jeff conlin - The Trip

Woke up late Saturday in Franklin, KY. Didn't have much planned for the day, so I wasn't really worried about hitting the road at 11.

I pointed myself towards Loretto and dug on the beautiful Kentucky countryside. My first Saturday of the ride, I noticed traffic heavier than its been. Other people get days off, too... I forgot.

Arrived in Loretto, and was surprised to see it was a very small, very simple little rural Kentucky town. Flat black barns dot the hills, and a small sign read, "Historic Maker's Mark Distillery, 2 miles". Wheee!

I pulled in and found it was already 3. Damn time zones. Luckily, I made the last tour.

The fermenting tanks are two stories tall, and at the top is this amazing oatmeal-like froth with natural CO2 bubbles popping everywhere. Inhaling deeply was a very tasty rush of flavor, alcohol, and CO2 fizziness. I couldn't stop. A few Japanese tourists were there with me also inhaling deeply over and over, and smiling and nodding to me. "Yes! Very good!"

The tour guide had to shepherd us out of that room.

After the mash tanks, the fermenting tanks, and some filtering, you then get this 130-proof moonshine (though they make a point not to use the M-word there) that pours out into two beautiful large copper tanks and is transferred to the charred oak barrels for aging.

I'm fairly certain this is the best office in the entire world.

After filling my nose with that scent for a few hours, I headed off towards Versailles, home of Woodford Reserve. About halfway there, I noticed my chain was feeling very sloppy... at a gas stop, I tightened it up a bit and realized I was almost out of adjustment room. Ah well... should be enough to get back to Maryland, at least. I hope.

That little pit stop and the time zone change had me way off schedule, which probably isn't a bad thing. The Woodford distillery is buried in old-old-old money horse country, and has a much more snooty air about it than Maker's Mark. By the time I got there, they were closing up for the day, and it didn't seem nearly as interesting or fun. Its beautiful, and nearby Versailles it a cute little place, but I think I was happy just seeing Maker's Mark.

I grabbed a burger and some fantastic braised cabbage (with tomato, garlic, onions, etc... almost a southern version of kimchi without the fermenting) at a nearby hole in the wall in Versailles, then looked at the map. There was a small state park outside of Lexington that had camping available. It was only about 6, but I needed a good thump to my sleep cycle. I got there by about 7, set up the tent, and was out cold by 9:30.

When you fly out across the country to pick up a used bike, its probably a good idea to schedule a few days off, looking it over thoroughly and giving it some service. Its probably a bad idea to think that will be the starting point for a 10k+ mile trip. But you learn as you go.

The good news is : the flex I'm feeling in the bars is... the bars themselves. That's actually sort of the point of Renthals. So just to add a little degree of Pose Perfection, today I picked up a Renthal crossbar pad to finish it off.

Started the morning at Ellicott City Motorsports... even watched the UPS truck pull in with my sprockets. They wheeled the bike in as soon as they opened, and went to work on changing the chain and sprockets out.

I had a great conversation with the Jessica the service writer... similar love/hate relationship with her job that I had, and she had been there about as long as I was at mine. For every, "Make my 'Shrad' go faster..." or especially the "I read on the internet..." (16/19 ball final drive bearings, anyone?) people that both KTM and BMW have more than their fair share of, you sometimes you just get someone who is out there doing what they love with their bike, but they need a little bit of unexpected help. So you find a way to make it work even though you're already too busy, and you don't really need any new customers... just because you love seeing people love their motorcycle.

Unfortunately, their state inspection guy was on vacation, so I had to go over to my old shop for that. They've been reading this thread.

The sales manager gave me a "TAKE ME WITH YOU!" as I pulled up. That should be a pretty good barometer of what's going on there these days. I think I may have uncorked the drain (actually, I think that was done long before me - OMAR!)

Steve, the SV-riding BMW master tech extraordinaire did my inspection, and also mounted up a new Tourance front... AND bled the clutch for me to get the nasty stuff out of there. Go figure, though, all of the parts I've had to get along the way for this bike, and THE PLACE I SPENT OVER THREE YEARS WORKING MY ASS OFF AT, PERSONALLY GROSSING HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS OF PROFIT PER YEAR is the one that didn't give me *any* discount for parts at all.

So at the end of the day, the Strom is much, much happier with a new front Tourance, new sprockets (OEM ratio, too... so now the mileage estimates won't be so optimistic, but the cruising RPMs will be downright evil), new chain, new clutch fluid, a topped off crankcase, a clean bill of health, and as of tomorrow morning, legal plates that don't reference back to a 2005 Stella!

As the rest of the trip is about to begin, I also realize just how damn expensive it is to do this. Even if you're camping and eating light... gasoline alone is at least $60/day. But its worth it. Oh lord, is it worth it.

Wednesday night in Baltimore...

I already had everything packed and ready to go, so I had a relaxing morning, and was on the road at 10am.

I will go on record saying that there are times I like the NJ Turnpike... on a weekday you can get from Baltimore to NYC in a little over 2 hours without being too crazy. And where else can you get a Roy Rogers burger anymore?

But after a blitz through the megalopolis like that, I prefer (/need) to get off at the very last exit before the GW bridge and take the Palisades Parkway. Its amazing how quick and drastic the change in landscape is.

GW bridge and New York City from Palisades

Then its over the bridge at Bear Mountain and into some brief but enjoyable twisties before rejoining the slab in CT

Back into superslab mode from Danbury all the way to Boston... and hit serious traffic on 495, but I got to watch a house burn for a while. Had nothing to do with the traffic backup... just a bonus disaster, I guess. I finally got onto 16 which wound up being a slog itself, but took me right to Ossipee, then it was just a few backroads left. The overwhelming scent of pine and amazing twisties looping around lakes and hills had me in heaven... it was a long day, but what a great payoff.

I pulled into the Cromag Campout at about 8:30pm, long after the sun went down under the White Mountains. The tent was up by 8:45, and beer was in hand at 8:46. Got to meet just about everyone as the night rolled on and road-mode faded out... though hell if I could tell you anyone's real name / screen name combination. Chances are, though, the person you were talking to was named Jeff. That helped. I can remember that. Surprisingly, I was able to catch up with another great longtime customer, Chris Harris of Affordable Beemer Services. He was one of the few who didn't bother asking me why I was on a Strom.

Stumbled to the tent, somehow managed to brush my teeth, and conked out around 1:30 or so.

Woke up to the sound of very happy people. Way too happy for 6am. I think they slept in campers. So many folks were anxious to suit up and ride out as soon as they woke up. Everyone else commented that this used to be a drinking party that you rode to... not a riding party you drink at. I took a slow morning (and thankfully wasn't alone - some other people enjoyed last night, too), and realized that if I want to see everything I want to see in the next week, I'll unfortunately have to bail from Cromag early and keep moving. The dog has nothing to do with this narrative but he's cool.

How would I get from southern ME to upstate NY without slabbing it, though? "You caan't get theaah from heaah," was the resounding answer. I think New Englanders are so used to telling people that there's no easy to go east-west, that they do so even when they're in a large group of backroads/noroads enthusiasts.

I chose the Kankamagus up to 302 and into VT and did just fine for myself. Great views, good road conditions, passing lanes when needed, friendly Newfie KTM riders at the overlooks who were fun to talk to because they talk funny... and some fantastic high speed sweepers (another time I wish I had a point and shoot camera)

I took a few side roads, but the higher in elevation I got, the worse the rain got. Yeah, there was rain involved in all of this. I avoided it so long, it had to catch up with me at some point. So naturally, I rolled into Bath (a less touristy small town) needing a snack. I found a large covered bridge.

I kept dodging the big thunderstorms, successfully working my way into Vermont and up around VT-100 on recommendation from someone at camp this morning. It was another amazing road, with a large river running parallel as it swept along the valley, occasionally cutting into the hils.

By this point, I realized it was late afternoon and I hadn't eaten anything. Near Mad River, I found a small cafe off the main drag. As I was taking my helmet off an older gentleman with a dog came up to me and said he liked the bike... and I should come with him.

Suddenly I was 8 years old and every afterschool special ever produced rushed to be at the front of my thought process. Old men aren't supposed to ask boys to go places with them! But it turns out he was a realtor and his office was next door.

Hanging there were some framed photos from an Indian catalog and newsletter from the early 1930s. Turns out his dad was friends with someone in Indian's advertising department, and apparently he rode... so he wound up gracing their brochures and newsletters.

So damn cool.

I went back to the cafe and had a great chicken salad sandwich and some juice. At first bite, the sky opened up and a torrential downpour began. High winds, lightning, thunder echoing in the hills. I couldn't see my bike in the parking lot for the first five minutes. Good timing.

By the time my meal was done, it lightened up to a simple drizzle, but massive storm clouds were everywhere (which looked awesome against the low level fog that was now wafting up from the hills)

The question is... when you see that, to you go TOWARDS the light, or run like hell? I went towards the light, and got onto VT-125 Scenic... bad pavement, but some great views.

Thunder was rolling though the rain was still light, sunlight was beginning to fade, and I realized I was at least 45 miles from any campground, oh, and I found holes in my rainfly this morning. I was supposed to stay near Schenectady (?) with another friend from the SabMag group tomorrow night, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to call him... and he's home... and I'm welcome to stop by. Perfect.

I got out onto VT-30 making my way south towards US-4. There was one long stretch passing through dairy farms. Beautiful (though smelly) country... clear road with no other cars. The posted limit was 40, and I was probably doing 55-60 at the most. I came over a crest and saw a blue Crown Vic coming the other direction. Literally a half second after I crested the hill, his lights went on.

I was courteous, he was courteous... it was as pleasant an interaction as it could be. I have a clean driving record and have received more pleasant warnings than anyone else I know... shouldn't be a problem. But he swears I was doing 72 in a 40, which is a criminal offense with a $500 or so fine. I'm the first one to admit when I'm wrong... but I wasn't, but in the moment, what are you going to do? I can't change his mind... and any attempt to argue will just go poorly. He said he'd be "very nice" to me today and "knocked my speed down to 70", which would be a civil offense with a $280 fine and 5 points (then he said VT only has reciprocity with neighboring states? - I'll have to check that). Either way, what a sweetheart.

So the jump down into greater Albany was getting damp and cold, and I was a little upset about the ticket... but still, what a beautiful day of riding.

Oh, and Joey has a ridiculous garage with a customer's Lingenfelter-heavy 500hp midlife crisis in it right now, as well as a beat to hell '84 Honda VF500F that he routinely schools GSXR riders on. So that beats a campground.

I'm tired.

Zzz.

Slabby slabness, all the day long. NY Thruway, which isn't THAT bad... at least there are some interesting things along the way to see, all the way to Niagara. I wanted to stop at Cooperstown just to get a glimpse of the induction of Baltimore hero Cal Ripken, or at least stop at Niagara Falls to take a quick look, but as the rest of the day wore on, I'm glad I didn't.

I'll make special notice of the DUMBEST PEOPLE ON EARTH working at the last rest stop before Buffalo. I try to find the best in people, and very rarely make a judgment like that on someone, but DAMN THESE PEOPLE WERE DUMB. And I'll leave it at that.

Passing into Canada took no time at all, then it was the 401/402/403/405 juggling act (which is essentially the I-95 of southern Canada - and about as interesting). Joe gave me a beat to hell old HP 3MP camera for pocket duty. Exactly what I was looking for... something that basically works, but doesn't matter if I drop in a turn at 90mph.

Isn't southern Ontario exciting?

The sun was beginning to go down as I approached Port Huron, MI. I figured I'd jump right over the bridge, set up a tent at Lakeport State Park, and swim in Lake Huron for a half an hour or so. It'd be perfect.

Clearly America is awesomer than Canada. Everyone wanted to go there. So it took almost 2 hours at the border just to get in... but there was a nice little view from the bridge.

the embattled border of Sarnia and Port Huron

Eventually, after asking a peculiar amount of questions regarding half a tuna sandwich I had in my case (bought at the Subway one mile from the border crossing, no less... you could probably throw this thing into the US if necessary), they let me back in.

I got into Lakeport SP, and there was another line... this time of campers. Now I see why the Top Gear guys hate them so much. I finally got in, and set up my tent in the dark. Then I tried like hell not to stab the people blaring hip hop and playing VIDEO GAMES in the land yacht at the spot next to me.

I swear I'm not going crazy, but today was filled with real geniuses... the special kind that get even me worked up.

Their screaming children woke me up twice as I slept...

I spent most of the day in central NY state learning as much as I could about my dad's side of the family. My friend Joe offered me the key to his very well-tuned Audi if I wanted it. At first I wanted to stay on the bike, but very strong rainstorms kept blowing through during the day, and I wanted to see what 1.8l with 18lbs of boost felt like at all four wheels.

First stop was the tiny village of Castleton-on-Hudson... both sides of my dad's family were from there. There's a memorial to my great uncle (died in WWI) at the local library.

Then it was up to Corinth, in the Adirondacks, to see another great uncle and his wife at the old family camp... made by hand in the early '30s. The garage alone is just amazing.

(now I know where I got my good looks from)

Then I drove down to just north of Schenectady where my second-aunt (?) Nancy and her husband were celebrating their birthdays (same day). He has a 1962 'Vette that he bought new, drove until the early 80s, put in storage, then fully restored. It is housed in a separate part of the garage known as the Vette Cave.

Meeting so many family members for the first time, hearing so many stories, making so many connections... its all a little overwhelming, but very cool. I've lost most of my immediate family over the last few years, and I really pity families who get so caught up in petty bullshit that they ignore the blood altogether.

Got back to Joe's place and caught up a bit... he does everything from ice racing to squid digestion, so any time swapping stories with him is fun.

Had the bike more or less pre-packed, and was asleep by midnight.