a friend on our bikes with our ole ladies and another friend that was gonna ride but his bike let him down a day before we left. He decided he still wanted to go so he followed in his pick up. What luck for us!!!! We had him haul all of our camping gear +other handy items such as coolers full of beer!!We got a camping space that was in walking distance to the concert!! They wouldn't let us bring our beer in so they could sell us their $3.50 a pop draft beer. Like I said.....we were in walking distance to camp so we were pretty much back and forth all weekend if we wanted to drink beer. It was a great time. Yeah.....the Black Hills are beautiful. My ole lady ,daugher and I went there once for her families reunion. We went a week after the rally. Another good time......Devil's tower & Rushmore included. I bought my 750 in Riverton in 2000. I miss the riding out there. In the summer I usually rode every weekend with never less than 5 other bikes and sometimes as many 25-30.
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Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #33 on: August 21, 2011, 06:19:41 pm »
I liked Riverton, like most places in WY.  I liked smelling smoke in bars, even though I don't smoke anymore.  Wind River canyon was gorgeous.  You guys sound you know how to get down.  Haha, we were just trying to keep the bikes upright.  It was getting a bit grueling.

Where was I?

------------------

Coming into Deadwood seems to bring a certain excitement, and not just because my 750 almost overheats.  There’s legal gambling and bars with museums in them.  As hokey as everything is, its nice to be surrounded by blinking lights and nightlife.  Even if we don’t participate in the moron-tax that is gaming, its fun nonetheless.  We stay at a beautifully restored hotel called the Martin Mason.  The building dates to 1893, and restoration shows this nicely.  Drinks are had at many of the local watering holes, with an extensive talk with the bartender at the Nugget.  He explains the town’s special relationship with Kevin Costner, eventually admitting that he once worked for the actor himself.  Surely, we can be trusted with this juicy secret he seems to say.  Nic and I nod yes, its cool.  We saw “The Postman”, no one cares about Kevin Costner anymore.  Its cool.

We stay two nights in Deadwood, and make our way to Sturgis on the second day.  The rally’s two weeks off, and plenty of empty storefronts and stares greet us.  The few stores we go into have a strange tension.  Its the same nervous energy of stores before Christmas, hurriedly decorating and setting up for their very survival.  I wore an old shirt I’ve owned for 15 years, a Sturgis shirt from 1986 that is nearly transparent by now.  Everyone used to ask me if I’d been to Sturgis, so I thought I’d finally take the shirt home in some sort of minor historic, karmic act.  But its funny, looking around.  No one cares about last year, much less 1986.  There is only two weeks from now, and the sales goals therein.

Fortunately, the Sturgis Museum is as engaging as the town is not.  Its a tiny building, but with two floors.  A custom Henderson V-8 along with Indians, The first floor could fool you into thinking this is going to be all American and British show bikes.  There’s a lone Honda Mini Trail without a museum tag, almost like a pointed joke.  But downstairs, the first bike one encounters is a 1972 CB350.  Turn the corner, and a plethora of motocross bikes appear.  There’s even a Gold Wing and a CB750, albeit a 1979 DOHC.  Its an even cross section of bikes, with Harleys at its spiritual core.  To these eyes, the most fascinating bike is former Wisconsin State Senator Dave Zien’s ‘91 FXRT, on which he logged over a million miles.  Every one of those miles is apparent when you see the patina of oil, grime and bumper stickers that cover the bike.  Its a fascinating counterpoint to the acres of restored, gleaming chrome. 

Its at this point in the story that me and Nic finally have the mother of all arguments, and part ways for the afternoon.  Its not all that surprising given the stresses of our trip and the close quarters we’ve shared.  Even this development has its silver lining.  Where better to blow off some steam than through the bucolic roads of the Black Hills?

We took Hwy. 14 coming in, so I take Vanocker Canyon rd. out and head for wherever that takes me.  Its a sunny day, 90º and my bike has nothing except me to carry for once.  Besides my wife hating me, its a great day to be alive.  I reacquaint myself with the art of powering through curves and the light buzz of footpegs vibrating against pavement.  Living in Chicago, you might be hard pressed to remember the last turn you made that didn’t have a stoplight.  But here is the perfect blend of danger, freedom and the personal responsibility to navigate between the two.  It takes a few miles to settle in and find the 80th percentile of what my aging steed can safely do.  There’s blessedly little traffic, so the italian tuneup can commence in full.  Thirty miles of the mechanical equivalent of rolfing ensue, and my 750 gets to stretch its legs and consume the full extent of its 120 main jets.  The only blemish on this tableau of riding is the poorly balanced front tire.  Its a good excuse to not drop below 45 mph where the vibration sets in.  Vanocker Canyon rd. runs into Nemo rd., then Hwy 385 and so I head back to Deadwood.  The appetite for curves and scenery only partially sated, I reach Deadwood and promptly leave via Hwy. 14 and head west.  As soon as 14 splits from 85, it follows the stream that cuts through the canyon.  As the waters go, so too does the road.  To call this portion of the Black Hills “scenic” is like calling the Sistine Chapel “pretty”.  There’s no better way to sand the squares off your tire than by carving up these canyon roads.  Its the best 14.2 miles I ride all trip long.

While I’m off in the Black Hills, Nic’s becoming acquainted with Deadwood’s wickedly steep neighborhoods, including the cemetery where Calamity Jane is buried next to Wild Bill Hickock.  Figures she’d seek out Calamity Jane.  We patch things up and hit the town to drink and shop for hilariously tasteless knick-knacks.  No time to fight, we got more high adventure to attend to.

We say our goodbyes to Deadwood and Sturgis and head off in search of a ghost town and then Mt. Rushmore. We take Hwy. 385 south, pass the Pactola reservoir and grab a right at Hwy. 16 until we hit a strange left-hand exit at Rockerville.  Rockerville was a mining town, then a touristy, Wild West stop, then nothing after the highway was widened and Rockerville was literally bypassed.  Rockerville not only had the real part of itself abandoned but had its fake, Wild West tourist part abandoned as well.  Nic wants to buy this town, or any town actually, so that she can live out her dream of owning “Rockville”, a town based on rock n’ roll ideals.  She’d hardly have to change anything.  Until over a year ago, Rockerville was for sale, but unfortunately for Nic its been sold.  Today, a great diner called the Gas Light makes this abandoned town, uh, not really abandoned anymore. 
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Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #34 on: August 21, 2011, 09:05:39 pm »
This is close to over, I swear. 

------------------

We track back on Hwy. 16 and arrive at Keystone, then Mt. Rushmore.  Unless you’re buying trinkets or overpriced soda, Mt. Rushmore does not take plastic.  We’re at the admissions stand and we have no cash, but fortunately we’ve been boxed in by several tour buses.  An irate teenage clerk waves us through anyway, making us promise to pay on the way out.  What sort of American institution doesn’t take credit cards? 

Mt. Rushmore is impressive, the quintessential expression of America, from the 51¢ souvenir pennies to the gleaming, white faces of former political greatness.  Nic got to see this when she was a kid, but I never got to see any of this growing up.  As great as Mt. Rushmore is, I’m more interested in how it got built.  I’m particularly impressed by the giant air compressor that powered all the worker’s jackhammers.  Its a damn good thing Keystone is downhill from Mt. Rushmore.  I misshift from 3rd to 1st and so I’m stuck in first permanently.  No neutral, no nothing.  I’m able to coast for a mile or so and we pull into a restaurant parking lot and try to see what’s what.  Not two minutes later, the owner and a friend come out to help us.  Having no idea how to fix old bikes, they provide free beer and bring us cardboard and pans to collect oil.  Off comes the shifter cover, and out come the shadetree mechanics.  The shifter spindle seems to be in the wrong place, but a tug from Jeff, the owner’s friend puts it right, and so crisis is averted.  I somehow keep the gasket intact, and we’re good to go.  In addition to the beers, we’re treated to excellent barbeque, and we’re not allowed to pay a cent.  If you ever break down or need barbeque in Keystone, SD, I suggest Red’s Chicken and BBQ.  And to Ron and Jeff, I owe you a beer if ever you darken Chicago’s door.

Keystone is probably the coolest place we stay all trip.  We find a fleabag hotel off the main strip, and we may as well be in a mountain holler.  There’s an abandoned gold mine, and a lapidary/rock shop that’s open till 10pm the coolest bar we visit all trip. It would be unfair to call Halley’s Store on Holy Terror Trail just a bar.  Its a combination community center and upscale junk shop.  Retirees easily mingle with underage kids playing pool and drinking soda.  And, of course, people getting their beer on.  The attached junkshop has a downstairs, and you’re free to grab your beer and just wander around in the dark mustiness.  They’ve got everything from old disco records to 100 year old stoves.  I wish I could spend all night here.

One of the few misses of the trip is that we’re unable to ride Needle’s highway, but time is running short on our adventure.  We have three days left of our trip, and we have yet to reach the Badlands.  For only the second time all trip we spend most of the ride on an interstate, I-90, and make it to Wall Drug in good time.  There was a time was when the offer of free ice water seemed funny and quaint, but today it merely underscores the huckster nature of Wall Drug.  The food sucks, there’s babies screaming and everyone’s unhappy.  The punchline to every joke in Wall Drug lies in your wallet.  Soon we’re off and entering Badlands National Park.

Besides Sturgis, the dinosaurs at Cabazon, CA and desert in general, the Badlands were the only other place we knew for a fact we were gonna hit.  Ever since I saw Terrence Malick’s, “The Badlands”, I’ve always wanted to go there.  Nevermind that the Badlands as seen in the park doesn’t actually appear in the movie.  It fits into the running theme of visiting places this trip that can kill you.  Its breathtaking, from the first sign we see telling us to watch out for rattlesnakes to the last cluster of red hills before we exit the park to our motel.  We clean up, leave Nic’s 350 at the motel and reenter the park to take pictures.  My being desperately afraid of heights, Nic’s the photo subject who goes out on ledges and crumbly embankments.  She looks better than me, anyway.  Its the perfect last hurrah to this trip.  Everything is wild, beautiful and devoid of people.  We seemingly have the park to ourselves and the sun is setting in fifteen minutes.  We spend the last discernible light at the Prairie Winds Overlook, an improbably lush view of how most of America looked thousands of years ago.  We wait until the horizon has exhausted a rainbow’s worth of shimmering colors and we head back.  As we ride back, Nic asks if I’m crying.  Yes I am.  I can’t wear my sunglasses in the dark, and some bug just scored a direct hit on my cornea.
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Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #35 on: August 21, 2011, 09:19:38 pm »
Pictures.

1.  First scenic overlook in Badlands National Park. 
2.  Nic presiding over "Golden Hour".  Sunset, Badlands National Park, SD.
3.  Nic on the back of my 750.  She has two legs, she's just sitting on it it weird.  Badlands National Park, SD.
4.  If you were alive today, you'd be driven to drink by today's political atmosphere too, Mr. Jefferson.  Keystone, SD.
5.  Us, shadows, awesome scenery.  Badlands, SD.
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Offline Stev-o

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #36 on: August 21, 2011, 09:50:22 pm »
Skonnie - you are truly a good writer, enjoyed reading this installment. Made me think of my honeymoon in Greece, we had a stupid augument too! (I jumped in the rental and drove to the beach and did shots of Ouizo with a local!!)
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Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #37 on: August 21, 2011, 10:12:50 pm »
Haha, we had more than a few fights.  I was only wrong half the time but I'm comfortable with that margin of success.  Shots helped in several instances....

Greece?  #$%*, I wish we'd hopped an ocean on our honeymoon.  Good on ya.
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Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #38 on: August 22, 2011, 10:08:55 pm »
Well, this is it.  To all seven of you who read this, I hope you enjoyed it.

----------------------------

Though we have travelled some 2,300 miles, our streak of drinking non-Budweiser products come to a sad end in Interior, SD.  Defeat comes in the form of a “Fourth of July-themed limited edition” six pack of regular Bud.  The Cowboy Korner convenience store has nothing else.  It fits the somber mood, as our trip is winding down.  All good things are coming to an end, and this is its official beverage. 

As bummed as we might be, there’s still riding to be done.  Its 320 miles to Sioux Falls, where we’ll stay with parents for a night before we put the bikes in a Uhaul truck and make the final trek to Chicago.  The miles along Route 44 are bleak, though the hillsides become more green, and open fields give way to farmland.  We’re travelling east, but we’re getting a history lesson in how the West was won.  With each passing mile, the exertion of man’s will over the landscape becomes more and more complete.  Buttes and rocky cliffs disappear beneath the waves of cornfields, and we no longer need to fear the landscape we pass through.  We stop and take some photos at an abandoned drive-in in Winner, SD, and that’s about it.  The last night of our trip is spent in Platte, SD, at the King’s Inn.  A variety of insects bite the #$%* out of us for a night, and the next day we take off for Sioux Falls.

Its the last day on the road.  I think Nic tries to run out of gas on purpose.  After 2,200 miles on the road, I still have no idea what strategy is best for hitting a gas station - go back the way you came, or keep going?  Whatever, its depressing as #$%*.  I barely see the countryside passing beside me, all I can think about is that its over.  No dirty hotel rooms, no beer every night and no more bad diner food.  There's no more mountains or switchbacks, no more rocky bluffs and no more small towns to invade.  There's just us pulling into a new subdivision in Sioux Falls and figuring out how we're going to transport our bikes back home.  Time to hit a Home Depot for some tie downs.

OK OK, its not all bad.  Nic's family is very happy to see us and its great to see family and taste home cooked food again.  Its nice to see them, but they're happier to see us.  They were a bit worried about us, especially when communication lagged here and there.  Throw in a few heatwaves, and, well, you know how parents are.  Now that we’re back, we can joke with them about near heat-strokes, breakdowns and wrong turns.

As I write this, its been close to a month since we got back.  We feel lucky and fortunate to have had the time and resources to take the trip, but its hard to just rest on that.  The honeymoon was more than just a honeymoon.  It was a break from joblessness, from everyday shortcomings and from the stresses that eat away at the future.  When we were on the road, we were different.  We weren't from anywhere, we just passed through everywhere.  And I was lucky enough to do all this with a woman I love.   

Without getting into detail, its been about 3 years since I got laid off from my career path.  As soon as we returned I immediately had to take the best job I could find, which unfortunately involves the question, "paper or plastic?"  I am glad to have a job, make no mistake.  But its hard not to get lost in thought about where we were a mere month ago.  And as soon as I do, someone with a gold nametag will bring me back to reality. 

If you do have the good fortune to be on the road with a generous calendar of empty days, see to it that you take lots of pictures.  A second or two's worth of summer pics can see you through many winters.
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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #39 on: August 23, 2011, 08:39:55 am »


Really great read, Anders. You've got memories to last your lifetime. Congratulations again to you & the wife. ;) :)

~Jay
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1976 CB 750
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2015 Harley Davidson Freewheeler



You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays everybody's crazy.
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You've got to watch your back in the SSDB, this is where the clever guys get bored with bike talk and make poo jokes.
I like my women a little big. Natural. Now, they shave this and wax that. It's not right. I love natural women. Big women. This trend in women has to go. Bulomia, anorexia. That's just wrong. You know what will cure that? My special sticky buns. One lick of my sticky buns and your appetite will come right back. ~ RIP Mr. Borgnine  01/24/1917 - 07/08/2012  :'(

Offline noahspop

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #40 on: August 30, 2011, 01:51:55 pm »
Great read my friend. Congrats on being hitched.

This is my favorite line.

"We weren't from anywhere, we just passed through everywhere."

Offline Stev-o

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #41 on: October 09, 2011, 11:37:09 am »
Once again, good writing. You truly will never forget this trip.

It brings fond memories of a bike trip I took years ago when I quit a dead end job. Spent 31 days on the road with four buddies with the highlight camping in the Colorado Rpckies for ten days.

Now it is a distant memory as being married w/kid and a "real" job just does not give opportunity to taking off for a month. Just a week here and there isn't bad...
'74 "Big Bang" Honda 750K [836].....'71 Honda 750K project.....'76 Honda 550F.....K3 Park Racer.....K5 Fiddy Dolla Special!......CB500 Fiddy Dolla Special too!!............plus plus plus.........

Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #42 on: October 10, 2011, 12:58:06 pm »
Yeah, for some reason a month is the perfect amount of time be gone, and get gone.  Might not have many long trips ahead of me, either.  Who knows where marriage will take us, and if "us" will include more of us. 

We'll see.

 
"Yeah, I'm hip about time. But I just gotta go."

Offline MikeKato

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #43 on: February 09, 2012, 10:58:22 pm »
Skonnie Boy, Your trip was a very fun read!

Offline Operator

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #44 on: May 04, 2012, 07:15:55 am »
I just found this!! I know I am way behind the curve here, but I hope you are still living like you are on the road together...and I think it is very poignant that this trip was borne out of the love you and Nic share. The two of you have left a footprint, or tire tread if you will, across an entire nation that you can now truly call "yours" simply because you went out there and claimed it for yourselves. Many relationships never get any farther than across town to the lawyers office. Maybe if more newlyweds shared these kinds of adventures the divorce rate would be a little lower......Hope this finds you well and happily married.

If your adventures ever find you heading northeast into Canada, look me up, my wife and I would be happy to share a few nice routes. Warning: beer in New Brunswick is NOT cheap!

As for the "paper or plastic" employment situation, maybe you should put some more thought into paper. You have a gifted writing ability and there is a market for it....my 2 cents

Go Easy......

Jason aka Operator
If ever there was a creator of bastard sons, it is the open road, for she has claimed so many young men yearning for freedom......

1973 CB750 K3
1976 CB400F (Cafe Project)
1979 Yamaha XS400 (Currently up for Sale)

Offline Skonnie Boy

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #45 on: May 04, 2012, 11:29:34 pm »
Haha, thanks.  This nation will truly be ours once we become rich enough to hire a lobbyist. 

If ever we venture north onto Canadia, I promise you we'll stop by and say hello.

Funny enough, my previous career was in advertising, a perfect blend of paper and plastic if ever there was one.  But I'm working on that and I am optimistic about what the next few months hold. 

On a similar note, this whole tale might be making it into print after all.  No guarantee, but it might be coming out in the june/july issue of a reputable classic bike mag.  Its not a living, but its a nice counterpoint to menial labor, work, etc.

Thanks for the kind words and encouragement.
 
"Yeah, I'm hip about time. But I just gotta go."

Offline Operator

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Re: '73 Honeymoon
« Reply #46 on: May 06, 2012, 04:49:38 pm »
Good luck getting published. Even if there is no guarantee, the chance to get published is there.

I'm sure the universe will give you everything you ask for. Seems to be working out for you so far......

Go easy....
If ever there was a creator of bastard sons, it is the open road, for she has claimed so many young men yearning for freedom......

1973 CB750 K3
1976 CB400F (Cafe Project)
1979 Yamaha XS400 (Currently up for Sale)

 

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