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
October 7th, 2004
Prattville, Ala

I didn't sleep well the night prior to departure.  I was like a kid at bedtime the night before Disney World, too excited for sleep.  All I wanted was to get on the road.  I missed the NNN Tour, and had a bad case of cabin fever after 4 months of sitting around.

But at last it was time to get rolling, as I pulled the garage door up and kissed and hugged my wife good bye.  I think she was glad to be getting me out of the house for 10 days.

Fallen trees and other debris still lined my neighborhood streets, waiting to be removed by the sanitation department.  It is going to be weeks before all of it is picked up.  Hurricane Ivan hit Prattville hard, lots of property and tree damage.

I failed to top off the night before, so made a quick detour south to the Chevron station at Wetumpka and Memorial to take care of the gas tank.  I swiped my gas card and didn't even notice the price.  What good would it do?  I HAVE to have gasoline, and right now I don't really care how much it is, I'm going on tour.

It was 7:15 am when I left the Chevron parking lot for US 31 north.  I had a blue sky and seasonable temps, what more could I ask for?

Just like always, 31 carried me to I-65 north where I pushed the flasher left to get on the ramp.  I was waiting for traffic to clear to complete my turn when I hear brakes squealing and horns blowing, from the volume I understood I was a safe distance from the trouble so never looked back.  I figured someone pulled out or cut some joker off, and he was pissed, nothing I could do about it way up here.

Northbound traffic on 65 was light and I quickly blended in and made myself comfortable.  I brought the screen up just a tad, and settled the 1300 on 80 mph.  

A few weeks ago the governor was pissed off about all the speeding going in Alabama, so he saturated I-65 with LEOs from Mobile to the Tennessee line.  Anything that had a light bar was ordered to get out here and write tickets.  State troopers, locals, deputies, and who knows what else was out here writing left and right.  The paper said radar was spaced every 10 miles.  I don't know how many tickets were given out that weekend, but it was a bunch.  As for me, I just layed low and waited for the nonsense to blow over.  I knew it wouldn't last, as evidenced by this fine morning.  I was cruising along at 80, and folks were blowing by me like it was a Nascar track, and I didn't see ONE LEO the whole time I was in Alabama.  It was good to see things back to normal.

The first county north of my home is Chilton-home of fresh peaches and fruit, and the most mobile home dealers on the planet.  Every exit of 65 through Chilton County has one.

The farther north I rode the less hurricane damage I witnessed.  Most of the folks north of Prattville never even lost power.

The morning was cool and I had on the AGV textile gloves with the vents closed on the Roadcrafter.  The AGVs were the exclusive glove on the west coast tour, so I put them on out of habit.

I moved on into Shelby County and the traffic picked up.  Many folks live here but work in Jefferson County, and for most it was time to head to the salt mines.

Traffic began to build, and finally came to a stop, 2 miles south of the normal back up zone.  A bad sign.  I was in the thick of the morning commute now, talk about bad timing.  The usual back up begins at the Alabaster exit, but today traffic is so thick it begins much earlier.  I cursed myself for not getting on the road 30 minutes earlier.  I feathered the clutch on the 13 as we crawled among the cars and trucks.  I wished I was in the Hotel California where lane splitting is permitted.  Try it in Alabama and you're going to piss off some good old boy, and he'll take you out with a sudden jerk of his pick up.

I looked over to my left and saw a joker in his Camry reading a paperback, another lady was talking on the phone, and still another was flipping through a legal pad.  These folks are veterans of the commuting wars, and know how to spend time when stuck in traffic.

Sitting in the long line of frazzled commuters I heard a voice.  "Hey, hey, where ya goin to?"  I looked over and saw a well dressed man in a Volvo.  " Headin up to Ohio then Mass to check the leaves out and do some leanin."  "Must be NICE."

Things began moving again north of Pelham and soon I was veering onto I-459.  I moved over to the far left and put the 13 on 85.  I wanted to get OUT of Jefferson County as quick as I could.  I shot pass the slower traffic on the other 3 lanes like one of those high speed Japanese trains on monorails. 

From 459 I went to I-59 and things calmed down.  I was free now, and went on auto pilot, thinking about the trip ahead and the excitement down the road.  I brought the screen full up to eliminate all the noise.  For some reason I wanted quiet.

I thought about my sister when I went by the Gadsden exit, one of these days I'm going to HAVE to stop to see her, but today I am anxious to get to my goal of Marion, Virginia, and the state park there known as Hungry Mother.  I went by it last year, and vowed to return so I could camp there.  It looked like an inviting place.

Charging up I-59 the 1300 felt extra smooth, and behind the stillness of its excellent wind protection I could've been in a Cadillac.  I was in the hills of north Alabama, and the view from I-59 is not all that bad.  I was having a great ride.  The quiet 1300 moved pass the lumbering trucks chugging up the steep grades of 59, after completing my pass, I would signal my move to come back over to the right lane with a grace and ease that I'm sure impressed the big rig drivers.

I-59 cuts a short swath through Georgia just south of Chattanooga.  A good place to exit for gas to take advantage of the relative cheap ( and I use that term loosely) price of gas in the state.  For some reason they don't feel the need to tax the commodity as much everyone else.  By this time the 1100's low fuel light would be on, but the 13 is still showing 2 bars.  I know the 1100 gets just a little better mpg than my 13, so go figure.  The 1300 has a slightly bigger tank, but mpg is not something I concern myself with anyway.  Maybe I had a good tailwind all morning.

I took the Rising Fawn exit and slipped down the service road to the Pilot Truck Stop and service station.  This place is huge, and has everything you need.  Videos, Mountain Dew, deli, bakery, etc. 

After topping off the tank, I moved the 13 to the side and went inside for a DIET Mountain Dew.  I've been on a diet the last 2 months and doing good, and I don't plan to blow it on this tour and ruin 2 months of training.  I'm feeling good, looking better, but let me say RIGHT NOW, being on a diet, and on tour, sucks BIGTIME.  I packed 6-7 Cliff Bars ( a granola type grain candy bar) to snack on instead of the usual Moon Pie or potato chips.

I was sitting outside leaning against the wall, when a man about 30 drove up in an old truck.  His hair was long and messy, and the shoelaces in his boots were not tied.  He was smoking a cigarette and had a nicotine patch on his neck.  I nearly choked with laughter on my Cliff bar when I saw him.

I got back on the bike and began preparing myself mentally for Chattanooga.  The city is always tough to get through because of the traffic and construction, no matter what time of day.  I entered the city on 59 then went I-24 looking for I-75.  I wanted to get to the far left lane, but finding a break in the traffic took a few miles.  After I made it I felt safer.

The air temp gauge on the 1300 was holding steady at 75 degrees.

The turn ramps for I-75 led me to the signs for Knoxville, and I cleared the city with little trouble.  The construction on the north side of the city was still on going.  What else is new.  The lanes narrowed measurably and I found myself only inches from the concrete barricades on my left.  The only thing between me and the 70 mph south bound traffic on the other side.

I-75 north turns rural a few miles later, and  I set aim on the Athens exit and the Waffle House I always stop at when coming this way.

The day was a perfect one to be on a long ride.  Ideal weather and a great bike.  I was sad I had to waste it on a 500 mile slab ride, but I needed to make Virginia.

A few rabbits blew by me, but I was content at 75 mph, so let them go.

A short ride later I was taking the Athens exit, and pulling in the Waffle House parking lot.  I was true to my diet, ordering the grilled chicken and skipping the hash browns, no matter how tempting they looked.  

While I was eating I saw a young man enter with his girlfriend.  He looked clean cut with a military haircut.  When they took the booth next to me, I asked- "In the Army?"

"yes sir"

"been to Iraq?

"yes sir, in fact still there, I'm on 2 week furlough before I have to go back."

"I appreciate what y'all are doin, fight them there so we ain't gotta do it here, cause nobody else in the world is gonna do it, except for the Brits"

"that's exactly what most of us say"

"gimme your ticket, its the least I can do"

I checked a few messages and got back on the road.  

North of Athens the interstate quickly brings the Smoky Mountains into view.  I thought about my past trips here, and how next week I was going to be in the hills that were just off to the east of my present location.

The rural landscape of Tennessee eased by and I sat back and enjoyed the view.

Knoxville came and went, I left the city on I-40 and then went to Truck 81, er, I mean I-81.  But the truck traffic on 81 is not as bad in Tennessee as it is Virginia.  And just as it did last year, it seemed I was in Tennessee a long time.  

I was bearing down on a north bound Gold Wing pulling a trailer, when he suddenly took the Locust Springs exit.  I don't know why because not much is there.

In Blountsville I took a butt break at a Wendy/gas mart combo.  I parked in the back, and just walked around.  It was nice way to keep the blood flowing down to my legs.

I made it into Virginia around 3pm, and fell in with the long line of big rigs heading north.  I just put new Meztllers on the 1300 and they do a much better job over the Dunlops in turbulence.  I was disappointed with the mileage the last set of 220s gave me, so decided to try something else.  So far so good.

Today's ride is a carbon copy of last years ride to Tazewell, only this year I'm stopping short of the city to camp in Hungry Mother.  The weather is also much better this year.  Last year I ran into rain not long after entering Virginia.

Interstate 81 at last found SR 16, the Marion exit.  I took it and closed in on Hungry Mother State Park.  The reserve light was flashing, and I stopped at the Chevron station from last year and filled up.  When the pump asked me if I wanted a receipt I punched no.  An action I was quickly going to regret.

I went inside and bought a Mountain Dew for later, and when I went to pay the lady said, "you owe me 10 on gas."

"no m'am mine was 12.71 and I paid with my Chevron card."

"not what it says here, it says 10 dollars on your pump and its not cleared"

"m'am I don't care what the readout says, just go out there and look, the pump says 12 something.  Has ANYONE paid you 12.71?  Because if they hadn't the readout would still be showing."

By now a line was backing up to my rear.

"look you owe 10 dollars, pay it or I call the cops"

"so you want ME to pay ya 10 dollars when I actually bought 12.71?  And if I pay ya the 10 whose gonna pay ya the 12.71?

"there is no 12.71"

"of course not, that transaction cleared caused its already paid for, but just go out and look and you will see 12.71 on THAT pump so someone HAD to pay for it and can't you see MY bike is still in the slot"

"I'm gonna call the cops NOW"

"well call em, in the meantime I'm gonna call the credit card company and get them to fax the transaction.  But for now you can take that pump out of service because I ain't moving the 13, I wanna keep 12.71 on the pump for the cops to see or you can just give me 2.71 and I'll be on my way, I'll be glad to pay 10 bucks for 12.71 on the gas."

A guy in line shouted up- "he ain't lyin m'am just go out there and look, who ya think pumped the 12.71 on that pump, the tooth fairy?"

"ok, ok, pay me for the drink and clear the pump."

"gladly"

Apparently some joker pumped 10 bucks worth, and drove off just prior to my pulling in.

With the dragnet complete I got back on my way.  The park is only a few short miles away.

The trees in this area of Virginia were about 10 days away from peaking.  I saw lots of yellows and golds, it was shaping up to be a nice fall.

After a short ride through woods I was parking the 1300 at the Ranger office and paying my fees.  A steep 18 bucks to camp.

"Dang, y'all are proud of the campsites in Va," as I got out my debit card.  "And I'm gonna need a RECEIPT on that k?"  I wasn't trusting ANYONE in or near this town to have any common sense.

Hungry Mother is one of the best state parks I've camped.  Lots of quiet campsites.  I idled the 1300 through the almost barren park, finding a place at the top of a small hill.  The site had a nice above ground platform to set my tent on.

I finished the the day with exactly 500 miles on the trip meter.

I unloaded the 13, and when I completed setting up camp I went for a nice 3 mile run through the park, and out to SR 16.  It was a great run.  When I came back in I finished off the Cliff bar from my break.  That would serve as supper.  I was close to my 1000 calorie limit after the lunch at the WH.

   Nothing like a 500 mile ride followed by a nice run

It was getting dark when I strolled over to the bathhouse for a shower.  The unit had steaming hot water and plenty of it.  On the way back I stopped to chat to 2 middle age ladies from NY that were camping out in a BIG tent.  They had a full spread of hot dogs, chips, and cookies on the table.  Both looked like they didn't miss many meals.

"so ya wanna hot dog?"

"no thanks m'am"

"Whaaat? ya don't lke HOT DOGS?"

"m'am I could eat every one of em, but I just can't"

How come nobody ever offered me free hot dogs in my previous life?

Back at the campsite I cleaned the 13's windscreen with Plexus ala John Cooper, then made notes for tomorrow's ride into West Virginia.

I was unable to get a strong enough signal to call home, but I did manage to text message my son to let him know all was well, and to call his mother for me to give the status report.

It was getting cold and dark, so I retreated to my tent and sleeping bag and watched the Alamo.  Good flick.

Outside of the Law and Order episode in Marion, the day was pretty uneventful, but a 500 mile ride slab ride lends to such things.  I went to sleep looking forward to the awesome roads in West Virginia.  I'm OFF the interstates till sometime next week, and that brought a smile to my face.

next: 300 miles of great curves and leaning in the WVA