Riding, Day 3
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Six o'clock in the morning and there's a light rap at the hotel door, way too early for housekeeping...maybe one of the slightly wasted Elko high-rollers just hit it big on a nickel machine and wants to share the news. Roll over, look at the clock – it’s not quite time to get up. I deserve ten more minutes. And now the phone? I answer: "Who is this?"
"What's up?” the sickeningly upbeat voice chimes from the other end. It's JP – he and the boys are ready to roll, and roll right now!
I guess all those beers Nate and JP downed by the pool the night before hasn't slowed them down a bit. The “energy of youth”, you gotta love it! They should be draggin' the wagon, but instead, with encouragement from Mark – who, as the elder statesman of the group, should know better – they badger me (and roommate Vince) to hit the deck and hit the road. This is gonna be another good day.
It's also a long one, with over 400 miles on tap, the day ending in Rock Springs, Wyoming. As we pull out of the Red Lion, the sun is already making its presence known. No jackets today, long sleeves (better than sunblock) and vests are the uniform of the day. Next door is a Chevron, so we roll over to fill up. The plan is to get over 100 miles under our belts before breakfast, which will put us in Wendover, Nevada.
Gassed up, we head out on 80, where it’s still smoky – would be really nice to see some blue sky. About forty miles out, I spy what looks like a Nevada Highway Patrol car in the rear view, pretty far back, and pacing us. I raise Vince on the Chatterbox.
"Hey Vince, does that look like a police cruiser?" I figure he’ll know – remember, he’s a retired cop.
The response is short and not too sweet: "Yeah, looks like."
As the miles click by, the cruiser inches closer. I'm last in line so I get the first "inspection" and he stays right alongside, staring at the bike and me. Satisfied, the cop moves up to the next in line, Vince. Same routine, and on to the next guy. Finally he gets to the front of the line, where Mark is taking his turn on point, and...he lights us up!
Being solid citizens and model motorcyclists, we all dutifully pull to the side of the road. The Trooper pulls in behind me at the back of the line. As we start to swing legs off our bikes, Nevada's Finest barks, "Back on the bikes, kickstands up – now!"
At first I don't get it. In California, it's always, "Off the bike, keys in your hand, helmet off!" – not that I have much experience with such things… I'm thinking maybe our numbers are making him just a tad nervous. That’s kinda cool in a role-reversal sort of way when you think about it – we're making a cop nervous! It’s also a little crazy, because unless you think buying the occasional pay-per-view UFC fight can make one a certified badass, we're not very threatening. Well, with the exception of Nate. He's the nicest kid you'd ever want to meet, but on looks alone, he qualifies as hardcore biker, hands down, end of story. Yeah, he's the reason for the added security, no doubt – it’s all his fault!
Confident we're not gonna try to throw down, and probably not caring if we bolt (can't outrun a radio after all) the cop begins with the questions: "Where ya from?" and "Where ya going?" Since Vince and I are the closest, and everyone has to stay on the bikes, we do all the talking. We tell him what he wants to know and he finally gets to the pay-off: "Have you boys had any problems with a big rig, maybe harassing one?"
WHAT!? Harassing a big rig? I can't believe what I'm hearing – he's got to be kidding! He goes on to tell us that a trucker called in a report of five bikers brake-checking trucks. How insane is that? What kind of stupid does a person have to be to try to "harass" an eighteen-wheeler with a motorcycle – even with five bikes? You’d be little more than a speed-bump, and it would be your own fault…
We assure Johnny Law that we aren't the perps he wants. His attitude improves, and instead of tickets we get, "Have a safe ride to Sturgis, and have fun!" And with that, our first brush with the law is over. Unlike other traffic stops, this one ends a bit too quickly – damn, no photo op.
Back on the road, it's an uneventful ride into Wendover. Breakfast at the Peppermill, quick fill-up and it's a mind-numbingly dull stint across the Utah salt flats. Ruler-straight, white lines disappear with an assembly-line rhythm in the mirrors. Ahead, the horizon resembles molten metal, transforming into asphalt just in time for us to continue on our way. Slight breeze, that's good, the crosswinds on this stretch of road can be brutal. On we ride, miles counting down.
Winding our way through Salt Lake City, we dodge early commute traffic as we crawl through construction zone after construction zone. Is it just me, or have they been rebuilding this particular maze of concrete since Brigham Young first rolled into town? Get it done, people! Can't get through town fast enough as we make our way, surrounded by far too many aggressive cage pilots.
Once safely out of town, the scenery begins to improve, the traffic thins, and the sky is finally a proper shade of blue. It's all good. Into Wyoming, and the ride continues to improve, we're making some time and the weather couldn't be better. The heat we have been dreading never really materializes. Our longest leg of the eastbound ride is almost over.
We cruise into Rock Springs around 7:00pm, park the bikes and check in. We're tired, but spirits are high, not too far from Sturgis now, and tomorrow promises some great riding. Time to eat. Applebee’s looks good, if for no reason other than it's right across the street. No energy to strike out for the local dining hot spot. Maybe tomorrow...
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