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That soft pillow of a van.

The Michigan police officer looks friendly, perhaps a little bored patrolling the sparsely populated upper portions of idyllic Michigan. He’s not too pudgy, but looks like he mostly deals with tourists and helping people find directions.

With a pen and a piece of paper, he surveys the destruction to the bike in a tense moment of truth. There are no CB360T markings on the bike, but there is still the vin. Like a reverse used-car salesman, I try to direct his attention to the damage.
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The day held a lot of promise as we started out on the back end of our trip. I hosed the bugs off my jacket and we sprayed down the motorcycles with the hotel’s hose. It was a cold morning, but the cleansing was almost ritualistic.

If somehow we pleased the machine Gods, maybe they could get the CB77 home safely. They had protected me so far. Even the bike broke down, I was the best to ride it. I figured I would be safe. I’ve never dropped a bike or crashed. An achievement which I am proud of.

Lined up for sightseeing.

Today would be more weary travelling on the CB77, but each mile closer to home would be one less mile we’d have to come back if the bike broke down. I tried not to think of it as I resigned myself to riding the CB77 for the day. We were in good spirits, there was an amazing section of road that had been part of the plan since day 1. When researching our route, I found it mentioned on the internet in several places.

It’s called the Tunnel of Trees, and I wish I never heard of it.

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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.

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