FRIDAY, JUNE 17, 2011
Tacoma, Washington to Ashland Oregon
458.2 miles/658.9 miles

Al at the Cusp of Departure

While I am on I-5 from the north going south, Al started out today around 12:15 pm on I-5 from the south going north, intending to get through L.A. and into the Central Valley of California before finding a hotel to spend the night.  Although he had intended to leave at 10am, it turns out, despite his best efforts of "planning" for the trip, he found himself without a critical motorcycle trip component - bungee cords, which delayed his departure by a couple of hours. 

Once on the road, he put in about 250 miles, ending up at a Best Western motel, somewhere near Bakersfield, California.  Tomorrow, since he typically gets up around the crack of noon, and I expect to be leaving tomorrow morning by 7am, I expect we might end up at Dale's around the same time.

Today, from Mike Lafo's house outside of Tacoma. WA, it was a 458-mile trip - likely to be my longest day, as currently planned; starting out at 6:16am, I drove into Tom and Margery's driveway at 5:15pm, with gas stops and frequent rest stops along the way to stretch my legs, lest I lose all use of them.


Once on the road, in the early morning and almost traffic-free, I rode for about two hours before finally pulling off the road for breakfast, in Kalama, Washington, incorporated in 1871 and named after John Kalama, a Hawaiian who settled here after marrying a Nisqually chief's daughter.  


I find the Fireside Cafe, a small, non-chain spot - a pleasant, wood-framed building nestled into some trees.  Once I order my breakfast, I can see a group of five guys outside eying my motorcycle.  When they come in, the immediately want to know what's up with those Canadians in Vancouver (i.e., the hockey game riots).  "We thought they were easy going folks!"


They're a nice group - all had ridden themselves - asking me questions about the trip, when I started, where I'm going, etc., the first of what will be many of such encounters and part of the pleasure of a road trip - meeting people of all strips.  When you're on a motorcycle, you find out just how many people ride, have ridden or wished though could ride (you can!), and hear endless stories of all kinds of trips and experiences.  The camaraderie within the motorcycle community is wide and, for all of the stories - some true - of the aloofness of the Harley Davidson crowd from other motorcycles, we have the commonality of the enjoyment of the ride and the pleasure of talking about it.


They sit down - all in their 50s and 60s - and proceed to talk about small airplanes and flying and, mostly, alarming crashes they know about.  Clearly, at least three of them are pilots, with one telling a story of a guy who killed himself when his plane ran out of fuel.  What, the guy doesn't fuel up?  Doesn't check his gauges?  Well, at least if I run out of gas, I can coast to the side of the road.


While eating, I make some notes of the trip this morning, including having seen RICHIE'S AUCTION along the freeway outside of Olympia, I think, with a vast yard filled with every manner of heavy equipment, and I assumed this was indicative of the state of the States, and the on-going recession.

A few years ago, my cousin Ron Tsolis - who's following this blog - with his Chief Support Car Team Member and wife, Becky, road a bicycle from the west to coast to his home in Tampa Bay, Florida.  During the trip, Ron sent out a daily e-mail update of the trip, wonderfully detailed with information about his route, places along the way, a bit of history and, most enjoyably, conversations with the people they met along the way.

On a motorcycle, at every rest stop, people always walk up and ask questions about the bike, the trip, where you're going and where you're headed.  As noted above, there are a remarkable number of people who have rode motorcycles at some point in their lives.  As I'm often stopping just to take the time to stretch my legs, it's a great opportunity to have a casual chat with anyone who comes up.

1.  Today, I met Julia, who lives in Seattle and was traveling to southern Oregon.  At a rest stop, she pulled in next to me with her van, and starting pulling some things out, including a bird cage with, perched on top of the cage, a white cockatoo.  I asked her if he could fly and she said, "a little."  I asked if she was worried that he would take flight and she replied, "no, he won't take off."  I reached down to allow the bird - Solo - to check me out, and he pumped right up on my hand, and walked up my arm to my shoulder.

Julia asked another person who was there if they would take a photo of Julia and me.  She explained that her grandfather was very concerned that she was taking a road trip, because of all the "bad people" in the world.  So, along the way, Julia is having her picture taken with "good people," and sending them to her grandfather to ease his concerns.  A nice thought that we can all apply to those we meet.



Joe and Julia



Joe and Solo



Solo

2.  At another rest stop, I met Elsa, a petite woman, probably in her early 80s.  Traveling alone, she pulled up next to me, and was looking quite intently at my motorcycle.  She left to use the facilities but, when she returned, she told me that she was born in Germany and, in the 1950s, drove and rode BMW's on many European motorcycle trips, dressing, she said, in leathers, boots and helmet - impeccably, by the looks of her now.  She said she still misses those rides today and has a lot of great memories of the people she knew and met back in those days.

3.  I met Frank and his wife Molly, who I walked over to talk to because of their unusual travel set-up.  They were riding a Honda Goldwing, a large road version, and the unusual part was the 4 ft x 6 ft flat bed trailer they were pulling.  On the trailer was a large, car top-type plastic pod, with all their travel goods, and a dog carrier with their two Boston Terriers, Mutt and Jeff.  Now, for those readers a younger persuasion, Mutt and Jeff were comic characters, started in the early 1900s - considered the first daily comic strip; it ended in the early 1980s.



Mutt (on the right) and Jeff (on the left)



Oregon easily has more trucks per mile of road than any other state I've been in, and I am relieved to finally reach Tom and Margery's place after "sharing" the road with those modern beasts of burden all day.


Tom is an old friend and fellow architect from college days - we met in Copenhagen, Denmark, where we were students.  Our connection in those days was playing music - Tom on his guitar and me with my guitar and banjo.  In our last year of college, in San Luis Obispo, California, Tom and I would amuse ourselves by calling the college radio station DJ and asking for musicians we loved - string band and old time music - which, of course, the station DJs didn't have a clue about.

Tom and his wife, Margery, have retired to Ashland from the Sacramento area; they purchased a nifty, 1950s house and are in the midst of renovating the house to its original design and details.  After a tour of the house, and setting me up in the guest room (completed), they took me to the nearby town of Jacksonville - a beautiful little town in the rural hills - for dinner.

Tom and Margery

Exterior of Tom and Margery's Home - 1

Exterior of Tom and Margery's Home - 2

Though we exchange occasional e-mails, I hadn't seen Tom and Margery since 1996, when they came to Boston for a few days so Tom could run in the 100-anniversary running of the Boston Marathon; it was a pleasure to catch up a bit on each other's lives since then.