The trip I didn’t want to start

killbam — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 06:03:18 +0000

Table of contents for A Lap of Lake Michigan

A Lap of Lake Michigan

Rob’s M class license is less than a week old. He started riding for real this summer, but we’re about to ride more in 3 days than he has in 3 months. None of us though, except for me, have ever put in the as much mileage in one trip as will be required to go around Lake Michigan.

To complicate things, Rob will also be riding a bike from 1976 which was fired up for the first time in 20 years a day ago. We’re not sure where the bike came from except for the fact that it didn’t have any papers and wasn’t taken care of at all.

And no papers means we couldn’t get the CB360T registered. It’s insured, but because we picked it up in a warehouse from a Harley dealer for $200 Illinois is making us wait two months before anything happens.

“WHERE IS THE CB77 REGISTRATION AND INSURANCE???” My dad text messages me on Friday. And I already know what he’s thinking. We’re not taking my CB77, but we’re going to leave the badges off the CB360T and pretend it’s a different, older bike.

“It’s insured, but not registered.” Dad tells me. “A cop won’t know the difference, and nobody will check the VINs if we get pulled over.” He’s right.

“We can’t get pulled over, this thing barley does 60” I respond. I’m confident, but I know cops have a way of messing with you. I don’t feel like I’d be able to lie to an officer and a quick glance at the VIN will probably end our trip and get the bike impounded.

This is one of the many thoughts running through my mind as I get out of work early on Friday. I’ve got a lot of work to do, passed deadlines, and grad school starting. I had to move my stuff out of cube on Friday into boxes because they’re moving things around to add more people. My biggest worry though is the weather and the route.

There is predicted rain for Monday night at the end of our trip. Traction probably won’t be a problem, but I know I’m the only person with full rain gear. There’s a chance of hypothermia even in summer temperatures if you’re wet, but more likely it will just make everyone absolutely miserable. It’s like taking a freezing shower for hours on end.

For about a month, I delayed planning the route. I honestly don’t want to go on the trip. Since moving back from California, I feel like the adventure is dead. Google Maps is also not good at planning long trips that you decide on. It keeps crashing on me and I can’t seem to print out directions. I have nothing written down for our route around Lake Michigan.

He whole of living in the Midwest is problem if you’re an avid motorcyclist. The roads are straight, flat, square, and the locals aren’t friendly to motorcyclists. There is no lane splitting, so the metal explosion factory between your legs just serves to cook you further in your already inappropriately heavy and hot gear.

I get home hoping that with a little luck, we’ll be off in about 30 minutes. Better to get it over with. We can make it to Green Bay by night and get the boring stuff out of the way but when I get there Dad is in the garage, in shorts and a t-shirt working on the 360T. It’s still not assembled.

Jon and Rob aren’t anywhere to be seen.

“They’re probably out buying airsoft guns,” he says in a moody tone, which is never good. I start to help him assemble the 360T hoping that by working hard I can calm my dad’s mood. The bike ran for the first times last night after rush shipping a bunch of used parts off eBay which themselves were of objectionable quality. New tires today means re-assembling a lot of the bike.

About an hour later Jon and Rob show up, surprisingly packed and ready to go as we fire up the 360T again. Jon and Rob bought some rain gear, but my dad doesn’t have waterproof anything. Jenny doesn’t have anything waterproof either, they say they’ll just tough it out but I know they’re hoping for no rain.

Rob packs his bike

I’m a little mad not only because nobody listened to my warning about the rain, but also because we’re about an hour behind my made up schedule. Dad then puts the Hayabusa up on the bike lift for some reason. He says we need to change the clutch fluid all of the sudden. It delays us another 30 minutes as we take off the plastic side fairings, and I keep glancing at the daylight going down.

The Busa on the stand, not ready to go

The neighbors come out to wish us well and make jokes as we’re about to leave. The first stop is gas. New plan: make Green Bay sometime tonight.

It’s a proper going away party!

We hop on the highway and head towards Wisconsin with Dad on the CB360T (we’re afraid it’s going to break down), Rob next on the VFR (the least powerful of the remaining bikes), me, and Jon with Jenny on the back of the Hayabusa (temporary).

Obama is doing work on the roads so we’re keeping a tight formation. People like to serve in-between bikes, and there’s no shoulder so we need to protect our lane position. Around the O’hare oasis, something wiggles on the back of the 360T in the lead and Rob’s backpack falls off.

Rob looks back and slows down next to me. He points backwards. I shake my head and point forwards. There’s no stopping here. Traffic is moderate because of vacationers, there are trucks, and there’s no shoulder at all.

The first chance we get is the O’hare oasis, where we pull over. Rob is pissed. He wanted to wear the bag, but we told him to tie it down even though wearing a bag is okay for short periods. Eventually even the lightest weight will hurt your back.

Two of our bikes have saddle bags on them, and one of them has a bag that rides on the tail. Everything else is just backpacks and knapsacks. They’re awkwardly shaped and don’t sit well on the backs of motorcycles and they’re not waterproof but still… I’ve never lost a bag and neither has anybody else I know, and we’ve tied a lot of stupid things to the backs of motorcycles.

Rob wants to go back to get the bag.

“We’re at the O’hare oasis. The next turn off is about 15 minutes north, and the last one is 15 minutes south, we’d lose an hour just getting back here” Jon says.

“Besides, the bag is probably destroyed and even if it weren’t we couldn’t stop and pick it up.”

We all argue for about 5 minutes on what to do. Dad and Rob want to go back and get it. Jon thinks it’s too dangerous and the bag is already done with. I think we need to get to Green Bay tonight and we can’t afford an hour. We settle on calling the police to have someone pick it up. Jon makes the call, they say they’ll look out for it.

Some of Rob’s clothes are gone, including some of his rain gear and a warm weather clothes and Jon is being unsympathetic to Rob’s loss, although Rob’s main complaint is he lost a limited edition hoodie. We can feel it’s already getting cold. Rob hops on the 360T because we think it might cheer him up to ride “his” bike and we ride on.

About 5 minutes later Jon zooms in front of us and signals for us to pull over to the side of the road for an emergency. I make a mirror check, the CB 360T is gone.

Rob simply slowed down and eventually stopped, a little ways back, on an overpass, in the construction zone, where there are no shoulders and where he’s sitting right in the middle of the lane.

We call him, but he doesn’t pick up. Jon hops off his bike and starts to run after him soon disappearing.

Jon calls, they can’t get the bike started or off to the side of the road which means that it’s in the middle of traffic and cars don’t bother to slow down as they pass them. Rob and Jon are taking turns trying to kick start the bike and they begin to push it to where we are.

I start trying to call the hotel we’re staying at to cancel my reservations without anybody asking me to do so. Originally, I wanted to play the whole thing by ear, but everyone told me yesterday to book a hotel room. They’re afraid Green Bay will be packed with bastards like us going on vacation to Illinois’ private resort of Wisconsin. I paid for the hotel rooms through Priceline, except when I call them their automatic system doesn’t recognize my telephone number. After messing with my phone for 15 minutes to get the reservation number, they say they don’t recognize that either and it won’t let me talk to a person.

I call the hotel instead and ask to cancel my reservations. The girl on the other end sounds cute and cheerful.

“Sorry, can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“You booked it through Travelocity didn’tcha?”

“Priceline actually”

“Well, we can’t cancel anything online. You’ll have to call them.”

“I already tried, they aren’t recognizing my telephone number.”

“It’s okay, they probably won’t let you cancel anyway. Hee hee. That’s why you should always just call the hotel yourself!”

My mood was getting worse. I feel sorry for Rob. This whole trip was a huge disaster.

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The trip I didn’t want to start

Table of contents for A Lap of Lake Michigan