Table of contents for A Lap of Lake Michigan

1. The trip I didn’t want to start
2. Leg 1 addendum
3. I’ve never lost a bag before
4. We meet a serial killer
5. Help from Monster
6. Heart Surgery On The Highway
7. The Michigan State Bird
8. The Tunnel of Trees
9. Down
10. Insurance Claims

Before we left, days ago.

Riding at night is something I planned to avoid on this trip. By the time night fully sets in I was hoping to be checked into a hotel. Lake Michigan makes things cold, and Upper Michigan makes things even colder, but night also means easily missed signs and completely missed road hazards. Cars tend to hit motorcyclists more at night too.

Then there’s the wildlife. I’m afraid of a meat wall wandering out into the middle of the road waiting for me to crash into it. The brakes on the CB77 would never stop me in time, but I don’t have to worry about that because I might not even see it coming with a dim headlight. Maneuvering on the CB77 which is two screw turns away from broken is not an option either.

But even if the brakes could stop me I worry about the people following me. Would the exhausted and cold riders be able to react in time to stop?

Of course, I pick the wrong wildlife to be afraid of. It’s not the deer that is the problem.

It’s the bugs.

A bug smacks against my helmet. Dusk is the time bugs come out, so I’m not surprised nor particularly chuffed that I’ll have to clean it off. I clean my helmet about every two stops by hand, and even though I hate it, it’s better than leaving them on there.

I wonder to myself how those Harley guys who fixed out bike earlier feel when the bugs hit them. Do the bugs just pop off? I think if your skin is oily enough, they probably don’t stick. Still, they have to at least get in your mouth every now at then.

I’ve experienced riding without a visor to my helmet before. Justin and I were trying to fix a latch on the side of my helmet with a drill and a hammer. It didn’t work, and on the ride home the face shield was coming off. I rode without eye protection at night on the highway, with only a couple miles to go.

Still, in that couple of miles I managed to get a cigarette thrown in my eye. I only remember seeing a red dot, and then not seeing anything through one eye for the rest of the squinty ride home.

I crouch down behind the windscreen-less CB77 to stay close to the warm engine as the temperature drops. It might not actually help.

Then another bugs hit me. And another one. They are hitting my helmet like popping popcorn and a bug (or a part of one) gets sucked up through my helmet and into my nose. One gets caught on something and is now flapping about at high speeds like a stuck moth on a car dash.

One flies into my mouth. More hit my helmet. And the weather has changed too, it’s foggy outside and starting to rain.

Wait, no. It’s not foggy outside, it’s foggy in my helmet because of the bugs, the temperature, and my breath. And it’s not starting to rain, the bugs are hitting my helmet so fast it looks like it’s raining. Each bug begins to replace a bug already on my helmet as they streak off. I strain my neck up to look out the visible corners of my helmet, but more bugs fly up through the neck hole and it doesn’t help.

The road changes from two lanes to no lanes. Again, the road is under construction; fresh, black unmarked pavement blends into the rest of the unlit scenery. The CB77 sputters along but I’m no longer worried about the bolt coming out the engine, I’m worried about riding off the side of the road, the only markings are widely spaced traffic cones on either side of the two lane road.

I decide to follow the cones and stick 1/4th of the way to the right. As long as I stay between the cones I should be fine.

“I will be fine.” I tell myself.

A car zooms by, temporarily lighting up the wall of bugs and my foggy helmet. I’m blind for a few seconds and hope I’m on my side of the road and that the others aren’t necessarily taking my line. I make mental calculations of whether I’m more in danger of riding off the side of the road or getting hit by a car. At least a car can swerve.

More cars drive by, each one blinding me as I try to keep my throttle and line steady. More bugs hit my helmet. They’re gritty in my teeth now, and when I try to spit them out I drool on my chin.

The next town didn’t look far, but I’m no longer sure if we’re on the right road. But soon enough we make it to the next town. Since we’re so close to Mackinac bridge on Labor Day weekend, we can’t find a hotel room. We stop to fill up, and I check out everyone else.

I hate bugs, Michigan, and everyone else

Rob is covered in bugs on the CBR with the small windscreen, but Jon, Jenny and my dad are fine. I have it the worst. No windscreen and riding in front.

I hate bugs, I hate bugs so much.

Dad walks into the gas station to ask about hotel rooms and call. I stand inside too, completely angry.

“WHY ARE THERE SO MANY BUGS?”
“The lady inside said it’s unusual. Must be a hatch,” dad says.
“SHE IS A LIAR. SHE LIES”

My helmet.

We find a hotel room eventually, close enough to where we can see the bridge. From here we cross Mackinac bridge out of the Upper Peninsula and into the lower part of Michigan. The first half is done.

In the hotel room I look at the map. All progress from here gets the broken bike closer to home. It will break down somewhere, but where?

There’s a lakeside restaurant still open, we head there for dinner as tourists walk around the touristy bars. Outside there’s fireworks, but none of us care.