Day 2
October 2, 2001
Nashville, Tennessee
I hear Phil banging around in the kitchen at 6am but pull the covers up for
another 40 winks, before hitting the floor at 6:30am.
I have a breakfast of instant grits and diet coke. Not the greatest of
meals, but I am not a breakfast eater anyway. I just wanted one last
opportunity to eat grits before leaving the south.
We back the STs out of garage a few minutes after 7, and I follow Phil out of
Nashville on back roads. We maneuver our way through fog and the morning
commute. The air is quite chilly in the Tennessee hills. Fog droplets form
on my windshield.
Frazzled commuters cut us off a few times, but we restrain from
counterattacking. We must show pity on the poor working stiffs going to
some mundane 8-5 job, while we are on our way to a great adventure north of the
border. Its a tough life but someone has to live it.
I notice a wrong turn near Springfield, and quickly look for a place to
turnaround. I pull into motel with a slope parking lot, and wait for
Phil. He pulls in beside me and fails to notice the slope and loses
balance, and begins to fall into me. My bike is in neutral and I can't
pull out quick, so I lean my bike right so he doesn't hit me. I lean to
far and now I am falling also. My mind screams out "MY GOD I AM GOING
DOWN", I try to hold the ST up but noway, and I gently lay it down, in a
control landing on the tip over wing. I feel my right hamstring pull under
the weight. For the first time in 30,000 miles my bike is down. It
is no longer a virgin to the ground.
I step away and survey the damage. Both bikes are down, but we are
lucky. The tip over wings do their job. No damage. Now we have
to get them back up. I help Phil but I am not much good with just one leg.
He grabs his bike near the windshield, and breaks off 40% of the windscreen, but
we get it back up. Next we get my bike up, and I recheck for
damage. None to report.
We tape Phil's broken screen with black tape. Ugly but effective. It
will hold till we get to the campground where we can figure out something else.
My leg screams when I throw it over the saddle. It will be sore and stiff
the next few days. It will plague me the rest of the trip.
We escape Tennessee on U.S. 431 and head for Kentucky. We veer off onto SR
79 shortly after entering Kentucky. Our route takes us past Kentucky farms
and fields. The leaves are less colorful here then in the Tennessee hills.
We roll pass slow moving farm vehicles, waving at the farmers as we zoom by.
The smell of tobacco curing in woodsheds is everywhere, at first I thought I was
smelling the remnants of a far off wild land fire. Phil informs me of the
true origins of the scent, at a butt break in Morgantown.
It is a beautiful morning, clear and sunny. Warm temps. The
countryside is quiet, as we ride through. I see horses grazing in
pastures, and wonder if I am gazing upon a future Derby winner someday.
At mid morning we cross the Ohio River into the land of "you guys"
instead of y'all, of unsweetened ice tea, and mini vans.
In Indiana we follow SR 135. Fearful of speeding tickets we keep our speed
sedate.
In Corydon we top off our fuel tanks, and stop for lunch at Ryan's. I have
fried chicken from the hot bar. After lunch I called and checked my voice
mail.
We rode over to a nearby Wal Mart where we picked a few supplies.
The plan is to reach Chain of Lakes State Park in Northern Indiana, and meet up
with a fellow STer from the BBS known as Coop. We plan to be there by 5
pm.
I was so full from the hot bar I was hardly able to get my leg over the saddle
to get back on the road.
We stay north on 135 out of Croydon.
Not long after lunch, and somewhere near Salem, I spot a figure in the south
bound lane walking, pulling something. As we fly by him, I noticed he is
wearing a sign that says "Love Life". Noway can I pass this
up. I go back and pull over to a turnout and wait for the figure to walk
down to me.
I asked him-
"so where ya goin?"
"Delaware"
"how long ya been walkin?"
"I left San Diego on May 2nd"
His name is James "No Clue" Dees. He is pulling supplies in a 1
wheel trailer. It is loaded with camping gear and food. He says RV
drivers and Harley guys are the worst. They never wave. No Clue said
he walked out of his teaching job a few years ago and now lives a life of
wandering. His sign explains his philosophy on life.
Phil and James "No Clue" Dees-somewhere in
Indiana
No clue reminds me of the unicycle guy I met in the Mojave, on my western trip
last June.
After we take some pictures we leave No Clue, and continue on our journey.
135 is great ride through Southern, Indiana. I never thought we could get
in a few leans in Indiana but we did on 135. Pleasant surprise.
We jump over to US 31. Funny, 31 goes right past my house. I could
turn south and follow it all the way home. It struck me as kind of odd I
came to this point in such a round about way.
We make another route change onto SR46, then to SR 9. We are near Indy,
and running into urban sprawl and busy suburbs. Eastern Indiana is a
quagmire of stop and go. Towns every 10 miles or so, and none are easy to
get through.
By late afternoon we stop for a butt break near Shelbyville. We are
frustrated at all the stop and go, and get out the map. Two fairly large
cities loom before us. Muncie and Anderson. We lay in a route to
take us around the snarling traffic in those cities, and take off.
It is late, noway we are going to make the park by 5pm. Despite the route
change to SR9, we are far behind schedule. I hope Coop doesn't get pissed
off and leave.
Finally free of Indy and its accompanying traffic, we make up some time on SR
9. The sun is setting as we ride north. Now this is more like it.
Cruising at 70 our shadows dance in the cornfields to our right. This
segment of our ride reminds me of my ride across Kansas late one afternoon.
At the crossroads of SR 9 and US 30, we turn right. It is full dark now.
We ride into Columbia City where we find a Arby's and eat supper. It will
be too late to cook anything at the campground when we arrive.
Leaving the parking lot I see a Gold Wing rider on his way home from work. His
is riding with short sleeves on cool night. How does he do that?
I take over the point when we leave the restaurant, and quickly lose Phil a few
miles later. I fail to notice the route turn off and ride past it. I
don't see Phil in my mirrors, and turn around. Where is he? I ride
south a few miles, but no Phil. He must of took that road up there.
I leave the highway and ride a secondary road looking for him. I ride east
for 3 miles. Nothing. I ride west for a few miles. Same story.
Where is he? I strain to see the single light of the ST off in the
distance. Is he ok? I pull in a church parking lot, and weigh the
options.
I will ride back down to 9, and if I fail to see him, I will ride on the
park. It is not that far ahead. I am sure he will go there.
At last I see the lone headlight coming at me. It is Phil. He said
his map window on the left leg of his Darien blew off and he went to look for
it. Didn't find it.
It was then we decided, if we get separated in the future, he would call my cell
phone and leave me instructions on where to reunite.
Twenty miles later we arrive at the park. A ranger asks-
"you guys looking for a guy named Coop"
"yeah"
"follow me"
We follow the Ranger truck to the tent area and see the parked ST. It is
Coop and he has a nice fire going. Very comforting. We unsaddle and
meet Coop and he holds the light for us while we set up our tents. My sore
leg made tent pitching difficult.
It is almost 9pm. I apologize to Coop for being late, but had no idea the
area around Indy was so congested.
After setting up camp I rode over to the showers. When I got back, the 3
of us gathered around the fire and talked motorcycles, and swapped stories of
the good ole days.
We rode 320 miles today. Not a lot of miles for the saddle time put
in. It would the theme of the entire trip.
Phil gets out the super glue from the Wal Mart stop and fixes his
windshield. It will hold the rest of the trip.
I went to bed near 11pm. It was a cool, pleasant night. Perfect
sleeping weather.
