I Like Big Bikes and I Cannot Lie

IMG_0513Some of you may recall that when I attended the International Motorcycle Show in Rosemont last February (see My Good Day at the 2018 Chicago IMS), I had come away quite smitten with the 2018 Yamaha Star Venture and commented that I would need to ride the bike in order to understand what it really has to offer. Well, earlier today I did exactly that and now I’m here to tell you about it.

IMG_1478Despite having been planned months in advance, my demo ride very nearly didn’t happen. Rich’s Yamaha in Lockport, Illinois hosted the factory demo truck for three days, Friday through Sunday, from 9:00 AM to 4:00 PM, and they’d been promoting the event on Facebook since last winter. I work all day Fridays and until noon Saturdays, so I pulled in at the demo location at 2:00 Saturday afternoon. The bikes were out on a demo run and there were only a few people hanging around, so I walked up assuming my chances of throwing a leg over a Star Venture that afternoon would be good. Well, no.

“Hi! Where do I sign up?”
“You can’t. We’re all booked up.”
“Huh?”
“I said we’re all booked up. We open again at 8:30 tomorrow. First ride goes out at 9.”
“Can I sign up for tomorrow?”
“Nope. I can’t even access the sign-up screen until tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll try again tomorrow.”

I gotta’ admit, I was a little sore about not being able to ride yesterday, mostly due to a lack of understanding on my part about how Yamaha USA structures their demo events. And I do mean structure. Up until now, the only demo truck events I’d been to were put on by Victory Motorcycles and their events were set up to accommodate as many riders as possible. There was no rigid schedule of excursions. Rather, the bikes went out for 15 minutes at a time, as many times as they could for the duration of the event. I would arrive at the event site, sign up, wait for the bikes to come in from a run, and place my helmet on whatever bike I wanted to ride. And riders could pretty much repeat this process as many times as they wanted.

IMG_1471By comparison, Yamaha has a set schedule of demo rides for any given day and riders are assigned to specific bikes by appointment, created on little digital touchscreens, for a given time slot and model. By setting everything up electronically, Yamaha USA collects my contact information, current bike brand, etc. and in return, I get a demo rider card that can be scanned at any Yamaha demo event for the rest of this year.  It’s just a different way of doing things, but one of which I was not aware. Until today.

For fear of not getting a chance to ride a Venture this weekend, I arrived at the demo site a few minutes prior to opening this morning and managed to be first in line when registration opened. This is when and how I learned about their scheduling methodology. I even got a donut out of the deal.

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I spent the next fifteen minutes looking over the bikes, especially the one I was going to ride, and chatting with a Yamaha USA rep who had been cleaning and polishing them. I do not recall the gentleman’s name, but he was exceptionally helpful. As soon as this rep had learned I would be taking the Venture out, he spent a fair amount of time with me, explaining some of the features—like the starting sequence for the keyless ignition and how to toggle between the “sport” and “touring” power modes. I was grateful for the one-on-one orientation session, believe me.

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After a brief pre-ride talk, we mounted our assigned machines, started them up, and headed out. The first thing I noticed about the Venture was its low seat height, which is odd because at 27.4 inches, this seat should have been several inches higher than that of my Victory Vision, which boasts a nominal seat height of only 24.5 inches. But the lowest point of my Vision’s slanted seat is indeed a single point whereas the lowest part of the Venture’s scooped seat occurs over a much more prominent area. So you see, the Venture’s seat is nominally higher than mine but in practical application—that is, where the tush meets the cush—it is indeed lower.

What positively floored me was how effortlessly the Venture comes off its side stand and how weightless the bike feels almost as soon as it is underway. Why? Because again, the numbers indicate that it should have been otherwise. My 2012 Victory Vision Tour, not a minibike by any means, has a wheelbase of 65.7 inches and an estimated wet weight of 869 pounds. Imagine my expectations when I read that the Venture has a 67.3-inch wheelbase and, in its Transcontinental (premium) configuration, a wet weight of 963 pounds. But once again, the numbers do not tell the entire story.

Without getting into a physics lesson, which I am not qualified to give, we know that a bike’s center of gravity, rider placement, and steering geometry (aka rake and trail) each play a large part in its handling characteristics. All I know is that when I first acquired my Vision Tour, riding it at parking lot speeds felt a lot like piloting an ocean liner. By comparison, on my very first time out on the Yamaha Star Venture, I was leaning into slow corners with confidence. The bike feels extremely well-balanced at any speed and to the extent that a bike weighing almost half a ton can feel agile, this machine felt agile and very responsive to my rider inputs.

IMG_1481About mid-way through our demo run, the rain began to fall. While I could complain, I was actually glad for the opportunity to see how the Venture handles in wet surface conditions. She handles beautifully! Sure, I kept the bike in touring mode and went easier on the throttle during the downpour, but the fact is this bike felt downright planted to me from the time we left the parking lot until the time we returned.

Let me share a few final observations and opinions with you. First, this bike has a lot of features I did not try out, mainly because I didn’t know how. There are a lot of controls in that cockpit. At one point, I had inadvertently activated the satellite navigation system and while I did play the radio while underway, I did not try to learn the entertainment system while I was riding the bike. Just like my Vision, there are a lot of handlebar-mounted controls that are not intuitive to the uninitiated. Some quiet time with the operating manual would prove very helpful in that regard.

The trunk and side bags are quite generously sized and there are additional small storage compartments as well. One of the few complaints I’ve had about my Victory Vision is the relative lack of luggage capacity. Definitely not a problem with the Venture.

The 113 cubic inch (1854cc) V-twin engine moves the bike fine, but I wouldn’t race a sportbike (or even a Gold Wing) for papers. The vibration factor is just enough to let the rider know there’s a big V-twin at work, but it was never intrusive or annoying at any speed. The exhaust note is downright muted by American V-twin standards. Refined seems to be a good word to describe this powerplant.

IMG_1480The bike I rode lists for over $27K in its Transcontinental trim. Asking whether it has to be that expensive is a lot like asking whether it has to weigh over 900 pounds. It is what it is. Right?

Finally, I regret that my favorite pillion passenger/photographer Ann was not available to join me for this demo ride. Had she been there, you would be enjoying far better photos—and maybe a video or two—from this outing. Ann’s presence would also have enabled me to evaluate the Venture’s handling characteristics with a passenger on board. By the same token, Ann is not a fan of riding in the cold rain. So maybe next time. After all, I have a Yamaha demo rider card that’s good for the rest of the year.

As always, thanks for hanging with me.

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The Last Motorcycle on Earth: A New Dramatic Three-Part Series

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“Motorcycles are outlawed. Gasoline is $20 per gallon. Self-driving cars are taking over. Silicon Valley and the United States Government have collaborated to push society toward a fully-autonomous transportation system. Motorcycles and riders are an easy first target in the drive to ban human-operated vehicles. Impossible, you say? Not so fast.”

Could motorcycles be outlawed in our lifetime? This is the question with which we are confronted in The Last Motorcycle on Earth,  a dramatic series by Eric W. Ristau, a director, cinematographer and editor of independent films, documentaries, and television commercials. This series is co-produced by Geneva Ristau, who has co-directed numerous works with Eric, and Neil “Morto” Olson, who also plays the story’s central character. An Indiegogo crowdfunding site has been established for The Last Motorcycle on Earth, which has already been in production, albeit on a limited budget.

I have been a loyal and supportive fan of cinematographer Eric W. Ristau since 2013. That’s the year The Best Bar in America was released. Produced and directed by Eric and his brother Damon, that movie resonated with me in a big way and I wasted no time telling anybody who would listen about the film. Eric acknowledged my enthusiasm and thus began our casual acquaintance of the past five years. We attempted to meet for a beer once, but Eric was in Canada the one time I had managed to ride my motorcycle through Missoula, Montana. I would still like to have that beer, though. I believe that someday, we shall do so.

How feasible is the scenario presented in this dramatic series? Eric submits the following.

“Our current youth culture is largely focused on virtual experiences rather than the tangible, physical stuff past generations were drawn to– in this case, motorcycles, cars and expression of personal freedom through travel. More young people than ever are deciding against getting a driver’s license and interest in ownership of vehicles by that group is at an all-time low. It is said that the last person to receive a driver’s license has already been born.”

As an active member of three distinct Motorcycle Rights Organizations, I’ve read various position statements on the topic of autonomous vehicle technology. Before reviewing the background information and video footage from The Last Motorcycle on Earth, though, I never gave serious thought to the possibility of the rise of autonomous vehicles causing the end of the motorcycle hobby as we know it. Now? I’m not so sure.

Let’s think about this. The technology is moving forward at a faster rate than most of us would have expected. There is no small amount of corporate backing for the advancement of autonomous vehicle technology. Countries, as well as companies, are vying to become the clear dominant player in this arena. And today’s youth are tomorrow’s voting majority.

Displacing conventional automobiles will surely take time, but based on our smaller population and lesser popularity, the motorcycling community seems like a feasible target for elimination by those who stand to gain the most from our loss. Think about that.

Please take a few minutes to view the following video. Perhaps you will consider helping to fund The Last Motorcycle on Earth. If you ride or are a fan of the hobby, I would also urge you to consider joining one or more motorcycle rights organizations. And as always, thanks for hanging with me.

My Good Day at the 2018 Chicago IMS

IMG_0496There are relatively few things I look forward to doing in the dead of winter. Going to the International Motorcycle Show when it comes to Chicago is one of them. February may seem like the worst possible time to put on a show like this. What were they thinking?

In warm weather states, the IMS features outdoor activities, like demo rides, in addition to the indoor expo. That isn’t very feasible here in the frigid, snowy Midwest—although every year you will find at least one snow-capped motorcycle parked in the remote lot. We do have our diehard riders. For most of us, though, the IMS is as close to riding as we can get in the dead of winter.

IMG_0522Such was certainly the case this year. Thanks to my unemployed/self-employed status (see Ups and Downs – Part 2 of 3), my wife and I were able to attend this year’s show on opening day. The entire area was under a winter storm warning that morning, but that didn’t deter us. I shoveled several inches of snow before we left and off into the storm we went. The drive was slow and visibility poor, but we eventually arrived safely at the Stephens Convention Center in Rosemont. I’m sure the show’s organizers, UK-based UBM, weren’t too choked up about the lighter attendance that afternoon, but Karen and I thoroughly enjoyed the uncrowded aisles and displays.

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I have gone to the IMS every year since 2003 for two reasons. First and foremost, I want to see the new models up close. Sit on a few bikes. Talk to the reps. Dream. Other motorcycle enthusiasts will understand. I am always drawn to “retro” models, that remind me of what motorcycles looked like back when I was a kid, and also new concepts and trends. These days, however, my tastes run heavily toward “full dresser” touring bikes because I enjoy taking road trips on two wheels. Now truly any motorcycle can be utilized for long distance travel. Indeed, people have proven the point by making coast-to-coast journeys on small displacement dual-sport motorcycles, 50cc scooters and even mopeds. Me, I like to travel in comfort, often with a passenger, and do not (intentionally) ride off-road. I like a bike that can be ridden for hours on the interstate, comfortably, but that also handles well on curvy backroads.

I saw a couple of interesting new touring bikes this year, both imports. The all-new Honda Gold Wing Tour packs a lot of technology, power, and comfort into a fairly compact package (relative to the last two iterations of this machine). The unconventional double wishbone front suspension drew a lot of attention, as did all the onboard gadgetry. Compared to the previous GL 1800, which seemed truck-like up front in my eyes, this year’s model looks positively svelte. My greatest concern, apart from the prospect of going back to a Japanese bike from my current American-made mount, is the reduced luggage capacity. The touring model (i.e. with trunk) offers 110 liters total or about 29 gallons of cargo space, 40 liters less than the previous model. That’s a concern for someone like me, who has never been one to pack light.

Yamaha also upped the ante this year with their all-new Star Venture. While no slouch in the technology department, the Venture doesn’t have quite as much high-tech punch as the does the Gold Wing. What it does have is a new air-cooled (!) V-twin powerplant, a comfortably low seat height, and ample luggage capacity—38 gallons, give or take, depending on trim. As with the Honda, I’d have to put this bike through the paces, with and without passenger, before passing any real judgement. But I must say, this bike felt good beneath me. So much so that I went back for one last look before leaving the show that day.

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Ever since I bought my Victory Vision, almost five years and 50,000 miles ago now, I’ve had an ever-growing appreciation for American-made motorcycles. I can say without boasting that my current ride is the biggest, heaviest, sweetest sounding, most comfortable road machine I have yet owned. But following Polaris’ decision last year to cease production of the Victory brand, my domestic choices have been reduced. Although I have never owned or even ridden a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, I have a great deal of respect for the brand as well as for the company behind it. I won’t rule out the possibility of owning one sometime in the future, but I must admit that compared to some other choices, the H-D models feel a bit cramped and just don’t seem to “fit” me well. Then there’s Indian. I’ve never owned one but have ridden their Chief and Chieftain models. Still not as roomy as my Vision (I’m not sure what is), the big Indians have a nice ride and a sweet sound. They are also quite expensive and although the touchscreen display on their Chieftain and Roadmaster models is the largest in the industry, I can’t get over the likeness of that big, boxy dash to a 1950’s television set.

The other reason I enjoy attending the IMS every year is to walk the merchant aisles. This year had a better mix of vendors and promoters than I’d seen in a while. For one thing, there were more “destination” exhibitors—tourism departments, event promoters, etc. I love those because their maps and brochures give me something to look over and ponder while I wait for the snow to melt. The apparel and accessory booths are always fun to browse, too. There is one vendor in particular called Cyphen Sportswear that Karen and I look forward to seeing each year. We have been buying T-shirts from Steve and Ronnie for many, many years now. They watched our children grow up, back when we used to take them along. We’ve gotten to know each other well enough that we no longer just shop, but actually stay at their booth and visit for a while.

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Custom builds have become a big part of the IMS in recent years. I have no mechanical aptitude to speak of—I break things—but I have an eye for aesthetics and a deep appreciation for custom bike builders who know their craft. Of particular note this year was “Porterfield,” a board tracker custom by a group called Motorcycle Missions, “a 501(c)3 Non-Profit Corporation helping individuals who deal with PTS(D) and suicidal ideation find hope and healing through motorcycles.” I am intrigued by this organization, which deserves more attention from the media as well as the public at large. Motorcycle Missions in fact won the J&P Cycles Ultimate Biker Build Off Championship and was declared the 2018 “King of the Builders” at the Chicago show.

And so we drove home with our souvenir bags filled with literature, freebies, and whatever merchandise we’d purchased at the show. The snow had stopped and, presumably due to the storm having kept so many people at home, the roads were wide open at what should have been the height of Chicagoland’s afternoon/evening rush.

I know motorcycling isn’t for everybody, but it’s clearly a thing for me. There is nothing else quite like it. Thanks for hanging with me.

Our Last Ride of Summer

36867579861_9a7ae99a3e_oWhen a motorcyclist and his pillion passenger of choice live over 100 miles apart in two different states, they tend not to take their outings for granted. Such is the case for my friend Ann and me. While we absolutely have gotten together on the spur of the moment, we usually put some thought into scheduling our rides based on mutual availability, weather outlook, etc. We had both been hoping to go riding together sometime over the 2017 Labor Day holiday weekend; we just weren’t sure which day it would be. After all, we went riding for three days during the 2016 Labor Day weekend. Surely we’d be able to get a simple day ride in this year, right? Well, it almost didn’t happen.

36737811802_a94173bea1_oMy current employment situation might have put any multi-day excursions on ice, had we planned any, but would not have stopped Ann and me from taking a day trip together. When my wife took an unplanned trip to the hospital the weekend prior, however, a visit that turned into an extended stay, everything else in my life became tentative—including my career search activities, scheduled meetings, and leisurely motorcycle excursions. Such has been my practice for decades, so no big surprise there. When I say family first, I mean family first.

Four days later, Karen was back at home with no physical restrictions, life was quickly returning to normal, and everything that had been put on hold was suddenly back in 21389322_10213547112773090_2064896616_oplay. The very next day, I resumed job search activities, had an awesome meeting with a former colleague of mine, and with a favorable weather forecast in place, I reached out to Ann and made firm plans to take her out riding.

The morning of Sunday, September 3 was a cool one in central Wisconsin. Foggy, too. Ann set out some breakfast goodies and two mugs of fresh, hot coffee. We took our sweet time sipping coffee, looking at potential routes on Ann’s map app, and watching out the window as the fog gave way to a beautiful sunny morning. Once that happened, Ann added her gear to mine on the bike and we set out together for what would surely become our last ride of the summer.

It may have been just a simple day trip, but wow, what a ride! We opted to run north and do a simple loop through the Northern Unit of Wisconsin’s Kettle Moraine State Forest. 21363237_10213547112653087_1549845227_oWe ran north on Wisconsin 67 and then took a few county roads—A to T to G, which rejoins 67 and then departs again—to make a loop within the Northern Unit.

We made three relatively quick stops while touring the Northern Unit that day. Our first stop was at the Ice Age Visitor Center, which we had visited last fall (Rides with Ann: the Autumn Runs, October 26).  As we pulled into 36819817166_b9c3a7fa8a_othe parking area, Ann spotted a small bicycle rack positioned on the sidewalk leading to the Visitor Center. Leaning forward, she murmured into my left ear, “I dare you to pull Miss Scarlett up to that bike rack so I can get a picture of you there.” Naturally, I did what any other red-blooded Italian American man would have done after having received such a dare from a beautiful woman sitting on the back of his motorcycle. I sighed audibly, gunned the bike’s big V-twin engine for emphasis, and then rode in a sweeping circle around the parking lot and up to the bike rack, much to the delight of my conspiring passenger, who hopped off and took the photo as promised.

The purpose of this stop was not so much to reminisce as to finalize our route, set up Ann’s video equipment, and take advantage of the restrooms that we knew were available at the center. We did also venture onto the viewing deck out back and managed to take the selfie that appears at the very beginning of this article. While that photo does display the beautiful blue sky above, it really doesn’t do justice to the beautiful scenery that lay behind us, from the deck rail all the way out to the horizon. Such is the natural beauty of the Kettle Moraine.

16593983853_1dd7937408_oOur next stop was a quick memory maker on our way back down a portion of WI 67 near the shores of Long Lake. On our way up, I had pointed out a place to Ann where a few years earlier—June 1, 2014, to be exact—my son and I had stopped on our way home from a weekend of watching AMA Superbike races at Road America to grab a selfie with the lake behind us. On our way back, as Long Lake came into view, Ann suggested stopping in the same spot FFEE5F27-896C-4B0B-B9D2-3F0382AF329Dto grab a quick photo that I could send to my son, who is currently living in Portland, Oregon, having recently completed his studies at the Portland Actors Conservatory. Having enjoyed Ann’s last suggestion so much, I pulled into the exact same spot and paused while she hopped off the bike, snapped her photos, and hopped back on. This is one of many things I love about my friend Ann. While I am astounded that more than three years later, I was able to stop in nearly the exact same spot that selfie was taken in 2014, I am equally astounded that Ann saw the value in doing so. Plus she set up that shot in seconds and quite frankly, but for the ugly gent in the saddle, I think she took an excellent photo.

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Our last stop was of sentimental value to me alone. There is this little State Forest Headquarters facility that I have stopped at from time to time on my way home from the bike races over the years. The first time was in 2005, traveling alone with my new 2005 Honda ST1300. I’m sure I stopped there with my silver 2007 ST1300 as well, but I have no photographic evidence. On more than one occasion, I have dragged my son to this nondescript place and he still wonders why I like to stop there. It’s hard to explain. There is nothing special about it, but this place is special to me. I wanted Ann to see it and while she understood John’s puzzlement about the place, she also understood how this rather nondescript parking lot in the middle of a state forest could hold meaning for me.

From there we stopped only once more. on our way back from the Northern Unit, we pulled up in front of the Don Ramon Mexican Restaurant in downtown Mayville. Ann had a build-your-own combination and I had tacos al pastor. Both were good and the service was not only warm and friendly, but also lightning fast.

From there we headed back to Ann’s place where, after an unscheduled (but apparently necessary) nap on her living room couch, I bid my dear friend and her son goodbye and headed home to Illinois. The holiday weekend traffic was understandably heavier than usual, especially south of the border, but it never really slowed down. Although I no longer had Ann sitting behind me, I had some terrific memories of our day together to keep me company during my journey home.

Our next trip will be the first of the autumn season. It may be another day trip or perhaps something more epic, depending on my employment situation, but wherever we end up going, I am pretty sure of two things: it will be awesome for us and you will likely be able to read about it here. Thanks for hanging with me.

Rendezvous Run Day 4: End of the Road


And then there were two. Last night after a long day on the road, while we were eating a very late supper and enjoying a few cold beers, our friend Eddie suggested that he might opt to get up early and head for home, leaving my son John and me to take our time and enjoy riding together. John and I were both fine with that suggestion and I was pretty sure the following morning would play out exactly that way. I was quite right. 

When Eddie’s text came in the early hours, confirming that he was indeed on his way, I rolled over and let John know. The kid looked so tired, as if he had still been riding all night, so I suggested we sleep a bit longer. John seemed to like that idea, so we killed our respective cell phone alarms and fell back asleep. I woke up a while later and began my morning ritual— shaving, etc.—periodically checking on my son, who continued to sleep. Only after I emerged from a long, hot shower did my son once again show signs of life. 

“Hey, Pop.”

“Yes, Son?”

“I guess I really needed that sleep!”

” I know.”

We didn’t even make it downstairs in time for the hotel’s complimentary breakfast, but we didn’t care. We ate granola bars and leftovers from the night before right in our room, while we talked and laughed about all manner of things. 

We picked up more sunblock and looked, unsuccessfully, for a set of headlamp bulbs for my bike. Then we hit the road heading east from Lincoln, knowing in advance that with such a late start, I might or might not be able to continue home after John stopped in Rock Island, his final destination for the day. 


Once again there were no touristy stops today, but we hit the jackpot once again when John chose The Corn Crib, in Shelby, Iowa as our lunch stop. Nothing fancy, just a mom-and-pop restaurant with home-style food and a convenience store inside and a BP fuel center outside. Try the hot beef sandwich. You will thank me. 


There is an unwritten (until now) rule of motorcycle touring that whenever two or more bikes are traveling together, the group must pace itself for the least experienced rider, the slowest bike/operator, and the smallest gas tank. My son has ridden more miles than a lot of people who have been riding for many more years, so while I would not call John an expert in proficient motorcycling, inexperience is not a concern. His 750cc motorcycle, however, is on the small side by today’s standards, especially for touring. I had to laugh the other night when John informed me that when fully loaded, his bike is not capable of speeding on the interstate highways of Wyoming. And while my ocean liner of a bike can run between 175 and 225 miles on a tank of gas, John’s gas tank is generally good for 100–130 miles. What does all this mean? We really didn’t exceed today’s 65–75 mph speed limits by very much and we stopped for gas every 100 miles or so. 

We picked up some rush hour congestion when we passed through Des Moines. Traffic was heavy, but moving. Then a little ways east of Des Moines, not the middle of nowhere, but definitely out of the city proper, everything came to a grinding halt. After spending miles and miles in stop-and-go traffic, mostly stopped, with the hot sun beating on us and substantial engine heat rising up from between our respective legs, we came upon an accident clean-up scene involving at least one well-smooshed car and some broken glass and bits of automotive debris strewn across one lane. After that it was smooth sailing, but time-wise, my chances of getting all the way home before dark had been reduced to zero.


And so the Rendezvous Run concluded in Rock Island this evening. I got myself a decent single room near the airport in Moline, sent John off to be with his best friends, who had been anticipating his arrival all week (and with whom he will be living while working for the Mississippi Bend Players this summer), picked up some food and drink to enjoy in my room, cleaned and covered my bike for the night, and settled in to share my day with you.

A few closing thoughts… Some road trips are about the destination(s), others about the journey. In the case of some road trips, the opportunity to travel a specific road can indeed be the destination. The Rendezvous Run wasn’t about destinations, although we truly enjoyed many of our stops along the way, nor was it about spectacular motorcycle roads, though we did manage to take in some very pleasant scenery and even a bit of wildlife. I set up the Rendezvous Run to do one thing. All I wanted to do was meet up (i.e. to rendezvous) with my son John as he rode across the western US from Portland and then ride with him to his destination, Rock Island, Illinois. Based on that sole objective, I’d say we were successful, even though I have not yet gotten home myself. 

It’s been a great run. Thanks for coming along!

Rendezvous Run Day 3: Cheyenne to Lincoln (Again)

This was an odd day for the Rendezvous Run. My son John, coming east from Portland by way of Twin Falls, had pulled into our Cheyenne hotel parking lot rather late the night before. After hugs, greetings, debriefings and assorted conversations, we planned for a delayed start the next morning and then turned in for the night. By morning, though, two of our crew had woken up very early and headed out on their own. So then there were three. 


After gassing up, we headed east across Nebraska. No touristy stops per se today, but we did get off the interstate for a while and rode U.S. 30, also known as the Lincoln Highway, from  Sydney to Ogallala. In Sydney we found a Honda dealer who had been in business 50 years. We had been fueling our bikes when our friend Eddie noticed an interesting but dated Honda mural on the building across the street from us. That was the dealership. 


In Ogallala, we found the neatest place to stop for a late lunch, the Front Street Restaurant and Crystal Palace Saloon. But for the deep, loose gravel lot we had to park on, this is an excellent place, with great food, a museum, a stage for live entertainment, and more. The people were very friendly, too. We had a fun time there. 

After that, we got back onto I-80 and rode… and rode… and rode, stopping only for fuel and bathroom breaks. At one point, John noticed one of my headlights had gone dark. Less than an hour later, the other bulb went out, too. The high beams still work. No night driving until we get those replaced. 

Tomorrow, the final leg of our Rendezvous Run unfolds. More to come!

Rendezvous Run Day 2: To Cheyenne from Lincoln and Twin Falls

Today my group got up early, grabbed a bite of “free” breakfast at the hotel, packed up the bikes and headed west out of Lincoln. Meanwhile my son geared up and headed east from Twin Falls, Idaho. I had the better end of the deal with a little under 500 miles to cover; he had over 600. 


We made one touristy stop at The Archway in Kearney, Nebraska. This arch, which spans across I-80, is a neat museum/monument to the region’s role in the westward expansion. There are interesting exhibits inside and out, a gift shop, and an incredibly friendly and helpful staff. 


Meanwhile, my son John crossed the desert. Every so often, he would Update me on his progress, which always seemed slower than expected. This made me feel guilty about my own group’s progress, because everything seemed to be stacked in our favor. We had fewer miles to cover, we had large, powerful bikes on which to cover them, and there were four of us traveling together. Still, I suspect that John saw his journey as part of a grand adventure that he has been enjoying very much. 


We stopped for lunch at a down-home bar and restaurant called the Rusty Bucket in Chappell, Nebraska. Good food and friendly, outgoing staff are what this family-run establishment has going for it. It was a good lunch stop. 


We dodged some scattered rain/storm cells and pulled into our hotel in Cheyenne safe and dry. The most recent update from John still had him about four hours out. Fortunately it appeared that he would be crossing Wyoming behind the storms and not with them. Dusk came and went. Still we waited. 


Finally, between 9:30 and 9:45 Mountain Time, John pulled into the parking lot at the hotel. I headed toward him, having set up to go live on Facebook with our meet-up, only to see that John had his phone out as well and was doing the exact same thing. And so we had dueling live feeds for a minute or two. Then we went inside. The “rendezvous” part of the Rendezvous Run has now kicked in!