CROUSE,DERR, and FAMILY 

GET TOGETHER

It’s very exciting, and I’m biking up to Connecticut.  Don’t expect a very exciting adventure, but I hope to post my pics afterwards (yeah, I know, you’ve heard that before).  I’ll also update it at least on Friday, Sunday, and back in St Louis, so you know I’m still alive et al.

 1,050 miles back, leaving Kevin's in Langhorne, PA, around 6:30 local time, and arriving back in St Louis at 10:30 pm local time.  I Took the Penn Pike to I-81 South through Lexington, VA, where I picked up I-64 West to St Louis.

 And as it's over 1,000 miles, I qualify to become a member of the Iron Butt Association.  I have the witness forms filled out, the receipts copied, and the application.  It's only mail and processing between me and my license plate frame!

I do have at least one more really good story, so check back in a few days.

And I made it through the Kank, with the first drops of rain happening after I had gone over the ridge and to the bottom, on my way out.  I have a couple pictures that I'll send up when I get a chance, but it was overcast through most of the trip.

Now once out of the Kank, there's no good way to get Shaftsbury, VT.  Heck, there's no good way to Shaftsbury from Maine (or anywhere else, really… it's not too bad from Troy, NY), period.  As my Uncle says, they still have Pony Express out here, it's so far removed.   So I had a few ways to go, and with the pouring rain, I took 93 North to 91 in Vermont.  Let me tell you about 93. It becomes a 1-lane interstate!  I've never conceived of such a thing.  It's still limited access, but 1 lane for about 20 miles through some brown-signed national reserve or park.  Absolutely beautiful, and in pouring rain, no worries I'd have to lock up my front brake because someone tried to turn left in front of me. 

But in all, it was a cold, miserable pouring rain, and by the time I got to a clearing at 91 I was sure ready for it.  As I recalled from my mind-map, US 4 picked up a little south of where I was, and I could take that across and then head South to Shaftsbury, or I could 91 all the way South to Brattleboro, and head west to Shaftsbury.  So I went South, looking closely at the clouds and watching the signs.  As I approached White River Junction, halfway between 93 and Brattleboro, I could see the south was engulfed in the same storm, which was in a line heading Southwest.  So I started looking for Rte 4, which I never found, went back through the pouring middle of the storm, and got to Shaftsbury the worse from the wear.  I thought, as I got to the Junction, I should stop and doublecheck the map for the best route, as I realized the storm was probably not twisting fast enough to get out of my way.  

So that's +2.  I hit The Storm about eight to ten times on my three driving days.  To Southington soon!

I will ride on.

And I did. 2 days to Maine, I arrived here at Scott's place near midnight last night.

I have no cell coverage, so I haven't called anyone.  Sorry if you're worried.  Check in right here on most major journeys.  Here's what happened:

I spent too long at "social engagements," as Deepani called them when I told her why I was too busy to get anything done, over Monday and Tuesday, and so I didn't finish building my windshield lowers or pack or clean or anything else to get to Cincinnati on Wednesday.  The original plan was to leave by 2 and ride out to Becky's place.  When I called her at 5 because I had just finished the lowers and about to start packing, it came out that she thought I was coming next week and I didn't have a place to stay anyway. 

 So I decided to try to make it to Maine in two days. 

 I left Thursday morning at 5:15 am.  At mile 23 or something like that, I turned around because I was getting too much wind on my helmet.  I rode back to St Louis, and switched out my 17" winshield for my 19", and hit the road at 6:15 am for the final time.  Just short of Effingham, IL, I took breakfast and decided to try out my brain bucket for the first time.  It was great.  It cut down the wind-wobble, increased my peripheral vision, and allowed me to see the rearviews with a glance when looking up-road (the chinbar of the full face helmet gets in the way).

I caught up to the storm first around Indianapolis, the west side beltway to be specific, and proceded to run through a downpour and hail by the time I got to the opposite side.  Knowing the storm was headed East, I knew I couldn't wait it out without loosing the ground I had already hit, so I continued my way through.  At first rain, however, I stopped to put on my rain gear, double-glove, and full face helmet (better for rain). 

 The rest of the day was battling through the storm, stopping for lunch once I got through, battling back through the back edge because it caught up for me during lunch, taking a nap in eastern Ohio, battling back through the edge of the storm, flying through the hills of western Pennsylvania, and becoming grandly defeated when I found out I wouldn't get to Kevin's place outside Philly until about 1am.  I decided to cut it short and did an old check I learned from my dad.  As I was at a rest stop, I got the Pennsylvania hotel guide, looked up the adds for Carlisle, and picked the cheapest place on route 11 (on the way to I-81).  I called them, booked it, and finished my last hour and a half of driving. 

 822 miles, and very roughly about 15 1/2 hours of driving (the rest were breaks).  About 776 net from my home.  Nearly an Iron Butt (1000, you get a certificate).  It got me thinking.

While I slept, the storm came through, and I woke up to bright sun and wet pavement, had my continental donut, and hit the road about 7am (eastern).  As I crossed the Delaware River into New Jersey, the first drops of the tail end of the storm hit me.  How's that for a homecoming?  I crossed across, through New York, and into Connecticut.  Where I waited in traffic.  It has convinced me that New England drivers have no idea how to drive.  Four lanes, no accidents, construction, police, and  they're going 10 mph.  Ridiculous.  In heavy rain.   Through Indiani and Ohio, at least I was moving fast enough that my luggaged didn't get wet.  Now, I was just sitting in it.  Eventually, the storm spun past me, and I travelled in sun for a while.

After talking with a guy at the tourist stop, I crossed over to a nearby parallel parkway, where we would hit spits of 60 mph for 5 minutes and then be stopped or going about 10 mph for another 5.  Again, no cops, police, construction, or obstacle.  There is no reason for this behavior.  Once on 91 and 84, we were okay until the Mass Pike (around 4:30).  I hit a couple sprinkles in upper Connecticut, but I was still safe from the storm.

Overturned propane truck.  Mass Pike closed East of Worchester.  Between I-84 and exit 10 was 10 miles of crawling traffic.  I stopped at the rest stop a mile from 84, found out about the accident, and that they estimated about 1-2 hours to clear it.  I figured the traffic was not going 10 mph, and so if I got on now, I'd be at the next exit right about the time I could continue on.  Or maybe I'd camp out.  Or maybe I'd just shoot the bull with the cops preventing me from going on the freeway.  Or maybe I'd sit in traffic for the rest of my life and take I-290 up to I-190, which is probably clear, but would add another 10 miles of jammed traffic.

In all cases, at 6:33 by another guy's time, the pike opened back up, and I had moved from mile 479 to 487, within two miles of the final exit.  The storm had caught up to me again about a mile back, and the rain was coming down.  I figured I must be close to the edge, and took off.  The storm and I raced neck and neck, mostly in light drizzle around much of 495 to 95.  I hit a few heavy patches of rain, and caught up to a few clearings along the path.  Up 95, into New Hampshire, it had a headstart at the toll before the 12 mile stretch of NH roadway.  Then we were at it, fighting for the title.  Along the coastline, both heading Northeast. 

 Over the bridge and into Maine.

And I was the one to cross first.  From about a mile before to the bridge and beyond, there was no rain.   I had beaten my storm from Indianpolis to Maine.  When I stopped for dinner, a few sprinkles had caught up, but it was nothing much.  By Porstmouth, the storm was retreating into New Hampshire, where it waits for me…. for tomorrow. 

All the reports say I will see her again on my way to Vermont. 

Day 2, 650 miles, 7am to 12:00am, roughly 16 hours of driving.  175 miles less than the day before, and half an hour longer.

That's 1472 miles over two days.  That might not quite be an Iron Butt, but maybe I'm at least brass, eh? 

That's right.  I'm gearing up.  I leave Wednesday.  The Sabre and I are going home, or at least to the Northeast.  We'll cruise straight up to Maine, as my first two days are the only ones that Scott Triolo will be free.  Then I'll backtrack to Vermont, Connecticut, Philadelphia, and back home.

 My first day out will be my longest ever, in the realm of 300 to 350 miles.  My longest prior to this was about 250, up to Urbana.  The next longest day will be the next day, in the realm of 550 miles, and the third day will be similar.  Hopefully I won't be broken.  Hopefully.

I expect one of those two will be my single day PR for a very long time.  I was reading up about doing an IRON BUTT: 1000 miles in 24 hours.  There's a whole organization off of it.  You need to save your receipts, show where you started…. provide clear proof…. and then you get a certificate and a license plate frame.  It's hard to do, though, people say.  

It's 1080 miles to my Uncle's place in Vermont. 

Someday. 

For you youngsters out there, the Gold Wing is the big touring bike that has bucket seats, stock hard luggage, an AIR BAG and sometimes looks like a giant 2000 cc scooter.

Top Ten Reasons Why Gold Wing Riders Don't Wave Back

10. Wasn't sure whether other rider was waving or making an obscene gesture.
9. Afraid might get frostbite if hand is removed from heated grip.
8. Has arthritis and the past 400 miles have made it difficult to raise arm.
7. Reflection from etched windshield momentarily blinded him.
6. The espresso machine just finished.
5. Was actually asleep when other rider waved.
4. Was in a three-way conference call with stockbroker and accessories dealer.
3. Was distracted by odd shaped blip on radar screen.
2. Was simultaneously adjusting the air suspension, seat height,
programmable CD player, seat temperature and satellite navigation system.
1. Couldn't find the "auto wave back" button on dashboard.

Top 10 Reasons Sportbikers Don't Wave:

10. They have not been riding long enough to know they're supposed to.
9. They're going too fast to have time enough to register the movement and respond.
8. You weren't wearing bright enough gear.
7. If they stick their arm out going that fast they'll rip it out of the socket.
6. They're too occupied with trying to get rid of their chicken strips.
5. They look way too cool with both hands on the bars or they don't want to unbalance themselves while standing on the tank.
4. Their skin tight-kevlar-ballistic-nylon-kangaroo-leather suits prevent any position other than fetal.
3. Raising an arm allows bugs into the armholes of their tank tops.
2. It's too hard to do one-handed stoppies.
1. They were too busy slipping their flip-flop back on.