Tuesday March 20, 2018.

As I begin to write this part of my journal, it is the first day of Spring, 2018.
The winter season of 2017/2018 we are just at the tail end of, reminds me so much of the first winter I endured when I moved here to north east Ohio back in 2013.
Long and cold, with wet heavy snow that is just lying around making for a seemingly never ending break to this cold and dreary winter season.
My touring hiatus of 2017 has left me in a serious state of riding depravation!
I keep looking at the extended weather forecast and with each short break of a few hours of sunny periods amidst the long string of cold freezing weather, it makes me realize that I have not yet “rounded the curve” towards warm weather for my riding season this year.
Nighttime temperatures are still below freezing. Our daytime temperatures are now above freezing and make for beautiful picture-perfect days. The visual impact to my brain sees no obstacle to riding. After all, it’s sunny, dry and clear! Oh but the north-wind is cold!
True I have sufficient riding gear that allows me to bundle up and brave such weather, but the threat of “black-ice” on the roadways after dark - which is when I get off work each day, coupled with the drivers in their vehicles who are not accustomed to seeing bikers out on the roads at this time of year, is way more than enough reason to keep me off the roads till riding season - as dictated by good adequate weather.
This far north, “black ice” is a biker’s worst nightmare.
It forms when moisture settles on the road surface and rapidly freezes with the accompanying wind, which creates very low wind-chill temperatures. When ice forms at such cold temperatures and so rapidly, it makes crystal clear ice. I don’t have to tell you what the danger could be as you can almost not distinguish it till you are right upon it, as it takes on the color of the road surface.
So obviously for safety’s sake I tend to stay out of such conditions till the temperatures are consistently above freezing.
Looking at the weather forecast now, it does not seem this will be till mid-May into very early June.
Argggghhhh!
I seem to have done pretty well this year in dealing with this long cold winter season. I think I have come to understand that there is nothing else to expect from the weather when you live this far north.
Making things even more dreary is the fact that Cleveland, Ohio is right at the edge of the permafrost. So that means the ground is always cold - relatively speaking.
In previous years by this time, I would be “cranky”, moody and in not so good a mood. State of mind being purely RIDING DEPRIVATION!
Stay away from me when I’m like this folks. You will not like me in this state of being. Just give me good weather, my bike and the open road and I guarantee that I can be the best friend you can ever have!
So I have learned to embrace this dreary weather. The good thing about it is that I look forward with great anticipation, to the time when I can get out and ride my bike.
As I have learned to do, I dream of where I wish to go and begin making plans and preparations. The countless hours spent indoors are spent re-viewing my tour videos and writing my riding journals which transcend me into that world out there. That world that I have come to truly appreciate as a blessing.

So what’s next?

In 2017, the desire was to go west.
Whoa, let me back up a bit here!
As I rifle through my trove of notes, I’ve just uncovered some notes dating back to January 2013, before my move to Ohio, where I was already putting pen to paper for a trip out west. (Wow, seems like just yesterday!)

I have always wanted to visit and see the Grand Canyon in Arizona and The Big Five (a.k.a. The 5 Natural Parks) found in the state of Utah - Zion, Bryce, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef and Arches National Parks. Monument Valley is very high on my list of “Must-see” places.
Of course the natural attraction is from my strong affinity for the Western genre of movies that I grew up watching and continue to do so in present times. I just cannot seem to get enough of them. Movie producers have been so ingenious at being able to tell the same stories of legends over and over in such a way and in and from such places that make me want to visit to be able to breathe the same air, walk on the same dirt and experience the places that have carved out and formed a lot of the core of American life and legend.
I continue to read up on all such places, calculate the distances involved and try to work out my logistics to see if I can appropriate adequate time to experience these places. I live so far east now. Why didn’t I do this when I lived in Texas?
I have pretty much attained the limits to get to all places west of here that my time off work will allow for, before having to turn around and make it back in time to report back to work. So for the last year or so, I’ve been trying to figure out how I can make a trip such as this come together.

In 2017 I had to re-arrange my priorities. A journey to Ghana, West Africa became priority. My mother celebrated her 92nd birthday in November. So it took all my resources and time for my wife and I to go visit and celebrate with her.
So there was no motorcycle tour for that year.
A forced hiatus - and for good reason.
We are blessed to still have her with us and for her to be in good health - body, mind and soul. That is very important to me and I am truly grateful.
Just seeing the joy in her to have us there, was well worth every bit of sacrifice we made to be there.
So since my return in December of 2017, I have spent a lot of time trying to put a trip together for 2018 to these places I so am desperate to visit and experience.
The bike is ready to go. I have already serviced it.
Fresh oil. Flushed and replaced brake and clutch fluids. All filters cleaned (fuel and air). Polished/waxed. All she needs now is a set of new tires specifically for the trip, and a set of disc brake pads.
2 weeks before any tour, she always gets a new set of tires, regardless. I choose never to leave home for a tour on used tires.
My Honda ST1300 is an amazingly reliable machine - by design. She has never asked for anything except the basic requirements for normal use.
So where trip planning is concerned at this time, I have quite a challenge ahead of me.
When this passion of riding my very own motorcycle across this country started in earnest, my wish was to visit all the lower 48 states by the time I turned 60.
60 because I feel I had a very late start.
Late only because I put motorcycling-for-fun aside and devoted myself to raising my family.
Motorcycling during those years was a necessary part of that process. It was purely cheap, affordable transportation for my daily commute to and from work and for my basic running around.
Long distance riding began when our youngest daughter turned 18.
So I decided to try to achieve this by 60. I was not getting any younger and hoped that I could do it by then if blessed with continued good health.
Well, this year I turn 60. It’s a race against time.
Or is it?
I would love to.
I still feel in good physical condition and have no doubt that with continued good health, I can face the challenge without too much effort.
So in this 3rd week of March 2018 as I write this particular section of my journals, I have ridden/visited all but 9 of the lower 48 states of our country as I have indicated by the colored states in the following image.
If I can make this trip happen and visit the remaining 9 in one way, shape or form, I will have made my personal dream come true for this first phase of my motorcycle-touring life.

So looking at this image you might probably have noticed there is no “link” between the state of California and the rest of the states I have indicated in color …… and you will likely want to (and rightly so) take me to task on that.
Well, if you’ve read through earlier journals and care to remember, it is where I purchased my first Sport-touring machine - a ’95 ST1100.
So yes, having ridden it in California I have qualified that state on my list, technically, of “HAVING RIDDEN MY BIKE” in that state.
Wouldn’t you agree?

PLAN THE RIDE AND RIDE THE PLAN.
The miles are many - the last suggested route I came up with, tallied up to just shy of 9000 miles. Time I have available is 2 weeks off work.
Previous routes I have contemplated dialed in at around 6800 miles - that as a result of sacrificing specific destination visits locations along the way to take in the sights.
I am still so undecided.
One part of me says : “sacrifice” visiting some of the locations and “get” and complete all states.
Another part of me says : Why rush? Take time and smell the roses!
What’s the harm of not completing this year?
I am torn between these.
My struggle to come to a firm decision and conclusion of this part of the process continues.
Keep reading to find out what I hope to and will eventually decide and come along with me for the ride through reading this journal-to-be.
For now, I can only continue my thought process in determining what route I choose, but rest assured that one way or another The Good Lord will have the final say!
As temperatures plummeted daily and the winter season took hold, I found myself consumed with dreams of making my next logical trip out to the west coast, if I was to continue my quest of visiting all the 48 contiguous states of the country.
So at this time, having already reached the limits of distance from home base in all directions that my time away from work could possibly and comfortably allow, my sights were firmly set on the west coast.
During my early years half way across the world, as we heard of and learned of the distant shores of America, the stories of the birth of, and life in America, was inextricably linked and intertwined with Route 66 - a.k.a. “The Mother Road”.
The creation of route 66 finally made it possible for one to be able to go by road from coast to coast across the country, linking to an existing road that ran from the east coast to the beef processing centers in Chicago.
The legend of this road has become one of great fascination.
It is the road that gave birth to the life and character of American life as we know it today.
I will even venture to say with a high degree of certainty, that even my tours across this country on my motorcycle are a passion shared by so many others in so many other spheres of life, were born from the advent/inception of Rt. 66. - the necessities of life, travel, merchandising and grand ideas.
Route 66 began/begins in Chicago and ends in Santa Monica, CA (traveling from east to west) and linked all the small towns along the way together, making for a long and time-consuming drive, requiring a lot of stops, amenities and services.
Each town therefore had to come up with ways to entice travelers to spend more time in their locales in order to attract income to the area.
Advertising therefore became a major development and townsfolk and businesses had to get very creative with the means by which they got the attention of travelers.
With so many of these attractions popping up all over the place the easiest way to get customers to your business away from your neighbors’, was to advertise bigger, brighter, more colorful and in a more unorthodox manner to make you stand apart from them.
As a result, the concept of bigger, larger, brighter, louder, more colorful etc. in today’s world of advertising was born and bred.
Travelers, needed gas. For those who did not want to stop or linger too long in each town along the way, gas was made available “alongside” the roadway.
This gave rise to roadside gas stations as we have come to know them today.
Repair work on motor vehicles was also in high demand/need and the gas service stations began to incorporate service and repair work into their services.
Those traveling at a very leisurely pace needed to overnight somewhere and land owners would make their land available for use as campsites and safe areas off the roadways.
There then was a need for amenities. Places to safely park vehicles, a need to “freshen up”, meals readily available etc etc.
So as the travel experience evolved, businesses sprang up to fill the needs.
The “Motel” was born - “Motor Hotel” - allowing one to rent a room for the night and the ability to park your vehicle right up at the door. It began to provide all the basic needs and comforts one would want for the night - a shower/bath, a comfortable bed to sleep in and all the other creature comforts that would and were to follow. Air-conditioning for the hot, muggy summer nights and heating for the cold dry winter nights.
A place to get a quick meal, something to drink and some some entertainment to go with all that, gave rise to Diners, fast food joints, cafes, movie theaters (both indoor and outdoor) etc etc.
…… and not to forget to mention, souvenirs, as mementos of the time spent visiting the area in the hopes of enticing you to come back again!
The advent of the modern day Interstate Highway System brought about the demise of Rt. 66.
When it was commissioned and opened, it provided super-fast and more direct route across the country, bypassing all the little towns.
Like someone turning off a light switch, business establishments had no choice but to close their doors due to the loss of clientele, who now had a much more direct and quicker way of getting to their destinations along this route, without having the need to meander through the congestion and trappings of each and every little town along the way.
Some struggled as best as they could to keep their doors open, but the end of that era came almost instantaneously.
Today, only a very very few have survived by reinventing themselves due to the nostalgia and reemergence of the history and what it all means/meant to the generations that have lived, experienced and remember that era for what it was and its place in the history and development of this country.
The interstate provided a direct route right across the country, from Chicago, IL all the way to Santa Monica, CA on the west coast where the road ended, literally on the Santa Monica Pier at the beach on the shores of the Pacific Ocean.
I could write a long dissertation about this road, but as I have continually expressed I am no expert on the matter.
Additionally, so much has been written in the past by waaaaay more prolific writers than I, waaaaaaay more authoritative and knowledgeable writers than I, and waaaaaaaay more experienced travelers than I on and about this road.
Information abounds by the bucket load and is readily available on so many platforms as we have available to us in the world of today.
All I can do, all I want to do here, is to share my personal experience with you through my story.
In more recent times, there has been a resurgence of interest in Rt. 66 by a segment of the population that grew up and remember the times, journeys and trips with their parents and with their children.
Communities along the way that literally “died” when the route was bypassed by the Interstate system of highways are trying to revive and preserve the experience of the era by incentivizing prospective business owners to take over and maintain businesses that once thrived along this very popular road and the hope of keeping its spirit alive.
The sections of this once historic road that are slowly coming back to life as a result, are today collectively identified in and along the areas as Historic Route 66.
The spirit of what was - The Birthplace of America.
……… So as my dreams and thoughts consumed me, I decided that this was to be the trip to make for my 2018 tour.
I began to set myself up for a small experience along route 66, The Mother Road of America!
I would have to be very selective about places to spend time at and visit, as well as specific roads to ride and experience.
Time was a premium.
2 working-weeks off work would in no way be enough to see the whole character of the route and all the attractions and iconic places along the way. There’s just too much to see and experience (this has made for a very rich and extensive history).
So it was to be quite a monumental task of planning and living out this part of my lifelong dream.
Whichever places and parts of Rt. 66 I determined to “leave out” of my trip, I promised myself to come through again one day to visit and experience, because I truly want to experience as much of it as I can.
It was to be a long trip.
2 weeks on the road and I still was not sure if that would be enough to even make it out to the western terminus of the road at a comfortable pace!
I would have to make quick and firm decisions in a very timely manner and at my earliest convenience as I would need a considerable amount of time to try and save up what I could in the time I had between now and when I would like to make the trip.
At this very point in time, as I put this pen to paper on this day/evening, I decided this would be it!
Decision made.
I wrapped it up for the day and my planning mind was now in “over-drive”.
I began to “psych” myself up!
My heart rate went up and I began to tremble with excitement!
The butterflies in my stomach came to life!

I dug into my “archives” of material that I have been gathering over the years for trip planning purposes and noticed that my most recent dream and planning about and for Rt.66 was early in 2013.
So, fair to say, this trip had already been 5 years in the making.
My notes and brochures and books on the subject now became a source of interest again.
Seems like I had done quite a bit of research and some preparation already, so it was only that much less to do.
Pretty much all I really needed to do at this stage was to determine specific places to see and specific roads to ride!
…………. Eastern Terminus in Chicago.
St. Louis Arch - Gateway to the West - Museum of Westward Expansion,
Original section of Rt. 66 in Oklahoma,
Oklahoma Panhandle, Texas Panhandle - Midway Point of Rt. 66.
Cadillac Ranch, Purple Heart Trail, Mountains of New Mexico, Four Corners (The only place in America where 4 states meet each other), The National parks in Utah, Monument Valley, The Grand Canyon, Las Vegas, NV, the wild Burros in Oatman, AZ, Kingman, AZ, Barstow, CA Santa Monica Pier (The End Point of Rt. 66) in California my list went on and on and whatever else I could cram in along the way.
Oh gosh. I wanted to see it all!
Now the chore of linking them all up together and be able to travel to and through in my available time was the next challenge.
So I set about trying to make this happen.
I chose the month of August for this trip.
I specifically wanted to be traveling out west when all other vacationers would be heading back home already in time for their kids to return to school, as a way of not having to deal with snarling congestion and crowds in these high tourist destinations I would be visiting.
I then proceeded to settle down and begin serious preparations for what was to be my longest time on the road for any single tour.
I pawned off the responsibility of keeping “the crew” informed of the details of the trip, safety reminders and seating arrangements to my riding crew chief, Scrappy.

3rd August, 2018
With just shy of a month to go it was time for me to get some service work down on the bike, major work of which was to perform a much-needed fuel system service.
In 6 years of ownership, this was the 2nd time I would do this. Not that she needed it, but I felt that I had to do it anyway. (I’m generally a believer of “if it a’int broke, don’t fix it”) - and my Honda has been so good about not being “broke”!
So anyway, after removing the fuel pump module, I replaced the fuel filter, cleaned the throttle bore, MAP Sensor and vacuum ports, serviced the idle control cable and re-adjusted idle control - which incidentally were all still as they were supposed to be.
2 weeks earlier I had drained the engine coolant and replaced it with fresh/new and had ordered (online) a pair of new tires.
At such a time, my garage undergoes a complete metamorphosis.
The bike takes over all the space.
All the attention goes on her. She rules the garage for the next several hours.
So with tires mounted and balanced, wheels back on the bike and all final mechanical checks and re-checks performed, She was ready for the long trek across the country.
So was I.
Over the last 2 months, I had maintained a steady exercise routine to maintain good overall body strength and stamina levels.
The next 2 weeks before departure would give me adequate time to make sure that the bike was ready with all being well for the trip.
………….. and so it proved to be.

August 18th, 2018.
Day 1
WHO SAYS ANGELS DON’T EXIST? I BEG TO DIFFER.

I was up at 5:24 a.m., ahead of my 5:30 a.m. alarm set time, having had only about 4 hrs. of sleep - better than none.
Actually I was woken up by the sound of heavy rainfall.
I started my remaining organization/packing, mainly of my photographic equipment.
All else was ready.
Breakfast consisted of a fried egg (without its yolk), some Lebanese bread, Fig Jam and a cup of coffee.
With the rain stopped and around 8:56 a.m. I rolled the bike out of the garage into the driveway.
As I suited up, a gentleman, walking his dog, crossed the road over towards me.
Introducing himself (he was new to our neighborhood) he asked if he could pray for me, having perceived that I was preparing to embark on a journey (hmm, did it show? 😎).
Being a man of faith myself, I did not refuse his offer.
He said a prayer of thanks for the new friendship and a another for a hand and cloak of guidance and protection for me on my journey.
After thanking him profusely and making small talk for a couple of minutes, I saddled up in the now-bright morning sunshine at a temperature of 77’F (25’C). With 56,073 mi showing on my odometer, I set off heading for the Pacific ocean/coast.
So as with the first day of each and every tour, the plan was to lay down as many miles away from home as I could.
It promised to be a hot day but I was prepared.
I quickly ran through my mind as a final check to make sure that I had not forgotten to pack anything of importance for this trip.
All good.
Joining the highway via the on-ramp at exit 156, I couldn’t help but notice that the traffic was relatively heavy. A lot of people were on the move going about their own business.
I settled in with the convoy of cars all running at speed limit +5.
With the morning sun still behind me, there was no doubt that I was heading due west.
For the distance I expected to cover on this trip and the time I had allowed myself, “The Trip” (for me) was to start in St. Louis, MO at the Gateway Arch.
Having already been to and experienced the eastern terminus of Rt. 66 in Chicago, I opted to leave out the section between there and St. Louis. Besides, the many Rt. 66 attractions along that section would be so time-consuming to visit. I planned to make that another trip in itself - another good excuse for a future ride!
I settled in for the dreariness of the highway. The miles started to go by nicely till I arrived at the outskirts of Columbus, OH and forced us all to slow down. Winding right through the center of the city it gave me a chance for my eyes to stray a bit and take in the sights.
At the outer edge of the city limits, a couple of lanes had been closed for some ongoing construction work. Suddenly we were all corralled into 2 lanes of traffic between all the construction equipment and what materials were staged on-site.
Nicely though, this section was only about a quarter of a mile or less.
The pace picked up again and in no time we were all back to highway speed limit +5. The line of vehicles had stacked up as a result of the slow down and I made a decision to get ahead and put some distance between them and myself.
Picking up the pace I went by a few vehicles and maintained my place in what was now one of the two middle lanes.
Just as I approached an underpass I felt it!
The attitude of the bike immediately changed. The rear felt rough. Seemed like or felt like I was riding on a flat tire.
I could not look back or down at it at this speed, but it surely felt like I had a flat.
But I had not felt the sway/swag of a softening tire. One minute I was normal and the next I was not. It surely felt like my tire was flat, no doubt about it!
I could not change lanes for fear of “losing it” from my now-affected steering and detrimentally interfering with the traffic rapidly approaching me from behind.
All I could do was slow down by gingerly applying my brakes and try to stay upright.
Lord forbid, if I were to go down vehicles behind me would surely run over me.
I began to smell burning rubber! There was no doubt now that I was riding on a completely flat tire. Oh no, my brand new tire.
My heart was pounding away, wanting desperately to jump out of my chest! My opportunity came when in a matter of seconds a “slug” of cars went by leaving me adequate space to now change lanes and get onto the shoulder of the road. I had now slowed down enough to do that safely.
It seemed like an eternity.
Phew!
So, no sweat I thought. I had my air compressor on board, had my tire repair kit with plugs, patches and adhesive, all the tools I needed to fix a flat.
I was cool!
Well I kicked out my side stand to proceed to get off and do what I had to do. It did not extend to its full extent!
Oh shucks! The loss of height due to the flat tire altered the geometry of the design mechanics.
“No sweat, I’ll use the center stand.
But with about 160 lbs (73 kg) of luggage on a 740 lb (336 kg) machine, plus uneven ground, I had to be extra careful about dismounting without tipping her over beyond her balance point.
Carefully and with all my strength, I dismounted whilst trying to keep her upright and balanced and tried to put her onto the center stand. I mustered every ounce of my strength, but to no avail!
No way!
I had to do this!
Otherwise what other option would I have?
I heaved again and again - no luck.
I just couldn’t do this!
Again, the flat rear tire and the altered geometry of the bike made it impossible for me to accomplish this.
Carefully I mounted the bike again and pondered my next move as my heart continued to pound away in my chest.
I had not exerted myself like this for a very long time.
I had not experienced this level of physical exertion since my medical/physical test for the new job back in 2013.
I sat astride the bike looking at the oncoming traffic and pondered my next move.
Hoping I could flag someone down to stop and help, I heard someone say to me : “You’ll never get that bike up on the stand by yourself, let me give you a hand”.
I turned my head and saw someone had pulled over on the shoulder ahead of me, had backed up and was walking towards me.
He was a big, burly chap with a smile on his face.
So with each of us on either side of the bike we got her up, with some effort, onto the center stand.
“No way I could’ve accomplished that by myself” I told him.
“Yup, he concurred”,
“You came by us on the highway and I saw what happened to you and knew there was no way you’d be able to manage this situation by yourself, so we decided to stop and offer help.
With that said, he knelt down and began checking the rear tire.
Immediately I could tell he knew what he was doing. I could tell he had some experience in doing this.
“At least now I can fix the flat and be back on the way. I have a compressor and repair kit”.
“I don’t think so”, he responded, “here, take a look”.
Kneeling down beside him it was obvious that I was not going anywhere! At least not on that tire!
There was a tear about the size of the fingernail on my pinky finger in the sidewall of the tire and a gouge in the aluminum wheel right at the same location!
So much for that tire! (I had only 170 mi (272 km) on it)!
“Don’t worry buddy, there’s a dealership a few miles up the road. We’ll put the bike on the truck and get you there”.
“Well, how are we going to get the bike into your truck. She’s waaaaay too heavy for you and I to lift her. This is no Ninja!” I said. And before I could continue, he dropped his tailgate as he told me he had his motorcycle ramp in the back!
“What tire size is it”? he asked,
“170/60 R 17” I responded.
“Hey Sweetheart”, he said to his girlfriend, apparently in the truck with him, “please call ahead and ask the guys at Ride 1 Powersports if they have a tire that size, pls.”.
Asking me to step aside whilst he took over operations and loaded the bike into his pickup and strapped it down securely, the dealership confirmed that they had only 1 tire of that size in stock.
It was obvious that this was not his first rodeo, doing this.
I was grateful.
I could not begin to thank him enough.
It was about a 20 min. ride in which our friendship began.
So to shorten this long story, they dropped me off at the dealership with a promise that we’d keep in touch and link up upon my return from the tour. (Which we did. On 07/27/2018 we met up for a great Aamish breakfast in Bellville, OH)
Another stroke of luck, the tire in stock for me happened to be my brand of choice!
3 hours later, they had me ready to roll out, after they found a 3-inch (7.7 cm) deck-screw inside the tire, having made 2 holes in the tread section of the tire, and gouged out the sidewall and took a chunk out of the rim.

I was horrified at how much damage this single object had caused to my brand new tire.
I think back to the string of events on this day and realize that they were nothing but answered prayers! Somebody up there pardoned me!
My prayer had been cashed in.
Angels were riding with and close to me!
So the journey resumed and I focussed on knocking as many miles as I could for the rest of the day. Although I had lost traveling time, I was safe and sound. It could have been a whole lot worse!
I rode all afternoon along the highway till sundown, where I found myself in the town of Greenup, Illinois and checked into a motel just off the highway, next door to a Dairy Queen “Grill and Chill” establishment.
I was hungry.
Stepping off the bike and in to the Front reception area, there was no doubt about the ownership of the Motel.
The smell of fresh curry wafted through the air and greeted me, forming a smile on my face and making my mouth water.
Chatting with the proprietor, he was amazed at my knowledge and familiarity of several of their foods and customs. (I have several friends across the country of this culture).
So working my way around the side of the motel, I located my room and pulled up right to the door and began my unloading chore.
It had been a long and harrowing day and I found myself re-living the events of the day.
It had been 13 hrs. on the road today with only 425 mi (680 km.) to show for it.
Tomorrow, I would have to try to make up for it. I would really have liked to have laid down 600+ miles (960 km.) for today.
I considered the shortfall my trade-off for safety.
By the time it was all said and done and showered, I walked next-door to a fast food joint and bought dinner.
9:00 p.m. found me ready for bed after making my necessary phone calls.
After watching a couple of episodes of Forensic Files with the resulting apprehension of the bad guys, it was “lights out” for me.


August 19th, 2018.
Day 2.

I was up early. I had many miles I wanted to travel today.
Having gained an hour of time, my body responded to 6:00 a.m. even though it was actually 5:00 a.m. local.
I set about the business of loading the bike up and the sun came up just as I completed, with the promise of a gorgeous morning.
I reached for my camera quickly and immortalized the sunrise of this day. It was 68’F (20’C). The morning felt wonderfully fresh.
I anticipated a great morning ride.
I walked round to the back of the bike, and kicking the rear tire, I reassured myself that the tire still held air.
Reaching for and utilizing my tire pressure gauge, it confirmed that it held the correct pressure.
Skipping breakfast, I resumed my journey.
Around 8:00a.m. I began to feel the pangs of hunger and thirst.
I pulled into the first shell station that presented itself right beside the highway.
The bike drank Premium Unleaded fuel, I had a bottle of Apple Juice.
Feeling around in my stash of food, I grabbed some Beef Jerky and a Banana and made breakfast of it all.
I made a quick phone call to return 2 missed calls to my wife let her know that I was okay and already underway for the day.
So continuing my journey, I now headed towards the fast-approaching state line to cross into Missouri.
The Gateway Arch was to be the official beginning of this my Route 66 Trip, direction west - just as it was the beginning for The Lewis and Clark Expedition in 1804.
With the acquisition of the lands west of the Mississippi River from the French in 1803, known as the Louisiana Purchase, President Jefferson commissioned this expedition to explore, document and take inventory of what lay out there. Actually it was because they had no idea whatsoever of what they had bought from the French.
More importantly, they wanted to find a route across the country via the river to the Pacific Ocean, for trade opportunities with the Eastern side of the globe.
For me, as it had been and was for the pioneers who came to this new world, it is where journeys of the westward expansion of this country all began/originated - and is how St. Louis, The Arch in particular has been given the name “The Gateway To The West”.
Just after midday I found myself at the Arch. It was easy to find, although I went through a gritty, graffiti-coated neighborhood which I could not get out of fast enough for my liking.
But the Arch was as impressive as I had read about in earlier years.
I had been through St. Louis multiple times, but never to the Arch proper. This was as proper as it could get for me.
Forget about about riding the elevators up to the top! It’s not my thing!
So I milled around for a while and took some photos, made phone calls to my daughters to share the moment with them and continued my journey.
I had many miles and specific places to visit today before making it to my final destination in Oklahoma City, where I would spend a couple of days with relatives and friends I had not seen since the early nineties. I was looking forward to that too.
So the ST continued to lay down the miles towards the next destination of Cuba, MO a.k.a. Mural City. A very fitting name, indeed.
With the resurgence of interest in Cuba, MO in relation to Rt. 66, the local government here commissioned a dozen murals to be painted around the city as part of its beautification program, specifically portraying aspects of its life during the Rt. 66 hey days.
Local businesses then followed suit with murals of their own as well, leading to the plethora of murals that now adorn the place and subsequently now turning it into a must-visit “destination” for Rt. 66 history buffs and visitors.
I rode around appreciating the great artwork that adorns the buildings, musing myself in the historical scenes depicted in many of them.
I made a beeline for my next stop/visit along the way. Farming, MO.
I pulled into the lonely convenience store along the road, also adorned with a beautiful Mural, to take a small break from the heat of the day - and to see what at one time, was the largest rocking chair in the world, now the 2nd, which sat in one corner of the yard of the property.
Years ago this was one of those items that was made specifically to get the attention of travelers going by, enticing them to stop and patronize the establishment.
……………….. and what a big rocking chair it was!
Clouds were beginning to gather in the sky and I was certain that rain would follow soon.
I decided not to mull around for too long.
Suiting up, I was underway before I could say “ST1300”!
The GPS unit indicated that my next destination was Miami, OK.
I was in search of the last remaining 9-foot (3-meter) original, paved section of Old Rt. 66 in existence. To me, this was as authentic an experience of the road as I felt it could be, so during my route planning phase for this trip, I had identified it as a “must-see”/“must-experience” point of interest.
This section of the road, about 15 miles long, running from Afton, OK to Miami, OK was completed around 1922 and is/was known as The Ribbon Road. Just wide enough to accommodate a Model T Ford of the era, it was taken out of service in 1937.
As I approached Springfield, MO the rain “let loose”! I pulled over to the shoulder of the highway as quickly as I could. Although my pillion riders did not complain, I had to shelter them from the rain which eased up close to an hour afterward.
Forging on, the rain started up again as I approached Joliet,MO but eased up right at the state line into Oklahoma.
At Exit #1 the GPS guided me off the highway towards Miami, OK along Highway 166/US 400 - billed as a Scenic Historic By-way.
All the while, storm clouds continued to rapidly gather with a certainty of some even more serious rain. Day started to turn into night under the thick heavy clouds and cast an eerie look over the plains I was traversing.
Pulling up on the shoulder of the road, I quickly reached for my camera and fired off a couple of shots.
Thinking I needed help, a gentleman in his Cadillac sedan pulled up behind me offering help and possible shelter from the rain in his cottage a little ways up the road, informing me that there was a tornado associated with the approaching storm which was blowing in from west to east.
Thanking him for his kindness, I politely declined his hospitality.
In about a mile and a half along this road, I would be turning westward and was confident that I would duck/avoid the pending storm.
He offered again.
I declined again, with gratitude and we went our separate ways.
So I raced along, hoping to begin heading westward before encountering the storm.
In a matter of minutes I crossed another state line which took me into the town of Baxter Springs, KS.
I was right in the corner where the states of Kansas, Oklahoma and Missouri meet.
It was a light drizzle as the wind picked up and I pulled into a Subway sandwich shop parking lot to replace the now shredded plastic bags I had used as a pseudo-raincoat for my pillion riders.
As I began the task of covering them with replacement bags, the wind picked up and now I was fighting to secure the bags over them.
The small raindrops turned into big rain drops.
I continued to struggle to secure the bags from one side of the bike to the other. I needed to have the arms of an octopus to accomplish this.
The wind intensity increased.
I was fighting a losing battle.
Apparently, one of the Subway employees observed me struggling at my task and rushed out with a couple of commercial-size plastics bags to offer.
I barely got the bags over them and secured ……………………
………………….. and then it let loose!
I had truly forgotten the severity of these Great Plains Storms in the years past. (We lived in Oklahoma City for 5 years before moving to Texas).
I definitely was not going anywhere in this weather till this storm was over.
I pushed the bike right up to the storefront and dashed indoors to escape the now-raging storm.
It was a couple of minutes before 5 in the afternoon.
Good time to take a break off the road and out of this inclement weather and a good chance to have an early dinner.
I still had many miles to go and a couple of stops along the way.
So I settled down after ordering a 12-inch “sub” made up of Salami, Roast Beef, Jalapeños, Onions, Spinach and Ranch Dressing, thanked the girl again for the plastic bags and used my dinnertime to make phone calls.
Frequent claps of thunder and strikes of lightning shook the building as the storm raged on.
They were getting stronger and stronger.
Another clap of thunder …………….. and I lost phone service as I spoke to my wife, describing the storm to her and reminding her of storms we had ridden out together in the past.
The street in front of the store, was easily 6 inches (15 cm) or more under water.
The storm raged for an hour and as quickly as it started, it ended!
Within minutes, the water over the street/roadway drained away and the sun began to peek through what clouds were left in the sky.
I felt it safe enough to travel, so I suited up, thanked and wished everyone well and resumed my journey towards Miami, OK.
The highway took me right through Quapaw, OK - the dividing line between the east and west of this country.
I could definitively say that I was exactly halfway between the east and west coasts of the country!

Within half an hour I had made my way into Miami, OK and with good late-afternoon sunshine now, I rode around the town and visited the very popular Coleman Theater.

In its heyday, it was said to be the best entertainment center between Dallas and Kansas City for Rt. 66 travelers. It helped to spawn and promote a lot of Vaudeville acts, Jazz Groups for music and Movies.
Because it was so wildly popular and offered so much to its patrons, it is now listed on the National List of Historical Places and has been architecturally restored to reflect and show its glory that was.
Wasting no time, I cut through the city and began winding my way in search of my next destination, the last-remaining 9-foot section of Old Route 66, after which I turned towards Oklahoma City along Highway 69 and Interstate 40 westbound.
The road took me through open land with expansive views and soon at sunset, was rewarded with crisp rays of sunlight streaking from behind tufts of remaining clouds in the sky.
Sure enough, I did not pass up the opportunity for a photo.
The road continued through many small towns that were almost non-existent. The dilapidated, deserted streets, broken-down and deserted vehicles, closed store-front businesses and overgrown surrounding vegetation, portrayed despair and life that was or used to be. The thoughts could not be avoided.
Around 9:30 p.m. I chose to stop for fuel. I would be riding late into the night and besides, I needed to clean the visor on my helmet! My visibility was seriously impeded by the layers of insects and bugs. Riding with the visor in the up position was definitely not an option!
I rode well into the night, arriving at James and Marys’ right at 11:30 p.m. James had stayed up to wait for me. It was good to see him again after all these years.
It had been too long!
I’d re-union with Mary in the a.m.
And so with 704 miles (1126 km) ridden for the day and 17 hours “on the road”, this day was ready for my history book!
It had been a great ride and I got to visit and see the places and things I had wished and planned to.
I felt privileged.

August 20th, 2018.
Day 3.
Today was spent catching up with old friends and family.
It was good quality time spent with visits lasting well into the night.
It had been 35 yrs since we had all been together. Great time reminiscing!
The plan was to resume the journey tomorrow, across the Texas “pan-handle”, towards my expected destination of Las Vegas, NM.

August 21st, 2018.
Day 4.
I awoke at 6:00 a.m. local time and began loading up the bike.
It was another beautiful mid-western morning with a clear blue sky, 69’F (21’C) with 80% relative humidity (as reported by the weather forecast) with winds out of the NW at 6 m.p.h. (9.6 kmh).
This meant I would have a slight head wind coming at me diagonally from my right quadrant.
No sweat though, I was looking forward to a nice day of relaxed riding.
I spent a few minutes and reviewed my GPS route for the day.
From here, it reported a 503 mile (805 km) trip ahead of me to Las Vegas, NV.
After breakfast, we said our goodbyes and at 8:27 a.m., I headed out of the residential area and onto Interstate 40 westbound.
My, how Oklahoma City had changed!
I literally could not recognize these old stomping grounds of mine.
When we lived here, in the early 80’s, there was nothing out here in this area.
2 of my children were born here. Not far from this area where I was currently, as a matter of fact.
I was lost in amazement.
I settled in for the ride amidst the expanse and congestion of the highway and mid-morning traffic, leaving the GPS unit to dictate my lane choice and direction.
the road surface was in very good shape. Really good quality I must admit.
Downtown OKC had grown so much. I found it hard to fathom. But this was all supposed to be familiar territory.
I remembered the days I plied this highway to work each day and the exit towards downtown came and went by, jogging my memory a little.
That was the exit I took each morning when I went to work in those days, at the Borden Dairy Factory where I was the transport-refrigeration technician.
The memories came flooding back.
The miles began to roll by and not too long afterward I began to leave the now-sprawling OKC behind as I got farther west.
After close to 2 hours in the saddle, my now finely-tuned internal biological clock began signalling to me that it was a good time to take a break off the bike.
I was plying part of the highway where the famous Chisolm Trail had once crossed.
This was immortalized by a roadsigns and so I used the chance for a photo-op to force the break I mandated off the bike.
During the years after the civil war in America, The Chisolm Trail was established by 2 friends, a half-indian Scout from Tennessee named Black Beaver and Jesse Chisolm, a merchant.
Cattle were moved by foot northwards from a trading post near the Red River, northwards to another trading post in Kansas City, KS where the railroads then ran eastwards to the beef slaughter houses and markets.
Both of these trading posts were owned by Jesse Chisolm, who in earlier days created the route as a means to move his goods from one post to another.
Soon afterwards other Texas ranchers joined and began using the route from areas around the Rio Grande and San Antonio areas into another rail center in Abilene, KS.
The miles rolled by and soon, just outside of El Reno, OK, a Cherokee Trading Post sign stood high above all else, catching my attention.
I took the exit off the highway and worked my way around the lot to satisfy my curiosity with a couple of murals set in the back area of the compound.
They had a couple of wigwams set up as well as a couple of nicely decorated, painted totem poles
A corral took up the rest of the space, stretching out easily 100 yds. (90 m) or so, that penned in the first and largest bison I had ever laid my eyes on.
What a massive creature!
I parked close by and sauntered over to get a closer look at it.
It just lay there on the ground pruning itself, oblivious to my whistles and calls in an attempt to solicit some other movement from it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another one coming up the slight incline from the other end of the corral towards me.
It was even larger than the other.
A closer look verified that it was a male.
Gosh, was he huge!
So I milled around for several more minutes giving myself a closer experience.
I marveled at the workmanship and artwork that adorned the wigwams, totem poles and the wall mural.
Satisfying my curiosity, I suited up and resumed my journey.
2 hours went by in what seemed to be the blink of an eye.
I was beginning to relax and enjoy my time on the road.
The heat was of no major concern to me.
The Texola roadsign signaled my arrival at the Texas stateline and I created another photo-op and took the opportunity to re-hydrate myself with some water.
I entered Wheeler County.
I was now in the pan-handle region of Texas.
It was getting hot but the weather was lovely with clear blue skies.
I pushed on for another couple of hours, now on the section of the highway known as the Purple Heart Trail.
The ST maintained a good, comfortable pace, knocking down more miles until I decided to take a lunch break.
Pulling in to the last visitor center this side of New Mexico, I made my way towards one of the gazebos overlooking the wide open prairie land of the Texas landscape and had lunch made up of beef jerky, bananas and a bottle of Gatorade.
It was a little past 2:30 in the afternoon. The day was wearing on, but I decided to take my time and enjoy the break.
A light but steady breeze complimented my comfort in the shade of the gazebo and the expansive view I was taking in.
So after about a half hour, I pushed on, continuing the journey to now fast-approaching Amarillo, TX.
I’ve always wanted to visit Amarillo and in my dreams in the past few years of planning for this time when I would be approaching and arriving in Amarillo, I always hoped it would be an early morning arrival/approach here.
But all the same though, the tune rang out in my mind and my heart …………..

Amarillo by morning, on my way from San Antone ……….

….and stayed with me for the rest of the time that it took for me to ride across the whole city.
right at the city limits on the west side, I exited the highway and got onto the frontage road for another “must-stop-to-see” destination.
I needed to be on the eastbound side to get to my planned visit.
So making a U-turn at Arnot Rd. intersection, I crossed over Interstate 40, staying on the access road.
I went by a handful of wind turbines which were now beginning to dot the landscape and headed eastward towards Cadillac Ranch!
So I milled around again for about an hour, watching all the aspiring artists leave their temporary master pieces and actually witnessed the metamorphosis of changing artwork on the car bodies for that moment of time.
It was quite an experience.
People-watching with a difference!
I walked back to the bike, suited up and settled back onto the road for the next leg of my journey for the day.
My next stop for the day was barely 40 miles (64 km) down the road.
I was not taking any prisoners now. The ST took over and in the blink of an eye we arrived there!
Adrian, TX the halfway point between Chicago, IL and Santa Monica, CA!
The sun would soon begin its descent in the afternoon sky so I memorialized what I had to do here and prepared for my next and final destination of the journey - Las Vegas, NM.
I had made all my stops for the day and was ready to make it there and settle down for a good evenings’ rest.
I plied Interstate 40 all the way to Glenrio, NM, the state line right at 6:00 p.m. local.
Time changed again. I was out of Texas.
I was more than halfway to my “elusive” west coast.
Elusive because I had been trying for so long to make this trip come about and for one reason or another, each year, it just didn’t happen.
I had crossed into another time zone, which meant I had additional daylight time.
Cool, I could ride a little longer!
With no more planned or desired stops along this leg of the journey for the day, The ST blasted me through the towns of San Jon, Tucumcari, Newkirk, Cuervo, Santa Rosa and on till the intersection of Interstate 40 and Highway 84 where I turned northward and off the Interstate highway system.
The road to Las Vegas, NM was new.
Great surface but so new that there were not yet any road markings or demarcations on it.
The sun went down under a heavily overcast sky.
The road began to rise in elevation and temperatures plummeted drastically.
New Mexico highway 84 was turning out to be a very pleasant and scenic ride.
Up in the hills a few miles along, I decided to pull over and put on my hoody underneath my jacket to help keep me warm.
It was pitch dark, with no stars in the sky due to the heavy clouds and as I donned my gear and I began to feel the tell-tale signs of pending rain as raindrops began to fall.
Now warmer and a little bit better protected from the approaching cooler and wet weather, I followed the road towards Las Vegas, NM as the rain began to fall.
Not long afterward though, the road filtered me into the town as I followed the instructions from the GPS unit towards my motel of choice.
Going by a Subway establishment, I decided to pick up dinner before arriving at the motel ‘cos I had no desire to want to come out again after checking in.
So a 12-inch it was! - Roast beef, spinach, onions and ranch dressing to go, along with a sprite.
The Regal Motel was barely a quarter of a mile (0.4 km) along and as I walked into the reception area, the smell of curry wafting through the air greeted me again with familiarity!
Checked in.
Found room.
Unloaded the bike.
It was now 8:25 p.m. Mountain Time and a cool 61’F (16’C).
The ST had transported me 545 miles (872 km) today.
Had dinner.
Showered.
Returned phone calls.
Watched some TV.
Said prayers.
Lights out!

August 22nd, 2018.
Day 5.
Around 4:00 a.m. I was awakened by the sound of rainfall.
It was coming down hard.
I had the bike covered overnight. (I always do) but after yesterdays ride, I figured that a little wash down of road dirt and grime wouldn’t hurt at this time, so I went outside and removed the cover, allowing the rain to give her a good soaking to help soften and loosen whatever dirt she had accumulated over the last couple of days.
Immediately, I began to make changes in plans for the days’ ride ahead.
These wet conditions would definitely cause me to slow down out of abundance of caution, resulting in fewer than planned miles to be traveled for the day through the mountains that lay ahead of me.
This meant that I might have to overnight in Farmington, still within the state of New Mexico instead of in Bluff, Utah just north of Four Corners.
Four Corners is the geographical location, the only one in the whole of the contiguous 48 states of America, where 4 states meet - my next “must see/must visit” destination along the way.
My decision of where to overnight would be decided along the way, depending on time, weather conditions and locale.
It was already shaping up to be quite an adventure.
I was getting more excited now, realizing that I was so far west with still more distance to go putting me even further west as I anticipated getting into the western deserts of the country.
The anticipation of visiting and experiencing the places, images of the American West burned into my memory banks, heightened my anxiety.
I was really looking forward to getting to live the experience.
I decided that Scrappy and Co. would be riding in a “bag” today, as more rain was forecast ahead.
Around 8:13 a.m. looking out of the window, the skies slowly began to clear. Grey giving way ever so slightly to blue but still drizzling.
I sauntered outside and gave the bike a “wet wipe-down”. Happy that she was now looking clean but wet, I began to load up all my gear.
Finally around 8:40 a.m. local, I checked out and headed out on NM 518, northbound towards Taos, NM.
Highway 518 turned out to be an absolutely stunning road to ride/experience.
The road took me up in elevation into the mountains.
As it wound around and hugged the mountainsides, it presented such magnificent scenic views.
I was mesmerized!
I made frequent photo-op stops and for 69 miles (110 km), the bike and I danced around the twists and curves of the road, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world.
It was twist after turn after twist. On and on and on, making for a really thrilling and enjoyable ride.
The sort of ride you will be hard-pressed to find close to any urban area of the country.
The sky was lightly overcast with the threat of slight and light rainfall ever-present, but made for a cool, comfortable ride.

The road soon brought me out of the mountains, into the valley town of Ranchos De Taos.
It was still slightly overcast and was a good time to take a short rehydration and energy charge-up break which I needed to replace the “gazillion” calories I had burned up from my constant smiling brought on by the thoroughly enjoyable ride I had just experienced.
It was right at 11:30 a.m. local time and I pulled into a gas station, picking out a place to park that presented me with a magnificent view of the mountains ahead, into which the road disappeared.
Here and for a short distance ahead, highways 518 and 68 share the same route.
I drooled with excitement, in anticipation of the ride along the road that lay ahead.
This is exactly the kind of ride that Honda built my machine for and is the reason for which I bought it in the first place.
I would be routing onto NM 64 in a few miles which would now launch me truly westwards.
Highway 64 was one of my specifically chosen routes for this trip. I wanted to ride it all the way as close to the “Four Corners” geographical location as I could - my next destination/waypoint.
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Getting back on the road after my short break, I joined the local traffic and worked my way through the town, taking in the sights as I went by all the little establishments and service oriented businesses.
The road quality was very good, clean with well laid asphalt.
It seemed that there had been and was a lot of new construction going on.
The sign announcing NM 68 caught my attention and I got into the appropriate lane to route myself onto it.
I entered the town of Taos.
Taos has a lot of color and character.
Adobe-clad buildings dotted the route with rich colors of wares and products being offered for sale by the various establishments along the road.
There was a lot to see.
The reds, yellows, orange, blues, greens and whites, all formed a kaleidoscope that really stimulated my senses after having seen so much green and grey of the last several miles of riding through the high forest roads.
The GPS unit routed me onto US 64, northwards out of Taos, through which I was out of in a few minutes.
Taos was a small but colorful place. That thought stuck in my mind with the unmistakeable smell of lovely Mexican cuisine wafting through the air as I went by several restaurants and cafes that lined the main “drag”and also as I went through the next settlement/town of El Prado, NM.
The congestion began to thin out and after a few miles US 64 formed a junction with NM 150, veering left towards the west and forming a NM 522 northwards.
I pulled into the gas station there and decided to fuel up.
It was midday now and as was going to be starting long runs of desert highway with towns few and far apart.
I continued my journey.
It was starting to get hot.
The land began to lose “the green”.
Everything was brown and hung under the pale grey sky with many clouds forming patterns in the sky, too numerous to depict.
but made for some visually stunning and captivating landscape.
Up ahead I came to a bridge that crossed the Rio Grande.
OMG!
The gorge was immense!
I couldn’t keep my eyes on the road. I noticed a lot of people milling about, visiting the area and a “pull-out” offering a chance to experience the gorge up close.
I took it!
Grabbing my camera, I sauntered down back towards the bridge - a Long Span steel bridge, designated as The Most Beautiful Steel Bridge made (circa 1966).
I dared to walk out to the center of it and fired off a few pictures of the bridge itself and the gorge that it spanned.

Neither the camera nor I could or have done justice to it!
I was blown away by its immensity and remarked that to a fellow visitor as we walked back to the parking area.
“You think this is big? Just wait till you see the grand Canyon. This is nothing compared to that in size”!
Whaat, for real, bigger than this gorge? I questioned myself in wonderment.

Back on the road as I continued my journey, I still could not visualize any gorge that could or would eclipse this one in size.
It was truly the largest and deepest gorge I had ever laid my eyes on.
So now truly in a desert in the west of the country, I refocussed my attention on laying down some miles.
I had many more miles I wanted to travel for the day.
I arrived at Tres Piedras, NM the town at the base of the Carson National Forest and began climbing into the upper reaches as dictated by the road.
“The Dance” began again and continued as I wound my way through this gorgeous part of the road coming out of the forest, the road began to twist even more as I worked my way along towards Tierra Amarilla, a dusty little speck of town through which I went in the blink of an eye.
I kept a good pace.
It made for a wonderfully spirited ride.
Arriving in Chama, NM I chose to take a break out of the saddle in preparation for a long haul across the land to the town of Farmington, NM.
The day was wearing on and with a lot of nothingness around me, I wanted to make a good push for it.
The stretch of road between Dulce and Bloomfield was a particularly long one and with beautiful desert scenery and a mountain road, I continued to make a spirited ride of it all on this day.
Next stop after Bloomfield was Farmington, NM and now at 5:15 p.m. I decided to call it a full day of riding.
I checked into The Travel Inn I found along the main drag, deciding to settle in early in anticipation of tomorrow’s ride to and beyond Monument Valley.
The smell of fresh curry wafted through the air ………
The glow of the late afternoon sun made for a very vividly orange sky and leaving the motel, I rode around the town and bought myself a Fiesta Steak Salad from the nearby Walmart Store and made it back to the Motel. And with my room door and the extra large pane glass window curtains drawn, I treated myself to a lovely/gorgeous sundown whilst enjoying my dinner.
The bike ended the day with 58,049 miles reading on the odometer. She had transported us only 307 mi (483 km) today, but oh, what a lovely 307 mile trip/ride it was.

My pre-planned/chosen route of NM 64 west, did not disappoint.
It delivered all the thrills and beauty far in excess of what I had only imagined when I planned the ride.
So showered and with my belly full, I returned phone calls and text messages to my loved ones and friends who were all vigilantly tracking my progress along the trip.
Then with a prayer of thanks, settled down and crashed out for the night.

August 23rd, 2018.
Day 6.

I was up early. 4:30 a.m. local.
I downloaded all my videos and photos from the day before and began checking my maps for the day ahead.
Today the plan was to make it to places that I had been waiting most of my teenage and adult life to get the chance to visit - Monument Valley and The Grand Canyon!
Some rain and thunderstorms were in the forecast for the area today, but hopefully I would dodge them as I was heading westwards away from them.
Around 5:30 a.m. I began loading up the bike in anticipation of the ride ahead.
I opted for a pretty heavy breakfast, stopping by the McDonalds establishment almost next door to the motel.
As I downed my Egg McMuffin and a cup of coffee, the manager came over and chatted with me briefly.
A fellow biker, he was curious/interested in my journey. ( He rides a Kawasaki Twin/cruiser) and looks forward to the day when he will embark on a journey of this kind for himself.
A true gentleman, he was kind enough to let me fill up my Yeti insulated cup with ice.
The day promised to to be hot further west.
So after fueling up for the day at the gas station next door to McDonalds, I was on the road at 8:30 a.m., having started my journey for the day.
US 64 filtered me along and into the town of Teec Nos Pos, AZ where I turned northwards onto US 160 and then on towards the “Four Corners” Monument.
(In case I haven’t mentioned it already, Four Corners is the geographical location in America where 4 separate states all come together and meet - New Mexico, Arizona, Utah and Colorado).
What gorgeous scenery!
What natural beauty to behold!
I could not ride without stopping every couple of miles or less without stopping to take photos!
I was burning up a lot of time. By midday I had only covered 67 mi. (107 km)!
The road cut across the desert landscape, taking me past rock formations which I have no words to describe, so you will have to rely on some of my photos due to my shortcomings.
I soon arrived at “Four Corners, mingled with the multitude of tourists and waited for my turn to take a photo on the spot.
Begging a fellow elderly lady tourist to take a photo of me, she obliged me without hesitation.

If you find yourself in this area and at this spot, please know that this area is surrounded completely by Indian (Native American) lands. The Navajo Nation lies within New Mexico, Arizona and Utah. The Ute Mountain and Ute Nation is located in Colrado, so please respect their culture and traditions.
So having mow visited this monument/marker and checking it off on my bucket list, I resumed my journey northwards towards Bluff, UT along highways 41 and 162.
I was thoroughly amazed at the scenery, feeling so minuscule amongst the giant rock formations and vastness of the area.
The road, bike and I were swallowed up without a fuss, all the way till we came to the junction of highway 162 and US highway 191 - the town of Bluff, UT. I was met by rock formations, again, too grand to describe, but particular note I can make of a pair of almost identical rock formations known as Twin Rocks.
Staying on US 163, I continued to be amazed and wowed by the nature of the land I was riding through. This was so unique!
I plowed on for miles, gawking at the different colors and formations of rock, oblivious to the heat of the day and not wanting this ride to ever end.
The bike and I “carved the canyons” and eventually arrived at the Mexican Hat monument (see it in the photo album as well).
I took time off the road and went down a gravel/rocky road for a much closer view/experience of it.
Needless to mention, the town of this area is aptly named - Mexican Hat.

I was alone here. No one else in sight. It was so serene. I took a few photos and continued my journey into the town close by, named - yes, you guessed it - Mexican Hat.
It was a good opportunity to get some much needed fuel and to take a mandatory break off the road to rehydrate and have some snacks.
I found a gas station not too far down the way and used the chance for fluids but could not find any shade in a public place, short of staying underneath the rood of the pump island of the gas station.
I took the liberty and downed a can of Pepsi and a Hershey chocolate bar for the much needed calories, many of which I had no doubt burned up in the last several hours.
The day had seriously heated up. It was around 2 in the afternoon - local time, with no sign of cooling down anytime soon.
What did I expect?
I was in the middle of a desert in the far western reaches of America, in the month of August!
Soon I was back on the road again, now heading due south towards Oljato-Monument Valley.
The Oljato-Monument Valley straddles the Utah and Arizona states and has, for decades, been the source of inspiration for the movie settings of directors like John Ford, famous for the Western Movies Genre he has entertained us with about stories and legends of the old west.
This place has been made so famous to us by him that It undoubtedly invokes images of what I envision the old west was/used to be like.
Coming over a rise in the road, I was atop an elevated area when I caught my first glimpse of Monument Valley waaaaaaay of in the distance.
I stopped for a photo op to immortalize my moment of sheer joy.
I had made it here. I had gotten my first glimpse of a place I had so long dreamed of and had seen so many times in movies, that made me feel a certain kind of familiarity and connection with the place.
I motored on and followed the dip of the road.
Then it disappeared from view!
I rode for what seemed to be an eternity before it came into view again. I was still far off, being deceived by the vastness of the area. But with each minute, I was getting closer and closer, till eventually I arrived at the foothills.
I was mesmerized.
Nothing can prepare you for the sheer size and grandeur of this monument.
I pulled off the road, parked the bike, stood at the side of the road and just gawked at the view I was witnessing first hand!
Good time to have lunch.
Reaching into my bag, I took out my “buffalo wings” (left overs from my last dinner at James and Mary’s in OKC) and reached for a bottle of Gatorade.
No better place for me to have lunch than right here by the iconic monuments of the world-famous Monument Valley!
I took my time.
It had definitely been worth the trip so far!
All too soon, I needed to leave. This place I realized was large (that is an understatement) and this late in the day I would have to really lay some miles down quickly in order to make it to my next destination - The Grand Canyon - before too late in the day.
I arrived in Kayenta at the junction of US 163 and US 162 and made a right turn towards Tsegi, AZ.
Beautiful road. Lovely asphalt. Not a ripple or bump in it. Oh what a smooth ride it provided.
Off in the distance I could make out the tell-tale signs of a pending rainstorm.

I pulled over for a quick and necessary potty break whilst anticipating the rainstorm.
It was obvious that the rain would be starting anytime now. Over the last several minutes, I watched it coming closer and closer.
I was right at the junction where highway 98 and US 163 met, when a Shell Gas Station, known locally as the Shonto Marketplace (a convenience store) presented itself.
I ducked in to take shelter under the roof of the gas pump island as had so many other drivers.
How much luckier could I get?
Then it came down! Down with a vengeance, like there was no tomorrow.
And as quickly as it came down, it blew by and was over, allowing me to quickly resume my journey.
I used the opportunity to gas up the bike again.
I was getting concerned now. The day was wearing on and I was still very far from nowhere! It was close to 5:00 p.m. local time. I began to contemplate not going to the Grand Canyon. If I did not plan this right from this point forwards, I’d surely be caught out in the dark in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nowhere.
The thought weighed on me. I did not want to be out in the vastness of this desert landscape at dark. I had come this far and was thinking about striking the Grand Canyon off my list! - ?*#@!!
Conversely, it was inconceivable to me to do that, come what may.
This was a lifetime dream in the process of coming true.
I made a decision.
Rain, shine, daylight or darkness, I was not going to deviate from my wishes and plans.
Grand Canyon it would be!
From here to the junction of US 89, marking the end of this length of US 163 was about an hours’ ride.
I “kicked the ST in the ribs” and she responded by picking up her skirts and marching off. She couldn’t be happier. She did her thing!
40 miles (64 km) went by in a blink, bringing us to Moenkopi, AZ.
Pushing on along the now wet but drying out road, I arrived in Cameron, AZ where I turned onto highway 64 which took me directly to the entrance of the Little Colorado River Overlook.
I turned in and paid a voluntary entrance fee to experience the attraction.
With directions from the entrance keeper, I motored around the rear of all the kiosks where vendors selling their wares and souvenirs had long packed up and left for the day, parked the bike, grabbed my camera and hiked the very short, 1 minute distance to the edge of the canyon.
I could hear the roar of the river coming up from the depths of the gorge, but leaning over the edge it was so deep that I could not make out the river waaaaay down below.
This now claimed the top spot on my list of deepest gorges visited. (The Rio Grande River Gorge I visited earlier paled in comparison to this one)!
Time was still of the essence.
I quickly made tracks out of the area.
I still had a further 26 miles (42 km) to arrive at the Grand Canyon.
All along heading towards it, I couldn’t shake the knowledge of the fact that it would even be larger than what I had just witnessed!
The road entered the Kaibab National Forest and quality again was first class. The road twisted and twisted towards the canyon with signs along the way announcing it.
Eventually after what seemed like an eternity, I arrived at the entrance to the park.
A photo/camera crew was there, setting up to make a TV report on the canyon for a local station.
Engaging them in conversation, I got the camera man to take a few photos of me.
I pushed on towards the entrance gate of the park, paid for a year-round pass to all National parks and entered the park and routed myself to the parking lot of the main viewing area of this the South Rim, as per the rangers’ directions.
Grabbing my camera, I walked down to the edge of the canyon to join the host of other tourists/visitors.
NOTHING CAN PREPARE YOU FOR THE SIGHT OF THE GRAND CANYON!
It was immediately apparent how and why it got its name!
No camera can ever do justice or convey the sheer size and perspective of it!
I mingled with the crowd of others as some set up their camera gear and others just sat along the edge gazing into the depths and across the canyon.
The sky was in no way dramatic. Dull grey clouds still hung as the evening approached.
I fired off a few photos just to commemorate my visit/presence here for posterity.
Inside me, I knew already that I would one day return with my family for them to experience the grandeur of this place.
Gazing out across the canyon and far into the eastern horizon, the sun began to peek out underneath the clouds, throwing rays of light clear across the canyon and striking the walls.
With each passing minute, the clouds gave way and the glow of the late sun of the day caused the canyon walls to take on hues of color I have never come across.
Brown and Grey gave way to Orange and Vermillion and every shade of color in between that spectrum.
How glorious!
The Scales, colors and forms of the Grand Canyon are a feast for the eyes.
It lasted a few minutes amidst the sound of camera shutters firing off rapidly to capture the scene (mine included).
And after the sun dipped behind the last mountain in the distance, I reluctantly sauntered back to the parking lot to prepare for a long, dark ride back to Williams, AZ - my end destination for this days’ ride.
All throughout the day, I had no cell phone service and so had not been able to receive or send any calls or text messages.
I had been on the road all day long without communication with family and friends. I had no doubt they would be getting concerned for my safety and that in itself made me nervous and concerned too.
Before setting off, I tried again to reach out - no luck. So I had no choice but to continue my journey.
The darkness rolled in quickly and I joined the convoy of vehicles leaving the park for the day, winding my way back along highway 64 towards Williams, AZ. It was a cool 57’F (14’C). I was adequately suited for the ride.
I arrived in Williams, AZ close to 10:30 p.m. only to find my chosen hotel closed. The note on the door apologized for the inconvenience due to a family medical emergency concerning the proprietor and asking for prayers - which I promptly offered with a whisper as I turned the bike around in the dark parking lot to begin looking for another place to lodge for the night.
Across the road, I found and checked into a Red Roof Inn.
No sooner had I entered the room, my phone rang and I answered the call coming from my very concerned youngest daughter, whose voice lit up with relief to hear my voice.
Quite naturally, as a result of the lack of communication during the day, there was major concern for my safety. This had never occurred before. Not for the whole day like this.
So she then went on to let everyone else know that I was fine.
I was very tired. I went to bed immediately without a shower and without dinner.
It had been one heck of a day for me.
In case you don’t know that, read all about it!
The plan I had laid out for tomorrow was for another exciting and greatly anticipated day.
I wanted to ride all the way from here to Needles, CA along and to experience all 120 miles (192 km) of this section of Historic Route 66.
Goodnight, Lights out!

August 24th, 2018.
Day 7.
I awoke after a very deep sleep at 5:20 a.m. local time.
First order of the morning was to download videos and photos from yesterday and then take a shower, after which I began packing and loading the bike in preparation for the day ahead.
My plan is to ride all the way from here to Needles, CA.
With packing accomplished, I fired up the bike and took note of the fact that it was 59’F (15’C).
With check-out procedures done away with, I pulled away from the Inn in search of fuel at 6:54 a.m. - direction Barstow, CA.
I went by the Grand Canyon Railway Station. I couldn’t miss it. It was directly on my route towards the highway I wanted to join.
Train rides are offered from here to the Canyon and back.
I made a mental note of maybe coming back here one day on a family trip to experience that.
7 miles (11km) beyond the town of Ash Fork, AZ, a sign announced the upcoming exit for Crookton Rd. (Old Route 66).
I took the exit. This was another of my “must-ride” roads on this trip.
If you are in this area, the riding experience is not to be missed.
The road took me through the highly popular Route 66 town of Seligman - one of the towns that literally put Route 66 on the map, much revitalized today and is a really great tourist attraction and on through Yampai towards Peach Springs and Truxton, Truxton being another of the wildly popular Route 66 must-see locales.
I pulled up at the Hackberry General Store and spent easily an hour looking at and admiring a lot of old technical and mechanical relics of days gone by that are on display here. A true time-capsule of automotive stuff and services of that day.
The road wound on with not too much else except for lovely scenery as I motored on towards the Hualapai Indian Reservation.
With railroad tracks running parallel to the road, I got “some of my kicks” running beside a diesel locomotive going in the same direction for several miles.
Arriving in Kingman, AZ another iconic town of Route 66, it was the last major town on the route before Atman, AZ.
Just outside of this town, the road was covered with quite a bit of very fine sand, carried here by the wind, covering almost everything and collecting on the edges of the road. This causes a narrowing of each of the opposing lanes of local traffic down here in the valley, before it winds its way through the mountains, becoming very steep in elevation in some parts.
This mountain road is narrow and has no guardrails so proceed with caution.
I had a “death-grip” on my handlebars all the way up!
Despite this though, it is an exhilarating ride to the top with magnificent views and great asphalt.
I stopped at the summit - Sitegreaves Pass, its highest point at 3,550 feet (1065 m) above sea level and looking backwards, was amazed at the grade of the road I just traveled along to get to this point. I could make it out along its route as it hugged the mountainside for almost as far as my eyes could see.
What a view!
If you’ve never seen a “black man” with white knuckles, you should have seen me/my hands!
After coming to a stop, I literally had to pry my right hand off the handlebar with my left hand that equally had poor blood flow to my fingers!
I can’t ever remember my hands being like this.
Talk about a “white-knuckle ride”!
With much less humidity at this time, it was very comfortable in the heat of the day. Enough to where I decided that a snack break was in order.
I found a rock to sit on and gazed out into the openness of the mountains and valleys I was surrounded by.
For this moment in time I was alone, feeling minuscule but thoroughly enjoying the experience of the moment.
Off in the distance, I could hear the echo of a Burros’ braying, emanating from “somewhere” out there in the mountains.
My next stop was to be the town of Oatman, AZ - an old silver mining town that died out when the resource was depleted during the 1800’s.
The Burros have roamed free since then and due to their contribution through assistance to the miners of those days, have been given protected status in this area to this day.
As such, they roam free, cannot be trapped, enclosed or domesticated and have the run of the town.
They love attention.
The descent of this road from the mountaintop was very thrilling as it wound its way along, dumping me into the middle of Oatman.
So with Burros roaming the streets, I joined the throng of tourists and spent all of about 20 minutes looking over and visiting this tiny little speck of a town that was bursting with so much color, character and history from it's glory days of the silver mining boom.
It is now a serious and typical tourist trap!
I moved on with my sights now firmly fixed on entering California.
So after running about 120 miles of Old Route 66 to this point, I got onto AZ 10 and ran due south along the lovely mountain road through the rest of the mountain range to arrive back on interstate 40.
The land was parched and dry. Down from the mountains now, I could feel the heat.
It was hot, I mean hot.
I looked down at the gauge on my instrument cluster.
It read 96’F (36’C).
I was ready to strip my riding gear!
Even I, this little kid having grown up in Africa, was feeling the heat! I needed to rehydrate and cool off a bit.
So I ducked into the first gas station/convenience store that I came to in California!
It had a Dairy Queen attached to it and it made absolute sense to me to take a break for something to eat and drink at this time.
Besides, the bike was thirsty too!
So after paying for my fuel and meal, with drink and hot dog in hand, I sat outdoors just beyond the entranceway and did some “people-watching” as I downed my meal and drink.
It felt good knowing that I had finally reached California.
From this point westwards, interstate 40 becomes the Needles Freeway.
I had adequate daylight/time so I decided to push on with the journey and motored my way all along till I got to Barstow, CA.
After trying a couple of motels along the way, which were all fully-booked, I finally found and checked into the California Inn.
So motoring to the rear of the establishment, I located my room, unpacked and went out in search of something to eat for dinner.
I found a Jack-In-The-Box across the street and returning to my room with the meal, made quick work of the chicken and fries.
I had not had a meal from this establishment since I was last in Laredo during the mid 1990’s.
It was mmm, mmm good!
As I downed the chicken, my drifted to the thought and fact that tomorrow, all things being equal, I would be on the pier at Santa Monica Beach - the western terminus of Route 66!
All too soon, I would have to begin my journey homewards.
After all, I wouldn’t be able to go any further west.
So after a good shower, returned phone calls and journal updates, it was lights out for me.
I had a great day ahead of me tomorrow.
My venerable ST had safely and efficiently carried me, my “homeboys” and luggage across an additional 355 mi (568 km) of a once-in-a-lifetime journey.

August 25th, 2018.
Day 8.
I awoke at 4:30 a.m. and began organizing and doing some laundry for the day.
I spent some time as well downloading yesterday’s videos and photos.
Having made it to Barstow yesterday, I opted to alter my GPX file with the changed route and re-downloaded it to the Zumo.
At breakfast time, I went up front and re-booked the room for an additional night since I planned to be back here after my visit to Santa Monica Pier and possibly Ventura, CA along a section of the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH).
It was a beautiful, 75’F (24’C) but hazy morning as I pulled out for the day around 9:15 a.m.
Highway 15 took me right to the edge of Los Angeles where I filtered onto CA 210, the outer loop and skirted my way through Pasadena and Glendale and onto Highway 101. Traffic was moving at a pace, which by other states was very brisk, but no problem at all for the ST to keep up with.
The biggest challenge was keeping my eyes open and being aware of what drivers around me were doing. There was pretty much no margin for error. Especially for someone like me who was "not from these parts", not having the feel of the mood and character of this locale.
I turned south onto highway 27, cut across Ventura Boulevard, into and through the Woodland Hills area.
At the highest point the view over Los Angeles was simply breathtaking! What a view!
As quickly as I approached the view, it was gone!
The road had climbed rapidly and dumped me into the Summit Valley and along Topanga Canyon Boulevard.
Even with quite a bit of congestion, the road wound around with exciting twists and turns, making for an enjoyable and thrilling ride.
I couldn’t help but notice how dry everything was around here, with respect to the vegetation and environment.
I wound along and all too soon came to the intersection of the Pacific Coast Highway.
Hanging a left, eastwards, I joined the flow of traffic that was seriously backed up bumper to bumper as far as I could see ahead of me.
It was hot! Stifling hot!
But I was right at the coast. Couldn’t be any closer than I already was, short of being in the water.
I glanced down at the temperature gauge. It reported that it was 109 ‘F (43’C).
I had no choice but to flow with the traffic, eyes peeled for a required parking spot, but to no avail. Everything was taken. Every parking area was full. This was getting frustrating now.
But I persevered for another few miles till I got to the Santa Monica Pier Beach itself and turned in to find a place to park the bike.
Well, after locating a spot, (I was lucky, someone was pulling out and away just as I turned in to the parking lot) I quickly de-garbed to try and cool down somewhat a little bit, and secured the bike in the parking spot after paying for 2 hours of parking time.
I made my way onto the boardwalk of the pier waited my turn to take a picture at the sign that signaled the end of the Route 66 Trail.
I then fought my way through the throng of crowds, and found my way out and down to the public area of the beach, stripped my riding boots off and immersed my feet into the relatively cooler waters of the Pacific Ocean.
It felt good to be here.
I had made it here. To the end of the trail where Route 66 goes no further!
I now gathered myself together and headed back to the bike with enough time to spare on my parking time limit, suited back up, despite the heat and spent about 20 minutes chatting with the person in the next parking spot who was surprised that I was “a man of faith”.
He was handing out leaflets/flyers to all he could encouraging all to embrace religion and good faith.
Wishing each other well, we went our separate ways.
I had reached my turn around point and now it was time to begin my journey back eastwards.
I joined the traffic again after fueling up in Mid-City and worked my way northwards from the coast towards Highway 210 along “The 405”.
I caught Ventura Boulevard after skirting around Beverly Hills and headed back towards my hotel in Barstow.
I went by the exit towards Mulholland Drive, but mingling with young Ninja riders who have so much they want to prove not being my thing, I opted to stay off that famed stretch of road.
Back in Barstow, I opted for Jack-in-the-box chicken dinner again.
Yeah, it’s that good (to me).
So with my early morning laundry put away, I set about charging all my batteries for my photographic gear, downloaded all data, reformatted all digital cards and prepared for my ride tomorrow.
I could not drink enough fluids this evening! I was so thirsty and dehydrated from today, but it had been an exhilarating one!

August 26th, 2018.
Day 9.
My destination for today - St. George, UT.
It sits right in the south-western corner of Utah and the GPS unit declares that it is a 275 mi (440 km) ride.
It was to be an un-exciting drive all the way there along interstate 15, with nothing much I had planned to see along the way.
The mountains ran right alongside the road for the whole distance from here to there.
In the town of Baker, I stopped by to see the worlds tallest thermometer! And oh, it was 95 ‘F (35’C). Driving past the town of Baker, you can’t miss it. It’s so tall you can see it a long way away.
Baker also happens to be the gateway to Death Valley - the region/area where the worlds hottest air temperature has ever been recorded!
Whew, no wonder it’s so hot in this area!
Leaving Baker, I settled onto interstate 15 again as it passed through mostly desert landscape with stunning scenery of its own.
I stopped at the Nevada state line for my obligatory picture and used the opportunity to rehydrate myself.
I was going through water at a good, healthy rate.
Crossing into Utah, I went through huge stone mountain ranges above 2000 feet (610 m), unbroken for about 9 miles (14 km).
Here, the wind gusts were severe, creating windy conditions that forced me to be extra cautious.
I made it into St. George, Utah late in the afternoon, found a hotel and checked in for the night.
The Black Bear Restaurant down the road came highly recommended for dinner and armed with directions from the Maitre ‘D, I found one of the best locations to experience sunset in this area.
I found my way there and climbed to the top of one of the rocks in the Red Cliff Preserve, just in time to watch the sun go down for the day.
How exquisite, the gorgeous natural colors ……….. the end of another blessed day.
I found my way back to the hotel, had dinner, went through my usual routine and called it a day.
All in all it had been another good riding day.
My bike was running very sweetly on non-ethanol fuel - why am I surprised?
I shouldn’t be.
It’s a Honda ST!


August 27th, 2018.
Day 10.
The plan was to be on the road at 7:00a.m. today.
I awoke at 7:00a.m.
Oh well, no sweat! I’ll deal with it.
My plan today had me heading for Zion, Bryce, Escalante and Capitol Reef National Parks, via Highway 12.
It was a beautiful morning here in St. George. 79’F (26’C) under a rich blue sky.
A Banana - to ward off cramps and some apple juice - to help flush out my kidneys, went down very well for breakfast.
I was ready for the day. Another one I had dreamed of for so long.
I caught highway 12 which turned eastwards which pointed me directly towards Zion National Park.
The road quality is excellent and the scenery is second to none.
My words can in no way aptly describe the park and I will not even attempt to find the words to begin describing it. I will leave my pictures help do that.
Even the camera does not do it justice! The sheer expanse and natural beauty of the area cannot be captured. It must be experienced!
But for what it’s worth, enjoy some of the photos in the album.
This repeated itself through Bryce, Escalante and Capitol Reef as well.
All I can say is that Highway 12 gave me the thrill of my life, especially as I crossed the highest part of the road along the spine of that particular high land mass/mountain, aptly named as the Hogsback!
Void of a road-shoulder, the drop from the spine along the side of the road was straight down! Easily for a thousand feet or two!
The wind blew across the road, making for treacherous conditions.
Out of apprehension/fear, and mistakenly so - contrary to all I thought I had learned and conditioned myself on how to properly and safely deal with a cross-wind situation like this, my reflexes and natural instinct made me stiffen and tighten my grip on the handlebars of the ST.
Instead, I should have relaxed my grip in order to not allow my body movements to be transferred as inputs to the ST's steering through my stiff arms
I had a "death-grip" on the handlebars!
Immediately realizing my mistake, I relaxed and smoothened out the ride, maintaining better control in the conditions I found myself in.
Those couple of seconds, which seemed like an eternity, turned into a "white-knuckle ride!
Ever seen a black man's knuckles turn white?
Well, if you had been with me you would definitely have witnessed that!
Despite this day’s attention-grabbing situation, the ride was glorious.
It should be on any serious Long Rider’s bucket list of must-ride roads in this country.
It is the epitome of “Canyon Carving” on a motorcycle. It does not get any better than this!
I rode highway 12 all day and at sundown I found myself 24 miles (38 km) from its end, where it meets Interstate 70.
A little before 7 in the evening, I entered the town of Green River, UT and found a motel to check in to.
Ray’s Tavern, although very well recommended for steak dinners, had just closed.
They were cleaning the grills as I walked in - too late to have them light up the grill for just one meal, so it was bed-without-dinner for the day.
So I had to fall on my emergency rations of beef jerky and water for dinner on this night.
I didn’t mind one single bit because if it was the price I had to pay for staying on Highway 12 from it’s start to it’s end, running through Zion, Bryce, Escalante and Capitol Reef, it was more than worth it!
I met up with other biker guests in the motel parking lot and chatted a while with them.
We exchanged stories of our journeys, where we were coming from and where we were heading, recommending roads and attractions to visit and see etc. Very pleasant and nice conversation right through their rounds of beer.
Wishing them all well and bidding them a good night, I turned in for the night.

August 28th, 2018.
Day 11.
Upon waking this morning, I began to feel that I was “unwinding”.
It was 6:30 a.m. when I awoke and I set about downloading the multitude of photos and videos from yesterdays’ ride.
10 straight days on the road and all the thrilling, wonderful and gorgeous miles I had laid down, had made my inner self start to slow down and really appreciate the wonder of nature and the vast diversity of natural beauty across this great country I now call home.
Out in this vast wilderness of the deserts of south-west America, I realized how minuscule I was in the grand scheme of natural and physical life.
What else could I take in (see) that would surpass my amazement and wonder of what I had experienced so far?
I didn’t think there would or could be much.
My photos alone gave me a glimpse into some of what I had not paid too much attention to the previous day.
The rock formations, the clear blue sky, the vivid colors of nature, all set in the vastness and openness of this land …………….
But as I was to learn, never second-guess nature!
Not being in any rush to get on the road and get the day started, I went about my preparations at a relatively leisurely pace than I always have done to this point in my travels/journeys.
As I finally headed out of town, I stopped at a Chevron station to fuel up and replenish my provisions and emergency rations for the days ahead.
I met a gentleman at the gas pumps/station heading in the opposite direction, to Fresno, CA after a ride out east to visit some of his friends.
We struck up conversation and spent the best part of an hour chatting and exchanging stories of our journeys.
We parted with a promise to keep in touch and meet again - Good Lord permitting.
So my planned route today was along Interstate 70 all the way to Denver, CO.
Interstate 70 took me through Vail Pass and above 10,000 Ft. (3048 m) in altitude.
Simply gorgeous.
The ST never even burped! Here is where I enjoyed and appreciated the benefits of a fuel-injected system/engine in comparison to the carbureted engines of older technology.
The “fuel mapping” is so much more accurate and reliable so as to not suffer any adverse engine performance.
As I went up in altitude, the ambient temperature plummeted. From 85’F (29’C) in the valley, to 57’F (14’C) at the summit and well beyond till the next valley beyond at 61’F (16’C).
Excellent road conditions, light traffic, lovely scenery and twists and curves thrown in for my enjoyment.
Wow! Is all I can say.
The “double-deck” design of the interstate along this route was purposely to minimize the impact to the natural terrain and to maintain the natural course and flow of the White River. This double-deck section ran all the way through the White River National Forest and the Arapahoe National Forest.
Simply gorgeous!
Having traveled many thousands of miles on America’s network of the interstate system, I can comfortably express my opinion and say that this is the best part of whole interstate system - Nation-wide!
BUT …………… I cannot say the same for the Colorado drivers.
This statement is based solely on my personal experiences and I find Colorado drivers horrible! - Selfish, aggressive and dangerous!
I also witnessed 2 extremely close accidents just in front of me and decided to get off the highway at that moment of time.
So, just as well, I found a Dairy Queen establishment which I patronized and used the opportunity to find a hotel for the night. One I found in Wheat Ridge, on the outskirts of Denver - A Super 8, an expensive one. Gosh, Colorado is pricy!

August 29th, 2018.
Day 12.
Having turned in relatively early yesterday, I wanted t make a long day of it today, so I was up at 5:30 a.m.
I wanted to try and make it to Kansas City, KS today.
This would not be my first time traveling across the State of Kansas. The last time I did, I had hoped it would be the last, not for any other reason, but for the fact that there's just a whole lot of nothing along the way.
Flat land and a long drawn out straight shot of a road through open fields!
I joined the morning rush hour traffic, guided by my trusty Zumo GPS unit and worked my way out back onto interstate 70, heading east.
I was back in urbanization. I just realized it. It just occurred to me!
Looking around, I began to feel angry and depressed!
I hate congestion!
I loved being out in the deserts and mountains.
Now I was back in civilization. That’s what some people call it.
I call it too many people in one place!
Well, it’s not in my control. All I do is deal with it!
As I sifted through my angry thoughts, I now began to look forward to the openness of the Kansas prairie land. It took a while to leave the congestion far behind.
As I got into the “nothingness”, the morning temperature plummeted and I had made a decision to stop and suit up. I reached for my balaclava. I needed it to ward off the cold frostiness off my face. For the next couple of hundred miles, the temperature stayed at 55’F (13’C).
I kept stopping a lot. I was tired, sometimes sleepy and realized that in order to generate some body heat I would do good to eat some food.
I exited the highway at the first chance I got. The “Golden Arches” of McDonalds were unmistakably present and I welcomed the opportunity.
I made it to Kansas City around 8:30 p.m. and Checked into an Econolodge in Overland Park.
Made phone calls to “my girls”, shared a few photos and began to settle down for the night after downing my Steak ’n Shake burger and salad from the establishment next door. It was really good. So good that I decided to get one in the morning for my on-the-road-meal tomorrow.
I checked my maps and decided to skip Chicago tomorrow. Nothing much to see between St. Louis and Chicago, IL except old dilapidated and restored buildings, and structures that have restricted access - Nothing really I can justify the extra time and mileage with at this stage of the journey.
So I made a decision to head straight for home from this point on.

August 30th, 2018.
Day 13.
I got a wake up call from my wife at 6:50 a.m. (local).
As I rose for the morning and began preparing myself for the day just ahead of breakfast, the rain came down!
Oh boy, did it come down!
A very heavy, strong storm!
I worked my way along the walkway to the reception/breakfast area of the motel and had breakfast anyway, and luckily caught the weather report on the TV that hung on the wall in the breakfast area
The weatherman forecast the rain lasting till 9:00 a.m. so I went back to my room and began packing up for the days’ ride. I used the time again to download photos and videos of the previous day.
I began the mental preparation for the last leg home.
“If I can do an all-day ride, I ought to be able to make it home by very late tonight or the wee hours of the morning”.
This works out to be an expected 800-mile (1280-km) run!
So at 9:41 a.m. with still a steady drizzle of rain, I put my “troupe” into their rain-sack, loaded up and set out into the 68’F (20’C), wet, grey, cloudy and drizzling rain, after picking up my Steak ’n Shake burger.
I was not leaving without that. No Sir!
I think this rainstorm was moving eastwards. It rained all the way from Kansas City, KS to St. Louis, MO and I had to shelter from the rain when I got to Columbia, MO.
The traffic congestion increased the closer I got to St. Louis and at a quarter to five in the afternoon, local time, under still cloudy skies, it got hot and very humid.
I needed to shed some of my protective rain gear.
I continued “pounding the pavement” all the way till sundown, when I was just passing through Greenup, IL and at this time I decided it would be safer and better to not ride all night long. I still had about 10 hours of riding to go!
Though I was not tired or fatigued, I exited the highway and checked into the same motel I had spent my first night of this trip in.
The smell of curry wafted through the air ………….
The proprietor recognized and remembered me.
It felt good! Somebody knew me waaaay out here, miles and miles from home!

August 31st, 2018.
Day 14.
I made another slow day of it.
I was relatively close to home.
I pounded the pavement the whole day today. Nothing special or exciting to make note of.
It had been a great trip! A trip of a lifetime!
I arrived home right at 6:00 p.m. safe and sound and said a prayer of thanks for my safe return.
With 61,582 miles registering on the odometer, I had journeyed 5,509 miles (8,814 km).
A lot of my teenage dreams had become reality.
I linked up with relatives and friends along the way.
I made a couple of new friends along the way, enjoyed lovely weather along the way, endured inclement weather along the way and more importantly I came back a changed person with my life in a new and different perspective.
My soul had been taken to a different place!