Finally on the road, but not without a bit of drama and comedy, unfortunately provided by yours truly. First off, I violated a long-standing truism: the longer the trip, the more unknown the territory, the more familiar the gear. Read, "no new stuff"! You'll regret it! Sure, I had the spiffy new Street & Steel Highway jacket for weeks, but had I ridden in it? Oh, hell no, but what could go wrong? The answer to that rhetorical question: Plenty.
As I pull out of my driveway, it becomes painfully apparent that this particular jacket (and it is an awesome piece) just doesn't fit my funky bod. I have to make the call: three thousand miles of "not quite right", or that well-worn jacket that I've used for years? Easy call, U-turn, I'll just be a bit late for the meet up. Run in the house, switch jackets, hop back on the bike and tear out. Except that I realize (after several miles, of course) that I’m going to want the cell phone that I left in the pocket in the first jacket. Another U-turn, much further from home than the first, and I’m more than a bit late.
Finally, we’re all together in Rio Vista, California. Mark has ridden down from Winters, his wife in tow for the farewell photo-op. The rest of us met up in Antioch for the ride up the delta. The machines, all black except for Nate's brilliant orange Road Glide. The more I see that bike, the more I like it. Paul, AKA "JP", is coming to grips with pop's FXRS, quite a departure from his usual sportbike mounts.
I can't believe we're actually on the road, starting the ride of a lifetime with my best friend and a great group of guys that I've known forever. This is gonna be great.
Traffic is fairly light as we pull out of the parking lot at Mel's, where the crew had met "The Beave", AKA Jeff, a multi-time Sturgis vet who couldn’t make the whole trip this year, for breakfast and then the ride through Jackson to Auburn. We head out on Highway 12, through Lodi, hooking up with Highway 88 to 49. It's gonna be an easy day with mellow sweeping twisties up to Auburn before we take 80 to Reno.
As we head from Jackson to Auburn, the sun is really starting to cook and so off come the jackets - we're switching to vests. We’re beginning to find our rhythm as we snake through the gold country.
Vince and I have spent years riding these roads on all sorts of machines, and it never gets old...I just love it. "JP" and Mark set a mellow pace at the back of the pack as "JP" gets more and more comfortable. Mark is the lad’s uncle, and is acting as wingman, letting the pace come to the Harley rookie. Up front, Vince and I are giving the Chatterboxes a workout. After the first hour I couldn't imagine riding without 'em - if you haven't tried a communicator system, you need to. After the first time, trust me, you won't want to take another long trip without them.
Pulling out of Auburn, it's a straight shot to Reno, our destination for the night. Nate is smooth and riding as if this is our 100th ride together, very impressive. Too many trucks, but the traffic’s manageable and the weather couldn't be better. A quick stop at Cabela's provides a look at all the cool firearms we can't get in the People's Republic of California, and then we're pulling up to our hotel. Time to relax and grab some grub.
Up bright and early in Reno... no, really, I mean early - at least for our crew. Vince is up before 7:30am, which for him is positively "pre-dawn". JP is another story. The “energy of youth” is obviously overrated because while everyone else is ready to go, the boy is still under the covers... Still, the group has wheels turning by 9:15am, heading east on Highway 80. Our destination, Elko, is a 300-mile jaunt across the Nevada high desert.
Our plan is to put some miles down before eating. A quick note about food: as any real rider knows, it plays a huge part in the planning of any ride, long or short. Where to eat, what to eat, and when to eat are all crucial factors in the day’s schedule. And trust me, we're no different. We figured to get well out of the Reno area before we sat down to a yummy breakfast.
As we snaked along the Truckee River, the sky began to fill with smoke, distant fires causing the horizon to do its best imitation of the San Fernando Valley in 1973. If you lived there then, you know what I mean, but just imagine pea-soup fog that is actually smoke. Bummer, because it would have been nice to be able to see the hills we know are just out of sight. Passing trucks, beginning to see other groups of bikes, most Harleys, most heading east – we make the simple connection that most are Sturgis-bound with trip-of-a-lifetime dreams like ours.
Is it just me, or do those damn rain grooves in the road make a “bagger” feel like it has one or two hinges in the frame? No big deal, but I can't say I enjoy it. Time for gas, we pull off to fill up at a Winnemucca Chevron so we can continue our quest for suitable grub. We have a nice chat with an older guy riding a very trick and well-used GS1200. When we asked where he was going, he whipped out a map and pointed to a spot that read "Minor" - it was a good thirty miles off the Interstate, accessible only by a dirt road. His “dream ride” is a little different from ours, but we wish him well just the same.
Before we get going, Mark suggests that we grab a bite in Lovelock: "I know there's a couple of diners in town, should be something good". It's settled and we set sail for Lovelock. Pulling on to what must be Main Street, it's like going back about 60 years…quintessential (really) small-town America. We go a couple of blocks and there it is, on the left, the Cowpoke Cafe. They have some of the very best eggs and sausage I've ever tasted! This is a "must stop" if you're passin' through and need some great eats. While Rosa is in the kitchen preparing our late morning feast, we chat up three Kiwis (New Zealanders) who bought some very trick bikes on ebay – one was even a Screamin' Eagle Dyna! – and after picking them up in San Francisco, they’re riding to Sturgis. Great guys, lots of laughs.
