Installment #2 of the "ME" trip.

DAY 3

A call from ex #2, who I tend to refer to as "IT", awoke me about six am. She was taking Ariel to the hospital for a tummy ache that wouldn't go away. Knowing "it" to be a drama queen and a professional hypochondriac, which she engages in vicariously if called for, I put little stock in what she had to say, but it did stress me a little. I guess you can't get away from everything. I got up and packed waiting to hear from her so I would know whether to head north or go home. Camilla(my middle daughter)called about eight am and said all was well so I geared up, gassed up, ate as I checked a few possibilities for the day and hit the road. It was another perfect weather day and the air was crisp and cool, which allowed me to leather up, which I love doing!

I lit off on 101 north and climbed up into the Redwoods. WOW! If you haven't been to the Redwood forests of Northern Calif. you need to go sometime. It is a must see thing. I had been in the old van, but it is a very different trip on a bike. The scents, sights and feel from the saddle in such a place are magnificent. These are not trees off in the distance that require a hike to enjoy their majesty, they are right next to the road and I mean RIGHT next to the road. A lapse in concentration in many places would wad me up into one of the crevices in a trunk! Not that it would bother the fifteen foot diameter Sequoia! It's so cool that 101 goes right through them. The ancient groves are so dense that even at mid morning I had to take my sunglasses off to safely negotiate the road as it wound through the forest. The air was cool and damp and smelled pines and organic decay. I loved it!

After leaving the Richardson Grove, the road turns into a nice four lane highway where I caught up with a large group of Harley riders. I fell in behind them figuring that when they stopped, I would share some road stories and meet a few new people. They exited 101 at the "Avenue of the Giants" near Phillipsville, Ca. I followed them onto the famous drive through another section of the Redwood forest. The group stopped at a big turnout and we all got off our bikes. I nodded to the couple in front of me and said "Hey, how ya doin"? I was was rewarded by the fellow with "French..all French". These folks were all from France! How cool! It took me awhile to find the only one who spoke english and found out that they had flown into Vegas a few days before, rented the bikes and were on their way to Canada. We talked about the differences between riding here and in Europe and talked about how we planned on getting weher we were going. He laughed when I told him I really didn't know where I was going or how I was going to get there. We said our "See ya's", saddled up and took off. I followed them to the next 101 on ramp at Miranda where I jumped on the freeway and got going again because I didn't see that the "avenue" was any more impressive than the groves I had already gone through earlier.

Just as 101 went back into two lanes I hit my next construction delay. It wasn't as long a wait as the one on 20 had been but it gave me time to put on some heavier gloves as my hands were getting chilled. I was stuck behind a few big rigs and with nowhere to get around them and the other cars between us I just settled in for a slow paced ride to the next wide spot. The smell of trees and nature was replaced by that of diesel exhaust. Soon enough, though, it widened out into freeway again and within a few seconds I was at 90 mph and ahead of the slow, smelly trucks.

Once clear of the offensive smelling trucks and multitude of SUVs full of families enjoying the last week of summer break I kicked my highway pegs down and relaxed as I watched the sights of No. Cal. glide by at 70mph. It's cool to get up there and see things you will never see down here like old chip burners the size of small mountains, logging trucks everywhere and rivers with real water in them! Then there is the Pacific Lumber Company in Scotia. It is enormous! Truly the size of a small city with roads and RR tracks everywhere. I'd love to go take a tour of it. Maybe next time!

I stayed on 101 to Fortuna where I gassed up, made a couple of calls and rested my butt. I decided to cut across to I-5 here so I left the 101 for the undiscovered country(to me anyway)of highway 36 east which would, with a couple of other byways, land me in Redding. On the map the road looked so isolated, but I was surprised at how developed much of it was and there was even a branch of the Pacific Lumber Co. in Hydesville just outside of Fortuna and with that development came a moderate amount of traffic. Even with these factors it was an excellent road. Another riders road snaking through the hills and vales in the cool No. Cal. morning air. I look forward to using it again someday.

After about an hour of winding across the beautiful country of pines, streams and meadows and passing communities with populations of less than five hundred with names like Bridgeville, Dinsmore and Cobbs I came to a spot in the road called Mad River. It was nothing but a few picnic tables and a small camp trailer that had been converted into a burger joint. I needed to shed some leather as the temperature was beginning to climb and I needed a shot of Propel. I wasn't hungry yet so I chatted with the folks eating there, checked the map to make sure not to miss my next junction and off I went saying goodbye to Mad River, population 56.

About twenty miles past Mad River I turned off 36 and onto Hwy. 3 which was also a very nice ride, but was more a road for experienced riders. It was much more technical, rough and had many miles of unmarked, unlined sections with more than a few sections of single width with no signs designating it as such. I had to be very careful and aware especially on the many blind turns. There were places with sharp dips that bottomed my meager suspension and kicker bumps that made me nostalgic for the motocross bikes of the 70s..the ill handling tubs! It could be very dangerous for anyone not paying attention. I stopped at a little place called Peanut and took off the rest of the leather as it had become flat out hot as I dropped out of the mountains and back into the central area of the state.

About thirty miles up 3 I came to a town called Hayfork. Hayfork hosts the Trinity County Fair, has a population of over 2,500 and only one gas station. I was 89 miles from my last gas at Fortuna and was unsure how far it was to Redding so I pulled in and gassed up. The pumps had no card slots so I went inside to pay and was rewarded with some great smells coming from the little lunch counter inside. I gassed up, got the maps and took my now hungry self inside to eat. The 34th St. Carwash Deli in Bakersfield has the best cheeseburgers I have ever had, but I tell ya, this place is a close second!

After fueling the bike and the body I hit the road again and got seven point six miles down the road before being halted at another construction delay. I guess I know where all the money for roads in the state coffers goes because it certainly isn't down here! It really shows up north too because most of the roads, no matter where they are or where they go, are in great shape. I was stopped for about ten minutes, but was first in line this time so when they let us go I knew I had a clear road ahead of me. It was awesome and well timed because I was in the mood to push it a little and did some footboard scraping and high speed straightaway riding. It lasted all the way to the junction with Hwy. 299 which was the connector to I-5 in Redding. I made a pit stop at the Whiskeytown Reservoir, whos in and outlets are underground tunnels! Pretty cool. I went on into Redding, which is a much bigger place than I had thought. It was near 100 degrees there so I stopped and took a water break and decided to visit Shasta Dam.

I had been there as a kid but remembered very little about it other than feeding a deer and looking down the spillway. I love dams and was able to walk out onto this one once it was ascertained I was not carrying any explosives. I checked out the surrounding scenery and got some great shots of the dam. I spent about an hour piddling around there taking pix and stretching my legs then it was back on the bike for a rocketship run up I-5 to Weed, Ca. where I would tie up for the night.

After finding most of the non smoking rooms in town sold out I finally got a room in an old, beat up joint called The Summit Inn. If you are ever in Weed, pass this place by. It was old and musty, the wooden door had to be forced open it was so swollen and bent. It had obvioulsy either recently been a smoking room, had been one for so long it didn't matter anymore or someone had simply smoked there anyway because even though the bedclothes were fine, it reeked in there! It had an in window A/C unit that was woefully overmatched by the room size and that sucked, but it was, however, clean and had an awesome view of Mt. Shasta right out my door. After a great pizza and a pitcher at the place next door I hit the sack, read a bit and ended Day three in a fitful sleep.

DAY 1

I had no real plan other than to go to the coast and head north. I had no one to answer to, nowhere to be and no destination in mind. I was just going to leave Saturday morning and see where I was each evening when I got tired. Well, the coast then north plan folded the first day as I found out that my grandson, Ryan, would be in his first scrimmage as a Fresno State Bulldog on Saturday night and I wasn't going to miss it, so I slept in a little on Saturday, took care of a couple of errands then blasted north on 99 to the dingy city of Fresno, got a room then went to my daughters house to meet everyone. We all went to dinner then headed for the stadium.

I was used to High School stadiums. Nice bleachers on the homefirld side, flimsy aluminum or wood ones on the other with a track as a perimeter. The first difference I noted on nearing the stadium was the number of parking areas and the Bulldog Only souviener shop down the street. I pulled into a parking lot where they were actually directing traffic into the lot for a SCRIMMAGE! Tailgaters were everywhere so we walked over and joined a small group and introduced ourselves as Ryan's family. Everyone knew who he was. These were diehard Bulldog fans, Alumni and boosters. One Caddy rolled in painted and decked in Bulldogs colors and accoutriments. This was no West High home game, these people were serious 'Dog fans! The folks we were talking to said there would be a couple thousand people there to watch. That's incredible.

Then we walked to the stadium itself. I am told it seats over 40,000 people! It was massive compared to the fields I had watched Ryan play on through High School. We have season tickets, but this was a first come first served deal since it wasn't a real game. We found some good seats and just marveled at the place. Thousands of premier seats filled the center section on both sides(our tickets are the cheaper ones at about $350 apiece for the home games..all six of them). There is no track on the field and, as with NFL fields, it's hard to believe the field is exact same size as the one at West High!

The scrimmage started and it was interesting to see the differences in the way these young men play and hit compared to the high school level. One thing that wasn't different was Ryans ability to blow through defenses, knock people down with his great stiffarm, make tacklers miss and break tackles. It was great to see him in action again and it appeared that his hype is, at least in the scrimmage, in order. With equal playing time among all backs, he led the team with 84 yards on 12 carries with one TD. He's back, watchout WAC!

When it was over we went down and took some shots with Ryan then we all headed up to the Casino at Table Mountain where I promptly lost $100 and decidied to call it a night. I jumped on the Harley and headed back to my room and thus ended day one.

Day 2

I left Fresno about 9:30 Sunday morning and headed out through Herndon, caught 99 to Ave 7 and headed west through the Valley. I was struck, as I often am, by how easily I become confused at where I am when in the Central Valley. Between Madera and Firebaugh I could have sworn I was up near Atwater or Coalinga or Delano surrounded by fileds of alfalfa, cotton and corn, and orchards of olives, almonds and nectarines. It is all so similar it's easy to be confused!

I stopped in Firebaugh, a small AG community I had never visited at the Jct. of Hwy. 33 and Ave 7. I stopped there and bought the composition book from which I am now transcribing! As I jotted down the first of my entries in the parking lot, I watched the locals go about their business and wondered if they'd be envious if they knew of the adventure ahead of me.

As I left the town behind and headed north I noticed an old abandoned branch line along the road dotted with the factories and packing sheds, some abandoned, some working, it once served. I am fascinated with these lines and old buildings and grain elevators as a railroader and history buff. I always wonder when they were built and when they were abandoned. Was the last train that used the tracks pulled by diesel or steam. How many people worked at the elevators and such? It seems kind of sad sometimes. The line ended abruptly, replaced by ground leveled for farmland and development.

I hit 33 and went north catching 152 west at Dos Palos then headed toward Los Banos on the first divided highway I had seen since I left Hwy. 99. In Los Banos I stopped at the Harley shop and took a rest and water break, grabbed a shirt and continued on crossing I-5 then winding my way around the huge, but nearly empty San Luis Reservoir on to Duneville where the road goes back to two lanes and into Gilroy, where I gassed up and hit the 101 for the true trip north. I sped up 101 with the moderate volume, high speed traffic and got off on the I-680 in San Jose to bypass the Bay Area traffic. I stopped in Fremont at a Wal-Mart and got a Thomas Guide map book and a Blimpie sandwich, which I devoured as I figured out just where I was going to go once out of the bay. No plan is a pretty cool and free notion, but it was time to chart out where I wanted, in general, to be at the end of the day, so I mapped out a wine country trip to end somewhere around Clear Lake.

I got back on the 680 and headed north again, rejuvinated by the sandwich and the rest and skirted the backside of the Bay Area. I hit backed up traffic on one of the many toll bridges in the area(I have no idea which this was), split some lanes and made it to the booth and continued on the surprisingly lightly travelled stretch up to the I-80 where I made a left then an immediate right on to Hwy 12, went a few miles up 12 and turned on Hwy 29, the Wine Counrty road through the beautiful Napa Valley.

Between the awesome, well kept road, the spectacular scenery and all the wine tasters driving like they had been drinking, instead of tasing all that wine, it's a wonder I wasn't killed by either their sketchy driving or my rubbernecking! It's really hard to stay focused with so many sights, smells and sounds filling your senses. There were parts of the road completely covered by groomed canopies of trees. You'd emerge from such a stretch and into sunshine showering perfectly maintained vineyards and the castle like mansions and tasting rooms that stand as testaments to the popularity and success of the region. The whole experience was fantastic. Too bad I hate wine, but I DO have a new "One of my favorite roads". I can't wait to go there again!

I continued up 29 through Calistoga and into the town of Middletown where I finally found a place that served beer. No small feat in Wine Country! I stopped at a pub, had a couple and talked to a few locals who were curious as to what I was writing and why I had two maps out. When I let them in on what I was doing they all seemed to have an idea about where I should go and what I should do. I listened with a smile, thanked them, fired up the bike and kept to my plan.

In Middletown I made a left and headed north on Hwy. 175 and out of the Napa Valley into the hill country and toward Clear Lake, my planned roost for the night. 175 turned out to be almost as cool as 29, just in a different way. It is a riders road jammed with lots of curves, hairpins and elevation changes and not a lot of traffic. The state was smart enough to put in passing lanes everywhere they would fit, which I am sure, stops a great deal of road rage! Being stuck behind some mindless piddler can be infuriating even when you're NOT in a hurry.

175 ran back into 29 just south of Clear Lake and it was about there that I stopped for some pix and a Whopper meal at a BK for dinner. As I sat there I realized I still had quite a bit of daylight left so I broke out the map and figured I could make it to Willits, about another hour north. I choked down the yukkie fast food and got back on 29 which took me around the west side of the lake through Lakeport and tied me into Hwy 20 on the northwest end of the lake. Just west of the lake I hit my first construction delay, which kept me idle for about fifteen minutes and put the lowering sun right in my eyes whenever I emerged from the protection of a hill. It made the ride to 101 north a real bitch, but I made it, jumped on the 101 and sped north at an easy eighty mph so as not to have to ride in the dark.

I hit Willits just after sunset and found a room in a quaint old motel in the middle of town. It had been a long day and I was looking forward to chillin'. I unpacked the bike, showered and went downtown where I found a small bar. I was the only patron there and sat down with a Bud and watched TV for awhile. A few minutes later, two guys, obviously regulars sat at the other end of the bar and began debating the immigration process. I couldn't resist. I went down and invited myself to the debate. It only cost me one more round to have quite a few as we did the political see-saw talk that makes the Bako board swing! I had a blast but the day was catching up and so were the free rounds! I headed back to my romm and called an end to Day two.

A recent news article made a great case for people wishing to reside in America to be caused to learn English in a specific period. A Liberian(not to be confused with a Librarian)man who had been a resident in America for an extended period BEFORE he was jailed on charges of molestation and sexual assault was released and had all charges against him dropped because the court could not find an interpreter who spoke Vai, a language spoken by fewer than one hundred thousand people on earth, to help him talk to his attorney and the court. He had lived here for over a year when the alleged assaults took place and he was held for two years until they finally found an interpreter, who was able to immediately inform his clinet that his sixth amendment rights had been violated, which as a non American, he technically has no rights to.

So the guy was here for a little over three years all told, two of them in jail where lack of communication can easily get one killed or injured and he never learned the language? Not even enough to understand what kind of trouble he was in? I don't buy it. Had he been Mexican or Indian there would be others in the slammer he could communicate in his native tongue, but Vai? No, he had to have learned a working vocabulary to survive in such an environment. He played our system against us and he knows it and we know it and the judge probably even knew it, but some interpretations of our laws have become so liberal and vague that it makes it easy to manipulate the system in just about any case. People do it in other ways when accused of crimes, but this just sends the message to criminals, especially foreign criminals, that get away with a crime just by not speaking english, the language on which our courts operate. Try that in Liberia(pardon the pun).

Once again a non American has been granted rights that would never be afforded to a natural, or naturalized citizen. There is no ignorance of such magnitude that would sway any judge to the decision reached in this case. The court should have held him until such a time as he could speak the language well enough to understand what was going on or they should have deported him immediately. But now we have the possibility of having another dangerous person roaming the streets of our neighborhoods with the firm knowledge that all he has to do is act like a foreign moron to get away with another crime with no fear of the system. Maybe the family of his next victims will exact their own revenge. I know I would.

I like liberals..Well, OK, not all of them, but I don't like all conservatives either. Some people are just buttholes. I don't dislki liberals, I just disagree with their views almost exclusively. I have friends and aquaintances who are liberals and we have no personel issues, we talk about sports, cars, planes, and myriad other subjects, we only argue politics and our argumenets never get personal. At the only meet n greet I have been able to attend, nobody got mad or offended, we just talked and enjoyed some good company.

Being politically aware and active, some folks on opposite sides of the aisle often get individuals confused with said persone views and they are not always mutually inclusive. Disagreeing with someone doesn't make them the enemy or a bad person and I was recently reminded of this fact by one of our fellow bloggers on the board.

Sometime back the liberals were predicting that Bush would invade Iran within a couple of months. I disagreed and challenged the bloggers to bet me I was wrong. I tossed out a bet of a dinner that it would not happen. Randomfactor was the only one to put his money where his opinion was and a dinner was staked.

The timefram elapsed and still Dubya had not acted rashly by opening up another front in an already overburdened theatre of operations in a hostile geo political environment, which were the reasons I fugured it wouldn't happen(Dubya still sometimes exhibits the common sense he was once brimming with)in the first place. Uncle Tom is still unscathed by the bombs the liberals predicted would fall, but I didn't see anyone mentioning that fact here or anywhere else, but what I did get was a note from Random admitting his miscalculation and a certificate for a dinner for two at a local eatery, which he sugested I share with my Mom(NancyII), which I intend to do(sorry I forgot to mention that the other day, Mom).

Random may be a liberal and we will nearly always disagree on politics, but he is a stand-up guy, a man of his word and he doesn't have a problem admitting he was wrong(nor does he have that problem when he is right!), he friendly, polite and respectful and that makes him OK in MY book!

I actually like Barack Obama. He is fresh and witty, he has vices he freely admits to and he inhaled. In other words, he is honest, at least about himself. I appreciate his plans for the war on terror and he seems to understand the quandry in Iraq and it's broader part in teh war on terror. He seems to be ready to take the reins of power and do it responsibly and decisively without much focus on outside influences. He doesn't seem to support any special interests or have any untoward agendas other than the long term health of America as a country. I like that. Sure, there are areas in which I disagree with him on domestic issues, but he seems to have a lot fewer than the other candidates on the left where I am concerned.

Oh, I won't vote for him because he is still a liberal, and like all politicians, what he has to say now and what he would do were he elected are most certainly two different things, but I still like what he has to say and how he says it. The sad fact in this race is that, whether or not they argree with him, there are many others who will not vote for him because he is black. To so many Americans anything of merrit he has to say will be outweighed by that simple fact. Congressmen, Assemblymen, Senators and Goverenors of color are in the club these days, but the most powerful office in the world is still a white gentlemans seat and quite out of reach for Mr. Obama. Good or bad, right or wrong, that's just the way it is, and before anyone slams ME as a racist, go back in the archives and read "Who you callin' a racist" that I posted last year.

Barak Obama seems to be a genuine and good man and a man who truly loves his country and what it stands for, but sadly it seems most of the voting public would rather see a man of questionable character or one weak on policy in office than a black man and that stinks.