Category Archives: Travel & Tourism

Our First Full Day in Western Wisc


What a fantastic day! We started off with breakfast at the La Crosse Family Restaurant, which is located just across the parking lot from our hotel. I can’t say enough good things about that place. The food is good, the people are friendly, and the prices are more than reasonable. It’s just a great place to start the day.

The Midwest Motorcycle Rally officially opened late this afternoon, so Ann and I had more than half a day to ourselves before then. After gassing up the bike, we headed out of La Crosse on Highway 14.

We eventually switched to Highway 82 and a few secondary roads, until we arrived in La Farge. This is an area where part of Ann’s family (on her mom’s side) settled many years ago. I got to see several points of interest, but the crown jewel was touring Bear Creek Cemetery, where a significant number of Ann’s relatives and ancestors are buried. We also stopped to see a farm that has been in her family for many years. It was a great experience for me, because even though Ann and I have known each other for over 35 years, there is so much we don’t know about each other—and I get the biggest kick out of discovering new things about her and showing/telling her things she never knew about me.

And the roads! There were no harsh twisties on this route, but not much in the way of straight roads, either. Instead we were treated to a seemingly endless string of sweeping curves and elevation changes. It was great fun.


We got back to La Crosse in the early afternoon and stopped downtown for lunch. We just parked the bike and started walking around until we found a place that appealed to both of us. That place turned out to be The Old Crow, a gastropub featuring a variety of craft beers and some pretty interesting food dishes, too. I’ll be back.

Once we got back to our hotel, we didn’t have much time before the MMR kicked off with a quick ride to the Dahl Auto Museum, for a private after-hours tour. Dahl has been in business for many years, first as a dry goods store and then as a seller of automobiles. The museum’s collection is noteworthy and our visit there was a fun one.

From there we went directly to a Bike Night event that was going on at Rudy’s Drive-In, a favorite stop of mine in La Crosse. I got to see some cool bikes, reconnected with owner Gary Rudy, and thoroughly enjoyed introducing Ann to Gary and his 50’s style drive-in experience.



After a quick stop at the hotel, we were off again, this time on a “Bug Run” to Grandad’s Bluff, overlooking the city of La Crosse. The view from up there is beautiful and the ride up the bluff, especially at night, can be an attention getter, too.

We finished our day with some classic MMR socializing in the parking lot of our hotel. I only mention this because I had the pleasure of being introduced to three gentlemen who were attending the rally for the first time and had learned of this event by reading the article I wrote about it for Thunder Roads magazine two years ago. On top of a fantastic day that was already over the top, that made me very happy.

If all days were half as good as this one was, I would have no bad days. Thanks for hanging with me.

Here is a video excerpt of our ride today…

The Run to La Crosse

In my little corner of the world, Chicagoland, starting a road trip on a weekday often means dealing with traffic. In this particular instance, I had to get through Chicagoland traffic and then see what the greater Milwaukee metro had to offer. This added variety to the mix, since my Illinois route only offered gridlock, while the Milwaukee metro offered extensive construction, too.


But after a little more than three hours, I had managed to get through the vehicular sea of humanity and arrived to pick up my friend Ann.


The Victory Vision is not endowed with spacious side bags, so we had to jockey things around a bit in order to make everything fit. No problem!

Before long we were on our way… and into more construction, this time in the Madison area. It was nasty, but fortunately short lived. A construction truck driver engaged us in some conversation while we were stopped. I have come to appreciate people like that.


The weather threatened us with rain, but never made good on that threat. This suited Ann and me just fine.

And so we rolled, stopping only on occasion, until we reached La Crosse. Met up with a few of the usual Midwest Motorcycle Rally attendees, and ate with a couple of them, too. Tomorrow evening the rally officially opens, but we’ll talk about that tomorrow.

Thanks for hanging with me.

The Waiting


As you can see, Miss Scarlett is all cleaned up for our next adventure, which begins for me in a matter of hours, so this post will be short and sweet. Tomorrow morning I will be up bright and early and head north for the Midwest Motorcycle Rally in La Crosse, Wisconsin. But first I’m picking up my on-board photographer, trusty sidekick, and passenger of choice, also known as my dear friend Ann.

Last winter I deftly executed my tried and true strategy of begging and pleading with her to attend the rally. Ann ultimately succumbed to this strategy and agreed to go, if only to shut me up. But in any case, I am all too happy to have her along. And you should be, too, because I’m sure the photography you will see here over the next few days will be better than what you might have gotten from me alone. So for the next three to four days, I will chronicle our road trip and our experiences at the rally. This should be fun!

Some of you may recall that back when I was writing for the Wisconsin and Northern Illinois edition of Thunder Roads magazine, I wrote a piece about the first MMR I attended. Sadly, the “TRWINOIL” edition ceased operations a while back, but I saved that article and have included a photo image of it below. If you click the image and zoom in, you should be able to read the original article.

As always, thanks for hanging with me.

Midwest Motorcycle Rally

Contemplating Bonneville

Two different friends of mine have asked me about this place over the past few days, so I want to share some thoughts with you, while they are still fresh in my mind. Of all the places we’d visited during our recent epic road trip to Portland, Oregon, the Bonneville Salt Flats was among the least touristy, yet it stands out as having been one of my most memorable stops. It was significant to me, personally, that we stopped there. In fact I took our group a hundred miles out of our way en route to Portland, just to see this landmark, which is located in far-western Utah, just before the Nevada border.

Three things have happened that made Bonneville a bucket list item for me. First, in February of 2005, my family and I had the pleasure of meeting AMA Flat Track racing legend Chris Carr at the International Motorcycle Show in Rosemont, Illinois. We hadn’t realized it at the time, but Chris was soon to become a land speed record holder. More on that to come.

Then in 2006 a movie called The World’s Fastest Indian was released. Starring Sir Anthony Hopkins, this film is based on a true story about Burt Munro,  a New Zealander who set several land speed records at Bonneville in the 1960’s, aboard his highly modified (and streamlined) 1920 Indian Scout. It’s a delightful film, and fairly true to the original story, from what I’ve been able to learn about it. This really piqued my interest in seeing Bonneville firsthand.

This third thing seems quite remarkable in retrospect. Also in 2006, Chris Carr set a land speed record at Bonneville, piloting the BUB Seven Streamliner, the first motorcycle to go over 350 miles per hour. In February of 2007, the BUB Seven was on display at the International Motorcycle Show in Rosemont. My then-13-year-old son John was so taken with this machine, he waited patiently to talk with Motorcycle Hall of Fame inductee Denis Manning, the owner and designer of the BUB Seven.

I had no idea what the kid had in mind, but I had to smile when Mr. Manning turned to greet John, who looked up at him and said, “Can I ask you something?” Then pointing to the sleek orange streamliner, he continued, “Where did you ever get the idea for that thing?”

“Well, uh…” he began, then turned to me and inquired, “Do you have a few minutes?” I smiled back and nodded my approval. Denis Manning then proceeded to tell my son about how he had become interested in land speed racing at a young age, when his dad had taken him to Bonneville.  “Every other kid my age wanted to be Mickey Mantle. I wanted to be Mickey Thompson,” he chortled. He went on and told my son about his racing efforts, and then about designing and building machines that could go fast. Denis had a stack of rolled up posters he had been handing out at the show, but instead of giving John one of those, he said, “Wait a minute,” and then reaching down for an flat, unsigned poster, he asked, “What’s your name?” Denis Manning then proceeded to autograph a poster of the BUB Seven to John, adding his personal advice to “always follow your dreams.”

I just stood there and watched this interaction between Denis Manning and my young son. I’m sure other people, enthusiasts who knew who Denis Manning was, were made to wait while these two had their conversation. I’m not entirely sure who was more inspired by that, John or me.


Now you know why in 2016, I led my little band of merry travelers a hundred miles out of our way to see the remnants of a prehistoric salt lake bed. There was nothing special going on there at the time, though there were other people around us, including some visitors from New Zealand, whom John engaged in conversation while we were standing out there, miles from the middle of nowhere. But still, it was a big deal for us to be standing there. We even ate at the same little cafe where the real Burt Munro, and other racing legends like him, hung out during Speed Week at Bonneville.

Bonneville… I’ve been there!

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My Insatiable Wanderlust

Wanderlust is a word of German origin meaning a strong desire to travel—and believe me, I’ve got it. This is nothing new, mind you. I acquired my strong sense of wanderlust at a rather young age. When my sisters and I were kids, shortly after the earth cooled, our Aunt Erminia used to toss us into her station wagon and drag us to various parts of North America for weeks at a time. By the time I got through high school, I had been to most of the contiguous United States, a fair number of Canadian provinces, and Tijuana, Mexico.

As a husband and a dad (I shall refrain from using the word “adult” because I do not care to exaggerate), I felt a strong desire to do similar things for my own family. I lacked the abundant vacation time and discretionary income that my aunt seemed to enjoy, but I more than made up for that with my enthusiasm and a seemingly insatiable desire to travel.


When I took up motorcycling, I quickly discovered two things. First, that contrary to my initial assumptions, just riding around town would never be good enough for me. But second, and perhaps more significant, that a bike with bags is far better than a bike without. So I added bags to my first bike. Two seasons later I upgraded to a bigger bike with bigger bags. Then I added a trunk. Eventually I acquired a “full dresser” touring rig, my 2012 Victory Vision Tour, which I named Miss Scarlett.

Not long after I outfitted my first bike, I began using it to take my kids Teresa and John places, first on day trips and then overnighters. One or the other would be a regular fixture on my pillion for a number of years. When they came of age, both kids took the state’s Basic Rider Course and acquired their “M” license classifications.Eventually they went halfies on a small bike of their own to ride, but that soon got sold and my son acquired a mid-sized cruiser, outfitted for touring of course, and we began going places side by side.

And let me tell you, we’ve taken some humdingers together—Wisconsin, Indiana, Iowa, Kentucky, Minnesota, South Dakota, Nebraska, and most recently, an epic journey out to Oregon. I’ve done more riding with my son than with riding clubs or on my own, and I’m grateful for that, if only because I know it won’t be that way forever. In part this is why I make a point of documenting our trips together, in words as well as pictures.

Although I do not consider myself to be a very good “alone” person, sometimes I take solo trips. These are not so much epic journeys as excursions of one or two nights, just long and far enough to let me get away from others while letting me get in touch with myself. So far I’ve toured parts of Missouri, Indiana, Ohio and Michigan on my own. But as I’ve said, I’m not a good alone person, so my solo trips have inevitably become stories and photos to share with others. Sorry, I guess I’m just wired that way.


I was a preschooler when I got my first motorcycle ride, and immediately became a lifelong fanatic, but I was in my early forties before I acquired my first bike. For over thirty years now, I’ve been blessed to have a wife whose sense of wanderlust matches mine, mile for mile and day for day, but Karen does not ride. Still I regret nothing, because despite this, she has been a diehard supporter of my involvement with the hobby, even to the point of having kept me going with it after I had crashed a bike and, however briefly, considered giving up riding altogether.

From time to time my readers enjoy two-wheel road trip stories featuring excellent photos that I could not possibly have taken. That would be the work of my close friend and pillion passenger of choice, Ann, who is herself an avid motorcycling fan and who has known me just slightly longer than Karen. We all went to college together, back in the days of land line telephones and cameras that used film, but I digress. Ann and I have taken a number of road trips together, not only with Karen’s blessing, but also her guidance—remember, my wife is a seasoned traveler—and I suspect readers will see more and more of this. I do indeed lead a blessed life and will never take that for granted.

And so my wanderlust continues, checked only by the limits of my discretionary time and income. About a week ago, I returned from an epic journey of roughly 4,800 miles, to Oregon and back. In less than a week, I will be embarking on another, much shorter road trip of roughly 650 miles, this time with my friend Ann on board. I’ll show and tell you all about that, as time allows, so please stick around.

Thanks for coming along.

Epic Journey Day Thirteen — The Bittersweet Run Home

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Things are different in the Midwest. We don’t have majestic mountain ranges. We don’t have deserts. We do have natural beauty, though, and it’s different from what the other places have. And traveling to other places  has made me more cognizant of natural features in the Midwest. This is why we should travel. I read this somewhere… When we return, everything is still the same, but we have changed. 


I took almost no photos today because, unlike yesterday, this was not a day for doing touristy things. This was the run home. I estimated about 535 miles between our hotel in Worthington, Minnesota and my home in Plainfield, Illinois. My wife Karen had more like 610 miles to cover, because she needed to drop my sister off before coming home.  Our friend Eddie had already departed, in an effort to surprise his wife by getting home early. 

We stayed together, the two ladies in the minivan and me on my bike, for the first half of the day, so that we could have lunch together. So we spent the first half of this day within sight of each other as we crossed southern Minnesota. I noticed that, like in many of the western states we had crossed, the interstate highways of Minnesota are set up to be closed down when conditions warrant.  I’m thinking winter storms, but I don’t really know what criteria must be met in order to close an interstate highway. We don’t do that in Northern Illinois. We plow continuously and apply ponderous quantities of rock salt (NaCl) to burn off whatever the plows don’t get. Indeed, in my little corner of the world, political careers have been created  and destroyed based on ones ability to control snow and ice to the satisfaction of all. 

We were approaching La Crosse, Wisconsin around  lunchtime, so we went downtown and checked out Fayze’s Restaurant & Bakeryt. We opted not to try any of their fresh baked goods for dessert, but I must admit, I was tempted. A
After lunch, for the sake of time, we stopped trying to stay within site of each other. I took a few legal liberties with regard to speed laws, and after five hours or so, I found myself home again. 


In all we’d come 4,782.2 miles since we left the R Place truck stop on June 19. Miss Scarlett, my Victory Vision Tour, got me through all those miles without issue. 

I regret nothing. 

Epic Journey Day Eleven — Bozeman to Rapid City


I woke up in Bozeman this morning, walked over to my hotel room window, threw open the curtains, and beheld a mountain sunrise. In Montana this is not so unusual. I read recently that there are at least 100 named mountain ranges and subranges in the state of Montana. The very name Montana means “mountain” in Spanish. And believe me, the name fits!


Today was all about making miles. We stopped every 130–150 miles, despite all of us  having machines with ranges far beyond those numbers, to fuel up and trade places leading. 

Around lunchtime we found ourselves in Sheridan, Wyoming, where we had a fine lunch and took in the sights. 


Hours later, we were near the Black Hills of Wyoming, still over 100 miles from our destination in Rapid City. Storms were developing in the distance. In other words, it was time to launch. 


We ended up “threading the needle” between the two cells as we came across on 90. Storms above and below us, wet road as we came into the SD Black Hills, but the storms never hit us. 


We arrived safely in Rapid City, SD, where I had booked us three “Superior King” rooms at a bargain rate using booking.com. Bargains can be found. 


After checking in and freshening up a bit, we went into town for supper. And so another day ends. Only two more to go. 

Epic Journey Day Ten — Spokane Valley to Bozeman

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From our hotel in Spokane Valley,  we could see the next set of mountains waiting for us. Within minutes we had crossed the border into Idaho, which reminds me… Who’s the Idaho genius that decided to put a visitor information center in a weigh station? I saw the line of semis on the exit ramp and rode right past it, seeing the visitor information  sign only after it was too late. Eh, their loss. Besides, we weren’t in Idaho for long. 

The above video and photo were taken at a rest area right by the Idaho/Montana border. I wanted to share some mountains with you because I can’t photograph the mountain scenery I’ve been enjoying from the seat of my motorcycle, while soaring down the highway. 


We stopped in Missoula for gas and lunch. I know nothing of the town except that there are two people living there whom I very much admire. Eric Ristau and Geneva Liimatta produce independent documentaries, including Sit Stay Ride: The Story of America’s Sidecar Dogs, a delightful film the making of which Karen and I gladly supported during their crowdfunding project. In fact there is a sequel in the making now, which we have also supported. Finally, Eric and his brother Damon co-produced and directed an indie film called The Best Bar in America. Good stuff. 

After lunch we continued our way across Montana, which means mountain in Spanish. And from what I’ve seen so far, the moniker fits. 


We pulled off again in Butte, the birthplace and final resting place of one Robert Craig Knievel. To say that Evel was a childhood hero of mine would be an understatement. I never got to see him in life, so I wanted to stop and pay my respects.



At last we stopped for the night in Bozeman. There are mountains visible from my motel room. There is a little bar and grill that serves Bozone, a locally made amber. 

Next up, South Dakota. Wish me luck. 

Epic Journey Day Nine — Farewell to Portland


This was our day of departure from Portland, but we still had one more touristy thing to do with John before we said our goodbyes and headed toward home. Multnomah Falls is an incredibly popular 611-foot waterfall, one of several found along the Columbia River Gorge. A paved hiking trail leads up to a picturesque bridge from which visitors enjoy taking photos of the falls and of one another. That same trail also leads to the top of the falls, but we didn’t go that far up. 

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​The views are well worth the climb, to say nothing of the long wait for parking, which is limited relative to demand. 


After viewing the falls, we got a table inside the Multnomah Falls Lodge Restaurant. I had it on good authority that their Fish ‘n Chips are awesome. That turned out to be completely true. They use wild-caught Alaskan cod and it is quite delicious. But then so is the Flatiron Steak Salad. 


Once lunch was over with, we spent some time in the gift shop, took a few final photos, and then followed John out to Interstate 84 and to a gas station where everyone fueled up or topped off before saying goodbye. Then two motorcycles and the chase van went east on 84. One motorcycle went west, back to Portland proper. It was three in the afternoon. 

I could not get over how quickly green gave way to brown as we followed 84 along the Hood River, but that’s exactly what happened. The temps went up, too. My bike’s onboard thermometer read 102 at the warmest point, but I attributed a couple or three degrees to engine heat. 

We rolled on, mile after mile, down I-84, up I-82 into Washington, onto US 395, which took us northeast through some of the brownest agricultural land I’ve seen on this trip, and also tied into Interstate 90, which brought us to Spokane Valley, where we stopped for the night. 


It felt awkward having only two motorcycles in our group. It felt awkward asking for a table for four instead of five. We’ll quickly get used to it, of course, but this day was a little bittersweet for me. While I am truly anxious to get home and see my daughter, spend some quality time with our family pets, and go hang out with my friends again, there is no use denying how I knew darned well I would feel when this day came. 

I miss my son. 

Epic Journey Day Eight — Last Full Day and Night in Portland


Day eight was to have begun fairly early, with my son John coming to the hotel at 6:45 to take my wife, my sister and I into the city to attend mass at his church. But we had worn him out so badly the night before, he fell sound asleep before setting his alarm. So when 7:00 AM had come and gone with no John, Karen called, waking him up, and we hurried over to Our Lady of the Lake, near our hotel, and John met us there as quickly as he could. 


After church John went home to retrieve his motorcycle while Karen, Maria and I went back to the hotel to regroup with Eddie and get ready for another day of fun and adventure. We departed not long afterward and took some curvy, uneven two-lane road out to McMinnville, where we ate breakfast and/or lunch at the Wild Wood Cafe. I had a lunch. From the yummy sounds everyone else was making, breakfast was better. 


The highlight of this day was our visit to the Evergreen Aviation and Space Museum, home to many flying craft, such as the examples pictured above. But the real attraction is this huge craft called the Spruce Goose, a wooden plane owned by Howard Hughes. That thing is huge!

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We could have spent more time there, but we opted to catch a few final photos outside and then move on. 


At this point, Eddie peeled off from our group to try and connect with a cousin of his in Eugene. John and I motored out, with the chase vehicle following closely, to visit a winery that actively supports the theater community in Portland, including the Portland Actors Conservatory. 


The winery was called Willakenzie Estates. We spent no small amount of time here and walked away with a few bottles to take home. 


But for hotel pit stops, we only had one more thing to cover, the last supper. We went to the Bunk Bar, which makes pretty good sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but it was on the list of places John wanted to show us. A very good friend of his, named Jacob, also joined us. 


And so aother day ends. Tomorrow we visit Multnomah Falls and then depart for home.