Pennsylvania and the Motel Saddam

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

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"

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...

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

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...

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

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

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!!!!

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!

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...

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!!!

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

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

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....

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

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

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?

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

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

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!

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!

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!

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

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

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

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?

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

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...

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

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!

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

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.

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.....

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

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???

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!!!

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

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!!!

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...

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!!!