The State I'm in

TIME TO GET SERIOUS, AND RIDE FOR LIFE!

2007-09-14T22:27:00.000-07:00

What a lot of fun was had on this amazing journey! I had a whale of a time, and by all accounts a lot of other people did too, who decided to be a part of it at various points along the way. As a result of what I did, it seems that some of you were inspired to pursue your own dreams, and for that I am humbled, and very very glad. It truly warms the heart to think that I've had a positive influence, especially since I wasn't even actively trying! This blog is all but finished for new entries regarding my trip across the States, apart from some padding out and the addition of new photos, which will happen over the next week or two. However, if I get enough protests and/or requests to warrant continuing it, I will carry on supplementing it with on-going details of my planned exploits over the coming summer. Register your on-going interest in the comments section, if you want More of Max...

(By the way, Denise, I finally succumbed to temptation and bought a pink jacket, like one of yours. It is extremely pink. I won't be able to ride incognito again. Ever.)

However, while personal life will definitely continue to be exciting, its time to get on with the next project, which isn't so personal. I have now launched myself into the Herceptin Peaceful Protest Ride, planned to take place next March around the North Island of New Zealand. This project has the support of The Herceptin Fighting Fund, which comes under the umbrella of the Breast Cancer Aotea Coalition, and the aim of the event is to try and influence the goverment to do a u-turn on their decision thus far to not fund the drug beyond 3 treatments for women who need a full seventeen treatments. I was originally going to organise this ride to go down the east coast of Australia, but the timing of the expected decision on the current judicial review on the government's decision, to fund or not to fund the treatment, suggests that the North Island will be a more appropriate location, with the ride planned to end at The Beehive, New Zealand's seat of Parliament, in a peaceful but hopefully effectively noisy protest just before the decision is expected to be handed down. It also means that participation will be a lot more possible for a lot more riders and pillions, and that's the whole idea. Numbers! Bikes! An impactive, collective voice! That's what we're after. And, as pink is the Breast Cancer colour, lets see lots of pink bike jackets happening (c'mon all you macho fellas, this is no time to be shy). Don't let me be the only pinkie in the pack...

More information is available on my website at www.herceptinriders.co.nz so if you want to find out more, including how you can be a part of this protest as a rider, as a pillion, as a sponsor, or as a supporter in any other appropriate way, log onto that and have a read. My email link is on there, for anyone who wants to contact me about the Peaceful Protest Ride, with feedback, questions, requests for further information and offers of support. There's a downloadable petition form too, for people to print off and give us a hand with, out here.

Cheers, and happy riding to y'all, worldwide. You blog-watching riders over there in the States and in the UK... don't forget your thermals!

Home Is Where the Cold Is...

2007-09-07T22:24:00.000-07:00

This is the current view from my living room window. I took this photo through the glass two days ago. Spring is here, as the snow capped mountains CLEARLY show!!! LOL. Honestly, blog-watchers, if it weren't for the daffodils and the lambs springing about all around me, I'd be convinced I was in the depths of winter. In the space of a week I've gone from waking up in the Californian heat, and having to kick the covers off, to waking up with my nose running and my teeth chattering, and trying to delay the inevitable - that horrible chilly morning dash to the bathroom. Its absolutely great to be home, but BOY, do I miss the warmth. To console myself I keep thinking about that holy trek from hell across Oklahoma, when I thought me and the Bomb were both gonna melt right into the pavement with the heat, and all I was interested in was shade and water. Now? I'm looking for hot chocolate with a very healthy dash of Baileys in it, or a tall mug of mulled spice wine. Ah well... I'm off to stoke up the log burner, and make plans for heading into the forest this coming week, to grab another trailer-load of firewood. Methinks the sun frocks will be sitting in the closet for a while yet, as will the sunscreen...

Koru! Koru! Koru! Oi! Oi! Oi!

2007-09-04T01:50:00.000-07:00

The sight of the Koru - the Air New Zealand aircraft tail insignia - has always had a big impact on me. I've spent decades travelling, boomeranging to and from home on different adventures, and its always been a welcome sight at the end of each trip, because for me it represents home, and GOING home, like no other symbol can. One time back in the 80's, when I was living in the UK, I'd just flown back into Gatwick airport in London after a holiday in Greece, and my plane pulled in alongside a Koru. I saw it, across the tarmac, while disembarking, and although I was perfectly happy, and actually looking forward to going back to work the next day, I saw that Koru and immediately felt a pang of homesickness so strong that all I wanted to do, suddenly, was leg it across the runway, leap onto that plane, and refuse to budge until somebody flew me home on it!

Air New Zealand are pretty cool. I'd urge anyone to fly with them, as I've done countless times myself. I use them whenever I can because nothing is too much of a problem for the staff of that airline, for their customers, and my experiences tell me that a lot of people could learn something from that. After the encounter with Delta Airlines Domestic over my crash helmet, when I approached the militant x-ray security guy, whose pock-marked face suddenly took on all the welcoming features of a pinless hand grenade at me having - shock, horror - an extra pieceof hand luggage, the Air New Zealand people just smiled, nodded, stepped aside and gestured me on board with all three pieces of baggage. I didn't have to speak one word about it. It wasn't even an issue. I'd been expecting another small war, actually, so I was stunned at how irrelevant they seemed to think having an extra (delicate) piece of carry-on baggage was. Balm to an open wound, that was... and on the domestic flight from Auckland to Nelson, Shoei even had its own seat, and was actually seat-belted on to it, through its carrycase handles, for safety during take-off and landing! How seriously cool was THAT??? Really should have got a photo of that... if I'd been able to stop laughing I probably would have thought of it.

There is a God, you know, because the L.A. born and bred Air New Zealand staff guy who checked me in at LAX? He was a biker. There ya go! Sometimes prayers do get answered.

Anyway, after I'd installed myself with a glass of champagne and a copy of the Daily Mail, in the airline's Posh Lounge (frequent flyer - gold status), I looked out of the window, and there she was; my plane home, the Koru standing proud and tall and ready to fly. The rush of excitement at seeing that awesome symbol is always the same. I've had the time of my life, but when I saw that Koru, I knew it was time to go.

Koru, Koru, Koru, Home, Home, Home!

Thorns and Roses

2007-09-03T16:44:00.001-07:00

This photo, of me with Mac and ToFeather (two of the gnarliest but sweetest old thorns on two wheels that ever held a place in my address book OR my heart), was taken by the Rose Gwyn, outside Manchester NH's Airport Diner, just after we'd had the calorie-soaked, cholesterol-special Last Supper (well, breakfast, actually), just before I jumped the plane to Cali before any crucifixions could take place. I did well actually, this time around! I didn't even cry, much. Not while they were all around, anyway. After M&G dropped me at the airport, the stiff upper lip and the frozen little "I'm so brave this time" smile headed south, and I allowed myself a bit of a sniffle, but I'm not going to admit to anything else, like for instance trying not to let the lower lip tremble too much in case an in-coming plane spotted it, figured it was a runway, and tried to land on it. I was at an airport, after all...
Hard to believe I won't get another chance to hug these amazing guys, or Gwyn Gorgeous, for a whole 'nother year. As far as Gwyn goes, the photo I have of her riding a tyre-puppy in the main street of North Conway with a crazy look on her moosh will sustain me for quite some time, as will her often humorous and always astute reflections and perspectives on certain "train-wrecks" that have punctuated her own life and mine. Gwyn knows exactly what kind of a brat I can be, and she loves me anyway. That in itself is extraordinary, and I love her right back, for that, and a lot more besides.
Huge thanks too, ToFeather, for the lovely gifts you gave me. See ya next year, Team Hamster.

Twilight is Dawning (or some thing like that...)

2007-09-01T19:54:00.000-07:00

I've said goodbye to Mac and Gwyn, Gordon and the girl-dogs again (getting to be a habit, huh???) and headed back to California. I made it successfully after an epic wrestling match with the Suitcases From Hell and far too much hand luggage. Delta Airlines didn't like my crash helmet. They wanted to put it in the hold...
EEERRRRMMM, I don't THINK so...

... so I politely explained the importance of not letting it out of my sight to get knocked and internally stress fractured, whereby the first I'd know about it would be if I came off my bike at 100+kph and both the hat and my head split wide open. They considered this graphic little vision, nodded sagely, chewed their lips in contemplation for a few seconds, then said they still didn't like it. So, I argued the toss and when that didn't sway them either, I let myself get a little agitated, and then, right out of the blue, with no warning to anyone, I hit them straight in the face (so to speak) with The Look - the one that even the toughened, badass Macster lives in quaking fear of. Guess what, folks? Yep! The sea parted. The Delta people whimpered for a few seconds then stopped ranting at me, stepped aside, and let me on the plane with the helmet. RESULT. A woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. I wasn't gonna have a seven hundred dollar crash hat thrown into the hold to bounce around for thousands of miles like your average happy football. No, no-no-no. I'd rather succumb to that awful temptation to manipulate somebody into giving me some leeway, than risk losing my head. Although, to be fair, some might argue that such event happened a long time ago, and they may well be correct (she said, with a disturbingly insane, vacant grin on her face).

I'm reliably informed that the weather is less than troppo at home, and guess who stoopidly shipped her one and only jacket with the bike, so I'm still deciding whether or not I really wanna go, or whether I should stay here in happy Los Angeles, with the most stressed and unhelpful people on the planet, most of whom drive cars and are actively trying to kill pedestrians at every conceivable opportunity, because aside from the perils of crossing the streets, which thus far has proved far more hazardous than the worst day on the worst road on The Bomb, its warm and sunny, and the hotel has a pool and cute staff, and its close to a good shopping mall with a Macy's, where the shoe sale continues, and with a ton of yummy restaurants less than a block away, and the beach is close, and... ooops... dammit ... small detail of having reached the end of the holiday budget, happening. Ah, well, I miss all 21 legs and 7 tails of the critters at home, anyway, so it looks like I'll be taking off and landing a couple more times yet.

Oh well, better brace meeself for another round in the boxing ring over the helmet, this time with Air New Zealand. Yippee. I'm praying to be checked in by a fellow motorcyclist. What a bonus that would be...

Max's Musical..

2007-08-29T08:27:00.000-07:00

Shoooooes! Glorious Shoooooes!!!

Straps, Frilly and Shiny!

While I'm in the Moooood...

Heels, Chunky and Tiny!

Bright Colours and Patterns too,

Bows, Buckles and Beads,

They're Shooooes! Glorious Shooooes!

Fabulous Shoooes!!! Won-der-ful Shooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooes!!!!!!

- Please, Sir, Can I Have Some More?...

Message to Kerry

2007-08-26T15:26:00.000-07:00

Love ya, baby!

The Breakfast Club

2007-08-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

Here's the hardy contingent of the reunion club, minus some bods very noticeable by their absence, like Canuck, who came for a while but wasn't able to stay (sobs), and Sue, and The Caddman, who couldn't get here for the party at all (wails, gnashings of teeth), and ToFeather, who.... ??????? You guys were all VERY missed! This photie was taken this morning, outside Rosie's Cafe in Tamworth, where we dragged our tired little butts (nothing all to to do with being hung-over from that cool party over at Brian and Beth's place last night!!!) out for brekkie. After we had the platefuls of eggs and the bottomless coffee, we all set off to ride the breathtaking Kankamagus Highway,

an incredible stretch of road through the White Mountains that provides stunning scenery whichever direction you look in. Some of us have done this road before, in the rain, but today the sun was shining, and there were a lot of other bikers up there, doing the same run. After a happy couple of hours up there, Mac and I escorted Candy and Eric and Cap'n to their various highway turn-offs to head for their long rides home. Waving them off in their separate directions was sad, but I know I'll see those guys again, and it has been a really great weekend, a happy party, and a lovely chance to see one another again and reaffirm some of the friendships that have made this whole adventure so special for me. I'm chuffed to bits that you guys were all prepared to ride as far as you did, for so many hours, just to spend a bit more time with me!!!! So was the Guy in the Sky, who turned on a fabulous electrical storm of gargantuan proportions last night before we went out (we all stood out in the teepee, wondering whether we could make it to the house without getting struck by lightning!).

Eric, thank you so much for your incredible gift! This charming man hand sewed a beautiful little fringed Indian pouch bag for me, containing an authentic Indian stone arrow head he'd found. Not many people get given something that unique and special. I will treasure it.

You fanstastic people all ride home with a healthy dose of Mac-magic in your pockets from the woods of New Hampshire, and a big hug each from me.

CUTE, or WHAT???

2007-08-24T07:32:00.000-07:00

Just exactly how gorgeous is this wee chap? The woods around Mac's place are littered with wildlife of various kinds, from mountain lions, bears, moose, deer and 'coons right through to the little guys like woodchucks, snakes and red squirrels, that randomly wander around here like they own the place. While out with one of Mac's tins of transmission fluid, slaughtering the hoardes of Japanese beetles that are trying to snaffle all the garden crops, I heard a rustling in the trees just ten feet from where I was standing. As I froze (which you tend to do out here!), to see what it could be, a little red squirrel hopped out from the undergrowth, jumped up on a log and just stared at me. I stood there motionless, admiring him, and he jumped off, grabbed a berry, jumped back up and ate it in little nibbly bites, right there in front of me. He did this three times, all the while me standing there like a comical statue, beetle jar in one hand, trying not to even BLINK, in case it scared him away. He was really very beautiful, just sitting there in the sunshine, having his snack, all the while keeping one huge, liquid eye on whether I was going to move, and poised to bolt if I did. Eventually, cramp forced me to, and he scampered off back into the forest.

Declaration of Independence...

2007-08-23T11:37:00.000-07:00

ALL of the celebratory qualities that combine to make me the "extraordinary person" people keep describing me as, I received as gifts from my parents. The joyful passion for all things shoe-related, the love of bright colours and animals, and the desire to keep going out there to examine the world, are all sunbeams from my Mother (R.I.P.). The gun-fun, the fine line I walk between bravery and madness, the imagination to make anything I want happen, and the determination and energy to put as much of it as I can in place, and the ability to laugh at illogical stupidity when I recognise it (even within myself) all come as moondrops from my Dad. The motorcycling and the adventurous spirit that go hand in hand with it are lightning bolts from them both (biker in the womb, Mum urging Dad to "go faster" - what chance did I have?).

However, the bloody-minded insistence on doing things my own (admittedly sometimes illogical and stupid) way, and the huge fault of a very real inability to empathise with or have much respect for all the easy-road couch potatoes and "gunners" I meet in life (i.e. people who spend all their energy moaning about how crap their lives are, and blaming other people, and TALKING about stuff they wanna do or change but never actually doing it)? Well, those qualities are mine alone to own up to, and I do. I make no apology for it either because, as the intelligent among you already know, just about anyone can do any of the things I've done. I'm not, in all truth, that extraordinary. I've just made choices that pretty much anyone else can make, and some do, and some don't. The fact is, anyone can make the decision to at least TRY to find a way to make whatever it is they want for themselves happen. Anyone can be giving of themselves in some way to someone else, knowingly or otherwise. Anyone can make a conscious decision to get off the sofa and dance through life, instead of watching it all through a window or - worse - a TV screen, and anyone can choose to spread happiness around as they dance, or even spread it inadvertently, and touch someone else's life in a positive way with their own moondrops and sunbeams and lightning bolts, as they spin by. We all have those gifts, in various forms. Its up to us , whether we use or ignore them.

I have always said, the worse thing imaginable for me, personally, would be to be facing the end of my life, thinking "I wish I'd done .............................." . I'd rather be there saying "I'm so glad I did that thing I wanted to do" or at the very least, "At least I TRIED to make it happen" .

So whatever your dreams are, blog-watchers, just try to make them happen. Get help if you have to, preferably from people who care enough about you not to attach any kind of price or complaint to it, and GO FOR IT. Some of the things I've done in this life already have had a HUGE amount of planning, organising, re-arranging and all that stuff attached to making them work, and I've needed a lot of help at times. That's ok. If this trip has taught me one thing, its that nothing really worthwhile and rewarding is achievable in isolation. People are an important part of everything that works, and I've met so many good people, as I've gone along, that it really does bring a lump to the throat to remember their extraordinary, random acts of kindness and positive responses to requests for assistance. I want to say thank you, again, to all the friends I've made in the USA on this particular adventure, who have given me practical and emotional help at times when I really needed it. Some of the strangers I met for brief moments along the way were more kind to me than some of my so-called friends have ever been, and they don't know about this blog, so they will never know the level of my gratitude for the bright beacons of light they were to me when I found myself in dark tunnels, and the level of positive difference their contributions made. The people who drove me 20 miles to get my oil bung and get me back to my bike, the gun-toting, patched biker at the gas station who loaned me his phone to make a critical call when mine wouldn't work, the woman who gave me gasoline and water and refused payment, the office receptionist who stood up within two seconds of my asking her if I could access her internet, when I couldn't find a computer and needed to transfer funds immediately online to a bank account I could access, to pay for my hire car in LA. The list goes on and on, and it all comes back to the same thing. The importance and significance of individual people. I make a conscious choice to let people in. I get a little burned sometimes, of course, because not everyone is kind, or interested, and there are people out there who have described themselves as friends to me, but who have ultimately u-turned and attacked me, directly or indirectly, in their own small, petty ways, for reasons that say more about themselves than they do about me and my choices, but I don't let it colour my perceptions. I still believe in the inherent goodness of the human race, and this trip has re-inforced that one-hundredfold, and I am a better person for it. To all of you who have affirmed my place in your hearts... I haven't enhanced your lives by accident! The reason I'm there in your hearts is because you trusted me to give you a place in mine. We're all just mirrors reflecting back what we get, give, and get again. Its bloody fantastic, if we all do it right.

Power to the next big dream, people... yours, and mine...

...Of Guns and Shoes, and Bikes and Money

2007-08-21T11:50:00.000-07:00

Personally, I find all four to be rather essential. I know exactly which gun Mac wants, and he knows exactly which gun I want, and if we can find our way back to THAT FABULOUS PLACE CANUCK TOOK US TO, we'll try to work out who gets what, when I get there.

In New Hampshire, unless you can get to a mall, a decent department store or a TJ Maxx, (which Mac just chucks his toys out of his cot, has a full-blown tanty and point-blank refuses to do, even for me, even in the face of The Look, and even in the face of threats of point-blank something else) there isn't one decent pair of shoes to be had in the whole State. Trust me, I've been there before, looked to the point of exhaustion, ranted with frustration and disappointment, and, with overwhelming, trembling emotion, turned to the next best thing... the gunshops, which I have to say are extraordinary in number and "range"... ha ha ha. And Bike Shops, too. I'll be happy in the woods for a week. Mac, I'm not bringing the girlies. They just didn't like the sound of you. Thought you were a madman, rather than a Macman. Sorry. I know how gutted you must be.

So people, its not shoes y'all have to worry about me spending money on anymore, hehehe..........

Any chance of someone getting out to the airport with bail money?

Kidding...

Maybe...

CALIFORNIA DREAMIN...

2007-08-20T10:49:00.000-07:00

Just look at those palm trees a-swayin... Having dipped my tootsies in the Pacific Blue, and tasted the salt water, I've decided that its time to relax. Most of the shoes have all been bought (Macy's - GOD, what a sale!!!), and apart from one handbag that I'm still eyeing up, I'm all done, and waiting to go back to New Hampster and bake key lime pies, and sit in the sun, and have lots of puppykisses from the extremely beautiful Evie and Lucy, and harass Mac for a week. A couple of days ago I met up with two great women: Izabel from Germany and Trish from Perth. Yesterday we all went to Venice Beach together and had a blast.

We did stupid stuff, trying on mad vintage clothes and horrible hats,

and aside from doing the obligatory tourist t-shirt buying thing, and having lunch in a deli right by the beach, we tried (in vain) to find a pair of killer heels for Trish who has child's size feet. I lost the bet (50c) that we'd find some for her.

I forgot to pay you, Trish darlin, and that only means one thing - ya hafta come get it in Nelson New Zealand!!!! (No problem, I can hear her calling, from somewhere down the track). Trish, I know you will see this sometime soon. It was a complete joy to meet you, and spend time with you, and I wish you lots of happiness on your spiritual journey. I wanted to put you in my pocket and take you home, but I know you have far more exciting things planned, so I didn't kidnap you, and I really deserve some credit for my extraordinary ability to control that impulse. We're on for Perth, baby. Say when.

The heat in California is dry and very pleasant. Its a good place to be, to hang out, watch some incredible bikes chug by, and I'm now on my way to have another vanilla malt in Johnny Rockets Cafe. The last one I had was for me. Sort of a pilgrimage. The one I have in five minutes is gonna be especially for Kerry. Cheers, hon.! Slurp slurp.

THE CALIFORNIA CADDMAN

2007-08-17T22:04:00.000-07:00

Fresno, California is where The Caddman hangs out, with his lovely wife, his lovely dogs, his lovely cats, a random assortment of fish and cars, and a very nice bike. I spent a couple of nights with that little troop, and it was a happy, friendly, restful and restorative time. Mac and Gwyn have stayed there in the past, and they say the same thing - its a pretty nice place to be. We left there this morning and headed for Los Angeles, where this particular adventure for me and The Bomb together now ends. After many days of serious thought, I have made a tactical decision, based on a combination of issues that really amounted to being concerned about my safety and Cherry Bomb's, given the remoteness of the areas I was thinking of heading into, with no company, no mobile phone coverage to even access emergency services, the relentless heat, general fatigue from the emotional burden of all of those things combined, and suspected electrical problems with the bike.
But I am ecstatically happy with what I've achieved on this ride, the challenges I have faced and overcome and been shaped by, and the friendships I have made which I hope will continue for the rest of my life. It has been a truly fantastic experience, even in the rough patches I hit along the way. Something great and shiny and positive came out of every experience, ESPECIALLY the challenging ones, and I am better and happier for it. I've got to where I needed to get to, in my mind, in my heart, and in geography. The truth is, even if I took two years, or even five, I still wouldn't see everything this fantastic country has to offer, and I've had to make many compromises en route, and not see a lot of what I wanted to, because of the time constraints. I still have a list, and what is on it will wait for next year, when I can come back with company, in a cooler climate, perhaps in the fall, when the colours will be picture-postcard spectacular, hire a Harley, and see some more!
I've had an absolute BLAST!!!!!!!!! Despite some hairy moments, every day has made me smile, I've been showered with gifts, both real and intrinsic, and I wouldn't swap or change this adventure for the world. It has been awesome.
And its not over yet!!! Cherry is safely with a DECENT shipper, and I am in Santa Monica, spending time at the beach and generally enjoying the sunshine for a few days before jumping a plane back to Mac's for a while before coming home at about the same time as originally planned. A number of happy little souls will be riding to Macs for a reunion party on 25th August, from various places around the USA, so we can have a final fling together before they all wave me off, into the sunrise and onto the next adventure.
I just can't tell you all how happy I am. I'm really, really overjoyed at what I've done. Part of me still can't believe I've really done it. Cherry Bomb did me very proud. She's a real little star and I love her to bits, and we make a good team. I kissed her goodbye today, and I told her I'll see her in Dunedin, in a month or so.
Next big ride will be to the Burt Munro Challenge, Invercargill, November this year. Any kiwi blog-watchers willing to join that one?

Rattlesnake Boogie

2007-08-16T14:35:00.001-07:00

The temperature in the Mojave (Mohave) desert reaches in excess of 110 degrees farenheit in the heat of the average summer day. It was a hot trip thru here, and as you can see, its an uncompromising wilderness of epic proportions. In the few areas where water can be found or accessed, towns and cities like Las Vegas, Flagstaff and Kingman have sprung up, literally out of desert wasteland. From the air it must look strange, especially at night, random pockets of habitation surrounded by vast expanses of rock and sand. Aside from those valiant places where people live with relentless heat, alongside scorpions and rattlesnakes, its literally hundreds miles of desolate wasteland. Its boredom personified, that trip, and after several hours it starts to test concentration. On my way thru I had to skirt around a 40-ton 18-wheeler that had somehow overturned and skidded on its side along the road. I didn't see it happen, but I got there just afterwards, just as the police were setting up the road block, and before the traffic started to bank up. It didn't look too bad, as accidents go, and no other vehicles were involved that I could see. An hour down the road, though, I saw one on the other side of the freeway, same situation, only it was a lot more of a mess. The rig had managed to get itself turned thru 180 degress and was on its side, a mangled wreck, facing back the way it came, and there were other cars stopped around it. The police were there too, waving people on our side of the freeway along, and an ambulance was there, and the traffic going east was banked up for twenty miles behind it all. Nasty. I've prayed, every day, along this trip, that I wouldn't have to even SEE anything like that, much less be involved in it. When those big rigs go out of control, it can happen in the blink of an eye, and they don't tend to take many prisoners. On a more optimistic note once I got to the other side of the desert, reaching the mountains that separate it from the rest of the civilized world, it happily got noticeably cooler!

Me and the Route 1 Mail Lady!

2007-08-16T14:10:00.000-07:00

Sue has emailed me some photos, and I thought I'd post a couple of them, especially the one of us both together, because she is one seriously coooooool biker-gal, and she deserves her rightful place on dis here blog. Check out the Thunderbike T-shirt! Wonder where she got it...

Love ya, baby!

ARIZONA

2007-08-15T11:35:00.001-07:00

Hello from Arizona. Cherry and I spent the night in Flagstaff at the noisy but cheerful Howard Johnson motel, right beside a railroad track with the noisiest freight train horns in God's creation, at all hours of the night and morning, (the motels sells earplugs at the check-in desk - you have to laugh!) but with the compensatory bonus of a "beer barn" right next door!, me and Cherry felt we could overlook the racket. This photo of me and Carlos The FireFighter from Florida, a biker on his way home from Sturgis (via Arizona... go figure...) who pulled into the same motel just minutes after I did, was taken in that very beer barn about half an hour after the fact. Carlos was riding with his friend Al, who declined to be sociable, owing to legitimate exhaustion, but Carlos and I had no such prudent sensibilities. As it was only 9pm, as knackered as we both were, we felt it would just be too rude not to have a couple of beers, really just as a justifiable anaesthetic against the traffic and the trains. Carlos was a pretty cool guy. He'd done a lot of miles yesterday too, and we decided we both needed alcoholic beverage refreshment. Its BLOODY hot here. REAL hot. "Hotter 'n Hades", as someone said last night. Over the last few days I've been drinking several litres of water each day, to replace what the sun and wind take out of my body. The hot wind, in particular, is a hazard because its hard to know how much moisture your body is leeching out when the wind dries you before you even know you've broken into a sweat. Motorcycling creates its own wind, of course, in addition to that around you in the air across the desert plains, and it can funnel through in peculiar weather patterns shaped by the landscape at the plains' edges, bringing dry dust with it. Dehydration is a serious hazard under these conditions, and its really critical to replenish the moisture the body loses that it really needs to function efficiently. Water alone doesn't replace the electrolytes, sodium, and other critical minerals you lose through sweat. I'm having at least three high-energy drinks each day too, in addition to the water, so my mineral content doesn't suffer. I've also been wearing a cotton bandana under my helmet, and have been soaking it in cold water at each stop and putting it on dripping wet, to keep my head cool, but within ten or fifteen minutes back on the road, its dry again. Its over a hundred degrees farenheit out here in the desert. The whole country seems to be in the grip of a heatwave, actually, that sees some places, like Atlanta and southern Texas, with extreme heat warnings advising people not to go out, except to check on vulnerable people in their area. Apparently these conditions are not unusual for this time of year, but its hard work at times. Between the baking heat and the thunderstorms, it makes for interesting travelling, especially through the plains across the desert where you can actually see the storms and where they are located...

They show up on the horizon as narrow black vertical streams pouring down from dark clouds, with lightning all around them. Its very surreal to watch, and it kind of reminds me of when I lived in Queenstown in the South Island. My apartment overlooked Lake Wakatipu, and I could stand at the panoramic window, fascinated, watching the bad weather slowly rolling in from behind Mount Nicholas and Walter Peak, and up across the lake to close in on the whole town.
On one stretch of the freeway heading west, I looked around me and saw four separate storms, in different locations, all miles away in the distance. They seemed to be pretty intense, with a lot of forked lightning all around the streams of water. It was an awesome thing to look at!!! Not so great to get caught in, though, even though its usually a short-lived experience. You can see them sweeping along in their given direction, and when they come towards you, always a lot wider and faster than you thought they were when you saw them farther away, there's absolutely nothing you can do except keep moving, and think about how nice it feels to be cool for the brief few minutes they hit and drench you for, before they move on and you get cooked again. You don't stay wet for long enough, before the desert heat engulfs you again, with its hot, dusty wind, and intense heat rising up out of the asphalt. Ah well, at this time of year its all part of the adventure. Its only a hazard if you choose to see it that way. I prefer to think of it as an interesting experience I don't get many opportunities to have. Not that I'd queue up to continue having them, but it certainly is an unusual thing to be caught up in.

RANTINGS...

2007-08-13T17:19:00.000-07:00

I've spent the day in the delightful but expensive tourist trap of Durango, just hanging out, enjoying the stunning scenery in this part of the world, and one of the things I did was contact AT&T - the useless phone company I have hooked up with for "nationwide mobile coverage". I wanted to complain about the idiot in San Francisco who assured me I'd have coverage nationwide, who basically lied. The AT&T Manager I spoke to was unable to tell me why his staff are so ill-informed, why his "internationally recognised"company doesn't have cell-phone towers in most of the states I've ridden through, or what he could do to assist me or compensate me, other than to give me a $20 credit top-up on a phone I can't even use. He also told me I wouldn't be likely to get any AT&T mobile coverage until I was fairly well south on the west coast. Yeeha. This puts me in the continued position of feeling quite vulnerable on the road, in the vast areas of this country where there's lots of stunning scenery but few people, and no coverage, even to get hold of emergency services if necessary. That, to date, has been (aside from bloody frustrating) at times downright scary. The phone I was conned into purchasing in Arkansas when the OTHER AT&T moron told me it was my normal (kiwi) phone that was at fault, won't recognise another provider's sim card, so basically that was a waste of money (about US$110 including phone credit I paid for that is as useless as the phone that's meant to carry it), and the only way to feel safe while travelling through these wilderness areas is to go buy another phone hooked into another provider, pay for another sim card, and just hope that THAT company isn't lying as well, and, like;;; I'm made of money??? Erm... no...
AT&T, God bless their little cotton socks, also say they cannot put collect calls through to New Zealand. New Zealand have, apparently, blocked AT&T's access. I guess Telecom NZ know a thing or two. Eeee, by gum, ya live and learn...

SO DON'T TOUCH THESE PEOPLE WITH A FORTY FOOT BARGEPOLE!!!!!!!!!

THEY ARE INEFFICIENT, INCOMPETENT, AND TOTALLY BLOODY USELESS. BLOG-WATHCERS OUTSIDE OF THE USA, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. IF ANY OF YOU EVER FEEL BRAVE ENOUGH TO TACKLE AN EXTENDED HOLIDAY OVER HERE IN THE LAND WHERE NOTHING IS SIMPLE, AND YOU GO WITH AT&T,

YOU DESERVE EVERYTHING YOU GET!!!

And I'm not finished there...

I'm feeling a bit homesick, actually. That surprises me, really, as I was looking forward to getting away for a bit. Feeling lonesome has took me all unawares-like! But I miss my house, I even miss that goofy Kerry-person, I miss my mad-faced Dad, certain lovely friends who keep me sane and giggling a lot (hi Flipsy, R-man, Arnie, Chelle, Liz), I REALLY miss the dog, and I even miss the grumpy Coz-cat, and that murdering zebra finch that pretty much ate her boyfriend before our very eyes, before I left home back at the start of July. Maybe I've already been away for long enough...

hmmm... pondering, pondering, pondering the options.

Oh yeah... and poor Cherry Bomb wouldn't start this morning. Dead battery. No idea why. And, guess what? The bike shop is closed for the day! I'm getting a bit fed up, to put it more politely than I normally would. For the benefit of those with sensibilities that might be wobbled if I REALLY let fly, I'm being quite restrained...

Normal life beckons from the shadows of my consciousness. What to do... what to do...

Full Steam Ahead...

2007-08-12T18:49:00.000-07:00

Its fifteen years since I did a roadtrip thru the USA that took me to Silverton, Colorado. At the time, while watching a mock gunfight in the old Main Street, with a black-smoking, cinder-belching, hulking steam locomotive as a backdrop, I promised myself that one day, when I had enough time, I'd come back and take that train ride. Today, I did it, and it was worth the wait. The trip was a fantastic experience, riding that great old train through the breathtaking back-country wilderness of the San Juan Mountains. Its 3.5 hours each way, with a 2-hour stop in historic Silverton...

...once a booming 1800's mining town with no less than 300 saloons and houses of ill-repute just in Main Street alone. Nowadays, the bordellos have given way to hotels, restaurant and gift shops selling all sorts of native Indian crafts and jewellery, t-shirts etc., but most of the original buildings remain.

Sadly, the costumed gun-slinging is a thing of the past now (although I'm told they still do it on special occasions, festivals etc) but its still a really great place to visit. And I managed to get a pair of white leather beaded Indian moccasins, exactly like the ones I'd bought fifteen years ago and loved and wore literally to pieces. And, they were 40% off. And, come hell or high water, I'm going to find a place in the saddlebag or frame pack for them!

But that wasn't all, today...

Sometimes, when you don't expect it, life throws you a snapshot - a vision so fleeting you wonder if its real - that you know will stay crystal clear in your memory forever. For me, today, it was the pure magic of seeing my favourite wild animal on his own turf. As we chugged along, I looked up to the sheer wall of a canyon and there, on a rocky outcrop, was a HUGE grizzly bear. He was massive, shaggy and gorgeous. His stance was aggressive - he sat with his full weight on his widened front legs, mouth wide open, bawling his outrage at the train shattering his peace. I had no more than ten seconds - not enough time to even get the camera ready - to look at him. He was just a couple of hundred feet from the train and he was, without question, the most magnificent, incredible animal I have ever seen. I have absolutely no idea what, if anything, could EVER top that, for me.

Her Name is Rio and She's Very, VERY Grande!

2007-08-11T14:46:00.000-07:00

I'm in Colorado. Got here about two hours ago to Durango, having ridden through the most stunning scenery I have ever seen in my entiere life, and I aint kidding! I've seen a lot of places over the decades, a lot of countries, and a lot of seriously cool stuff, but NOTHING beats what I saw today. From the Rio Grande Gorge leaving New Mexico...

...to the Rio Grande and San Juan National Forests, through Route 160 west...
... there are just not enough words to describe how beautifully, how unbelievably, the hand of nature has carved this part of the world. No photo, no postcard and no jigsaw puzzle box picture does it justice. As I made my way through that area, up and then down through winding steep roads, vista upon vista of the most incredible scenery imaginable just kept on unfolding in front of me. I held my breath to take it all in. By the roadside, about half way through, a deer stood, impassively staring at the cars as they went by. The Bomb's engine caused her to run for the trees, but before she did, I was treate to a prancing little dance from her, while shde decided which way to run, and that put a smile on my face ten miles wide. About a mile further up, there was a dead deer in the road. Sad, but a good reminder of the need to be careful and vigilant through that area. The Bomb had a wee splutter and a couple of farts along the way. I think the altitude caused her a few glitches, but it was nothing serious. It was pretty chilly up there, and after the heat of the desert, it felt kinda weird to feel cold for a while! I'd forgotten what that was like...
Once we'd made the descent into Durango it was hot again, and there was no more backfiring.
Lots of bikers on their way back from Sturgis passed me, in both directions, and all waved hello. I pulled into Durango, went to the Suzuki shop to get some oil to carry on board, as the girl does use some, and then I found a motel, where I ran into Jim and Aaron, a father and son team on their way home from Sturgis. They said something about dinner later. Sounds good. I find I'm not interested in food until the evenings. I think its the heat.

Message for ToFeather

2007-08-10T17:18:00.001-07:00

Hey sweets, gonna call you, and will take up your invitation to call you collect. I just need to figure out how to contact the operator to do it. I'm not what you'd call a stupid person but the telecommunications systems here in the USA are not what I would describe as user-friendly. The number one toll provider - AT&T (who I hate with a gnashing vengeance now - almost as much as the Shipping Agents From Hell in New Zealand) tell me that they are not allowed to make collect calls to New Zealand. They also won't tell me who will. I'll be in touch. I made the decision not to try and get to Sturgis, by the way. I decided it was too far to go, thru 1200miles of boring windy and potentially dangerous roads all by myself, just to say I'd been, and to have to do a u-turn almost as many miles back south to see what I wanted to see. It made no sense.

Taos, New Mexico

2007-08-10T16:42:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Taos (yet another AT&T blackspot - yawn) about 3 hours ago, took Cherry Bomb to a local bike shop for a check over and a power wash. She was looking pretty ropey after the Oil Incident, and subsequent hot days in dusty desert wind. They wouldn't touch her initially because they're Yamaha people and "don't do Suzuki" but after I explained where I was from and what I needed, they literally sprang to attention and couldn't have been more helpful. In particular, Dave D (who I secretly believe is The Most Gorgeous Man In America - believe it girls, he is TOTALLY HOT), who had been to EnZed himself, went the extra mile checking my girl over. They were all very impressed that I've done three thousand seven hundred miles already (6000km) with still a ways to go.
My motel is kinda cool. Its like a hacienda type structure, with a rampantly noisy air conditioning unit, but the staff are lovely, they put me right at the back, away from sight of the road, and apologised profusely for not being able to put me on the ground floor. After checking in and unpacking the bike, I went in search of a cyber cafe, and found a really nice one, tucked away inside a walled shady courtyard behind a supermarket, and they do really good iced coffee there. Its not the easist place to spot, but a woman in the town gave me good directions, after I called into an IT store to ask if they knew where I could go. Taos is a nice town. I came here once before, many years ago, and spent a very pleasant afternoon in the Old Town, which is very picturesque and combines architecture that's traditionally Mexican and Native American. Its quite touristy, but not in the kind of in-ya-face way you'd expect. A lot of the stores sell really good quality arts and crafts made by the Indian people, many of whom now live on reservations. I've already driven alongside a couple or reservations, and I have to say they look like pretty soulless places. Taos is set against a backdrop of stunning mountains, and its really pretty here. I feel safe in this place. The Bomb is safe too, and we've had a really good day together. The scenery in from Santa Rosa, thru Las Vegas NM, thru the Mora Valley into Taos was really spectacular, as well. I went through a mountain pass area where there's a ski lodge, which apparently gets pretty busy in winter. Not much wildlife seen around today. Chipmunks are very cool little critters, though. They're everywhere there's forest, and they always make me smile.

MESSAGERS

2007-08-10T16:35:00.000-07:00

Just a quick thanks to those of you kiwi blog-watchers who have left voicemail messages for me. It was really great to hear your voices, especially you, Arnie Farmer! That's a voice that always makes me smile. I'm doing great but its always nice to hear familiar voices now and then, or get blog comments from people, otherwise I just have to wonder who's watching the Intrepid Adventure. Russell, honey, I have the BEST!!!!! Harley T-shirt for you! I got it in Lynchburg, home of Jack Daniels whisky, and its got all sorts of mad stuff written all over it, and it survived the Great Fire of Bomb, because, thank God, it wasn't in there...
Keep the messages coming, Team. Love y'all...

EVERYTHING'S BIGGER IN TEXAS!!!

2007-08-10T16:11:00.000-07:00

I left Oklahoma City around 7am in the morning, anticipating a hot ride west. I got a couple of hours under my belt before the heat came up off the freeway and cooked us both, as usual. The ride was straightforward, uneventful and hot. On Momma Hen's insistence, I made the stop in Amarillo Texas on my way thru to New Mexico at this place they call The Big Texan. She told me I couldn't miss it, and she was right about that! Poor little Bomb looks dwarfed next to the bull in the top picture here. The place is painted a very in-ya-face bright yellow and blue, and its massive. You walk in the door and the first thing you find is that you're in the gift shop, which you have to pass alongside to get to the restaurant. Once in there, you can order a 72oz steak with all the trimmings and if you can eat it within an hour, you get it for free. I didn't even CONSIDER that, but I did treat myself to a lovely vanilla malt and a tall iced water. The interior of this place is like a big square ballroom, with railings all around the top floor area that skirts the sides, and the walls are filled with the heads of various deer, elk, ibix etc. Its a pretty cool place to hang out for a while and enjoy the air conditioning and the decor. I wasn't in a hurry to leave, and go back outside into the baking heat. I met a biker in there who recommended Tucumcari as a place to stop for the night, and as it was only another couple of hours or so away, I made for there, just really wanting to put that part of the desert behind me. I was relieved to get there, as I rode for a hundred straight miles, but what felt like 200, through a God-forsaken wilderness that stretched out as far as the eye could see in every direction, with nothing to punctuate it. No houses, no gas stations, just endless, boring, unrelieved desert. If it hadn't been Interstate 40 with plenty of traffic, I'd have been really concerned about my ability to get help if I broke down. As it was, the Bomb went onto reserve and I coughed into the first gas station over the border, just in the nick of time. So did a lot of other people, many of whom, like me, didn't realise it was a hundred miles between gas stations on that stretch of the freeway (often there's a sign to tell you that, but erm, not this time...), and that much distance is pretty much all my peanut tank will get me, including reserve. I joined the queue of ranting motorsists who were all in a state of unparallelled shock at how expensive the gasoline was in that place, and all pretty hacked off about being held to ransom. I guess with a captive market like that, they can charge what they like. Its just the fact that they were so unashamedly greedy with it that annoyed us all. Having to pay a little over the odds is expected, but not 35c a gallon more! I gassed up, tipped a bottle of cold water down my throat, soaked my bandana in water and put it back on my head, and pressed on for Tucumcari.

When I got there, late afternoon, I found the place to be a total AT&T Blackspot (God, that phone company is USELESS!!!!!!!) confirmed by the manager of the motel I eventually checked into after driving the length of the one-street town to see what was on offer. He was Mexican, and his English wasn't great, but he gave me a good room at a cheap rate (thirty bucks and worth every cent) and let me use his internet to send a couple of urgent emails. I parked up the Bomb, got unloaded and went for a leg-stretch wander back into the town to find food and an ATM. It felt good to walk. The payphone outside the local supermarket worked, so I called Mac to tell him where I was and get him to update the blog for me. Tucumcari doesn't have a cyber cafe, in fact it doesn't really have much of anything, but it was an interesting place to hang out for a night anyway. Just as I got to that payphone in the town, a tooth-jarring crack of thunder exploded in the air above me, and lightning split the sky BIGTIME, so I made a couple of calls, grabbed a shopping basket and did a record-breaking lap around the supermarket, and scurried back to the motel where I holed up with a couple of beers and a bag of shredded turkey and watched The War of the Worlds on HBO. It wasn't at all cold, but the storm was hard and heavy, so I snuggled down in bed to watch telly. There was a nice little pool at the motel, and I had been tempted to have a swim, until the storm swept on through, taking that idea right along with it. Tucumcari is on the old Route 66, and you can see by looking at it all that it was really quite special in its heyday. Unfortunately, most of the little stores, garages, soda houses etc are all derelict or boarded up now, and its a real shame, because I feel that New Mexico is sitting on a potential tourist opportunity of extraordinary proportions here, if they would only wake up and restore some of that stuff, before its too late. It felt a little sad, to me, and abandoned. Its a real shame to see so much history just falling into decay and literally dying where it stands, particularly for one such as myself, who just loved everything about that whole era in time. In my mind's eye I could picture all the little places open, neon lights flashing, rock and roll music playing from a jukebox in one of the soda houses, happy people spilling out into the streets, and old 50's cars rolling by. All very movie-romantic, I guess, but you could tell that it really had been like that at one time. That's what made me sad. Knowing how busy and thriving that little community had once been made it's current crumbling state all the worse. Still, in spite of that, it was a cool little place to hang for a night. I managed to get Cherry under cover, right under my motel room window, and all was well. Good job I like storms. I've certainly had a few goingon around me on this trip so far. Today was a good day. Long, but good. And if I win the American lottery and end up with six hundred million dollars, I'll buy Tucumcari, ressurect it to its 1950's glory, and turn it into a time warp for rockabillies just like me.

Willin'

2007-08-09T18:13:00.000-07:00

Willin' by Little Feat
I've been warped by the rain, driven by the snowDrunk and dirty, don't you know, and I'm still...willin'.
And I was out on the road, late at night,Seen my pretty Alice, in every headlight...Alice.Dallas Alice.
And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari,Tahachapi to Tournapaw.I've driven every kind of rig that's ever been made.Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed.
And if you give me...Weed, whites and wine.And you show me a sign.I'll be willin', to be movin'
Kicked by the wind, dropped by the sleet,Had my head stove in, but I'm still on my feet, and I'm still,In a whole lot of trouble.
Smuggled some smokes, some folks from Mexico,Baked by the sun, every time I go to MexicoAnd I'm still...
And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari,Tahachapi to Tournapaw.I've driven every kind of rig that's ever been made.Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed.
And if you give me...Weed, whites and wine.And you show me a sign.I'll be willin', to be movin'

Well Max called from a pay phone (figures)

She has requested that I tell you all she is fine and in Tucumcari New Mexico. Also she will be having a hard time calling anyone. The call was short because there was a nasty Thunderstom approaching and she needed to get about 1/2 mile back to her room on foot.

She is expecting to not be able to be on line to write here on this blog as well, so you get me translating from Kiwi to Yankee, to what ever it is your dilect happens to be.. LOL

As she needs I will relate what ever she has to say.. Mac

Dinner Riders

2007-08-08T19:37:00.000-07:00

Tonight I met a really nice bunch of Denise's friends who go riding every Wednesday night and stop somewhere for dinner. The weather is so hot and humid here in Oklahoma City right now that nobody was really up for much of a ride, so we just went to a Mexican restaurant and all had a meal together anyway. It always amazes me how interested people are, when they find out I'm from New Zealand, and how many questions they have. I want to take this opportunity to say "thank you" Denise, for your lovely hospitality and your helpfulness, and for introducing me to some good Oklahoma bike-loving locals. Its been a real pleasure staying in your delightfully cool house, and I really hope you get to do that ride in New Zealand next year, so we can meet again on MY little patch of dirt. You're an awesome rider, a real machine head, and my wish for you is that you always stay upright, safe, and happy, and never stop doing what you love to do.

Max signs off, mulling over the chances of making it out the door tomorrow morning with Denise's LOOOOVELY!!!!! pink and black riding jacket...

OKLAHOMA!

2007-08-07T20:58:00.000-07:00

After leaving Kathy and Red Dog this morning, I made my way west out of Arkansas along Route 412 to Oklahoma City via Springdale (huge, hideous traffic-light zone I thought I'd never get out of) and Tulsa. I arrived in Oklahoma City by 5pm, phoned Denise and waitied for her to come get me, which she did, and she took me out out for dinner to Toby Keith's Bar and Grill, in a huge old converted warehouse in Bricktown, in the downtown area. I was served with the biggest rack of ribs I've ever seen in my life. Afterwards, we went to see the memorial garden dedicated to those affected by the Oklahoma Bombing in 1995, which is something I've wanted to see ever since I heard it had been built. Seeing all the illluminated chairs reflected in the water, one for each of the victims, the statue erected opposite, of Jesus weeping, and the trinkets, messages and photographs hung on the rails outside the garden, left by the grieving friends and relatives of the men, women and children killed in that act of random senselessness, was a very sobering experience that I'll never forget.

Eureka!

2007-08-07T20:36:00.000-07:00

A really lovely ride today took us through Arkansas' Ozark Mountain region, which included a pitstop at the old soda house in Calico Rock, and a look at the Wolf House (above). We stopped in the middle of the Ozark National Forest to have lunch in Gastons restaurant which overlooks the beautiful White River. Unusually, the place is full of bicycles, hung from the ceiling (!), and the restaurant is dominated by the stunning panoramic view of the river, from floor to ceiling picture windows, where you can sit and eat and watch people in boats fishing and pottering about on the river, and the loveliest thing of all is the little dishes of treats hung outside the windows for the hummingbirds to come and take. They are delightful little birds to watch as they flit about. The food was good there! If I'm ever in that region again, its a must re-visit!

After lunch we carried on with a lovely afternoon ride, and spent the night in the historic town of Eureka Springs.

We ended up in the Cat House (read- historic whore house!!!) where the beer flowed, the steaks were amazing, the locals were game to party, and a great time was had by all.

The very lovely Kathy, who can charm the birds right out of the trees, had the locals driving us all over town, and after enough beer we even had Red Dog dancing!!! I found it a little sad when it came time to say goodbye to those two lovely people. They had gone out on several limbs for me, and had shown me their Arkansas - a hidden jewel in America's heartland that I had previously known nothing about. They have told me I'll get the chance to do the same for them when they turn up in New Zealand. They have no idea how much I'm looking forward to that.

2007-08-06T07:56:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of Kathy and Red Dog, my hosts for the last couple of days. I wanted everyone to see this picture as I think it shows them in their true light - happy and doing what they love best. THANK YOU, guys for the angels that you are and the other angels around you that you shared with me. My life has been enriched by spending time with you and your friends and family, and the hospitality extended to me by all of you has been extraordinary. I look forward to seeing you in New Zealand, and having the opportunity to reciprocate! Don't leave it too long!!!

AT&T

2007-08-06T07:39:00.000-07:00

While in San Francisco last month I went to a very nice young man in a little AT&T mall kiosk to ask him about a pay as you go sim card for my mobile phone. AT&T are internationally known, and I figured I was doing the right thing by getting one of their cards. The one he sold me, he assured me, would give me national coverage. Hmmm. Not really... While AT&T merge with Cingular and all kinds of teething problems ensue, coverage is random and unpredictable, and I can't stop my bike on any freeways en route to anywhere to see if I have coverage. I check it at stopping points and since I left the East coast there's usually been no signal. However, as everyone around the world has that number now, and its got about thirty US dollars credit on it, I'm not about to change it with only a month left to run. Those of you trying to contact me by phone will just have to bear with me, please, until such time as I get west enough to get better coverage to respond in any way at all, which I have been assured will happen. All I can say is keep watching the blog for updates, and when I can I will send texts out.

Hot Summer Night!

2007-08-05T19:31:00.000-07:00

Hello from Arkansas! This picture was taken about an hour ago while I was in the pool with Kim and Kathy, at a barbecue at Kim and Chad's in Mountain Home, West Arkansas (correction -Central North Arkansas, I'm told). Today has been one of relaxation, cool tubs, carp fishing, barbecues and smiles. Jay, the angel that rescued me last night, has checked over the Bomb and pronounced her fit for the next leg of the journey, and all things loose have been tightened and battened down. Oil has been topped up, filter has been checked, and tomorrow its back on the road with Red Dog and Kathy as escorts as far as Eureka Springs, West Arkansas. I have been given clothes by the lovely Kim and the equally lovely Amy, to replace what got burned in yesterday's fire, and we've driven though some really amazing scenery today, including Norfolk Lake and the dam at its head. What a day! The ankle is rested now, too, and I'm raring to go.

The Tennessee Three...

2007-08-05T08:32:00.000-07:00

It was with much relief that I left the state of Tennessee yesterday, after a few days there with plenty of drama. The spill on Cherry earlier in the week when I arrived in the state was the first thing to hit me. I sprained my ankle quite badly, although I never realised it until later in the day, and it really didn't help that it took a full 36 hours to be able to get a bandage on it. The second thing was yesterday, after I'd topped up Cherry's oil, and was too distracted to remember to put the bung back in before I set off. I left it in the driveway of the place I was staying at, and drove ten miles to a gas station to find, of course, oil everywhere, the bike covered and smoking with it, and of course I couldn't ride back to get the bung and couldn't get anyone back at the house I'd left (just ten minutes earlier!!!) to answer the phone. I was pretty much stranded and panicking and, in the end, a Kind Stranger (No.1) and his wife saw what was happening and took me the 20 mile round trip back to get the bung and go back to the gas station.

I got cleaned up, hit the road, then a few hours later, in rolls number three... one of my leather saddlebags caught fire and ended up totalled at the side of the freeway, along with its contents, which luckily didn't amount to more than a few items of clothing etc. The saddlebag hadn't been sitting on the exhaust but a few inches above it, and as I'd come very many miles already with no drama on that score, it never occurred to me that any oil would have sprayed up onto the underside of it, after the episode with the bung. It did, of course, and acted as a heating agent, as oil tends to do. The saddlebag would have got progressively hotter until the contents ignited, which was inevitable, as some of it was synthetic flamable fabric. A car overtook me with a woman gesticulating wildly at me, but they didn't stop. They simply carried on and left me to it, so I pulled over onto the hard shoulder and noticed the bag smouldering away with flames licking out of the bottom of the bag. After a few seconds where I felt suspended in a stunned state of disbelief, I acted quickly to take off the frame pack that sat on top of the saddle bags' interlacing straps, and unlaced the bags, whipped off the burning one, and laid it on the side of the road to smoulder away from the bike and the rest of my gear. That was a task straightforward enough, and I felt a lot better after I'd made sure the fire couldn't spread. The big problem was trying to get ANYONE to stop and help me! I'd used up all the water I 'd started out with, to keep me hydrated as I was riding. I tried to get at least two dozen cars to stop, but nobody would, even though they could all clearly see what was happening. I thought if someone stopped quickly with some water, I could maybe save some of what was in the bag. It felt like a nightmare, trying to get anyone to stop. I was just beyond a slip-road too, and cars were slowing right down to pull off, but still none of them came to help. Just as I was shrugging my shoulders, and resigning myself to having to write off the entire contents of the bag and figure out how to repack everything to continue, Kind Stranger number two did an illegal u-turn on the freeway and pulled up behind me. He leapt out of his truck and used lemonade to put out the fire. I was game enough to open the bag at that point, and I managed to rescue just a couple of things, but we came to the conclusion that the bag itself and most of what was inside it was toast (so to speak!). He helped me to repack my remaining stuff safely back onto the bike, made sure I was ok, and waited until I set off before he did another illegal u-turn to resume his own journey. He was from Arkansas. Not Tennessee. Nobody from Tennessee would stop, which I found incredible, but he was from Arkansas, and he did, and he wasn't surprised that nobody else did. He told me that there's a lot of crime in the area where I'd stopped, and people are just too suspicious of others to want to help them. I was disgusted about that, and incredibly grateful to him for stopping and helping in the most practical ways possible. I pulled away and left the saddlebag on the freeway grass verge, with the contents wrecked beyond saving, rode with relief out of what had started to feel like a pretty hostile Tennessee, across the border into Missouri. I was philosophical about the loss, apart from mourning the demise of my beloved black and gold paisley velvet and lace dress that scrunches into a tight ball and always comes out of a bag looking shiny and gleaming and fabulous. Not this time, it didn't. It was a tangled, melted lump of smoking, holey, blackened fabric. Its an irreplaceable item, and I was totally gutted. But, mindful of the fact that it could all have been horribly, hideously worse, I just resolved to keep my eye out for something similar in the future, and put the whole experience behind me. I did actually laugh, when I remembered dragging out several pairs of lacy undies in pretty much the the same condition.

And did things get better? Not immediately, no. Gas stations off the freeway in that part of Missouri are few and far between. I picked up a signpost to a gas station, left the freeway to look for it, and when I found it, several precious reserve-tank miles away from anywhere else I could get help, it was derelict and boarded up. U-turn, on the last thimble-full of fuel, to cough up to a farmhouse, where the third Kind Stranger of the day gave me water and gas. I'd called in there to ask directions, because I was pretty disoriented at that point, with no clue where the nearest gas station could possibly be that I could make it to, and she refused to take any money. Instead, she plonked me into a knackered old golf cart and drove me around the back of the farmhouse to the gasoline tank, filled a container, and drove me back down the long driveway back to my bike, with two bottles of water as well.

Luckily, this was one rare place where I could get mobile phone coverage, so I called Red Dog and Kathy to let them know what had been happening. I made it to their place in Arkansas after dark, having been met 100 miles down the road by Jay, Red Dog's mate on his beauuuutiful bright yellow beamer and escorted back. As I rolled up the driveway, splattered with bugs and with wobbly knees after negotiating their gravel driveway in the dark (me and gravel aren't best buddies, even in daylight!), and quite traumatized by a long day of thoroughly surreal experiences, a bunch of people there in the driveway were leaping up and down, waving, cheering and holding out their arms to me. I got off the bike to huge hugs, an ice cold beer, a garage area for Cherry and a hot bowl of spaghetti - the first thing I'd eaten all day. That welcome was extraordinary, and much appreciated. All those beaming faces, with every single person just waiting to hug me, is something I won't forget. I had to pinch myself toconvince myself I'd actually made it! Today is Sunday. I'm doing very little today, apart from letting Jay check the bike over, resting the ankle, and hanging out with these nice people at this lovely house, where Red Dog has been known to stroll out of the den into the carport and shoot a venison dinner without having to go any further. There's a small lake on the property that is stuffed with fish (Kathy is a keen fisherwoman), and there's a cold tub in the garden! During the week they call Dog Days here - the hottest of the year - what a blessing that tub is. I'm headed there right now!

Yeah! I Do Know Jack!!!

2007-08-04T05:10:00.000-07:00

The historic little town of Lynchburg, Tennessee, is the original and surprisingly low-key home of Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey, and it is still made here, in refreshingly understated fashion, from the originally filtered springwater that it started out from - the purest water in the world. Nothing needs to be done to treat it in any way at all. The tour took us all over the plant, nestled into the Lynchburg hillside, where the process - which is surprisingly simply, but long - was explained. The end result is... well... I guess those who are interested already know! It was a fascinating experience, especially the bit about Jack coming to work one morning, being unable to open the safe, kicking it, getting gangerine in his foot, never recovering from it and dying 4 years later from blood poisoning. Ironically, it is said that had he stuck the offending foot in a nearby vat of what starts off as 140 proof whiskey, it would have cured it. He died at 61, unmarried but very much a ladies man, by all accounts - even at just 5'2' tall he was evidently quite a package - having made and sold whiskey since age 13. The distillery was left to languish, decay and rust for 29 years of Prohibition before being ressurected by Jack's visionary nephew (then in his late sixties), to whom Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey owes its survival. Various warehouses and holding facilities in the immediate area hold around 7 million gallons of JD at any one time, in various stages of fermentation. Its all farmed out for bottling now, too, as the plant is not equipped to deal with the volume. All that is bottled on site now are the special reserves, hand bottled, hand labelled, and hand packed. Samples are not available anymore, and its a "dry county" but the Company has been recognised as historically and commercially significant enough to have had special legislation written for them to be able to sell a very small amount at the visitor centre. But, in the nearby town, the little square - charming in its originality - hosts shops bulging at the seams with JD merchandise, including the whiskey itself. Huge thanks go to Avery and Keith for taking me down there, for what will no doubt linger, in my memory, as one of the most fascinating experiences I'm likely to have on this whole trip.

RE-TAYLE FERAPY...

2007-08-03T05:38:00.000-07:00

Oh Lord, its hard to be blinkered... when there's shoe sales on, every which way...

Nan's two daughters took me shopping yesterday. They succeeded in LOSING ME!!!!! in a vast shopping mall, for more than an hour and a half, which was an adventure in itself, and made me feel worryingly like the small kid whose mother tells it to STAY WHERE YOU ARE!!!!!!!!!!! AND DON'T PANIC!!!!!!!!! IF YOU GET LOST!!!!!!! BECAUSE I WILL FIND YOU!!!!!!!!!!! and that actually didn't work very well at all, as it turned out, because they were charging around like headless chickens at one end of this mall while I was loitering at the other. However, with a relief that nearly made us all cry, we all found one another in the end, and while looking for them, I did feel quite safe, guided gently by The Hand (y'all know the one...), which only hauled me into a few places in all. Several interesting purchases later (including two pairs of shoes and one pair of boots, she-said-very-quickly-so-that-everyone-would-be-convinced-they'd-misheard-what-she-said) we headed for a pub that served, to my delight, Newky Brown, and we had a swift recharge of batteries before heading home, where I promptly got boomeranged back out again by Nan herself who, having finally been able to offload the grandchildren, took me out to The Huddle House in Shelbyville for coffee so we could talk in peace about some important but all-good stuff.

Tennessee Traumas

2007-08-01T06:31:00.000-07:00

Another long day, too long really, and I'm aiming not to repeat being on the road for pretty much twelve straight hours! I made it to Nancee's place just south of Nashville, after riding a long day in heavy traffic on the Interstate 81/40. The circumnavigation around the city of Knoxville was particularly hair-raising, and the freeway was five lanes wide in places there. I was pretty relieved to put that behind me! By the end of the day I was exhausted, reaction times probably at zero, and luckily Nan came out to get me from where I'd pulled off at the Kangaroo gas station north of Murfreesboro, so I could follow here to her house (which I was otherwise unlikely to find through a combination of exhaustion and it going dark, and her living on a back country road). It took her a long time to find me though, and by the time she did I was on the tail end of my very last reserves of energy. Riding behind her pick-up, following her home, I genuinely felt that I was putting myself at serious risk by riding so tired, and I never want to feel like that again. A freak, five-minute downpour had caught me, earlier in the day, too, which led to a bit of a "whoops!". I'd come off the freeway to find shelter and get my rain grear on, and just as I was pulling into a gas station, down we both went, bike and rider, on an oil slick heading into the entrance-way. BOOM! No warning. Never saw THAT one coming!!! I was nearly stopped by that time, so no harm was done, apart from a slightly skewed handlebar and light sprain on my right ankle, but it taught me something about maneouvering in the wet at low speed with a heavy load on. Even after the fact, while I was riding out of there a few minutes later, I felt the slippery surface snatching at the wheels, it was like riding on an ice rink, and it made me wonder how many other bikes had gone down there, and likely would, before the day was out. I just didn't see the oil thru the pouring rain, no way I could have.
It was great to see Nan, and I wasn't at my best, (read - on the verge of exhausted hysteria at the prospect of having to ride any further) but she hugged me anyway and escorted me home, where I collapsed in an uncommunicative heap. I dredged up enough energy to unpack the bike, had a bath and a half hour chat with Nan before I literally lost the ability to function and crawled off to bed. I'm going to be here for a few days, just to recharge, rest the little ankle - which isn't swollen but throbs like an SOB - and give the bike the once-over before continuing on to Arkansas. I've been promised a shopping day with Nan and her daughters. Mental note to injured little self - remain sitting down while trying on shoes!

Virginia

2007-08-01T04:41:00.000-07:00

On Monday I had the most joyous ride of my whole life, in three decades of riding. After I left Sue and Terri at Frederick (after a mad dash to replace my wet-weather riding trousers which I'd burned and melted on the exhaust about 6 different times while refilling Cherry's gas tank), I headed south out of Maryland towards the state of Virginia, en route to Tennessee. At one point just inside the Virginia border, I crossed over the Potomac River, which is rather unusual in geological formation and quite spectacular, amd then rode alongside it for a short distance. I then dropped down to enter to Shenandoah National Park and pick up the Skyline Drive, a hundred or so miles of spectacular, winding road, incredibly well maintained, and punctuated at various points along the way with overlooks of the stunning Shenandoah Valley. The Skyline Drive is the perfect name for that road, which really did feel to me like riding towards the sky. It wasn't crowded, and Cherry and I danced our way happily down the length of it in perfect weather. At one point I came across a young doe, just out of infancy, all leggy and beautiful. I saw her in enough time to slow right down and watch her as she sauntered into the road as if she owned it (which she probably thinks she does) and she only got spooked when I slowed right down and the sound of the engine changed. Still, she didn't rush off, even then. She just zig zagged around 60 yards away and stopped to stare at me. She was so gorgeous. Seeing here made my day. The roadsides all the way down the Drive were also littered with dancing butterflies and slow-circling hawks. At the end of that, I pulled into a gas station to get us both a well-earned drink - oil for her and water for me - and we then continued on where the Skyline Drive becomes the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The mountain ranges seemed to go on for many miles, ridge upon ridge, for as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking. I took that route also, as far as Buena Vista, where I spied a motel with several bikes parked up and decided to call it an early one and relax. It was around 5.30 and I had thoughts of going on to Roanoke but those bikes meant company, and relaxation. So, I made an executive decision, checked in, unpacked my girl, found a liquor store, got some food and sat on the verandah outside my room. I'd not long got settled when a huge rainstorm came in, soaking poor little Cherry completely, and there was no way of sheltering her from it. I actually couldn't bring myself to go inside and leave her out there in the pouring rain all on her own, after we'd had such a spectacular day, so I sat as close to her as I could, under cover, sipping my beer, until the rain stopped. I met four different couples on bikes that were staying there, along with Nick from Kentucky and Don from Florida, who were also travelling solo, and we sat together a while and chatted about the trips we were doing, the reasons why, and our lives and people and pets we love back home. It was a civilized and sociable end to a perfect day.

Pennsylvania and the Motel Saddam

2007-07-29T16:03:00.000-07:00

I spent 10 hours yesterday on what I thought would be a four-five hour ride south on the 219 from Brativa, where I spent the night after seeing Niagra Falls. Was hoping to get to Frederick, west of Baltimore, but although Pennsylvania is stunningly beautiful, with forests and valleys and lovely little towns filled with old verandah-d clapboard cottages, my impression was a little tempered by the fact that half the state seems to be completely torn apart by roadworks. It was a battle to get through it and after getting lost for over an hour on a detour that took me to a place I thought I'd never get back out of, I gave up trying to push through on the 219, and took the I80 eastbound to join the I81 and drop down from there. It was a long ride, althoug pretty, but I had to admit defeat and give up at 9pm and, exhausted, I hauled in for the night three hours shy of my proposed destination, after contacting Sue to let her know I wasn't gonna make it. Anyone travelling south on the Interstate 81 who wants to treat themselves to an Unusually Hideous Experience should pull off at Frackville and go into the budget motel right by the freeway exit, and meet Andrea. She gains my personal award for being The Most Unhelpful Person In America. She's a chinless, miserable, middle-aged slab of a woman, long since stripped of the ability to smile, and she goes out of her way to be hostile and unwelcoming. It may have something to do with the fact that she appears to be working for terrorists, and it wasn't until after I'd handed over my money that I noticed a huge photograph of Saddam Hussein, sitting on a throne, with a little shrine thing built around it, at the back of the office. At first I thought it was a tongue in cheek sort of thing, until I raised my eyes a little higher and discovered that the name of the hotel propreitor was something long, unpronounceable and bloody middle eastern. Probably a relative. The little gut was saying, Oh, shyte, Maxy, this SO aint the best place to be! The exhausted gut said, Well, whatever happens, you'll handle it. It was too late to look for anything else, and I was too tired to even try. While vaguely wondering whether my tourist dollar was somehow funding some terrorist cause, I chained Cherry Bomb to a concrete post, took photographs of that in case I needed to show an insurance company...

and while I was doing it a greasy, stringy Mexican lad, who for whatever obscure reason thought I would find him attractive, sidled up and propositioned me. I told him to go away (a shade or ten less politely than that, actually), and I slept with a chair wedged under the doorknob of my room, got up through the night to check the Bomb was actually still there, and got the hell out of that place as soon as I could first thing this morning. Huge thanks to my Daddy for tearing me from sleep with a 6am phone call. It was exactly what I needed to get me moving, once I'd woken up fully. I hit the highway soon after, chortling hugely to myself while riding away, thinking about that sad shrine to Saddam, and about how much better my life was at that moment, riding in the warm sun, free and happy, than that of the comically miserable Andrea.
I headed south on the I81 again and had an easy three-hour ride as far as Frederick ,Maryland, where I parked up at McDonalds and drank a small vat of coffee while waiting to hook up with Sue and her friend Terri - aka Mutt & Jeff. Sue didn't take very much strong-arming at all, into ringing in sick for the following morning so they didn't have to head home to Baltimore. I was happy about that, because it felt like I'd pulled off a real mission to get to meet up with her at all, and it had to be worth more than a couple of hours. After a couple of logistical, tactical phone calls, Sue relaxed into the whole truancy thing, and she and Terri waved a bottle of home-made Kahlua at me. At around the same time, a huge crack of thunder ripped through the air, promising yet another electrical storm (its a good thing I like them! especially since I've ridden through several!), so we high-tailed it to a respectable motel and piled in, just as the deluge began, and we are holing up against the weather, playing on the laptop, drinking wine and khalua, swapping silly stories of our mis-spent youth, and various stupid men we've wasted our time on, and scoffing fat pizzas. Terri gets most of the wine, purely for medicinal purposes, as she's hurt her back. Sue and I are drinking the rest in full, dedicated support of Terri's injury. Honestly, that girl just HAS to stop swinging from the chandeliers...

Anyway, the combo of ice and wine seems to be working a treat for all of us, hehehe.

The beautiful Bomb is parked under shelter right outside the window next to my bed...

In the last two days she has brought me 700kms. What a star.

Niagra Falls

2007-07-28T06:39:00.000-07:00

I left Candy and Eric around midday after lunch at an old-style diner in the small town of Dolgeville. Thank you Candy, honey, for your gifts - the hospitality, the kisses from your puppies, the hugs, the tank full of gas, and for lunch. Here we are, you and me, at the entrance to the I90 freeway, and aren't you just gorgeous???

Thanks also to Eric, who is lovely, and who I'm sure you're gonna have some great fun riding with. After leaving I headed west on Toll route (ouch!) 90 and made it all the way through to Niagra Falls, after riding at high speeds through thunder and forked lightning, rain so hard I couldn't see through it, with the bike sputtering and backfiring and threatening to die all the way to the next set of services. That was seriously unpleasant, but still preferable to the rigmarole of exiting the freeway to try and find shelter, which involved having to haul the bike out of the way till I found money with wet hands to pay the dollar-grabbing toll booth people, while impatient cage-dwellers in their dry warm cages tooted and ranted at me from behind, only to go through the whole miserable process again coming back on again. After doing that a couple of times and deciding it was a bit of a mug's game, as was trying to smile my way through the look of disgust each toll booth operator gave me when I handed them a soggy, dripping dollar note, I decided to tough it out, grit my teeth and ride through the crap until the weather cleared and came nice again, which it did. It was heading east, that storm, and while I was relieved at the sun coming over, I did wonder about whether Candy and Eric had made it home without getting wet. (I later found out that they'd had as bad a time as I did, and ended up looking like a couple of drowned rats by the time they got home).

The Niagra Falls are spectacular, everything I dreamed of, and the ride in there across the bridge that spans the neck of Lake Erie was stunning. I hit the truck route into Niagra - unmaintained, potholed all to hell, cracked and pretty scary, as were the abandoned, gutted buildings and scruffy motels, but there wasn't much traffic so it was a quick route in , and I took it back out again, even though it felt wierdly like I imagine it would feel riding through downtown Beiruit. I did take photos which I will load as soon as I get the opportunity, so keep an eye on this post in the next day or two. The overcommercialisation at Niagra was overwhelming, and it included a ten dollar charge just to park my little bike!!! I refused to pay that. Instead, I hauled her onto the sidewalk next to a hotdog stand and told the guy I'd be happy to pay him ten dollars to watch her for half an hour which was what the car park vultures wanted to charge me for NOT watching her at ALL, and he smiled and said yes, and that lovely man refused to take my money. After seeing the Falls, I felt a very real need to put that place and the huge, industrial, impossibly busy sprawl of Buffalo behind me, even tho it was already 7.45pm, so I ducked into the Hard Rock Cafe, as I am wont to do (having been on an International Hard Rock Cafe pub crawl for over a decade now),

and left with a space-saver souvenir - a limited edition HRC Niagara bike badge with revolving wheels (much more cool, more appropriate and far less hazardous than the usual ten-inch tall Hurricane Cocktail Glass!). I then headed south, back across that incredible bridge, where I got to see the most amazing view of Lake Erie, whose opposite shoreline wasn't even discernible, and I somehow missed my Route 219 turnoff south. I put it down to tiredness from ten hours on the road. So, I hauled off the freeway at Batavia, paid the bloody toll, again, like a good girl always does, found an over-priced motel (as it turned out, the most expensive I paid for on the whole trip at $140US), took a much-needed shower, made a couple of reassurance phone calls, and went to bed. My lovely girl brought me 450kms yesterday without a whimper after The Gas Incident, and she's waiting for me now. She was parked up alongside a couple of big cruisers all night so she was in good company. I wonder what bikes talk about when they're left in a group to their own devices? "Hi, I'm Cherry Bomb, from New Zealand". "Hi Cherry, you're cute. I'm Vulcan Violet, and this is Tangerine, and we're from Massachusetts. I suspect you have a very nice engine, Cherry. Show me yours,and I'll show you mine. Tange is a bit shy, he'll need some lubrication before he'll feel confident enough to show you his".

Anyway, all mad musings aside, its time for breakfast with lots of coffee, goodbye to the free internet, and off I go.

"Bad Apple Gas"

2007-07-28T06:11:00.000-07:00

No, not the Cat Stevens version - the Sunoco version I purchased off the Interstate 90 near Syracuse New York. There are 4 grades of gasoline here, and old cheapskate me thought we'd get by on the low stuff. WRONG!!! My girl had a tantrum, decided to stop running, had to be sweet-talked into running again, and only settled down and started being nice for me when I went a grade up. She called the shots yesterday - lesson learned.

She's left port...

2007-07-26T19:37:00.000-07:00

Ayuh, she's walked around the wheelhouse and left port.. Madam and I rode out escort to Woodstock Vt where a few tears were shed.. I expect my part is just about a done deal now, and will likely resign to the comments sections as I maintain following as best we can on the trips and the events...

Max rode off with a bit of love in her pocket from this place deep in my woods... She will be missed by the dogs, Gordon Madam Gwyn and myself Mac... Maybe in the turns of event in life we will meet again somewhere.. Anyway I'ld like ta' think so.... She sure would always be more than welcomed back again, just lets all hope not too soon...

We made a similar trip and so we understand the why's, and know the stress of a long days ride too... The bike seems sound from my points of view. There may be some wear and tear items that will need attention on the way. Ft brake pads might be one. The charging system is working well, and so I am not worried about that.

I'ld like to see that ft tire air pressure checked often untill it is known to hold air pressure. My concern was assuming it had proper pressure in NZ and only had 7 psi here, that the tube might be old and perhaps weak.... The tires themselves look good, as does the rest of the bike..

A rear brake adjustment was found needing which was done and is easy needing no tools...

Max... We wish you the best luck, and may Gods speed take you through clean.... Love Mac and Gwyn.

Upstate New York

2007-07-26T17:36:00.000-07:00

I made it to NY State, after a seven hour ride from New Hampshire, thru Vermont (but south this time) in beautiful weather. Across three hundred-odd kms, nobody pulled out in front of me, nobody did anything to freak me out, I didn't do anything to freak anyone ELSE out, and I only got lost for about an hour finding Candy's house. Great stuff... she lives in a very charming cottage in the countryside not far from Saratoga Springs. And she has three dogs. Hooray! She also, it is worth noting here for anyone who thinks a shoe obsession is outside of the regular, has not one, not two, but TEN pairs of cowboy boots! The woman is as crazy as I am, in fact she's worse. I only have four pairs of cowboy boots. Hmmm.. something (the voice tht goes with The Hand?) is telling me that maybe I should work on that... Especially since her feet are far too big for it to be worth me trying to make off with any of hers.

To Macster and Gorgeous...

2007-07-26T04:59:00.000-07:00

Well, its time to go, and its not as easy as I thought it would be, after all this time. Half of me champs at the bit to finally get underway, the other half wants to stay in the woods with y'all, where life is simple, you get to take care of things (and people!) around you quickly and efficiently, every day you get to wake up to the most amazing array of birdsong, the surroundings are spectacular, and there's so much love around here I can feel it in my bones now. I'm riding away from you, but I know the love comes with me. What can I tell you? Thank you? Seems like such an inadequate couple of words to try and diffuse this huge lump in my throat or ease the tightness in my chest at NOT having the right words, or ENOUGH words, or some damn thing. There are very few people in this world that I would crawl a mile over broken glass to get to if I had to, and there's even fewer of those I'd even say it to, but you are two of them. I love you guys. There's a piece of my heart that belongs to you both now, and that will always be. I'm crap at goodbyes. But this isn't goodbye, anyway. Its only see you later. Asta la vista, babies. In the meantime, if you can do some mini clones of yourselves and post yourselves to me somewhere on the road, let me know. I'll find room for you in the sadddlebags somewhere(next to the dogs - don't tell Gordon!). xxx

The Good, the Bad, and the Very Very Ugly

2007-07-25T19:25:00.000-07:00

The Good is that the Bomb is set to go tomorrow morning and we should be in Albany New York at Candy's place by tea time. I'm looking forward to that. There are puppies there.... The test ride went well today, all is fantastic, after a twelve hour battery charge, and in the heat of the New Hampshire summer, where the pavement shimmers, it was a really nice feeling to ride with just a cami top on, albeit with leather jeans and boots. I called into a local Honda shop and bought some vented gloves today, as the leather ones I brought with me are WAAAAAYYY too hot. Its only gonna get warmer as I head west, so maybe the leather jacket will end up bungeed to the back of the Bomb, too. Unfortunately, however Sponge-Max-Sweaty-Pants I end up getting, the leather jeans and boots won't be negotiable. I'm not that crazy.
The Bad is that I must leave Gwyn and Mac, Gordon and the very beautiful Lucy-dog and Evie dog, both of whom have puppykissed me almost to death since I've been here. They know I'm leaving tomorrow, so they have long little faces, and tenfold cuddles. Its like walking away from your family, and it will be hard to do. Mac and Canuck are going to ride with me as far as Vermont, which is nice, and then I'm left to my own devices which will be a little scary, but exciting. Its what I came for, after all. Let me at that highway!!!
The Very Very Ugly is the fact that although I invited the timewasting negligent losers I shipped my bike with from New Zealand to make good on their F**K UP and refund the twelve hundred bucks or so that I paid them in good faith for what's turned out to be a shambles of a service, which any company worth its salt would acknowledge, their managing director (no capital letters deresved here, folks) has elected not to do that, opting to ignore the consequences of his company's incompetence instead. Their argument, pathetic as it is, is that they already coughed up extra to get the Bomb trucked when she "should have been railed". Yeah, whatever. Open a**, insert head. If it goes up far enough, the words "breach of contract" aren't even heard, are they?
But in spite of all that shyte, we're mobile, we're on the move, me and the Cherry Bomb. Next stop, New York State. We've just had a farewell dinner of lobster and champagne. What a way to launch!!!!!!!

Oop's! callouse Yankee..or

2007-07-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

Big pirate.

Har' mates

Seems Max saw the .62 calibur brass barrel flintlock pistol I build from shop scrap, and JUNK, but missed the fact I am a pirate! So what's ta' be done now? Shall we 'ave her walk the plank? Ahh, but then thar's no sence wastin nuthin is there? Maybe I can swipe her chocolates stash.

Max dear, would ye be 'avin any valuables you'ld like me ta' hold fer safe keepin's?

Now even if I wasn't a pirate with more salt water runnin my veins than blood, who, and I mean just who???? Is gonna believe my tail over hers when it comes to shoes shoppin? You just chew on that awhile and w'll see ...

THUNDER THIEF!!!!

2007-07-25T05:23:00.000-07:00

Rotten ugly fat swine, taking away my moment, like that... HOW COULD YOU???? Where's that damn Ruger??? Anyway, the MacMan - who will definitely keep until such time as I choose to deal with him - is quite correct. After hearing that Cherry was on her way from New York through the night, to a location not too far from here (Londonderry, New Hampshire) we set off yesterday with the van and trailer to collect her. The sight of the crate sitting there in their warehouse, with no damage to it at all (which has been the enduring nightmare since this whole hideous debacle started unfolding), and ready to rock and roll with me, brought the biggest lump to my throat that I've had in a long time. I'VE GOT MY LOVELY OLD FRIEND BACK!!!!! (No, Macster, I don't mean you, right now...). As I write this Cherry is reassembled, battery charged, and almost ready for action. We're going for a test ride this afternoon, and all things being equal I'll be on the highway tomorrow. The crate withstood intensive handling and movement across 8 thousand miles, by any number of forklifts, trucks, winches, chains and Mac-manhandling; and all that had broken loose was one of the two support chains hooking her in place from the bottom of the crate. She hadn't moved an inch. That is testimony to the meticulous reconstruction done by Kerry in Nelson. Thank you honey, you done good!
As for the shopping, you will all be gobsmacked to know that there were NO shoes involved, and the shopping wasn't even for me! AND it only took fifteen minutes, so please don't listen to this mad, ranting individual here - who, incidentally, is about to be torn unceremoniously from his soapbox BIGSTYLE, about thirty one seconds from when I sign out of here - because he's the sort of man who would complain very loudly if his a** was on fire and somebody pi**ed on him to put the fire out, and I've had just about enough of his bare faced cheek and trying to hijack this one-woman iron pony show, for one month. Heaven help me, I love the damn fool anyway, so I won't be whipping him more than sixty times today. And, no thanks to the incompetence of those who for now still remain namless (but who know who they are), but huge thanks to the magnificent team of movers and shakers between LA and New Hampshire (who also know who they are), the two-wheeled adventure begins...

Ha Ha beatcha' to it!

2007-07-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

Well today began with the Max wiggling like a very happy dawg.. I mean all wiggley.. The news was the bike was really in Manchester, well on the line to Londonderry if you must be particular.

So off we went and picked it up.. Now bein' a guy last time I checked, I had the idea getting the bike was the thing to be done and get it back here pronto, but guys just don't get it, when a woman is involved so we got the bike alrighty, but then we went shoes shoppin... Well that's a little lie as it really wasn't shoes shoppin but it could have been if I hadn't been so stern... or is that aft?

After a decent luch on the road we arrived at camp, and the girls helped unload the crate and again went shoppin', which is a good thing as I have no need to talk about the "How To" when it really doesn't matter to anyone who just wants the end product anyway, and that is exactly what we have.

The bike is all set except adjusting the handle bars and the mirrors and the battery is on a auto charger and demanding current... I am not so sure I like the condition of the ft brake pads, but they have some life. I gave the caliper a bit of excercise which it liked too..

Oh yes I bought a 12 volt power take off to wire in which is best done after the battery is set... That will allow her to charge the cell phone as she rides in case the bloomin thing ever works...

Lipstick Laydeez Let Loose in Vermont...

2007-07-23T07:46:00.000-07:00

Just got back from a road trip thru Vermont with the happily kidnappable Gwyn-Gorgeous (check out the shoes - cool, or WHAT???) and oh boy, did we have some fun!!! Everything from bloody marys at brunch in an antique dining railcar just on the edge of Quechee...

to clothes, perfume and shoe shopping, beer tasting at the Two Brothers Tavern and the Otter Brewery (yuuurrrmm...), a pint of ice-cream each at the Ben & Jerrys factory (urp!) , browsing in antique bookstores, spending a night in the Salubrious Motel Cockroach (every town has one, and ya gotta do it once, right? The beer definitely helped...), and generally driving, singing, enjoying the sun, and giving in to that whole oestrogen thing and jus' bein' gurlz. There's no chance of me having time anymore to see Vermont on the bike, so this was the next best thing, with great company, great weather, great music, great sights and fab food and drink. The landscape of Vermont, just over the border from New Hampshire is almost instantly completely different when you get there. Dense forests give way to rolling fields littered with gleaming silos, old barns and farmhouses, with the Green and Adirondack Mountain ranges as a stunning backdrops to the many farming communities.

Its peaceful, and beautiful, and the photo opportunities were too many to count or post. We stopped at the lovely village of Woodstock where we took refreshment in Bentley's Bar, a historical pub on the corner of the main street, where everything was lopsided, antique and charming, before heading north, and did a road loop that took us up past Otter Creek Brewery, thru the Green Mountains, thru the Mad River ski area, and on to Ben and Jerry's Ice-cream factory. While passing, trying to ignore what our weaker selves were whispering to us, the Hand That Plagues Me appeared from out of nowhere, as it tends to do, and dragged us in there for the tour and the ice-cream. (and I picked up a new MooMoo for the dog, which I know she will be greatly pleased about).

The other news is that when I checked this morning on the on-line tracking system for the bike, it appears that she is en route to Boston from Ohio now. She was moving all weekend, thankfully, and with any luck we'll be getting a phone call later to day or tomorrow telling us she is in Boston for collection. The next challenge will be to persuade the adorable but somewhat fiery Mac to leave ALL of his guns behind when we head south to pick her up. He did mutter something about carrying guns being illegal in Massachusetts, but no law prohibited the carrying of cannons. He does have a cannon; small, but impressive and very capable, I'm told. It lives in the basement by the stairs and is worryingly easily transportable to the truck. Oh dear... mental note to self... check its still sittting there when we set off, and hasn't somehow mysteriously and quietly found its way into the back of the truck... One loose canon (i.e. the one behind the wheel?) is enough on any given roadtrip, I feel.

PHHHHHHEEEEEEEWWWW!!!

2007-07-20T09:23:00.000-07:00

I think it may have been Joni Mitchell who once sang a song about a "...dead skunk in the middle of the road, stinkin' to high heaven"...

INDEED!

These little critters are impossibly cute to look at, and they do make rather nice little pets once 'de-scented', I'm told. The vast majority are, however, AU NATURELLE, which only means one thing, and if you do happen to hit a li'l skunkie-poo while beetling along, happily minding your own business, or even if you just pass by one that someone ELSE has hit, hold your nose with one hand and use the other to twist that throttle right the hell on outta there!

In the woods

2007-07-20T08:10:00.000-07:00

Yupper's we'er into the woods... Atleast in the woods we function, unlike poly tics and burro cats, who are somewhat less than useless, unless you use them as garden fertilizers....

In the woods we make do or go with out so as we ain't to likely to go with out, well we just don't...

This mornin my bride Gwyn and I got to stare down a deer peekin at the garden and if that deer has any clue as to what's good for it it will stay outta the garden... or else it will end up in the stew...

Today might be brass cat'ridge day round about here (again), and maybe the next will be black powda' day as I never use both on the same day (tad too much rain).

All we got on yesterday's ride was track stew which ain't fit for woodland dwellers like me. Max has seen some turkey here and 2 deer so far, one while on my bike! She didn't know whether or not to choke me dead on the spot or let me ride it out either... Err, well I was a tad hard on the brakes because bikes and our deer are a rather poor mix if you ask me..

Max is still Max and she gets this look when she don't get her way, anyone ever see that look?

Canuck and I took her to a "Guy's" shoe store, but she tinkered with pistols instead? Go figure huh?

Them shippers in new Zealand might just wanna move to someplace like down under, but not the warm one... You know that cooler one with winds in the 100's of miles per hour and just maybe they will die with what ever hairs they have on their alledged heads...

I know if I was one O' them, I sure would.. It's that look, ya see?

Any how Max is still suckin air and free on this side of the rock, and she hasn't yet seen all the rocks in New England yet... Don't tell er' but she's sorta becomin' like a long lost sister to me and so things are still very cool... Worse... I am gonna miss the hell outta' this gal once gone... Oh well you take a bird in the hand and let it go... If it comes back you are in good faith eh? So maybe one day this bird will return and say Hi!

With that said you all should know so long as she is stranded here, she will be cared for and fed. We will do what we can and what must be done to get this going once the bike arrives someplace on the east wet coast... Mac

NO BIKE YET

2007-07-20T07:21:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone. Apparently my Cherry Bomb only "left the LA terminal yesterday", Wednesday, (i.e. NOT Tuesday, as I was originally told, and NOT Monday as originally promised before that) so she is still closer to the west than she is to the east, and its a very big patch of dirt she is having to get across. There wasn't one single solitary truck driver in the whole of the greater Los Angeles area who wanted any weekend overtime, it seems. Go figure... As yet there's no evidence that the latest promise is any truer than any of the others, and personally I have no faith that she's on her way yet. Men got to the moon faster than this, I really don't understand it, and it is very distressing. I don't know what else to say about it, except that I'm sick to my stomach now, of being lied to and needlessly messed about, and there isn't one person who has been part of the official process to date, who has been properly informed, or straight with me, or even honest. I've met some lovely people here, in fact every single individual I have met so far this trip has been absolutely lovely. Its just a shame that they have to exist in a society that seems, from the perspective of someone who came here with the intention of enjoying it and seeing what it has to offer, to be dragged to its knees and virtually paralyzed its own beaurocracy, red tape and inefficiency. The tax-paying citizens deserve better than this, and so do the visitors. Land of the free? hmmm... Not that I'm going to get all political, even though that's what I'm at the mercy of, here. My impressions so far of the people who have shown me hospitality, generosity and friendship is one hundred percent positive. As far as anything else goes, related to people who simply want my money in exchange for a scale of inefficiency that is pretty hard to stomach in a so-called civilized and progressive society, I think you all know my opinion. All I'm trying to do is see the country! Why does it have to be this difficult?
On a brighter note, huge thanks to Canuck for buying us breakfast and showing us his part of Maine yesterday, and parts of New Hampshire I hadn't already seen. Even in the rain it was all so beautiful! That gunshop was very impressive, Canuck, I could have stayed in there all day, playing with the hardware. There were paper targets of various forms, including some of Osama Bin Laden, deer, and men holding pistols. Pesronally, I thought pictures of shipping agents to shoot at would be good too, although the real thing would be even better. I hope you got home in one piece, big fella, and not too soggy from the rain. Maybe see you at the weekend? Doesn't look like I'm going anywhere in a hurry. Keep in touch, ok?

Thanks....

2007-07-19T01:50:00.000-07:00

This message is really for Gwyn and Mac...thank you so much for taking care of Max. I know the extended stay must have been sooooo unexpected and we are all grateful to you. Also sorry to Max for not posting a message in ages - life here is same old, you aint missing much. By the way, my cb360 has a nice new seat now! Connell picked it up today, so one step nearer to being on the road again. Oh, and I bumped into Kerry tonight in the supermarket and threatened him with tea at my place (may have to sling fish n chips at him!) - he looks fine, hasn't gone crazy yet! Mind you, you can never tell....

Keep your spirits up - think of this hiccup as forced relaxation. You can get frantic when the bomb arrives! Take care sweetie, still waiting to hear from you but I guess you are still out of text range. Love Liz

WELCOME

2007-07-18T06:25:00.001-07:00

Welcome, blog visitors! You are welcome to browse this site, and to post relevant comments if you wish, and you can do so by clicking on any of the comments links, which will take you through the process. As this is a public forum it is updated and edited regularly, which includes the moderation or removal of any inappropriate content. To safeguard your own security, please do not include any personal information with any posting, such as telephone numbers, residential addresses or email addresses, unless you are comfortable with the fact that doing so will make that information available for public viewing.

CAN IT BE TRUE?????????

2007-07-17T18:11:00.000-07:00

Today, blogspotters, I finally had confirmation that the Cherry Bomb has left the warehouse in LA and is on a truck bound for Boston. YAAAAAAAAY!!!! Just as I was literally on the verge of giving up, we turned the biggest corner. There is, of course, still the hurdle of getting her across the dirt patch, which they reckon could be anything up to seven business days (I kid you not), and knowing my luck probably will be all of that, but at least things are FINALLY moving. They really did get men to the moon faster than this, you know. Hopefully the beurocratic bullsh*t is finally at an end. Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel this time isn't a train, but the headlight of my beloved bike. Keep watching.

IS IT A DOCTOR, OR IS IT A VET?

2007-07-17T07:25:00.000-07:00

In this case it was the best possible combo of both, on a day where something great happens, a blessing is randomly bestowed and another dream gets realized, with no warning at all. Purely by chance, on Mac stopping the bike to speak to friends by the roadside, one of whom was Mike, aka Doc, I ended up going for a ride in his 1960 Corvette, an award-winning "Survivor" - i.e. original EVERYTHING, nothing touched from new. Just seeing that car up close took my breath away. The privilege of riding in it brought tears to my eyes. I've always loved Corvettes. They're on the lottery list, up there with the AC Cobras and the AM Vanquishes, but I always thought the closest I'd probably ever get is my treasured die-cast model that I was given many years ago as a parting gift from Steve Mac, an ex-boyfriend who actually broke my land-speed record on an FZR Genesis at 165mph, albeit on the back (hi, sweetie! xx). Steve loved that Corvette model but he knew I loved it more. It, like him, is a piece of the jigsaw puzzle that makes up the picture of my life, and yesterday's ride in the real McCoy fits right in there alongside it. Thank you, Doc, for an extraordinary opportunity I'll never forget. For that brief snapshot in time, out there on the highway, life couldn't have got much better. See you in Idaho, hon.

The Hawgs Pen Cafe Bar NH

2007-07-17T07:17:00.000-07:00

We called in here on Saturday night to look around and have a couple of beers (make mine a Corona with lime...) and discovered that one of the things they do in this really interesting place dedicated to Hog riders, aside from hosting live rock bands and pouring beer from a custom-made bowser made from a massive Harley engine that sits there on the bar in all its chromed and gleaming glory, is display dollar bills that people have written on, all over the walls inside. Oh, Lordy me, I had to do it!!!

TRIP MASCOTS

2007-07-17T07:04:00.000-07:00

The mascots have recently informed me that they are over their jetlag now and are managing their disappointment, at us still not being on the road yet as a team, to the degree where they now feel ready to make an appearance. So, here they are...

To the left, we have The Right Honourable Rupert Bear who has, in various beloved forms, been with me all of my life. Next to him is a very special little man who was made especially for me, by my truly lovely and incredibly gifted friend Michelle, to bring on this trip (she was at my house the night before I left New Zealand, frantically trying to get his ears sewn up in time!). I've named him Bourbon. These little mates of mine are keeping me company along the way, and they may well be sending postcards to some of y'all, as we all go along. They wanted to say hi to everyone, and let you all know that they plan to take good care of me while we're all away.

Calling Ann in Dunedin!

2007-07-16T07:32:00.000-07:00

This entry is to Ann ("Pupface" - my Legal Beagle) - can you please email me? I don't have your email address and I need to pick your brains. The NZ shipping company sent a fax to my home detailing their Terms and Conditions, which of course I cannot read, since I am currently 6000 freakin' miles away, which I guess they kinda forgot about (standard of helpfulness remains constant, it seems!). I'm guessing that means they have their asses covered pretty tight as far as Contract Law is concerned, but I'm wondering about civil recourse under Tort Law (e.g negligence, equity?). Can you please email me so I can give you the full facts in exchange for your thoughts? My solicitor will send me a bill if I ask him, and I'm thinking you may be slightly cheaper at a couple of gallons of wine after I get back. Luv ya.

Merci Beaucoup!

2007-07-16T06:44:00.000-07:00

Big thanks and hugs to all of you who have sent emails and posted comments of encouragement and support over the last few days. It means a lot, while I sit here waiting for the wheels to turn, that so many of you care. I hope to have some positive news today or tomorrow. I really miss my lovely bike, and I hope she's ok and not actually lost, or anything. She is, after all, incredibly special, and we've been through a lot together already, so I just can't wait to see her again. It will be nice to have my clothes, too!!! Still got the neuralgia hanging around, reminding me every so often that its not too far away, but I think I've got it under control, for now anyway, thanks to continued ibuprofen. Things aren't looking any worse, at this stage. The head is still up, the smile hasn't completely disappearaed, and there IS still a window of hope. I'm still peering through it.

A MAINE Event!

2007-07-15T08:39:00.000-07:00

Bah Humbug?

Hubba Bubba?

Bananarama?

BahamaMama?

Ah... BAR HARBOUR!!!

On Thursday we saw a break in the weather and bolted across the New Hampshire border into Maine, headed for the south coast town of Bar Harbour and the Acadia National Park. This was my first view of Maine on the ocean...Thunderstorms had disappeared, the sun was shining, lobster was beckoning, and Mac was happy to take me on his bike over to the best place in America to get them. Most of you know I've had an addiction to crayfish for as long as I can remember, and whose crabsters and lobbies are the best in the world has been a lively debate across one particular forum some of you are familiar with logging into and taking part in. Well, 'Well Enuf', it wasn't as big as the one you waved at me (said the actress to the bishop!) but the one I got was pretty damn nice, and here's the evidence. I bought one for Mac and almost didn't let him have it, figuring he'd prefer his cheeseburger, but then I couldn't stand those sad puppy eyes and handed it over. Delish and worth riding all the way to Maine for. I do have to say that it wasn't quite the same as being handed one straight from the barnacled paw of a certain scuba-man (Hello Kerry!!!) but I warn't complainin'. YUUURRRMMMM.........

The before picture...

The carnage after the event...

Yes indeed, folks, there wasn't a tweezer-grabb-able shred of flesh left on this poor sucker by the time I'd finished with him (and I don't mean Mac). We got these at a place called Beale's, a lobster shack on a pier in South West Harbour on Mt Desert Island on the south coast of Maine...

You go into this place that is really nothing fancy at all and you choose a live lobbie out of a tank which they then chuck into a pot for you. After fifteen minutes they call you up to go get the poor thing, and they give it to you wrapped in paper with a pot of melted butter for dipping. I felt bad about seeing the poor old thing still waving his claws at me before being flung into the pot. But I think he would be happy knowing how much happiness he brought me. I keep on telling myself that anyway!!!!!

By the way, that thing on my head? Its a bandana. They are great for keeping your hair from rubbing into the underside lining of your helmet, and helping to minimise that whole clean hair/perspiration/greasy hair/greasy helmet lining/dandruff vicious cycle thing, but since there are no helmet laws in Maine OR in New Hampshire, and wearing them is optional, some people elect not to. Especially in hot weather. In lieu of a helmet, this "do-rag" as they're called here was a vain attempt to keep my hair from tangling into an irrecoverable birds nest, and I must say, that even in spite of 30 years of habit and safety consciousness tapping me on the shoulder all the time, it WAS kinda nice to ride with that whole freedom-wind-in-the-face feeling.

We stayed in an extremely cute little cottage in a motel complex just outside of Acadia National Park.

Apparently there used to be a whole bunch of these delightful holiday places all over the country, particularly in this area, offering these free-standing cottage units as their accommodation. Sadly, these charming, historic little structures are becoming a thing of the past, as they give way to the multi-roomed slab-like structures being favoured by motelliers keen to jam as many people onto their properties as humanly possible. The only downside of this cute place was a lack of security for Mac's bike, which we couldn't park out of sight of the road, so we covered it with clothing and hid it as best we could behind the trellis at the side of the cottage, and all was well.

We got back home Friday night and by the time we did, my hair was in an affro of frizz, and my nose was so sunburnt it glowed in the dark (no neeed for headlights!) but it was a really happy couple of days. Acadia National Park is stunning, and beautiful, and on Mac's insistence I stuck my hand in the Atlantic Ocean and tasted the sea, at Sand Beach in the Park, promising to do the same at the West Coast in the Pacific.

I still don't know if I'll get there, at this rate, but I'm hoping it will still be possible. The Coast of Maine is so tortuous that its impossible to ride around it, and many roads are inland with glimpses of the coastline, but every view is stunning. It was a really great couple of days. Thanks to Mac, for a fab experience, and even bigger thanks to Gwyn for loaning him out (I did respect him in the morning, honest!!!)

FOR FUTURE REFERENCE

2007-07-13T17:15:00.000-07:00

For anyone planning on doing something like this, I would say to you, the first thing you will need to do is talk to enough people who have had good shipping experiences (and bad ones too) and do your homework as to which shipping agencies are competent to do what you ask of them, and which are not. The next step is to NOT simply believe what you are told, but to get all the information you are given checked out by contacting the agent's people at the destination end, to see whether what you have been told is realistic and reliable. The third thing is to ask, at both ends - departure AND destination - what the worst case scenario is with time frames (assuming there's no reason why your goods won't get cleared through customs), for sailing itself, docking, quarantining, inspection of random containers, customs procedures, warehouse storage, and WHERE you can clear your goods through customs, and plan around it. Don't let anyone tell you its possible to clear customs in a port other than where your goods are sitting. It simply isn't true. Ask every conceivable question you can think of at both ends, however stupid and irrelevant you may privately wonder it to be, and LISTEN!!!!!! to other people's experiences before you undertake to ship anything anywhere if you have a time-limited reason for doing so. Telling shippers you have a time limited intention is NOT enough to ensure everyone who is a party to the process does what they should. And don't just assume that whatever you have been told that makes you believe that ANY of the process is straightforward, is the truth. Yes, some people have no problem with shipping stuff, millions, in fact. But its a mistake to rely on what so-called experts and so-called experienced people tell you and just accept it with blind faith. Don't think of yourself as paranoid for trying to tie up as many loose ends as you humanly can before you sign on the dotted line. I made a series of mistakes here, and it all came down to trusting people. I didn't expect to be given a deadline to have my bike at the wharf to then find out it had sat on the dock for two full weeks before even being shipped. I didn't expect to be embroiled in paperwork processes which are apparently quite normal, in the good old US of A, for which I should have been prepared. It simply never occurred to me that I couldn't trust what I was told, that there actually WAS a worst case scenario and that the person telling me was unaware of it to the point where all I got was the blue sky scenario, and then, when I protested at how badly I felt they had treated me AND my bike, what did I get? An apology? NO!!! I got a three page fax detailing the obligations and limitations of the agency, and that was it.
I'm not saying don't do this, to anyone who wants to. I'm planning on doing it again myself, and on a much bigger scale, as some of you already know, but never to America again, and not with that agent. Just make sure, before you do anything like this, that you really have been given all the facts, and get them verified by all parties to the process before you spend any money.

Rest assured girls, for those of us who are going to Aussie for the Breast Cancer Research ride next summer, I will be that paranoid person, on the phone till I'm blue in the face and until I've made everyone crazy, making sure nothing like this can EVER!!!!!!!!! happen again.

My smile is wobbly, but it IS still here, just about. Hugs to all.
Keep watching.

I WAS WRONG

2007-07-13T16:58:00.000-07:00

I was wrong, folks. It actually WAS a train.
The call I made to the broker just now confirms that the bike is still (YES - STILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) in Los Angeles, and although she has cleared customs (just today apparently - so much for "72 hours maximum") she DIDN'T get put on anyone's truck today, and nobody, apparently works the weekend, so she MIGHT get on a truck on Monday, and the estimated time of travel is 5-7 business days, which puts me at 21st July. That will be seventeen days since my arrival, and only four short of the estimated arrival time of the option of railing her, which is almost as much of a waste of time, considering she still has to be put together for me to ride away on, and I'm due to fly out from the other side of a country I'm now not going to see much of, on September 5th.
I'm going to take this weekend to decide whether it is actually going to be worth trying to fulfil this dream at all, (since I also can't seem to get an answer out of my travel agent as to whether its going to be feasible cost-wise to change my ticket to go home later, and even if I can, whether I will have enough holiday funds to keep me going any later, given that I've already used up two week's worth trying to get this mess sorted out) or whether to put the brakes on getting her sent over here at all, and get her turned around and shipped straight home again instead, and go home myself, and maybe work on the next dream. Right now this country feels like a pretty hostile place to be, beaurocratically speaking, in addition to all the bullshit I got about timeframes at the New Zealand shipping end. Its hard to believe anything anybody in so-called "authority" says to me anymore. I really don't know if its worth all this aggravation. The neuralgia is back, too, unfortunately. It went away for about 8 hours, then >BOOM<, back with a vengeance. I'm popping ibuprofen like sweets in the hope I don't end up in the ER, where the beaurocracy can only get even worse. I'm desperate to avoid any more.
Sorry to sound so negative, but I know there's a lot of you out ther wondering what's going on, and whether this mess is going to get any less unbelievable, so I'm updating you as best I can. I suspect that it ISN'T going to get any less unbelievable, and I really don't know how else to feel, at this point, or what else I can say, to any of you. It feels like somebody is throwing balls of fire at me from hell. I hope to feel better soon, and will keep y'all posted. Send me some love, people, its all needed, at this point.

THE MOOSE OF HAZARD

2007-07-11T10:27:00.000-07:00

This is the kind of thing I will have to watch out for on the roads in many places I'll be travelling (if and when I EVER!!! get my freakin' bike, that is!!!). The signs aren't a joke. If you're in a car and you hit one of these guys, it pretty much writes off your car, and too many people have been killed in such a way, not to mention the lovely and unique moosies themselves. On a bike, there's noooooooooooo chance of coming out clean. The moose own the land, as far as they see it, and we're just visitors on it, so they commandeer (through size alone) the utmost respect. We've yet to see one on our forays through the woods, and I don't think I could bring myself to shoot one even then, although many people do.

Still no real word on ETA for Cherry Bomb. I spoke to the broker who is clearing her through customs in LA, a few minutes ago, and he said she's still not released. It takes between 24-72 hours to complete such a monumental feat and, of course, as it is ME, here, it will be 73 hours. We are still hoping for early next week, and if it won't cost too many arms and legs (as I need them to operate the machine that everyone stateside is now convinced isn't even REAL) I may be able to extend and fly home a couple of weeks later than oroginally planned. So far, I'm up to $125US in phone calls alone trying to sort out this mess that should never have even BEEN a mess, as I originally was led to understand it. I'm feeling pretty defeated right now by a system that nobody appears to understand, Mac is almost ready to shoot just about ANYBODY in the head right now, and Gwyn is life-savingly philosophical and therefore holding us steady on that little ledge that separates us both from the abyss of complete insanity and machine gun mayhem. So far we are managing to stay out of mental asylums and prisons as we cannot be committed to either facility for simply FANTASIZING abou how we'd like to get this resolved, but I dunno how long it will last. The lovely Gwyn is smiling serenely at us both while we rant ourselves blue in the face. She is convinced that I'm meant to be here this long for reasons connected with friendship and sisterhood. I'm trying to stay calm. So far it is working, although I have also unfortunately had a flare-up in the last 24 hours of occipital neuralgia, which is apparently stress-related, and for which I can only get tylenol or ibuprofen across the counter. I haven't had a flare up for some years now, probably three or four, so that indicates where I'm at in the scale of stress and worry in contrast to other stuff I've had to deal with this past few years, which hasn't brought on this horrible condition, thank God. The ibu staves the worst of it away, even though I still feel it there above my right ear in random surges and flashes and I'm hoping it won't get as bad as it was a previous time when I had to spend several hours in hospital emergency having Voltaren injections to stop me from foaming at the mouth with pain. Not a happy puppy just now.

Keep watching, and Do watch out for the little moosies, huh?

2007-07-09T12:29:00.000-07:00

INCHING FORWARD

Well, blogspotters, it looks like there may actually be a light at the end of the tunnel which, for once, ISN'T a train like this one, the Conway Scenic Railroad's beautiful 7470 engine that chugs her way in and out of a station just a few miles up the road from here (isn't she gorgeous?), coming to hit me.

A lovely woman at Vanguard Logistics in LA has moved as many mountains as one woman humanly can, to make this work quicker for me than it otherwise might. It looks like Cherry Bomb may be delivered to Mac's door by the middle of next week. Not a LOT earlier, considering she was meant to be here, like, NOW, but its better than the poke in the eye with a rusty nail I got at the New Zealand end, with the OTHER company who, for now at least, remains nameless. I think my LA Woman needs a T-shirt with a big "S" on the front, but I suspect she already has one. I hope she's wearing it, and not the one she's meant to wear that says "V". Thank you, Julianna, from the bottom of my heart.
We had a spectacular thunderstorm today, and the dogs hated it, but I loved it, and would have danced outside in the rain if I hadn't already heard Mac's story of having already been hit once by lightning, and it not being a whole lot of fun. Hmmm... that explains a lot, Mac... And, I have to say, it was safest watching from the window, methinks. Going off on a complete tangent, my darling Cap'n, if you're out there, let me say again how honoured and blessed I feel that you rode for three hours in the pouring rain to come up here to meet me, buy me dinner, spend the weekend with us, and then ride 9 hours home in the pouring rain again in the midst of July 4th Holiday Traffic Hell. It was a joy to meet you, I hope to see you again soon, and thank you for the gift of the beautiful tank bag. You are a lovely bloke, and whatever highlights on this trip I go home with, meeting you will be one of them.

Gadzuks

2007-07-08T14:54:00.000-07:00

Gadzuks what's a mozzies? I hope I got me a big enough gun for what ever in blue jumpin blazes one of them mozzie's is!

New Hampster is a sort of gun owners wonderworld, where we have with in reason laws. Sometimes the poly tic's here get to dreamin they are Royalty, and when the last one did a woman on his behalf made a comment on the tv I didn't like much. The result was I went a bought a AK-47. In other words while I really don't care much about that gun type the Royal Dreamers hate them, and so I put my money where my mouth is..

What happened next was my wife Gwyn got to target shootin', and got that woman's look on her face... You know the one that says "This is mine!" Yup, she got that look, so the fix was to go buy another AK-47. The third one came along in a cash trade for a boat deal. I had once traded a .22 pistol for the boat, and for the next 5 years made repairs to the boat. This was going to be a "Gun Boat" for the French and Indian War, complete with a 45 pound swivel gun, which I still have, but no more boat... I sold the boat taking a bit of dead presidents known as Green backs, and took that last AK in trade as well. I bought another of the exact same pistols as well...

I have been request to assist Miss Max to go a' shootin' since her bike ain't here.....

While this isn't the Wild West anymore there are certain things about being safe, that new Hampster still considers makes folks safe. So yer Miss Max is very safe atleast while here with Gwyn and I.

If anything comes in here real mean, bad, and nasty ;-) I'll get out the trusty Brown Bess. I trust you Kiwii's know what that is...

2007-07-08T11:24:00.000-07:00

NEW HAMPSHIRE

Even in the rain, the White Mountain region of New Hampshire, north and west of Conway, is spectacular. A group of us did a ride around the mountains and National Park area where there are stunning panoramic views and extraordinary rock formations such as The Basin, Indian Head (a rocky outcrop that looks the left profile of an American Indian's face), and Cathedral Ledge. This part of New Hampshire is like most of it, in fact - dense with forest, right to the roads in most places. Mac and Gwyn live in a beautful lodge-type house in the middle of the woods, at the edge of the White Mountain National Forest, and it is not uncommon for them to have moose, bears, deer and raccoons roaming around here freely, in addition to a number of bird species, like owls and large robins. Mac even has a couple of snakes living on the property that he is careful to nurture because, aside from the fact that they are harmless to humans, they keep a lot of insects at bay, and the mozzies around here are big enought and mean enough to have razors where their teeth should be! Because the forest is literally a hundred feet away in every direction from the house, garage and barn, the night noises can be interesting! On a clear night, the stars are so bright that no light is needed to move around outside. Not that you'd go far without a gun anyway. It really is so beautiful here.

East Wet Coast

2007-07-08T09:53:00.000-07:00

Well we got rain yesterday and it rained most the night thru, and we got more rain today. We sent Cap't a pakin' off into the rain; "weather" he liked it or not.. You may assume he wasn't exactly pleased..... but then at 31, He has time to spare, and thusly learn the proper technique to become a grumpy old man, even though that day is pretty far off for him.

Myself, I have had great lessons, and can out do myself at "Grumpyiness" anytime I want weather or no whether about it. Howa' bout that?

On the other hand I ordered up 2 pancakes with real maple syrup yesterday on the road at lunch, and Miss Max got really ugly at me as I was tryin' ta' save her a buck and spend my own which is a rare thing for me to do, but after seeing that face all screwed up and snarley lookin like a bad dog from Hell; I surrendered my bill and hand it right over. Didn't she look smug then! But she doesn't know me well enough to think she's got herself even, as she don't, but I ain't tellin' just whats up as that'll spoil my fun and yours too, so please don't tell!

Ifn' it we'rnt rainin' I mighta' called this Two Tigers by the Tail. ;-)

The shoe-coach delivers!

2007-07-07T15:19:00.000-07:00

Just for you Max babes, the lovely TeWai. Shame about the whole farce you are going through - hope everything gets sorted out real quick. Happy shooting

2007-07-07T07:42:00.000-07:00

Hey Lovely Liz!!! Are you there, babes??? I need you to post one of the gorgeous pictures you have of TeWai. I'm getting lots of lovely puppykisses from two gorgeous girl puppies Evie and Lucy but I really miss my babygirl. A piccy would be great and I know you have some good ones. New Hampshire, in the area where I am at least, has no AT&T cellphone tower so HEY!!! No reception!!! As soon as I can get a signal from somewhere (maybe when we haul oursleves out of the woods later and head for town) I'll try to get through to you.
Kisses and love.

2007-07-07T06:20:00.000-07:00

GIVE ME THE KEYS TO THE GUN CHEST!!!
HEADS ARE GONNA ROLL...
It is with a very real and uncompromising anger that this blog entry is being posted for all friends and blog followers across New Zealand, Australia, the UK and the USA. My bike arrived as expected into L.A. on June 29th. Unfortunately, owing to what the agents there inform me is a normal handling process, the Cherry Bomb will not arrive in Boston until around July 25th, unless I pay - in addition to the TWELVE HUNDRED NEW ZEALAND DOLLARS I have ALREADY paid - another twelve hundred American dollars to have an L.A. Broker act on my behalf to get it here a week earlier, i.e. July 18th, i.e. still 9 or 10 days beyond the original ETA, around which I booked and paid almost two and a half thousand dollars worth of airfares and spent six solid months planning. As I don't have a bottomless pit of money to pay a broker to save a week, or to extend my flight out of L.A. on September 5th, I'm pretty much in the shit up to my neck. By July 25th I am theoretically supposed to be half way across America, instead of still stuck on the East Coast getting the bike put back together before I can even set off.
The shipping agent in L.A., during a long conversation that I, of course, will be paying for, suggested strongly that a major component of this total and utter disaster is the fact that the shipping agent I used in New Zealand was clearly not sufficiently aware of the Stateside handling procedures to have prepared ME for the reality either. I'm still not sure if that is the case, but from where I'm sitting (read - with no bike, no clothing, no personal effects and no spare cash to fix this catastrophe myself), it looks like that may indeed be the case. If that does turn out to be true, then the shipping company in question would have to be described as a total disgrace to its "international" standard. To that end, I would be making a LOT more noise, in every conceivable public forum I could possibly reach across the world, in an effort to stop as many other trusting people as possible from having THEIR dreams blown to pieces, not to mention the thousands and thousands and THOUSANDS of their precious dollars ending up in the toilet, by risking using that company.
Whichever idiot needs to take responsibility for this f**k up and do the right thing at whatever cost it may incur to themselves, had better step the hell up, get the hell on with it and do it NOW. Its not me. In good faith, I believed the "experts", and I did all the right things in accordance with what I was told.
So what am I doing in the meantime? Well, since I have no bike to go anywhere yet, while I wait for this shameful debacle to be sorted out, for today at least Mac, Captain and I are heading into the woods with an AK47 each (yes, Mac does have three, and I'm not kidding about us doing that) to have a play, and maybe take random shots at any stray shipping agents we might find blundering blindly around in there.
Those of you who know me well enough to understand the impact on anyone stupid enough to stand in front of both barrels of my verbal sawn-off shotgun can trust the fact that that particular trait of mine isn't disappearing anytime soon. And, even though I currently have no crash helmet myself (it being with my thus-far impounded bike), unless this debacle is resolved to get me on the road by the end of next week, some people out there had better make sure they're wearing one if they have to continue dealing with me.
It does go without saying, of course, that those who do what they can and should, to get this shambles put to bed in record time, thereby cleaning up their own mistakes instead of just expecting me to simply roll over and accept the unacceptable status quo (which SOOOOOO aint gonna happen!!!), will be positively acknowledged across the same extensive variety of international forums in which I currently take part, and others I intend to join. Watch this space.

The shoe-coach speaks.....

2007-07-06T20:05:00.000-07:00

Give it up girl! You cannot possibly spend your entire trip either shopping for shoes or queuing in the post office to send your shoes to NZ! D'ya hear me? Focus! Hope you are having a great time already (Kerry has just filled us in about the bomb, eeek!) . Oh, and since Kerry just turned up here so we are going to keep him company! Enjoy the sunshine and summer warmth, you aren't missing the weather here, trust me! Text soon, ok? Love ya

2007-07-06T19:49:00.000-07:00

Hey bikess
I tried to phone you but got the dreaded "leave a message" thingie.How are ya doin and is the iron horse there yet? Im home from Dons.BOY this house feels empty. Have you contacted Nan yet? I was reading about the welding repair. I hope you used a good welder . Phone me when you get a chance Take care now Love Dad

Walmart - Heaven or Hell???

2007-07-06T05:52:00.000-07:00

This entry is for my friend Shaun, who had BETTER be impressed!!!... Shaun, you sent me to Walmart. How you could even SUGGEST such a thing is horror enough. The fact that I refused to bow down to my better judgement, and went in there anyway, was worse. I'm seriously traumatized by the sheer scale of that place (even tho Mac said North conway NH is one of the smaller outlets???). The bargains were incredible, as were the choices, and the fact is that if I live to be a thousand years old and win the lottery fifty times, I still won't ever have enough money to buy one of everything. I did, however, get twenty pairs of the trousers you wanted (yes, folks, I aint kiddin - he wants 25 pairs in all), which cleaned out the entire North Conway store's stocks for the foreseeable future, and I will work on getting the other five pairs when I find another store, which Mac assures me can be found in nearby(ish) Rochester. Now I have to brave the local post office who, by the time I leave there, will probably wish they'd never met me. I made sure the trousers have shallow pockets, Shaun, so you'll be esily able to reach the vast amount of money you will need to take me out for dinner and supply endless bourbon, by way of thanks for putting me through retail hell. Heaven because it was so fantastic. Hell, because there were no decent shoes.

Independence Day!!!

2007-07-04T20:07:00.001-07:00

Arrived safely in Boston on Independence Day afternoon, to be met by Mac and Gwyn, waving a huge "Welcome Max" sign (check out the kiwi on the bike!!! Nice one Gwyn!). It was a miracle they even found me as I'd given them the wrong airline and flight number... oops! hee hee. It was fantastic to see them even though, disappointingly, they actually didn't show up at the airport looking this weird! Personally, I really wish they had!!! Mac would like all my friends to believe he and the very gorgeous Gwyn really do look like this all the time, instead of only on historical re-enactment days... But its okay folks, nobody got arrested, and I'm not gonna get scalped, dissected and eaten. There were no horses to jump onto either, and we piled into a surprisingly normal car and headed straight out of "Bean Town", as Mac "lovingly" calls the city of Boston, and we headed for New Hampshire. It's rained all evening up here in Tamworth NH, but we were determined to enjoy the July 4th celebrations in spite of that, so we put on raincoats and headed out to the fireworks display, which I have to say was probably the most spectacular I've ever seen. No news on the Cherry Bomb yet, other than the fact that she arrived into LA on June 29th and is hopefully being railed to Boston. Watch this space!

STATESIDE DRAMAS

2007-07-04T19:39:00.000-07:00

Well, the first hiccup occurred within seconds of my arriving in San Francisco. I breezed through customs and immigration, and I guess not having any check-in baggage helped a lot, as did the free courtesy bus to my hotel. It was only after I checked in and got to my room that I realized I didn't have my digital camera. I'd had a nice double seat all to myself by an emergency exit (read - loads of lovely leg room!) on the flight from Auckland, and at the suggestion of a helpful stewardess to put my bag on the seat beside me so nobody would come and sit there, I did that, and covered everything with a blanket once I'd popped a sleeping tablet, and then I snuggled down for some sleep. Five hours later I awoke to find that owing to a passenger elsewhere on the plane taking ill, a different stewardess had seated someone next to me while I was asleep, and had moved my stuff off the seat and onto the floor about 6 feet away from me, including my in-flight bag, which was open. As that was the place most people stand while waiting for the loo, I can only assume that some opportunist saw the camera and decided to help themselves to it. Its the only explanation, because the cleaning crew said that nothing had been left on the plane. As this trip is heavily reliant on photography, I couldn't go any further without a camera, so after several frustrating trips to and from the airport trying unsuccessfully to locate even ONE Air New Zealand staff member, I made no progress (because nobody anywhere was willing to accept responsibility for moving my stuff while I was asleep to a loctation where ANY unscrupulous person could go through it while all around were sleeping). I decided to cut my losses, ignored that horrible sick feeling I had in the pit of my stomach, and reminded myself that travel insurance is there for traumatic occurrences such as this. I went into the city, and bought a new camera. I could have done without the stress, the cost, the disappointment, and the frustration at not being able to get anyone at the airport to talk or listen to me, but I did spent twenty minutes talking to an incredibly helpful SFPD Officer called Martin Scanlan (thanks for being there, big guy!). While downtown I also had problems with an incredibly strong invisible hand that dragged me kicking and screaming (not that anyone noticed) into a shoe store. Once in there, I was forced, by the invisible gun pointed at my back, to buy a pair of amazing killer heel shoes. Lord forgive me, for I am weak, but they were only forty dollars, and retail therapy is a truly awesome thing at times.
I feel much better now. Once I've found a post office, I'll feel amazing!!!

Thunderbikes Are GO!!!

2007-07-02T00:56:00.001-07:00

The Magnificent Thunderbike Crew, with some of their machines. They have some very impressive bikes in there, and great riding gear. I'm waiting till I've won the lottery, then... brace yourselves, fellas, I'll be in there doing more than just dreamin and droolin!!!

Origins Specific...

2007-07-01T00:38:00.000-07:00

The first comment on the previous post prompts me to recount Cherry Bomb's epic ressurection, for those who may be interested. I bought her as a wreck on eBay when I was living in England, in the spring of 2004. We hired a van and drove to Wales to pick her up one sunny Saturday afternoon. We found the house, found the guy, and he showed me The Bomb. She was worse than I feared. MUCH worse. She was even worse than the guy selling her had originally thought when he'd acquired her just a few weeks earlier, and put her on eBay for sale. My first thought was "F**king hell, whoever had this poor machine has treated it so badly he should, at first request, be put against a wall and shot. As a less punitive and more socially acceptable alternative to probably everyone but me, he should never, EVER!!!!! be allowed to have another motorcycle, EVER AGAIN in his miserable pathetic life. Cherry Bomb had been left out in the rain, on her side, for two years in all weathers. Her paint was all faded and cracked on her exposed left side, she had a dimple-dent in that side of her tank, and her wheel spokes, brake discs and many other parts were badly rusted. Beyond that, and the "starter motor fault" she had been described as having, we discovered on closer inspection that the starter motor idle gear shaft had broken, badly damaging the crank case and starter ring gear. Teeth had sheared off and were floating around everywhere inside.
I consider myself fortunate that I've somehow been blessed with creative vision for potential: for what things, places and people can be, far beyond what I sometimes see as a shambles in front of me. Not everyone shares that gift, however... "BARGEPOLE!!!!" screamed Kerry's eyes as he stared at the bike in horrified silence, trying to catch my eye to give me That Look (the one that says "you must be completely insane!"). I studiously avoided looking at him, as I fought back the anger and sadness at seeing this lovely little machine in such a terrible mess. Two things happened in my head. Firstly, she looked so desperately sad, I could hardly stand it. And, secondly, as clear as if a photograph had been waved in front of me, I could see far beyond the state she was in, to what she could be. I couldn't have walked away from her. I negotiated the sale price to reflect her actual condition, loaded her into the van, and drove home, Kerry mulling over in his head at what an epic waste of time and money it was all going to be. But he realised my passion for saving this sad bike, and we got on with the job.
It was an unrealistic expense to replace the crank case (even if I could have got one), so the whole engine was stripped down and the shaft support welded, and new parts were put in as we needed them. The exhaust rocker was worn, owing to incorrect maintenance (read - NO maintenance!) so the cam shaft had worn. These parts were also replaced. It was a bit of a shame at just 14,000 miles. The icing on the cake came when I found a local spray painter who pannelled her where necessary and gave her a complete repaint, in her original factory colour (hence her name). Baby, Just Look At You NOW!!!

2007-06-27T17:28:00.000-07:00

THAR SHE BLOWS!!!! Here's The Bomb in her crate, complete with panniers, pack & frame, crash hat, etc. and The Max, standing behind her in the shippers' warehouse. Unfortunately, owing to what I will tactfully describe as a "technical hitch" (and resisting the urge to describe what REALLY happened), the other precious pictures taken of her being loaded and transported are not available. But this one gives you the idea. To keep her manageable cost wise, we removed the front wheel, forks, handlebars and mirrors, to keep her within 1.4 sq metres. That's why the box looks so short. Lord alone knows how we will fit another sixty pairs of shoes in there as well, to bring home again. Might need an extra crate...

Oh, and... happy birthday to me!!!! Hip, Hip, Hooray. HOW many candles are there on the cake??? Better get that fire hose...

EXCUSE ME!!!

2007-06-27T17:12:00.000-07:00

Hey, Daddy Cool, there's only room for ONE midlife crisis on this blog, and its mine!!! mine!!! mine!!! So hands off, y'hear? As for coming with me, you know darn well I wouldn't be able to catch you. I'd be eating your dust. But you're welcome to come as Pace-setter on the next ride - East Coast of Australia, Feb or March '08 for two weeks. I'm throwing down the challenge to all riders (especially women!) who would be interested in doing that trip with me, to raise money for the Brave Battlers of Breast Cancer, specifically for Herceptin treatment for those who can't afford the tens of thousands of dollars for the vital nine months of treatment beyond the three that the government will pay for.
Something for y'all to think about, huh? Wanna find out more? Keep watching...

the state IM in

2007-06-25T22:11:00.000-07:00

In a fit of (WAY past) midlife crisis,I recently purchased a motorbike myself and if circumstances had allowed I would have joined my globe trotting daughter on this trip,(just to keep an eye on her you understand). Sounds like the trip of a lifetime and I will be watching this space avidly.Of course with Americans driving on the wrong side of the road (the right side) I just hope she REMEMBERS that at all times.
Other than THAT I have complete confidence in her ability to look after herself and enjoy the trip immensely.
Shes been globetrotting for as long as I can remember so its a breeze for her . Good luck kiddo

2007-06-25T15:51:00.000-07:00

One thing that has caused a major headache and sleepless nights for way too long (read - months!!!) was the problem of obtaining liability insurance to traverse the USA as an "alien" with no US residence zip code or social security number. After weeks of suggestions, debates, knock-backs and frustrated wailing and gnashing of teeth (BIG thanks to all who tried to help, smoothed out my feathers when I got them in a tangle, and encouraged me to remain solution focussed!!), a company emerged called Fernet Insurance, based in Orlando Florida, who set it all up with a couple of phone calls and a fax. Anyone who wants or needs to can contact them on info@fernet.com I talked to a woman named Phyllis there, who was an absolute star, and for whom nothing was too much trouble. She and Nancee Williams ironed out my forehead and put the smile back on my face.

2007-06-20T18:38:00.000-07:00

Here's The Bomb, in all her glory. This photo was taken at the 'Stags n Slags' Rally, Hednesford, West Midlands, England, back in 2005. She's a well-travelled girl!

2007-06-10T16:30:00.000-07:00

Even at this early stage, there are some people I would like to acknowledge thus far, for their practical assistance in getting me to the starting post. Huge thanks to the fab Judy Broad at Nelson's Air New Zealand Holiday Shop, who spent hours looking for the right flights - we got there in the end. Also a big thank you to the guys at Thunderbike Nelson for providing the perfect crate, and an even bigger one to Kerry for reconfiguring the whole thing, packing my beloved Cherry Bomb into it so well, and getting her safely to the port. Thanks also go to Nancee for the signpost to insurance, and a big thanks and a hug go to the Very Lovely Liz, who has nudged me gently and patiently into the 21st century world of blog. You're all amazing people. I'm at the start gate because of you.

Max doing a fine impression of Burp Munro - the before and after photos!

2007-06-05T02:21:00.001-07:00

2007-06-04T01:18:00.000-07:00

So... WELCOME TO THIS BLOG!!!
As a Visitor here, you are very welcome to leave messages and comments if you'd like to. This can be done by clicking on any "comments" link, which you can find at the end of each post, and the system will take you through. Please note, however, that the blog has been set up for public viewing. Therefore, it will be updated and monitored regularly, which will include the immediate removal of any content considered inappropriate or offensive.

The first (not last!) post

2007-06-03T00:42:00.000-07:00

Here it is - the blog is all set up and I am ready to tell the world about my (exciting I hope!) adventures. Max - AWOL in America (lock up your sons!) - has a nice ring to it!

So, what is this blog about? Well, it's a record of my forthcoming trip across America on my bike - the beautiful Cherry Bomb - a cherry red Suzuki LS650 Savage. I will arrive in Boston on July 4th 2007, and the bike is set to sail in just a few days later. So the most important part has already been taken care of - Cherry has now been shipped. Stand by for a picture of her being crated up. I'm going to take a couple of months to ride across the big dirt patch to the West Coast, ending the trip in LA, early in September. Then I'll pack up the Cherry Bomb and put her on a ship for home. Then? Well, then I'm buying a big empty suitcase and going shoe shopping, before catching a plane home myself.
That's the plan, anyway!!! .... More posts to come, watch this space!