Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
Adventures in Sport
Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT
Exploring North America...One Road
at a Time
|
Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
|
|
|
This was a project I wanted to get to for a number of years, but I was always busy working on my current tours or other recent activities. Because of its importance, I wanted to block off a couple of weeks, to make sure I did it right. First the shoebox was tucked away on the top shelf of my boyhood room closet on Hickory Lane. Later it went to the apartment Debbie and I moved into in 1976 when we married, and in 1977 it found its way to its current spot, here in the closet of my study. It is a old PUMA basketball shoebox, circa 1972.
It is faded, but In the years before marriage, I used the box to stash important memorabilia from this chapter of my life. None of the stuff in the box had anything of monetary value, but each thing has a story to tell. Things like an old time card from the pickle plant, yellowed newspaper clippings, a keychain from someone special, pictures, a letter from my father, and a couple of things I'd rather not say. Eventually, an old manila envelope, with some Kodak 110 pictures, 3 pages of handwritten notes on notebook paper, and a old folding map, found its way into the shoebox. The articles in the envelope are the memories captured from my first "long ride." The ride took place in August 1973, a few days after my 18th birthday. I did the ride on a 1973 Honda 350 Four. In early August 08, I took the box down and pulled the envelope out, and for the first time in many years, read the journal and looked at the pictures. I can remember this tour like it was last week, and when I read the events the took place on this ride, I can imagine them as vividly as any recent tour on this web site. After all, it was my first time to do a "long tour," and that lends itself into making good memories. In May of 73 I graduated from high school, and a few weeks later was working the first job of my life at the pickle plant. I was 17 years old. It was hot, nasty, and sometime backaching work, but it taught me many things.
Even then I had my own ideas what a motorcycle tour should be, and I was careful to ride accordingly. In these pages you will see the beginnings of what eventually became what you read about now. This quaint jaunt through the cotton fields of my homeland, kindled the spark to seek out glorious rides on the Pacific Coast Highway, the Blue Ridge Mountains, Crater Lake, Grand Canyon, Monument Valley, Scotland, and the Rocky Mountains. While composing and studying this tour, I realized I still feel, think and ride the same, and when I'm astride one of my state of art sport touring bikes you can't convince me I'm not that same 18 year old kid that struck out long ago on that August morning looking for adventure. This ride marked the end of my childhood and my move in into young adult, and the funny thing, I knew it at the time. I had just turned 18 four days prior, I was leaving home in a few weeks for school, I had my own money. I could go on a ride without asking anybody for permission, and in the days leading up to departure, that seemed odd. I recall riding down the highway thinking my whole life was before me. What things would I accomplish? Where I would travel to?, What relationships would I forge? Just what will I be like 35 years? What will I be doing? Would I have fulfilled my dreams, or still working on them? Gosh, 53 sounded so old to me back then!
From my earliest days, I sought out the roads no one else wanted to ride, often taking the long way. Back in 1973 I was talking to people and taking pictures and eating in small cafes, just as I do in the present. My thoughts and feelings of this life chapter are captured quite well in the following pages. Most of it scribbled down at rest stops, and the motel each evening. The same way I do it now, except I now use a PDA. This is definitely a time capsule of 1973. Vietnam was still going on, gas was 34 cents a gallon, and disco was not yet born. I commented on the first 2 in this journal. I had to do very little ad lib to this story, I took pretty good notes. I'll apply my modern writing style to the notes, just like I always do. For instance I might have a note, "saw man in green shirt in store," and it will instantly trigger what the conversation was, even 35 years later. Upon returning from this trip I had the pictures developed, sorted the notes, and placed it all in the envelope. Computers were still several years away, but even so they were too big to get in my house. So I tucked the envelope away in my shoebox for safe keeping. I never thought it would take so long to make it formal. I also filled in the gaps with memory from things not
in the notes. It might be no one cares about a ride from 35 years ago, that's ok. I formalized this journal for myself, son, and grandkids (hopefully) so that one day they can read about what it was like to be me. Along the way I'll add comments and clarifications when needed. And when I can, I'll note the changes of of a place as compared to then and now. In terms of miles it was not many, about 1500 miles. I averaged about 2-300 miles a day. But this story is not about the miles, but about the dreams of a neophyte Long Rider. When I completed this tour I knew I wanted to do it bigger and better, but I had no idea it would take 28 years to do that. Three years after this tour went in the book, I was married, new job, and had a mortgage. Life can get in the way, but I wouldn't change a thing. If I had done all this when I was 20, I would have nothing to look forward to all the years I was working. I enjoy the life I live so fully right now, and very appreciative of all my blessings. I hope you enjoy this unique and special ride. Guy Coming soon Day 1- riding south
Day 1- Wiregrass Ride Day 2- old friend in Evergreen Day 3- taking a ride to Mobile Day 6- Ride to Gadsden and at home with my sister. Day 8- Riding to Mt. Cheaha and Ga. Day 9- Riding home, trouble in Ala.
|
other than that, in good shape. I remember buying the
shoes when I finally made the basketball team my senior year.
I
was a little scared I could do this, not sure what to expect. I would be
on the road by myself, with no back up, just me and my own wits.
The images on this tour are as ingrained in my mind as any I have ever recorded,
but the notes were good for dates and names.