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

Day 1
February 5th, 2008                                     video!
Prattville, Alabama                  South Florida and the Keys

I was up and about making last minute checks, while Debbie was getting ready for work.  I wanted to be on the road by 7am.  My objective today was Orlando, Florida.  Not really a problem if you stick to the most direct route, but I seldom ride anywhere using that method.

I started putting this tour together in late December, and had been looking forward to it for weeks.  Winter was passing ok, and the Holidays were great at my house, but I was in a funk about the Packers being eliminated from the Super Bowl.  I still had a good time watching the game though.  But with football season over, and the short drab days of winter wearing on me, I figured early February would be a good time to go on a ride.  My running was currently in a lull, and I felt bad about that, I wanted to lift my spirits, and nothing does that better then the open road.

This time of year I have little choice about where to ride.  Any road north and I run into cold and ice in a few hundred miles.  If I ride due east I encounter water and iffy weather quickly, west might be ok, but again the weather is a virtual crap shoot out that way this time of year.  No, it must be south, and that means Florida.

The Weather Channel reported a line of rain and severe weather was heading toward Alabama and the Southeast and was due to hit sometime this evening.  The line extended only as far south as the Wiregrass areas, so I was going to be safe in Orlando tonight.

At 6:55am I rolled the garage up and warmed up the RT.  I bid farewell to Debbie, and said, "I'll see ya at the beach in a few days, I'll call ya in a couple of hours."  "Ok be careful."  "You know I will."  I dropped into gear and rolled up the driveway.  I had a sweatshirt under the Roadcrafter, and leather sport gloves on my hands.

My custom route for the day kicks in near Dothan, so when the GPS asked if I wanted to be auto directed to it I tabbed yes.  The first 125 miles of the route will be over infinitely familiar lands and roads to South Alabama.  I created today's route a week ago with my software, and atlas.  It was basically 3 routes, auto route the first 200 miles, and last 300, with a custom route in between through South Georgia, and the Panhandle.

The morning was warm, foggy, and moist, just like the first day in 2002 on my first ride to the Keys.  I headed south on Memorial Drive, clearing the city of Prattville on U.S. 31.  The route will bring me through Montgomery's west and south side to U.S. 231.

A man ran the traffic light at Fairview and Memorial just a few blocks from my house.  Wasn't even close, a good thing no one was coming through at the time.  Why I always check up even if I have the green light.  "Joker must be late for work,"  I thought.

I gassed up at the Entec station near the Alabama River, and reset all the trip meters. 

After crossing the River into Montgomery, I turned on the Western by pass, for a run through the roughest part of city, but it was daylight, and I know the area. 

I went past my brother's place of employment, and looked to see if his truck was in the lot.  It wasn't.  "That's right, he doesn't come in till around 8."

The urban blight Montgomery has become is just sad to see.   I remember when these areas were "good" parts of town.  As a teenager I went on dates to the movies, and the mall, but now all that is shut down and boarded up.  What businesses are still open are barricaded up like the Alamo.

Morning traffic was building, and I feathered the RT all the way to U.S. 231 South and veered off toward Florida.  A few miles later I broke free of the congestion and settled in.  Fog had reduced visibility to somewhere between quarter and half mile.  Fine moisture drops were forming on the RT's screen, they were blown off to the sides by the wind.  Every once in a while a big drop would come over the top and strike my helmet.

U.S. 231 is the major thoroughfare south to Panama City, and as such is home to numerous T shirt and souvenir shops.  Yankees love to spend money on such things, so we made sure to tap into that need all the way to beach.  But today, the shops are closed, because spring break marks the beginning of beach season, and that is still a few weeks away.

I set the cruise on the RT at 75 mph, and brought the screen up to quiet the ride.  The BMW RT is the quietest bike I've ever ridden.  It does really well at wind management, and its comfortable seat, and cruise are big pluses also.

The fields and pastures poke out in the mist, and I feel like I'm peaking behind a curtain to get a glimpse of things on the other side.  But I know this land well.  My son went to Jr. college in Dothan for 2 years, and we were down this way couple days a week going to ballgames.  He played the best baseball of his career in Dothan.

It took me 15 minutes to get through the college town of Troy.  The Honda shop there had just opened when I went by it.

The fog was not getting any better, but on recollection I remembered it was foggy all the way to Dothan in 2002.  This entire ride was a healthy dose of deja vue.

The riding was good, as I sang songs and pondered the meaning of life all way to Dothan, where I pulled into a familiar con store for a break after 115 miles.   It is located at the intersection where you turn to go to my son's old school.  Chris and I use to stop here all the time.  "Well heck, I'm gonna pull in here for old times sake and send Chris a pic." 

The fog was still blanketing the area, and the air so thick the road was wet.

I went inside and bought a Mountain Dew and fixed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and stood outside near the bike.  This tour I brought my lexan bottle to fill with ice for my drinks.  The Moto Fizz has a special slot for it.  This way I always have a cool drink, most coolers in con stores are woefully inadequate.

A vendor dropping off potato chips called out to me, "Hey you goin to the beach?"  "Yeah but not that beach."  "Oh yeah, so where?"  "Key West."  "Man, must be nice."

I called Debbie and reported my whereabouts, and sent Chris a picture of the situation.  "Know where this is?" Was the caption.  A few seconds later, "No, where?"  "The store in Dothan we use to stop at."  "Oh yeah, so what's goin on there?"  "Nuttin just passing through, I'll see ya in Destin on Saturday, don't work too hard."  "Dang you're bad."

Before leaving the store I asked the GPS to find the nearest Regions Bank.  I needed some cash, and not that I'm cheap or anything, but I didn't want to pay the fees associated with a con store ATM.  The unit reported a branch about a mile away, but I didn't need directions, after being prompted, I knew how to get there.  Like I said, I spent a lot of time here.

After picking up some cash I left Dothan on U.S. 84 East, a highway that runs east-west through South Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi.

By now the fog was getting better, and the temps were climbing.  "Good, now maybe the sun will burn off this fog."

Around 10am I crossed the Chattahoochee and went into Georgia.  The clouds were breaking up and blue skies appeared ahead.  The peanut farms were mostly silent on this day, but soon planting will begin anew.   I came across a closed down fruit stand and took a few pictures.

I came across this closed fruit stand somewhere in Georgia.
Spring comes early in the South.  It should be open in a few
weeks.

The roads were mostly empty and the riding was fun.  Nothing beats being out on the road and feeling free.  I didn't realize how much I had missed it the last 3 months.

The south is not known for its windmills, but I did manage
to find this one, down the road from the fruit stand.

In Bainbridge, Georgia old black men seemed to gather around the older store fronts on the city's west side.  On a whim I pulled in one to see what was going on.  One thing I've learned over the years and miles, almost everyone likes to chat with a Long Rider on a fancy motorcycle.  The RT kicked up dust in the chalky parking lot as I idled close to the group of 4 and walked over.

"Hey now what's goin on?"  I spoke out to no one in particular.

A 70ish man in blue overalls, with gray facial hair responded, "not much, where ya headin?"

"Key West"

Another, looking puzzled, said, "where's zat?"

I chuckled, "way, way, south of here."

We spoke about life in and around Bainbridge, and how the men gathered here almost everyday to drink coffee, before going about their business.  All were born and raised in the area, working the peanut and cotton farms before old age put them on Social Security.

"So not much goin on around here this time of year?"

A dark skinned man, face drawn and withered said, " nooooooo, but some yankees are coming, or so they say, and they plan on building some kind of plastic plant down the road.  Gonna employ over a hunnerd."

"Well that might perk things up, never know though.  I better git goin, y'all take it easy."

"ok stay outta trouble," the short man hollered out.

I stayed on U.S. 84 east out of Bainbridge and proceeded on through the quiet Georgia countryside.  It was partly cloudy and warm now, and I was in a good mood as I  enjoyed the ride through the quiet farmland.  Fields of cows grazed far and near, and cotton fields lay idle in the winter winds, waiting for spring.

 
"cotton fields lay idle in the winter winds, waiting for spring."

Churches are everywhere in this part of country.  One every mile.  They are the hubs of social activity for many living in these parts.  Some are brick, others made of wood, and still others white blocks.  Most were home to less then a hundred folks, and everyone knew all the members.  Most rural Southerners are God Fearing people.  I passed many of their churches on this day.

I took this pic in the doorway of one of the many rural churches
I passed on this day.  This one is in Florida on SR 53, just south
of the Georgia State Line.

For all the miles I ride, I've not spent a whole lot of time in this part of the country recently.  I use to ride the region extensively in the 70s, the days when I was pretty much a regional rider.  Now that I've greatly expanded my horizons, I just pass through on my way to somewhere else.  But the last few years I've made a concentrated effort to spend more time in my homeland.  

I go to a lot of places, and see many grand things, but I'll always be a southern boy, and don't see myself ever living somewhere else.  I think that is true of most native sons.  Besides, I don't like anyplace that gets COLD.

           The simple life in South Georgia.

I moved the screen down, to enjoy the warm wind moving around me as I motored on into Cairo, looking for a place to eat.  I decided on the "3 Diners" in the middle of town.  I pulled the RT to the front window and stepped in.

"Sit anywhere you like," the lady said, so I did.  I made sure to pick a place I could see my bike.

The 3 Diners is a fancy version of a Waffle House.

A middle aged lady came for my order.  "So watcha gonna have hun?"

"Chicken sandwich with crispy hashbrowns."

While waiting for my food, I pulled up the internet on my Blackberry 8100 to check the weather.  I went to the Weather Channel web site for a radar view of the Southeast.  Not a drop of rain anywhere in my area, but the line of rain that was once in Kansas was now closing in on Arkansas.  There were many patches of red in the green.  "Man that ain't good for the folks up that way."  I called Debbie to remind her bad weather was closing in on Alabama, and to keep a watch out.

The chicken was ok, but a little dry, but the hash browns were excellent.  The jukebox was a collection of 60s songs that blared non stop for the time I spent there.  It reminded me of the Jukebox Junction in the Blue Ridge, so many good times there.

I rose up, gathered my stuff,  plopped a 3 dollar tip on the table, and walked over to pay my tab.  A slanted lady, barely tall enough to see over the counter, gathered my money. 

"So where ya off to hun?"

"Orlando tonight, and a couple days later, Key West."

"That's a beautiful motorcycle you have out there."

It was the first of many compliments I received on the RT this trip.

By the time lunch was over, afternoon was coming on.  I needed to get back on the road and ride steady to make Orlando (still 300 miles away) at a decent hour.  I left Cairo on 84 heading still further east to Thomasville.

You'll find many roads like this in rural Georgia.  The GPS 
told me this one meandered for miles back into farm and
timberland.  Not having a dual sport,  I had to skip it.

The farmlands of South Georgia were now quite active and migrant workers were stooped over long lines of seedlings.  They paid me no attention as the quiet running RT slipped by them unnoticed.

        
"They paid me no attention as the quiet running RT slipped by them unnoticed."

A few miles west of Thomasville a large, black pick up truck shot by me at 90+.

The zumo directed me around the city to an outer loop, and I picked my route back up a few miles later on the eastside.  I continued on 84 to Quitman, the seat of Brooks County.  On the approach into the city I noted prisoners on work release mowing the grassy medians, "a good use of manpower if ya ask me."  In front off the courthouse I finally left U.S. 84 and went south on SR 333, bound for Florida.

      Brooks County Courthouse, Qutiman, Georgia

By now the yellow reserve light was shining on the instrument cluster, and the countdown to empty began.  I ignored it and kept riding south.  I know the lay of the land around here, and was safe in the knowledge lots of gas stations lay ahead.

I crossed into Florida and immediately passed 2 old clunkers bogging down 3 vehicles.  I took the first 2 cars easily and came back in, and finished off the last 2 about a mile later.

Just across the state line I found a empty church parking lot to take use of so I could vent out the Roadcrafter, take off my sweatshirt, and go to summer gloves.

The landscape in the Panhandle is not much different than Central Alabama, just add Spanish Moss.  The temp was 81 degrees, nice.

By the time I made it to Madison, Florida I figured I better get some gas.  That was not as easy as I thought it would be, because the first 3 places I stopped had no pay at the pump.  I'm not doing the pre pay thing, so went on to the next each time.  Finally, I went back to the Shell station I passed on the way in.  While filling up I realized I had a brain lapse, by not filling up on cheaper Georgia gas when I had the chance.  The blunder probably cost me a couple of dollars on this fill up.  "Well that was dumb, where was ya mind at?"  My left told the right of my brain.

Madison is a typical Panhandle town with Spanish Moss dropping from the branches of old trees, and well kept wood frame homes with porches facing the road.  The Panhandle is nothing like South Florida by any measure.  It is very old south, and conservative.  

                      Madison, Florida

The checkered flag appeared on the GPS letting me know I was at the end of my custom ride.  I went to the recently found file on the Zumo 550 and tabbed the address of the Motel 6 in Kissimmee.  My route came back to me in seconds, total distance almost 300 miles, and several hours of ride time.

I piloted the RT to the ramps of I-10 East and took off.  I had a full gas tank, and just enough daylight to make it.  Quickly the BMW was on 80 mph and I found my rhythm.  I placed the screen in the mid position, hit the ESA equipped shocks to comfort, set the cruise control, and leaned back on the Moto Fizz bag.  

The RT is very adept at this type of riding, and supremely comfortable, she ran long and true over the roadbed.

I crossed the famous Suwanee River, the one made famous by the song; "Way down a Suwanee River ...you know the one.

At the I-75 interchange I left 10 and went south.  The road is smooth, with 3 lanes, in that regard it is one the nation's best for moving large amounts of traffic FAST. 

The scenery of Central Florida is quite nice, but the further south you go the quicker it fades away.

Gobs of RVs and 18 wheel trucks moved along the slow lane, but I was safe out in the far left.  With a rabbit from Michigan in front, I traveled south at 85 mph.  After a hundred miles of cruising I felt my sweet tooth calling so exited at Reddick to look for a candy bar.

Down low off the interstate, I found a wood front con store with a bench out front, "thats what I'm tawkin about," as I spotted it.  I shut the RT off, took my helmet off and went inside.

This con store in Reddick, Florida had the most foul mouthed
clerk I'd ever come across.  I suggest staying away from it.

I filled my Camelback lexan with Mountain Dew and ice, and grabbed a "Oh Henry" bar.  I was standing at the counter waiting for the middle aged man serving as clerk to notice me.  He was the most foul mouthed guy I ever met in public.  He was having a routine conversation with who I presumed to be a friend using all kinds of curse words.  He spoke in some kind of Northeast accent.  My guess was upstate New York.  He never checked up, even when 2 ladies came in.  He came over to ring me up.

"Dang, why ya wanna do all that cussing and stuff?"

"What's it to you?"

"Nuttin, but those 2 ladies yonder prolly could do without it, I thought someone had the Sopranos on the TV."

"well don't worry about it, is this all for ya?"

"yeah, but look, I dunno where ya come from, and what the norm is, and you can do what ya want, cause you own the place I guess, but when folks find out Scarface operates this place, prolly not gonna come back."

I went outside and sat on the bench to eat my candy bar.  A few minutes later the 2 ladies came out.  "We heard the exchange with that man inside, you're right, we won't be back to this place."  I checked in with Debbie and sent Chris a text.  I also went to the news to see how the Super Tuesday primaries were coming out.  All in all about a 20 minute break.

The flood of cars moving south on I-75 is relentless.  It is busy 24 hours a day.  I know better then to come to Florida in June, they say that time of year, it is unlike anything you've ever seen.  "Not stopping again till I reach the motel."

The farther south the heavier the traffic.  I went through Ocala at 80 mph, the heart of Florida horse country, and soon found the toll booths for the Florida Turnpike.  I pulled the ticket stub, stuffed it in my sleeve pocket and pushed on.

The sun was dropping quickly as I closed in on Orlando.  A few miles from the toll booths I came across the biggest recap I'd ever seen.  It covered the entire left lane, and I had to move over to the right.  "Man, to hit that thing would really be bad.  Even if you stayed up it would heavily damage your bike."  I saw it in plenty of time and moved out of the way.

Orlando is a HUGE place, vast and spread out, it takes a lot of guile to negotiate.  With the Zumo pointing the way to the motel  I maneuvered the RT through the expressways and interchanges.  It was dark now, and I kept an extra keen eye out for the stuff going on around me.

The toll booth for the turnpike came into view and I handed the guy my ticket.  "That'll be 13 dollars."  "Oh man! that was the most expensive 50 miles of my entire career buddy, and I've been on many a toll road.  Sheesh y'all are awesome."  I paid up and went to I-4 for the last few miles of the day.

I took exit 64 and went into the heart of Kissimmee looking for the motel, the GPS said it wasn't far from the interstate.

A few miles later I found it, but had to swing through a few turns on service roads to get down to it.  I had to check the road surface where I wanted to go, while looking for abrupt lane shifts, all at the same time looking for a break in oncoming traffic to get across.  Not all that hard, but in the dark, in a strange place, not a routine maneuver. 

I set the stand in front of the Motel 6 office after a 505 mile day.

The clerk put me in the back facing the 18 wheeler parking lot.  "Dang, I hope I ain't gotta listen to 18 wheelers idlin all night long."  I didn't.

After unloading the RT I cleaned  off the screen and fairing with Plexus, then went in for a shower.  My advance recon told me Holy Redeemer Catholic Church was 5 miles away, tomorrow was Ash Wednesday and I needed to start off Lent right, so planned on attending Mass.  I called to find out what time things got started.  The lady told me 9:30am.  "I only have a couple hundred miles to ride tomorrow so that will work out good." 

Finished with that, I called Ron Epperly to see if he wanted to eat supper with me.  I told him I was heading this way and he said if nothing happened we'd hook up.  "yeah, I'm at the Motel 6 in Kissimmee, know where that is?"  "Yeah I'll be there in about 20 minutes."   If you are fan of this web site, you should know Ron Epperly.  I first met him at a STOC rally in the spring of 2001, and over the years we've ridden many miles together.  He is a long time regular each fall in the Blue Ridge.  In fact, he was with the me the last time I rode the Keys.

Ron was right on time so we jumped in this car and rode down the street to a Logan's Steakhouse.  We have one in Prattville and it's pretty good.  The girl advised it would be a 25 minute wait, but in actuality is was less then 10.

The food was good, the service fair, and the conversation excellent.  We mostly spoke of riding, and the work stuff around Disney, where Big Ron works in the maintenance department.

After supper I had to make a quick run to the corner Wal-Greens for some ear plugs, which by the way seems to be buying up every corner worth having in the country.

Ron then took me on a tour around the back areas of Disney.  I find it fascinating how much it takes to operate such a vast facility.  The company employs over 60,000 people in the Orlando area.  It has transformed Central Florida into a mega mess.

About a hour later Ron had me back at the room.  We shook hands and I told him I'll be in touch.  I'm sure I'll see him somewhere later this year, with Friendstoc the first opportunity.

I flipped the TV on to catch the Super Tuesday results, and after catching up on that, surfed channels.  The line of storms that was moving east did a lot of damage in Arkansas and Tennessee tonight, and there were fatalities.  I was sad about that. 

 I didn't last long, and drifted off to sleep with the tv on.

Next on the road to Miami