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
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Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
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Day 4 A cold and cloudy start greeted me in Youngstown on this morning. Temp gauge on the 13 read 41 degrees and the brisk, gray skies made it feel colder. I slipped the 1300 past the trucks coming and going at the nearby truck stop, and took I-80 east into Pennsylvania. It was good I didn’t have a lot of miles to put down on this day. On I-80 the 1300 came to life and I pushed the switch to bring the windscreen up to block off the cold wind. I really appreciated the 1300s superior wind protection on this day, and the mornings that followed in New York and New England. The screen stayed up all day. North Pennsylvania was alive in color and spectacle. White farms houses were easily visible from the interstate, and I entertained myself with thoughts of long rides in Alabama with similar scenery. From I-80 I spotted several nice roads dispersing into the Quaker State countryside. I wished to come off 80 to follow a few, but I already had plans. Looks like this area of the state has several good riding options. The air temp gauge on the 1300 hadn’t budged since I left Youngstown and I cursed it. I wanted to turn it off so I would not be reminded it was 41 degrees. The 40s are my limit for riding. Daytime winter temps can sometimes slip into the 40s back home, and when it does, I usually park my bikes. I HATE riding in the cold, and if I have an option, I don’t. I was borderline as I traveled east. I still had the insulated liner to go to if things didn’t improve, but it was just too early to put it on now. It did not take long for me to grow bored on I-80, so I was glad to leave it for SR 66 thirty miles after entering Pennsylvania. The new route had a more northern tack as it carved through the Allegheny Mountains. I was concerned the new route would not bring warmer temps, and I was correct, the temp in fact dropped 1 degree. The air temp gauge was sitting on an even 40 when I spotted the Sawmill Diner in Leeper, and pulled in for something to eat. I parked my beloved bike in the front window so I could look at it while I ate. How many others do the same thing? The Sawmill was busy with locals as I tried to figure out the ordering process. When I came in I found a booth and settled in, but no one was coming for my order, or even bringing water. I did what any Long Rider would do, I sat back to see what everyone else was doing. It was then I noticed you had to go to the window and place your order, and when your order was ready they called you out. No numbers were given in the Sawmill, they called you by name. It only took a few minutes for the lady to call my name to pick up my toast. "GUY, ORDER IS READY FOR PICK UP." I ambled through the locals who were wearing camouflage, and picked up my food. I sat down with my toast. I read somewhere that food in your tummy keeps a guy warm while digesting, and right now I’d entertain any ideas on how to generate more heat. The toast was good and fit well with my diet of high carbs and low calorie. I know my diet is against the trend, but I need the carbs to do what I do. I’ve always had good success with it, and I still remembered how to train from my marathon days. I knew what worked and what didn’t. I expected an interview from a local about a southern boy far from home and cold, but none materialized. Instead I called home and spoke to my wife. I promised Debbie a trip to the beach when I returned, call it a rebate. After a cold morning I wondered why I was here, when I could be in Destin. "Call the Majestic Sun when ya getta chance, and book the accommodations" "OK, so where ya goin today?" "Gonna meet Peter for lunch down the road, and spend the night in Binghamton, New York." "So what the heck is in Binghamton??" "I dunno but thats as far as I’m goin on this cold ass day." I was reluctant to leave the warmth of the Sawmill, but I knew I had to. I fired up the 13 and got back on the road. The Sawmill is a good place for a butt break. The ride on 66 was outstanding, lots of color and good riding. Several Harley riders were sorting things out in a store parking lot in Pigeon. They waved at me when I rode past. Often I'd see leaves drifting down ahead of me, thousands of them, and as I passed through them they would slap the windscreen and sometimes land in my open helmet. The wake caused by the 1300 scattered them in all directions when I blew by. Only on a motorcycle are you so in tune with the surroundings. A light mist fell off and on most of the day. Small droplets formed on the windscreen but were quickly taken care of by the wind. The scenery was good, but I passed most of the photo ops. When I’m cold, I don’t feel like stopping. I just want to arrive so I can be warm again. I was stuck behind TWO slow pokes north of Russell City, and let an opportunity to pass go, when I couldn’t see where a blind driveway went back to. I feared a vehicle coming out, quickly turning south without LOOKING to see if anything was coming north in the southbound lane in a passing maneuver. I’m meeting PeterM in Wellsboro, at a diner named after the city. He said it would be easy to find. SR 66 comes to an end at Kane, and I picked up US 6 East. Turning onto the highway I thought how I rode US 6 in Utah and Nevada last summer. What a contrast in days. That day was warm and sunny, under a brilliant blue western sky, just the opposite of this cold and dreary day in Pennsylvania. Traffic picked up on 6 and so did the villages. Fall color was peaking and my timing was good in Pennsylvania. The great color and interesting townships took my mind off the cold. The wood frame houses in the towns were like Ohio, built close to the highway. I made a silent plea to the residents of these towns NOT step off the porch, or run the risk of being taken out. A sign gave the mileage to Wellsboro and I reset trip meter B to countdown the miles to the city. Passing through one of the many townships, I ran a stop sign. Not on purpose, but a 6 wheel delivery truck had the sign blocked, and I didn’t see it till I was in the intersection. I had already performed a visual inspection of the crossroads, all was clear, but still it upset me. In Coudersport US 6 is detoured to side streets due to construction. I was working through the traffic cones, barricades and back alleys, when I lost the route. The directions were poorly layed out and confusing. A family in a SUV was following ME thinking I knew what I was doing. It was obvious he picked the wrong joker to follow when I pulled into a church parking lot scratching my head. He came in behind me, displaying New York plates. His window came down as he pulled and went around me, and in typical New York fashion shouted- DIS ANYBODY, IN DIS DUMP OF TOWN KNOW WHAT THE F,,, IS GOIN ON??" "Look here, I ain't from here" "THATS F-ING OBVIOUS"
The towns and villages of the north are special in the fall, I encourage everyone to sample it at least once. You'll never forget it. Just west of Wellsboro, a westbound Miata Club drove by. Not ONE had the top down; the gesture reminded me of the temperature. At least the temp had moved up a couple of degrees. There is cold, and then there is the cold of riding a motorcycle. The wind bites through an individual, finding its way to your warm body through any and every small opening in your riding gear. I could feel it on my legs despite the fact I had practically stuck my shins on the V4 motor of the 1300 to try and stay warm. U.S. 6 smoothly took me past the Tioga State Forest, and the Grand Canyon of the East. I passed stopping to visit both, too cold to stand around in the 40 degree temps.
Wellsboro was a busy city in the middle of grand fall color. Old fashioned street lamps lined the main street through town, and busy shoppers and leaf peepers used the city as a hub for fall activities. I was creeping through the busy little town looking for the diner, but it was tough to ride and look, too many pedestrians were subject to just step out on the street. The atmosphere was very fallish in Wellsboro, and as PeterM would say, the place reeked of "old money." Lots of trendy shops along Main Street with Lexus, BMWs and Escalante's parked out front. I rode all the way through town, but failed to see the diner, I easily missed it, because I was watching everything else. I was looking for a place to turnaround when I saw Peter and Randi in a parking lot with their cell phone out. I made a U turn and peeled in. We exchanged greetings and decided to double back and eat at McDonalds. The diner was jam packed and hopeless, as was most every local place in town. I figure I could take down 2 regular burgers and still make my calorie budget. Not enough meat on those things to even grade a mention, everyone knows they are mostly bread. In McDonalds we peeled off the layers. It was sunny when Peter and Randi left State College, and they dressed for a cool day, not a semi cold one. They were forced to break out their rain gear for a little more wind protection. PeterM asked-"So where ya spendin the night?" "Binghamton" "What the hell for??" Why does everyone keep saying that? Now I was scared about going there. " I dunno it looked like a logical place to lay up." We caught up on the news and had a nice lunch. PeterM said his ride to the Blue Ridge looked iffy. Long range weather forecasts predicted rain in Pennsylvania, Ohio and West Virginia. My plans have me further south when the front comes in, so with a little luck, I should be ok, but we'll see. By the time I was feeling warm again I had to hit the road. I told Peter and Randi good bye and turned the 13 east for New York, hoping I didn't run into that guy again that cussed me out in Coudersport. New England has nothing on Northern Pennsylvania, the fall color was outstanding, and despite the cold, I was glad I came. Some areas were red, some were yellow, but it was always good. Riding east I saw a hand painted sign on the shoulder. "Trailor" for rent. I took it someone from Alabama was moving back home and had his trailer on the market. I answered the call of the reserve light at the crossroads of 14 and US 6. I rolled to the pumps and saw a BIG man loading up on his Victory twin. The guy was huge. I noticed 2 RTs heading north on 14 while I was pumping gas. A fine mist returned to the road with me when I left the gas pumps. It was 46 degrees. I pushed on in the cool temps, just looking ahead. I finally left US 6 for SR 409 which was nothing more than a connecting road for SR 706. Though the route was short, it was fun. The mist let up as I rode. The farmhouses along 706 looked warm and I wished I was in one. My feet were beginning to get cold, and the unlined AGV gloves were also chilling my hands. Because I had only 30 miles or so left to do, I stayed with the leather gloves. By the time I got to Montrose I couldn't take it anymore, and when I saw the sign on the McDonalds announcing chicken noodle soup, that was all it took for me to stop. I made sure to bring all my gear in so as not to have cold gear to put back on. I found a table near the front and sat down with my soup. A church group came in while I was seated, and a young father asked- "Is that your bike out front?" "yeah" "where ya from?" "Alabama, on my way to Binghamton" "Why??" "LOOK, its MY trip, I can go to Binghamton if I WANT" (not really but I felt like saying it) "No reason, just a place to spend the night." "I'd like to travel one day, but don't know if I'll do it on a motorcycle". In a thick NY accent. I've been around enough by now to know the upstate version is different than the tough sounding city accent. Not quite as harsh on the ears or as intimidating. I also know the city dwellers don't think of the upstaters as real New Yorkers. "well its not for everyone, but I truly enjoy it." The man's 3 happy meals were ready, and he loaded everything back up in his mini van. I don't think he will ever venture very far from New York, he just seemed the kind of guy that could never make a decision without calling 3-4 people. As I was leaving the McDonalds a teenager left the drive in window, and cut me off. He never saw me, or even checked up. The soup felt warm going down, and soon I was back on the road and heading north to Binghamton and the Motel 6. The mist had turned into a light drizzle and I was really cold now. The temp stood at 45. I took I-81 into the city and started looking for the Motel 6. I had trouble finding it because it was not located near the interstate, as is normally the case. I finally located it behind a few other buildings and came to a stop outside the lobby after a 369 mile day. "So this is Binghamton?" "Yeah dis is it, did ya not know it?" "oh yeah I knew it, but I was concerned" "about?" "nevermind, I just need a key, been cold all day" The unit had all inside doors, but sliding back doors. It made for quick and easy loading and unloading. I came inside and quickly noticed the idiot before me had the damn Air Conditioner ON. I was flummoxed. I opened the control box and turned the fan and heater on high, rotating the dial ALL the way into the red. I was determined to warm the place up quick. I had already spent all my calories for the day, so supper was out. Like I said, combining a trip and a diet sucks. Just as well, nothing was close by and I didn't feel like getting the 1300 back out on such a nasty night. A hot shower and bath is the only way I can knock off the chill after a day like today. When I finished I called home, then my son. We're both looking forward to the evening baseball game. I made a few notes for tomorrows ride through the Hudson Valley and into Massachusetts. Before going to sleep I checked the weather. More rain tonight but should clear out by morning, but clouds will remain, with temps in the high 40s. I guess it could be worse. I fell asleep about 12. next: the Hudson Valley, and the Berkshires.
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