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You can't always get what you want, but you get what you need.
My multi-week jaunt to the Pacific Northwest will have to wait yet another year. Bummer. But in its place I worked in an extra-long weekend of riding, visiting, exploring, trespassing, eating and beer drinking. Normally I'd write some interesting introduction to wet the appetite, but frankly I'm just not feeling that creative at the moment. So, instead, we will move onto:
Day 1 - Sep. 7, 2012
Only photo I took the first day of riding, somewhere in NY.
Technically, things kicked off a little before this as it was necessary to do a minimum level of planning and packing, and I do mean minimal. I spent the day before changing the oil on the bike, getting laundry done and organizing what little I would bring on this trip. I was proud of myself in that I was able to get everything basically done before dinner time and I was able to use only the Sprint's saddlebags and a tank bag to boot, allowing me to be able to leave the big, ugly top case on the shelf in the garage to collect dust for this trip. Taking into account lessons I learned from my last big trip, the notably increased reliability of the bike I'd be taking versus the last and the greatly abbreviated duration of this jaunt, I was able to pack especially light.
Another bit I noticed the night before was that the first day of riding would not take quite as long as I had originally planned, and so I delayed my alarm clock accordingly.
The destination today would be Canton, Michigan - a rather nice suburb of Detroit, and more notably the home of a friend of mine from BadWeB. Tony is a budding photographer (more than budding, really) with a knack for breaking and entering, and when he learned of my trip he offered to show me around some. I eagerly accepted without hesitation.
The riding today was pretty straight forward, and by that I mean it was all straight. The morning started cool as I headed west on the Thruway out of Albany, NY. After a long, hot summer, the air had become much cooler over the previous week or so and the resultant fog in many of valleys was enough to cause water droplets to form on my mirrors and windshield. I made a conscience decision to eat a large and late breakfast to put off trying to fight my way through a food line come lunch time. The first stop was after the first tank of gas - nothing special, just a rest area where I got all fancy-like and spent too much money on a breakfast sandwich and a coffee from Starbucks. Then it was back to getting some miles under me.
I must apologize for the sever lack of photos I took this day, and everyday, actually, so please feel free to use your imagination to fill in the blanks.
The rest of New York went without a hitch and culminated with a quick stop at a gas station just before crossing into Ontario where I topped off the bike with high-test and myself with a Gatorade and a bag of those super-good-for-you chili cheese fries - somehow they both hit the spot. I especially got a kick out of the young girl behind me in line who made a comment about how hot I must have been in my riding suit (I've never heard that one before, I swear...), followed up by admitting that she only rides in shorts and probably isn't very wise. I just nodded in agreement.
Back on the bike and the Ontario border was not far off. The border patrolman, after his entrance interview, explained that he had a Harley but was very interested in my bike and how well it did over long distances. He kept asking me "how fast do [I] cruise" with it, and I reluctantly told him the truth, fearing a fleet of armed guards coming to take me away for violating some obscure Canadian admission of premeditated traffic violation law. Alas, I was set free from my captor to bomb it west.
The route through Ontario between Niagara and Sarnia is one I am intimately familiar with as I've made the trip countless times to visit friends in various parts of Michigan. The first third of trip is met with some neat views of the lake and shipyards along with death-defying traffic. The last 2 thirds is farms. Flat, straight, boring. Like most every time I've driven this route, it was done in a non-stop fashion - no food, no gas, feet never touched the ground in Canada. However, despite the lackluster nature of the passage, it was my first time riding in Canada and allowed me to color in a new section of my map of places I've ridden. Yipee.
Ok, so now I'm Michigan. Gas stop, a quick snack and let's get this show on the road. By now it's late afternoon and I'm STARVING as I've completely skipped lunch, but I know that Tony is planning on cooking when I get into town, so I man up, continue the fasting and turn south towards Detroit. Crazy traffic, tons of interchanges and a few hours later and I'm pulling into his driveway. Not a record breaking day by any means, but among the more monotonous I had done and I was ready to be off the bike.
Greeted by cold beer, grilled steak and cheesy scalloped potatoes Tony and I, along with his wife, settled in for an evening of bullshitting, telling stories and making plans for the next morning. I don't know how many beers we drank (I do know it was more than 1), but the lingering thought of waking up early the next day gave cause to get to bed, but not before meeting the house pet.
Another bit I noticed the night before was that the first day of riding would not take quite as long as I had originally planned, and so I delayed my alarm clock accordingly.
The destination today would be Canton, Michigan - a rather nice suburb of Detroit, and more notably the home of a friend of mine from BadWeB. Tony is a budding photographer (more than budding, really) with a knack for breaking and entering, and when he learned of my trip he offered to show me around some. I eagerly accepted without hesitation.
The riding today was pretty straight forward, and by that I mean it was all straight. The morning started cool as I headed west on the Thruway out of Albany, NY. After a long, hot summer, the air had become much cooler over the previous week or so and the resultant fog in many of valleys was enough to cause water droplets to form on my mirrors and windshield. I made a conscience decision to eat a large and late breakfast to put off trying to fight my way through a food line come lunch time. The first stop was after the first tank of gas - nothing special, just a rest area where I got all fancy-like and spent too much money on a breakfast sandwich and a coffee from Starbucks. Then it was back to getting some miles under me.
I must apologize for the sever lack of photos I took this day, and everyday, actually, so please feel free to use your imagination to fill in the blanks.
The rest of New York went without a hitch and culminated with a quick stop at a gas station just before crossing into Ontario where I topped off the bike with high-test and myself with a Gatorade and a bag of those super-good-for-you chili cheese fries - somehow they both hit the spot. I especially got a kick out of the young girl behind me in line who made a comment about how hot I must have been in my riding suit (I've never heard that one before, I swear...), followed up by admitting that she only rides in shorts and probably isn't very wise. I just nodded in agreement.
Back on the bike and the Ontario border was not far off. The border patrolman, after his entrance interview, explained that he had a Harley but was very interested in my bike and how well it did over long distances. He kept asking me "how fast do [I] cruise" with it, and I reluctantly told him the truth, fearing a fleet of armed guards coming to take me away for violating some obscure Canadian admission of premeditated traffic violation law. Alas, I was set free from my captor to bomb it west.
The route through Ontario between Niagara and Sarnia is one I am intimately familiar with as I've made the trip countless times to visit friends in various parts of Michigan. The first third of trip is met with some neat views of the lake and shipyards along with death-defying traffic. The last 2 thirds is farms. Flat, straight, boring. Like most every time I've driven this route, it was done in a non-stop fashion - no food, no gas, feet never touched the ground in Canada. However, despite the lackluster nature of the passage, it was my first time riding in Canada and allowed me to color in a new section of my map of places I've ridden. Yipee.
Ok, so now I'm Michigan. Gas stop, a quick snack and let's get this show on the road. By now it's late afternoon and I'm STARVING as I've completely skipped lunch, but I know that Tony is planning on cooking when I get into town, so I man up, continue the fasting and turn south towards Detroit. Crazy traffic, tons of interchanges and a few hours later and I'm pulling into his driveway. Not a record breaking day by any means, but among the more monotonous I had done and I was ready to be off the bike.
Greeted by cold beer, grilled steak and cheesy scalloped potatoes Tony and I, along with his wife, settled in for an evening of bullshitting, telling stories and making plans for the next morning. I don't know how many beers we drank (I do know it was more than 1), but the lingering thought of waking up early the next day gave cause to get to bed, but not before meeting the house pet.
You see, dogs are too much work and cats are for the birds, but bunnies are where it's at. This guy (well, gal, actually) was huge. I forget how much they said she weighed, but I think it was 20lbs or more.
Anyway, that was that, I put the call in to the honey back home and get myself to bed. Tomorrow I'd be trying my hand at fighting homeless people and getting tetanus.
Anyway, that was that, I put the call in to the honey back home and get myself to bed. Tomorrow I'd be trying my hand at fighting homeless people and getting tetanus.
Day 2 - Sept. 8, 2012
Ugh. Waking up early. Not something I'm into, but this is a road trip and it's to be expected, every day, without fail. At least time there was more purpose to the hour of rising than simply to get an early start. Today it was imperative to get a move on early in order to avoid getting murdered or arrested.
Today was a local day and Tony and I's first stop was St. Agnes Cathedral in Detroit. Now, I understand that going to church isn't generally considered a dangerous or illegal activity, but it's important to note that St. Agnes has been abandoned since around 2006 and has more or less been left to rot since 2007. The building is still technically owned by someone and as such has been somewhat secured and renders entry an act of trespassing. But, where there's a will, there's a way, and my guide knew how to get into the church and adjoining school by entering a utility building and taking some underground tunnels to the main structure. In otherwise complete darkness, our small flashlights guided us through tunnels that were full of trash, broken furniture and all kinds of building materials that scrappers gave up on trying to drag out. Once in a while we'd hear something and have to stop, stay still, cover our lights and remain silent while we accessed the noise. Was it a rat? Water drops from all of the rain the night before? Or was it a strung-out homeless meth head about to kill us for our sneakers? Turns out it was just water, and after a short while we ascended into the sanctuary. Behold:
Today was a local day and Tony and I's first stop was St. Agnes Cathedral in Detroit. Now, I understand that going to church isn't generally considered a dangerous or illegal activity, but it's important to note that St. Agnes has been abandoned since around 2006 and has more or less been left to rot since 2007. The building is still technically owned by someone and as such has been somewhat secured and renders entry an act of trespassing. But, where there's a will, there's a way, and my guide knew how to get into the church and adjoining school by entering a utility building and taking some underground tunnels to the main structure. In otherwise complete darkness, our small flashlights guided us through tunnels that were full of trash, broken furniture and all kinds of building materials that scrappers gave up on trying to drag out. Once in a while we'd hear something and have to stop, stay still, cover our lights and remain silent while we accessed the noise. Was it a rat? Water drops from all of the rain the night before? Or was it a strung-out homeless meth head about to kill us for our sneakers? Turns out it was just water, and after a short while we ascended into the sanctuary. Behold:
