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Day 3
October 3, 2001
Near Albion, Indiana
A cat fight just before dawn startles me out of a good sleep. I lay in my
bag another 30 minutes or so waiting for the sun to rise. The hissing and
growling of the cats echo throughout the woods. It sounded very spooky and
fit the time of year we are in.
With the sun clearing the trees we pack the STs and get ready to head north. The
air is cool and chilly, but not cold. I wear only a T shirt under the
Roadcrafter.
Coop has a identical ST, and his "Stitch" is the opposite of
mine. I am gray with black ballistics, he is black with gray ballistics.
We ease out the park and make the short ride to SR 9. Phil has the point,
but all of us scan for deer, in the early morning hours.
On SR 9 we take our positions. Phil, myself, Coop. We will ride this
formation all the way to Mackinaw.
I feel chilled but don't want to slow the group down to don a sweatshirt,
besides, the sun will soon warm things up, so I just keep pressing on.
School buses are busy picking up children for school along SR 9.
They wave at us as we ride by. A youngster sticks his artwork to the bus
window as we ride by. It looked like a house with a stick man in the yard.
The leaves are yellow, and orange. Their colors more vibrant then those in
Tennessee. It is another beautiful day.
Coop is a experienced and competent rider, confirmed by his recent entry into
the Iron Butt. It is reassuring and comfortable to know I don't have to
worry about him plowing into my rear end. He gives me a safe distance and
the gap never wavers the entire day.
We cross into Michigan, and stop for Phil to take his picture of the welcome
sign.
We ride into Sturgis, but this place bears no resemblance to the one in South
Dakota. Colorful trees stand guard along the streets. White frame houses
display American Flags, every store has some type of patriotic message in the
front. It is indeed a good time to be a American.
The sun is full up now, and riding along I notice a fresh deer kill. A
gentle reminder to be on the lookout.
The highway takes us under bright yellow trees, and more then a few times our
bikes would find themselves in the middle of leaves falling from the sky.
I could see leaves drifting down from sky, only to see Phil blow them back up,
then my turn would come, when I cleared the leaves, I would glance to my mirrors
and watch Coop part the leaves for the last time, on his departure they would at
last make it to the ground.
Fall was everywhere in Michigan, in colors I never see in hot, humid
Alabama. Back home leaves turn brown then fall. Not much else.
We stop for breakfast near I-69 at a place called Norma's Kitchen. It is
local place with a good crowd out front. As Phil would say "that's a
good sign the food is good".
I have pancakes and bacon. I also used the handy telephone in the booths
to call home. Over breakfast we discuss route options. SR 66 will
take us through the heart of Battle Creek, something we decide to avoid. I
make the call to get on the slab and skirt Cereal City via I-69, and pick 66
again, north of the city.
We stop for gas at Olivet, just a short ride on the interstate from
breakfast. Phil's fully loaded ST is using gas at a significantly higher
rate then Coop and I, but we top our tanks anyway so we can all stay in synch.
I noticed a green mini van with Ontario plates pull in to the adjacent
pump. An attractive young mother emerges from the drivers cockpit.
She has two youngsters in the rear strapped down in car seats. I strike up
a conversation with her-
"how's the weather up there?"
"warm and sunny when I left"
"so they watch TV back there?"
"yeah its a life saver, keeps them occupied"
"so how far south ya goin?"
"Indiana"
"can I watch TV in the back to?"
"sure if ya like Disney"
Another man comes out of the store and says he heard us talking in the store and
wanted to know where we are from. He tells me he use to live in Anniston,
Alabama.
We get back on the slab and exit at SR 79. It will take us back to SR 66.
SR 66 is long and straight, and we struggle to keep the STs in legal limits.
A strong wind out of the west begins to buck Coop and I. I counter lean to
the left and notice Coop doing the same. Phil's loaded ST is having a much
better time of it then we are. The wind will buck and shake us the rest of
the day.
We ride through the village of Ionia. Twisting, and easing our way past
lunch time traffic. We turn left then right, making our way through the
town. You have to stay eagle eyed to follow 66 through Ionia. We make a
left turn, and cruiser gives us a full dose of microwaves.
We go north out of Ionia. I ride with my shield flipped up to enjoy the
warm sun on my face, when I am suddenly belted by something on my left cheek at
75 mph. I am stung and have no idea what it is. I grab my face, and
notice blood on my glove. This is hurting like hell. I gear down and
slow to the side, crumpled in the saddle. Coop follows me to the
shoulder. I get down from the ST and take my helmet off and see and hear
Coop's reaction to my face "Ewwwwww what happened?" "Dunno
something hit me"
I look in the mirror, my left cheek is swollen and blood is trickling down.
Still hurting like hell, I saddle back up. I have no idea what it was,
could be a rock chip. I ride a few more miles when the pain is too much
and have to pull off again. Phil says "lemme look at that bro" I
take my helmet back off and he checks it out. "Bee. I can tell by the
way its swelling, here put this on it" It is some kind of ointment.
Is there NOTHING he doesn't have in those bags?
We take a butt break near 6 Lakes. I drink Mountain Dew and nibble on beef
jerky.
The day wears on and the miles began to add up. We pass a few south bound
Harley riders as we ride north. Why are so many going south and so few
going north? Do they know something we don't?
SR 66 brings us to U.S. 131. We keep pressing north under darkening
skies. The map pocket on my left arm is most handy. Great idea
Aerostich. How come I did not have this for my California trip?
Riding along I spot a hill overlooking the valley to the east. I see a
road to the top so turn around to go back for it. Coop pulls in-
"watcha doin?"
"gonna ride to the top of that hill"
"noway its a private road"
Coop is correct. The road is blocked with a sign reading "Private
Property". We catch back up with Phil, who pulled over to wait for
us.
The air is getting colder as we ride north. The wind is still rocking us,
and I begin to think about the Mackinaw Bridge. "If its this windy
here, what will the bridge be like?" I have never been across the
bridge, but know of its reputation for wind. I have heard urban tales from
within the Iron Butt of bikes in the water below. Blown over the short
railing by fierce crosswinds.
We stop for gas in Petoskey. A busy lake side city. It is downright
cold and its spitting sleet. Coop zips up my Roadcrafter, and I switch
from touring gloves to medium weight. The Roadcrafter will remain unvented
till I reach Alabama again, 2 weeks later.
I am back on US 31. Isn't this the road to my house? Why does it keep
popping up? Perhaps I should take it, and go back, avoiding the Mackinaw
altogether. I know I can't do that. I am committed to Canada.
We ride north on I-75 in sleet and high wind. My waterproof gloves and
sweatshirt lined Roadcrafter keep me warm. The Aerostich is the best money
I ever spent.
I see Coop in my mirrors. His headlight carving its way in the sleet.
It is late afternoon when we reach THE bridge. I pay my toll and as luck
would have it I am the first out the gates. "Ok toad you have the
point".
I have crossed many bridges in the past, but none as intimidating as the
Mackinaw. It is tall and long. It seems like it takes forever to
reach the top. It is sleeting and misting rain. The wind is
awesome. I counter lean way to the left. Legend is correct-the
railing is laughable, if a guy gets blown into it, he's going over. The
road is slick, and I fear if I counter lean much more, the ST will slide out
from under me.
Big trucks crawl along at 10 mph, and we fall in behind one.
We finally reach the crest and begin the descent down. This bridge is
HIGH. The wind dies down the lower we go. We dive off at the rest
area at the end, we are now in the Upper Peninsula. Always wanted to ride
here, so what's next?
In the rest area we quickly agree to skip camping on such a dreadful night and
motel it. It does not take a rocket scientist to know it is going to be
cold and wet.
I take the lead and ride us in to St. Ignace. It is still rainy and
sleeting, and night is fast approaching.
I pull into the Driftwood motel and we go in to get the rate. Why don't
motels post their rate out front for all to see?
The news is good. 38 bucks, split 3 ways. We take it.
We pile in a room with 2 double beds, and they bring me a cot. I have a
warm bed and hot shower so not complaining.
After I shower we walk down to the motel restaurant. They try to sit us at
a small table, but we move to a bigger one.
I order the fried shrimp. It was as good as any I ever had the pleasure
off on the Gulf Coast. Very tasty. Nice light batter.
We talk about the days ride over supper. It was a fun day, despite the
crappy weather the last 50 miles.
Back at the room Phil and Coop talk about computers, while I go outside to make
a few phone calls.
We flip the TV on and catch up on the news. The weather guessers are
saying a front is on the way east, and should arrive by tomorrow. It is
bringing more rain. Hopefully, if we can get started early we can stay
ahead of it.
Coop shows us this tiny pc he uses when on the road. Quite impressive.
We covered 389 miles today.
Tired, we turn the lights out at 10pm.
 
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