Hi, For the last 4 weeks, I've been in south central Colorado (where the temps are in the 50's at night), building with Habitat for Humanity. The physical work is good for me, the goal is worthy, and I've met many kind people. I've attached the story of why I'm suddenly in the market for a new motorcycle. July 11, 2009 Laura: "Da Judge" They shot my horse out from under me – and why I’ll never again ride in just blue jeans I parked my RV at Vallecito Lake north Bayfield, Co. (on Hwy 160 between Pagosa Springs and Durango in south central Colorado) and worked three weeks on a build with Habitat for Humanity. The day before we were to leave, I rode my FJR and Steve rode the Yamaha XT 250, heading south to the Aztec Ruins National Monument in New Mexico. It was hot, so I took off my mesh riding pants and headed home in blue jeans (mistake #1). Around 7 pm (mistake #2), we were riding north on Hwy 501 – a rural road that gains about 2,000 feet in altitude as it heads towards Vallecito Lake and our RV Park. It was the 4th of July, and the traffic was heavy with folks going to see the fireworks over the lake. As I rounded a curve, a VERY large deer bounded down the embankment to my left in front of an on-coming pickup. I hit the brakes; the deer did a shuffle step, and then hit me. It was over so fast I don’t really know what happened. Apparently the deer got tangled in the front end of the bike, we fell, and he kicked free. The only direct “deer damage” is where he kicked above the front fender and below the headlights, making toast of a lot of expensive plastic. The bike fell, skidded on the left side, grinding the frame slider to a nub and all but erasing the saddlebag. After the left side was transformed into scoured plastic, the bike flipped over and ground down the right saddlebag and other miscellaneous plastic and metallic parts. And the deer? I don’t know. I was busy sliding down the highway. Steve stopped in the middle of the highway to keep the traffic off my downed butt ‘til I crawled to the edge of the road. He said the deer was caught in the bike, kicked free, stood up, fell down, and then skittered down the steep embankment to the right. After a brief assessment, I decided I could ride the FJR the 5+ miles back to my RV. Most of that ride was over gravel, and as I rode with my left leg as stiff as Chester’s, I swore I’d never ride again with just blue jeans. Progressive Insurance totaled my old friend – too much expensive scoured plastic and probable damage to the forks. So, the Gypsy Rocket, bruised and battered, was unceremoniously hauled off for salvage. I feel like my favorite horse was shot out from under me – one with whom I’ve shared many an adventure, one who taught me many lessons of freedom, self-confidence, reaching, risking. I’d rather have skipped this entire learning opportunity, but the Gypsy Rocket is gone and the ample check from the insurance company is in my pocket. Unlike the FJR, I didn’t get totaled. I have some nasty road rash on my left knee – thus the belated New Year’s Resolution to Never ride again in only blue jeans. If you’ve never experience road rash – it burns, and burns, and burns. A week later, it’s still burning. It’s much hotter than those riding pants could ever be. (Plus it oozes, sticks to the sheets, and hurts – the riding pants do none of that.) There’s more road rash on my left shoulder – I don’t know if the pad in my Joe Rocket jacket turned on impact, or if the impact itself caused the injury. I’m sporting miscellaneous bruises and a knot on my wrist from my bangle bracelets. So – I’m one lucky rider, now without a horse. From Bayfield, we moved over to Pagosa Springs, Co. for another two-week build with Habitat. On the 19th, I’ll head up toward Denver to test ride the BMW F650 GS. I’m also looking at the Suzuki Vstrom 650 and the Kawasaki KLR 650. I’m vertically challenged, and many of these bikes require a stepladder. But I’ll probably buy something that is more comfortable with dirt and gravel than my FJR was. Lessons – (1) when you ride your bike “where the deer and the antelope play”, don’t ride during their play time (at dusk or dawn) (2) don’t wear only blue jeans, no matter how hot it gets (3) bangle bracelets gouge and leave bone bruises; (4) given the chance, get right back on your favorite horse.

On April 12th, 2009 the Sandollar Motorcycle club attended the Military SportBike RiderCourse "The Super ERC" at Navy Pensacola. The following are some of their thoughts, comments and photos: Personally, I really enjoyed the class today, Mike's teaching approach was great, I was dog-tired and he kept it entertaining. I don't know much about the class, how it came to be, or why it's called "The military sportbike class" Although he did say its name will be changed and will be offered all around, I don't know why it hasn't been offered before. From what I saw today, with the difference in people, their skill levels, and the various types of motorcycles present, I don't know why this class hasn't been offered to the public before (unless it has?) I caught myself applying some of the techniques taught today while riding home, and honestly felt good about them, and felt it made me a little bit better of a rider. I hope we can get to do some more of these in skills (now if I can just make it to more skills). To put it one way, now that I've been through it, but if I hadn't and were just some regular Joe on the street, if I would happen to find out about this class, I definitely would pay whatever the cost to take the class. Mike and Wanda are both great instructors, and I am grateful of them for taking the time to give us this class. I hope that I didn't ramble on too much, but if you could, pass on the thanks to Michael and Wanda, I personally learned a lot today. Mike B Mike B --- George please tell Michael that I thought the course was well organized. That the course really challenged your motorcycle skills. I really had a good time and wish the rain hadn't shortened our time there. Not much more to say. Except this was not a course for beginners. Robert W Robert W --- I really appreciate and enjoyed this class that Michael and Wanda put together for us. The instruction that we received was outstanding, I thought the way it started with the “be honest about your riding” (form 2 and the Zuckerman inventory) was a great way to set the tone for the class for the rest of the day. The classroom instruction was good, it showed what you were going to learn before you got out on the pavement. The course exercises were fun and challenging. To paraphrase Michael “you know how to ride, we’re going to get you to challenge yourself to be a better rider through these skills” and that’s exactly what all of us did. Excellent course, I think it should also be open to cruisers, not just sportbikes. Fred ( Wheet ) Fred --- Mike, Wanda and George First, let me say thank you for letting me participate – Thanks! 12 people are hard to manage on a course, I cannot even think about trying to manage 19 bikes. Mike and Wanda made the classroom and riding on the range look like it was easy. Very smooth transitions between four groups of riders – I am truly amazed how you two managed that many bikes. Mike did an outstanding job of managing so many people in the classroom and keeping us focused on the task (of learning). Not only keeping us focused, but also explaining the braking, riding on the curves, and advance skill riding, “COW”. At first I was thinking, this is really going to be hard for me, as a MSF instructor, I have been telling everyone to Slow, Look, Press and Roll; and now I am being told, “there is a better way”, trail braking and COW. The card trick was also great, a picture is worth a thousand words – you made your point in less than five minutes. Because Mike took the time starting with introductions and then moving smoothly into cornering, braking, COW, and trail braking; it all came together on the range – the way it is suppose to. Taking the time to fully explain all of the above was the key step for our understanding. At the range, Mike’s and Wanda’s demo rides showed us the correct technique, which obviously helped in us practicing the correct way for braking, cornering, COW and trail braking. It is obvious to me, having “mentored” sport bike riders and seeing three bikes going down in one year, the cause were: too fast of an entry speed and the lack of experience. I have also experience that car making the left hand turn in front of me and I definitely know the importance of MAX braking and/or the option to swerve. I was happy with the current braking part of this course – I think MSF nailed it with this course. This is the first time I have truly had the opportunity to perform max braking with this HD in a safe environment. Mike’s constant coaching was terrific and kept reinforcing me to improve my MAX braking with the front brake. Also the comment on just setting your foot on that back brake; I believe this is also important especially with Harley’s, with that big old pedal and leverage arm, my foot was being forced down harder during stops (i.e., me pressing down and my body weight pressing down at the same time); I now understand a little why and how to mitigate some of that unwanted rear braking. Using the COW and trail braking was new, but the pictures and descriptions in class and then actually getting in the curves, I could feel I was leaning less but still making an aggressive move, I liked it. I really enjoyed this class and I know, it has helped me in being a better Rider. Mike and Wanda (you too George) THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!! Joe T Editor's note: COW stands for the Chin Over Wrist technique taught in the class. Joe T --- GREAT WAY TO SPEND THE DAY! Getting to spend a day learning new techniques, relearning older ones and getting rid of old habits is hard to beat. When you have the quality of instruction we did for the sport bike class, it makes it even better! The classroom full of friends and fellow riders was very interesting. At times there were puzzled looks on everyone’s face as new techniques were shown and then explained. Sometimes the visual aid is necessary for us lowly peons to understand what is being talked about. The class with video and slides went a long ways toward showing us the basic technique for some maneuvers. The "quick slide show" with quiz, demonstrated how things could flash past us if we don’t constantly update ourselves and scan effectively. All questions were answered satisfactorily in the classroom. Anyone that had a question was given the time from the instructor to fully answer it. Out on the range, maneuvers were explained, demonstrated and then performed by all students. Some were more difficult at first but the higher speed of the course compared to past courses helped demonstrate how we can handle the techniques we covered in class. I do not think anyone came away without learning something. Including the instructors. At the end of the day we all were somewhat sore from manhandling our cruisers around a sportbike course, but we all left with a smile on our faces. Spending the day like that is unbeatable. Well, not totally unbeatable, there is at least one thing that could top that. However, I won’t go into that. (Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm talking about fishing!) SpectreSteve Spectre Steve --- On 12 April 2009, I attended the MSF Military Sport Bike Rider Course at Corry Station, Pensacola, FL. This all day course proved to be the most comprehensive, helpful course that I have ever taken. This includes both BRC and ERC MSF programs. The academic instructor Michael McMillan’s presentation was concise, detailed and all encompassing. His unique demonstrations kept the full attention of the entire class for the whole time. The riding phase conducted by Michael and the other rider coach, Wanda Brocade, was also outstanding in every aspect. Their sharing of responsibility with one briefing and the other demonstrating the maneuvers desired, left no question in anybody’s mind of what was required. On a scale of 1 to 10, this entire program rates a 10+. Jerry G Jerry G --- Sand Dollars Lead the Way I wasn’t sure if Mary Ann and I would make it out to Pensacola for the Military Sports Bike course. Woke up Sunday morning with a pounding headache. Decided that I could tough it out, so we headed out to meet everyone at Joe’s. On the way out to the base, I kept telling myself that I could do this. When we got to the base and met up with Michael, I was still feeling rough. Michael is a fantastic teacher. He made the classroom portion of the class very interesting. Once the classroom instruction was over, we headed out to grab some lunch. After lunch, we headed to the range for the fun part. Learned some great techniques from Michael and Honda Wanda. Once again, they did a fantastic job. I tip my hat for a job well done. At least the rain held off and we had a great time. BH (Cris B) Mary Ann & Chris B --- Sunday April 12, Super ERC motorcycle class was fabulous! Although we have our own Skills Sunday once a month, it never hurts to have professional training updates. This Sunday I found especially useful the COW maneuver during turns and placing the foot on the rear brake and letting weight transfer during braking apply the rear brake without lock up amazing. No more rear brake lock up! Thanks M2 for the professional classroom, great teaching, I actually learned new things, see above. Amazed Munchkin (David B) David B --- Sport Bike Class-----My Thoughts Since I’m not overly confident in my ability to ride my current bike well enough for this class, I asked M2 if he thought I could handle the class before starting. I’m really glad he said yes and I believed him. The classroom was a real eye opener and I think the way it was presented really made you think about your surroundings and what you think and how to react. I really got into the C.O.W. I did not think I could make really tight corners but I kept taking out the cones on the inside. After the class, I think I might be ready for the dreaded BOX, my all time nemesis. Thanks to M2 and Wanda, I’m like the little train that said “I think I can, I think I can and now I know I can. Thanks to both M2 and Honda Wanda. You’re the best. Sam SAM --- The course.....big enough to feel safe to do maneuvers. I really enjoyed doing them! Thorough explanations on all the maneuvers from the teachers. No question was too big or too small to give an answer to an individual. Made anyone feel at ease Also..the little helpful hints really made a difference.... from the way to hold your hand on the throttle and still cover the brake to using the Chin Over Wrist. Skwirrel Skwirrel --- Had a great time attending this course! This class should be the complete replacement for the Experienced Riders Course(ERC). I believe the ERC never should have been called "Experienced" anything because it is still too basic for any rider that has any real experience riding a motorcycle. With the increased speeds and the improved breaking and swerving exercises/techniques in the new course, it is now actually tailored for a more "Experienced" rider. I've been hoping that the MSF would come up with a class of this type for years. Joejoe (29 years of daily riding experience) Joejoe --- Joe I am humbled that an experienced and knowledgeable motorcycle instructor such as your self thinks we did a good job. That's a strong compliment and I appreciate it. Wanda and I have worked together for years and I love working with her. I've learned some neat things from the Honda woman. She's a dear friend and a wonderful coach who helps me be a better coach myself. I agree with you completely that the MSF got it right with this one, especially the braking, turning and swerving. I look forward to getting it out to the general population and hopefully saving some lives there like it's doing for the military. Did you know that George scraped a peg? A Gold Wing will lean 40 degrees and George was scraping! I think that's a result of a well thought out and constructed curriculum. (Well, that and George was a Wildman out there. Reg Pridmore won't recognize him ;>) It was a real pleasure to teach a class where every single rider was above average. That made the 'job' much easier for Wanda & me. M2 Editor's note: M2 was the lead instructor this day M2 --- You definitely summed it all up for me too M2 :) George was wild wasn't he ...lol...lol......he was so enjoying himself ! I still can't git Squirrel's "Cow" girl moves outa my head Honda Wanda Editor's note: Honda Wanda was one of the instructors this day

31 Oct – 2 Nov, 2008 This article contains the stories of the Sandies "in their own words" of their time on the Sandollar Motorcycle Club's annual Low Road Tour into Louisiana from the Florida panhandle Da Skwirrel Low Roads It I now know why folks come back with a glow of happiness on their faces when they return from the infamous Low Road trip. Absolutely wonderful folks hosting the herd of cats known as the Sandies. The warm welcome and homey feeling is second nature to them since they themselves are the Leweezeeanna Sandies...Doc Pat and Brenda and their brood of Sandilings. The weather a bit nippy but clear.(Cold is not an excuse for not riding.)And what better an excuse to ride than to travel from Fl to LA The house is set in the woodsy land with comfortable privacy.The main house..oh my gawd ..is so beautiful. Made of hewn logs that fits right in with the nature that surrounds it.To the right is the newly built accommodations that these fine folks had constructed for multiple guests.Of course I must mention that bodacious staircase inside the main house..made of the split logs for steps and logs for the railing. And then they fed us! Oh my gawd the food!!!! So much..so good!!!! The atmosphere is so relaxing it was as if I was a part of the family. . Next day we all take a nice ride exploring the roads of LA. We all eat breakfast (finally had a beignet).Then as we are at a Village full of shops (oh yeah baybee), Chris and Maryann discover they have a flat tire.Our hosts acquire a means for their bike to be trailered to a bike shop. Guardian angels were looking after them...considering the flat could have happened while riding on the roads and plus the good fortune of having bike shop opened. While waiting on the repair, we have lunch at a Mediterranean like restaurant.Was fun and very informative as we discover how much Brenda really likes chicken. Later the rest of the Sandies meet us at the shop and we continue riding .Got to ride the longest bridge..Ponchatrain that was so cool!!!!! Never realized just how big the lake is. Gonna go see the 9th ward in Nawlins. The road down there was full of holes and lumps. One hole so deep that Dave and Tina, riding infront of Chris and Maryann, just about disappeared in one of the holes. Bam! goes their bike with such force that their cooler pops open and a beer bottle smashes on the ground. Our driving skills lets us all avoid hitting the broken glass. However.... Poor Chris got his cheek dinged with a small flying shard. Well I still consider him having a lucky day..considering it could have hit his eye etc. All in all I had a wonderful time meeting great folks and enjoying company of old and new friends. This is a trip definitely not to be missed. I will be back. Da Skwirrel Last month some Sandies headed off to La. (no, not Lower Alabama) to DocPats to help build some cabins. The whole bunch of us together hadn’t swung a hammer in anger in years. Well, all but one of us. Robbie seemed to know which nail to hit and when. But the rest of us just had fun using the nail gun. Up until one bounced off the wood in front of me and poked a hole in my T-Shirt. No blood drawn so it was all good. At the end of that trip there were comments on how well put together the fine homesteads were. This last trip was to prove that right. Staying in the fine homes in the air was enjoyable. Cool weather and no bugs contributed greatly to the enjoyment I’m sure. Last trip we had indoor movies. Not so this time, outdoor theater time for us! We just have to pick our movies a bit better. 30 year old movies and stinko new movies just aint gonna cut it. If this was a commercial theater there would have been popcorn thrown at the screen. But I digress. The movie atmosphere was very nice with a fire, roasting marshmallows and the smell of the occasional burning marshmallow filling the air. As the evening wore on, we chatted and talked about the coming day. Finally we hit the sack and were very thankful our gracious hosts provided warm covers and a heater for each cabin. Well, two out of three cabins anyway. The center cabin, the Bachelor Pad, didn’t have heat the first night. There was rampant speculation on how the guys in that cabin stayed warm. Draw your own conclusion on this one. I aint saying nuttin! Riding around the back roads of LA was fun and entertaining. I was riding super six and Skwirrel was directly ahead of me. As the day went on Skwirrel was carving the curves pretty good. I had to scrape pegs to keep up with her Magna several times. She has certainly come a ways from when she entered the Sandies. They grow up so fast nowadays you know. Everyone was really enjoying the ride when we stopped for breakfast. Cris and Mary Ann B found a flat tire on their bike. Sure glad DocPat had a trailer handy. Skwirrel and I stayed with them as they headed to the dealer to get it fixed. Several hours later, after a repast at some furrin eatin stablishment, (editors note: A Lebanese Restaurant ) we were back on the road. A short trip to the cabins, via very nice roads didn’t take long. No sooner were we all fed, (mighty fine food too! Thanks Brenda!) And put to bed, it was time to head for the house. The next day we headed out and traveled across Lake Ponchartrain via the causeway. That is one very long bridge. I hadn’t been on it since the 70’s. Coming through New Orleans, we encountered plenty of nasty traffic. Several close calls convinced me to never take a group through there again. But the route along the coast was entertaining. Damage from the recent hurricanes was evident still as the 9th ward passed by us. Some new bridges have been built and new pavement laid. But still the sheer amount of damage was staggering. I’ve seen N.O. under water and this is an improvement but it is far from fixed. Personally if I lived under water it would be in a submarine. But that’s just me. As we headed to Biloxi, we gassed up and parted ways with some of the Sandies. Several of us headed down highway 90 and found some more damaged areas. The highway through Biloxi and the area is still under renovation. Most of the homes along the beach are still gone but some are new and some are being rebuilt. This area will survive but it will take time. Passing through Mobile and then on to Pensacola via I 10 was uneventful. The rest of the trip was just one of those “lets get home, the heck with everything else” things. Once again Skwirrel and I arrived home and the pets were still alive! The dog greeted us with licks and hugs and the birds squawked. All happy to see us! The cat ignored us and went back to sleep. SpectreSteve Flats and Glass and Curling Irons…Oh My! It all started of innocent enough. Nice cool morning, plenty of sunshine and surrounded by best folks in the world. The perfect beginning to what was going to be a fantastic weekend. Or so I thought. As we left Joe and Eddie’s, I couldn’t help to really look forward to what would be mine and Mary Ann’s longest ride to date. Headed out on 98, we only hit a little bit of traffic. We made a brief stop in Pensacola and took off again. The first thing that told me that things were set to go awry, was, we made a left, but there was a perfectly good Krispy Kreme Doughnuts on the right…and we didn’t stop. I had to hold back the tears for the next 15-20 miles. Once out of Florida and into Alabama, things were looking up again. It was a great ride and I was enjoying every moment. Mary Ann was having fun counting all of the McCain/Palin signs. I guess I should mention the one Obama sign (think someone left it in that person’s yard as a joke). We were on some really nice roads with beautiful scenery. We finally stopped to eat at the Rocky Creek Catfish Cottage. I love seafood, but not a fan of catfish. So I just left that to other folks to eat. Overall, it was a great lunch and a nice break from the bike seat. It was getting warmer, so removed a layer of clothing for the rest of the ride. Once again, we were on some nice roads. Only one slight delay for some road construction, which came up at the worst time. Someone had to use the bathroom. ME! I was really considering running off into the woods. But we finally got going again, just had to ride past where they were laying fresh asphalt. We got through that and stopped a little further down the road. Once I took care of business and gassed up the bike, I noticed George showing off his athleticism. Doing a handstand over a trashcan. Bravo, received a perfect 10 from the judges. It was then I realized that he had enjoyed his lunch so much; he wanted the other store patrons to see what he had. Hmmm Hmmm, catfish puree`. Actually I felt bad, he looked really green around the gills. Once our fearless leader was feeling better, we were back on the road with Steve in the lead. Getting closer to Pat and Brenda’s, felt this stiff breeze and out of the corner of my eye, George is doing a flyby. It came as a bit of a scare because it was the world’s quietest flyby ever. We got to our destination and had a very warm welcome from Pat and Brenda. They are two of the nicest people you would ever want to meet. Special thanks to them for their fantastic hospitality. We got the cabins set up and beds put together. And then proceeded to watch one of the corniest movies ever…thanks JoeJoe. The next morning we set out for breakfast. Got to ride some more great roads and see some great sights. We stopped for breakfast and I made the mistake that I was about to pay for in a big way. The poor waitress slipped (fortunately she didn’t hit the ground), and what do I do, I laugh. Needless to say, I waited for my breakfast. As everyone was done and walking out, I was still waiting. Then Pat comes in and tells me that I have a flat tire. Word to the wise, never laugh at a waitress when she slips. Being in Louisiana, she must have had a Voodoo Princess in her family and put a hex on me. While everyone else got to go on a nice ride, Pat, Brenda, Steve and Sharon stayed with Mary Ann and I. I think Sharon just stayed to do some shopping. We finally got the bike towed to the shop, but would have to wait awhile to get it fixed. We ended up at a Lebanese restaurant (Which I got there by way of a nice Corvette). By now, I’m sure that everyone knows that Brenda likes chicken. The food was good, and Pat ended up with a good ol’ American hamburger off the kid’s menu. We got back and they said my bike would be ready in about 45 minutes. They gave us a tiny piece of metal about ¼” long and the width of a bread tie (I thought for sure it was caused by a hot curling iron). Just my luck, a darn bread tie does me in. Everyone showed up at the shop as they finished the bike. We got back to Pat and Brenda’s and showered and relaxed for a bit. Again we ate like kings. Pat makes an excellent Frozen Screwdriver. After everyone was done eating, we kicked back around a couple of fire pits and watched the new Indiana Jones movie. Just a great evening. Sunday morning, we get up and head out to breakfast. Nice little place to eat, it was an old drive in. And once again, my luck continued…last one served and I had the runniest fried eggs ever. After breakfast, we thanked Pat and Brenda again and hit the road. It was a nice ride down to the Causeway into New Orleans. Mary Ann likened riding across the Causeway to riding a horse, and I would have to agree. Once into New Orleans, we were coming up on the exit for I-10. I thought we were going to go right by the exit, but in the smallest of openings, we turn right across another lane of traffic and onto the ramp. I never knew Mary Ann didn’t like Mack trucks sharing her seat with her. But we made it. What could go wrong now? As we were riding through the Ninth Ward, Dave and Tina hit a bump and the lid of their cooler flies open. Now Dave knows that I don’t drink and drive, so I’m pretty sure he was just trying to pass me a beer for later. But the damn thing flies up in the air and hits the ground, so all I get is a little wet and a piece of glass hitting me in the face. Now I know what else could go wrong. By the way, thanks to everyone for making sure that I was ok. Once we get back on the road, we rode through Gulf Port, nice ride along the Gulf. We split up in Biloxi. Some folks stayed on the interstate and some of us jumped on 90. It was an enjoyable ride home, ‘cept it got a little cold as the sun set. With everything that happened, it was still a great weekend and I look forward to doing it again. I just hope for a little better luck. Cris Low Road Tour First, I’d like to dedicate this ride to a good friend, MSgt Mike Tindall, USAF retired. Mike passed away from cancer in Feb 08. He was a skilled motorcyclist who loved the outdoors – miss you Mike! George, being the gracious road captain he was decided to push the start time back from 0600hrs to 0700hrs because of the forecasted cool weather (especially for those of us who don’t ride loungers with heated grips/seats) – good call indeed. We meet-up and ride out promptly heading west on 98 towards Louisiana. The weather was absolutely perfect – a little cool but almost no wind and not a cloud in the sky – it couldn’t be a better weekend to ride. We press on around Mobile and head into beautiful two lanes with almost no traffic, some curves, some hills, when it hits me that I need to take a pit stop…soon (could be all the water/juice I drank on an empty stomach). I keep thinking that George will stop and I wasn’t close enough to motion the need…I was almost to the point that a tree was looking real good, when we rode up to a gas station that I wasn’t sure was even open. A quick signal left, while pointing with my left arm, hoping that Chris & MaryAnn behind me wouldn’t ride up my tailpipe, I whip in and make the dash. With some dignity left intact, Steve, Chris & MaryAnn (thanks for stopping to make sure all was well) and myself play catch-up to the rest of the group. In Ms, we stop for lunch at an all-u-can-eat catfish house…some of the cutest waitresses I’ve ever seen, anyway, some give me grief because I order a grilled chicken salad. Regardless of what some may think, I too love to eat but I do need to maintain the ability to fit into my uniform, at least for another 5 months or so. We press on and almost arriving at our destination, we’re stopped by road construction – all take the opportunity to stretch our legs and talk about the ride so far. As we’re finally cleared to proceed, we pass through a toxic cloud of asphalt and tar from the road crew. I guess that smell, combined with the catfish our leader had for lunch nearly did him in. Poor George was hurling in a gas station…we were worried about you George, but like the boss he is, recovered and we arrived at Docs and Ms Brenda’s. As before, they are both absolute perfect hosts and did I mention their beautiful log cabin home? Very nice. That night, The Comb and I shared a cabin and I later learned we were the only cabin without a heater…it got COLD! No, not cold enough for that but damn cold. Needless to say, the next night, I found us a heater. Saturday’s ride was perfect as well – rode through scenic, curvy Louisiana back roads, passed historic mansions along the river front and back to Docs. Chris somehow rolled over a twisty tie and got a flat on his rear tire (that still amazes me!) so they missed the Sat ride, but were good sports about it. We settle in for the evening with an outdoor, fireside movie – a perfect way to end the day. Next morning, Sunday, we head home via the Causeway over Ponchatrain – was my first time ever crossing the world’s longest bridge on a moto – nice! Hit I-10 in New Orleans and somehow avoid being run over before we can exit on 90 and press through hurricane ravaged real estate. I leave the group in Gulfport and take 90 on to Mobile, where I pick-up I-10 and ride it to Pensacola, then 98 again on home. Lessons learned: The more I ride with this group, the more I respect them. Beer and a busted bottle does not ruin your ride, just ask Chris. Scenic roads beat super slab any day of the week. Doc Pat and Ms Brenda are the perfect hosts. For our road captain, whatever we pay you isn’t enough because the route was absolutely perfect. Great ride…if I’m still in the area next year, I’ll be on it again. Deuce The trip was great. Who cares if it took 10 hours to make a 5 hour drive. We started out at 7 a.m. I was so worried I was going to freeze my Butt off even with all the layers of clothes I had on. Instead I was just fine. There was so much to see. There were many McCain signs I counted along the way. Not too many Obama, But yet he won. I just loved looking and watching. It is amazing how much more you can take in riding on the back of a bike that you would of not seen, smelt or felt in a car. We stopped and had lunch at a Catfish house. I myself had a hamburger. I’m not sure if it was the catfish George ate or the smells in the air, but he was sicker then a dog. He was sick enough to not finish leading. When we got to Pat and Brenda's, I was in love with their house. Who could not love their house. I do have to say I thought it would be odd at first staying at someone’s house that you have never met. Pat and Brenda made us feel right at home. The next morning we where going to go out and have a good LA breakfast with Beignet’s and Café-au-lait, they where yummy. For some reason Cris was last to get his meal. I wonder if it had anything to do with him laughing at the server that slipped. The group had this great ride all planned out. I couldn’t wait. Well I thought I couldn’t wait, but the flat on our bike told us we where going to miss it. Pat had a friend’s daughter come pick up the bike. She was a sweet girl. Steve, Sharon, Pat and Brenda were so nice to stay with us while we got it fixed. I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss out on a lunch so I asked what there was to eat, while the bike got fixed. We ended up at a Lebanese place to eat. We found out there JUST HOW MUCH BRENDA loves chicken. By the time the bike was fixed the whole group was done with their ride and met us back at the shop. Even though we missed the main ride for Saturday. The trip home was great. I loved seeing the houses one the water. It was just like watching “The Waterboy” movie. Sunday we were going to leave out at 8, but then SOMEONE got a hair up their butt and decided to leave 30 mins early. Oh well I was ready. We stopped for Breakfast, and Yep Cris was last to get his food again. This time the eggs more then just runny. YUCK. The ride home took us over the causeway which ran over Lake Ponchatrain. It was kind of felt like riding a horse..The faster you went the more you bounced. We made it to New Orleans. That was another adventure, but we made it . Back on the road..I thought things where going to run smooth again, when all of a sudden Dave and Tina start to throw beer bottles at us. HAHA ok they didn’t throw them at us. They just hit a bump in the road, which made their cooler pop open and out bounced a beer bottle, water bottle and ice. See we used are skills and didn’t over react and just got through it. Even with a piece of glass popping up and hitting Cris in the face. I had not known it till over a week later that when we stopped to make sure everything was ok, we where in the 9th Ward. That is when Sharon was trying to get gas and it would not work so she was fussing at the pump. We rode for a while longer, while different people at different times went in different directions. All in all it was a wonderful ride. So if asked if I would do it all over the same way, I would say Yes. You can’t beat great people, great food (well besides Cris’ runny eggs and Georges catfish) And mostly a great ride. I guess I will just have to go back next year and do the ride I missed out on. PS…My curling iron didn’t have anything to do with the flat. Mary Ann It had been a couple of years since I last made the low road tour. Probably took me that long to recover from the last, or I had to wait for the statute of limitations to expire in Louisiana before returning. I'm not sure which. In typical Sandollar, style the trip over was great despite the chilly temperatures on departure. George had a nice route laid out keeping us off the super-slabs as much as possible. Despite his great road captaining, I was ready to stage a coupe when he passed a Krispy Kreme Donut shop with the "Hot Now" sign blazing. Some things just aren't right and missing that artery clogging delicacy is one of those. Luckily he recovered some credibility with a stop for lunch at a great catfish restaurant. The food was great. Some of us felt a little out of place. I estimate the average age of the lunch crowd at somewhere North of 75. We arrived and you would have thought it was opening shopping day on black Friday. People were racing to stake claim on the newly completed sleeping quarters on stilts. I took one look and decided that I would hate to try and crawl up or down those steps in the middle of the night. Anyway, I had brought other arrangements. So while the screaming herds were staking claim to a chunk of floor somewhere and making sure there was electricity to plug in their various night time gadgets, I was pitching my tent. Within 10 minutes I had the tent up, air mattress inflated, bag unrolled and gear stowed. Everyone took bets as to how many times Scooter would pee on my tent. He was a perfect host choosing to leave my tent alone in favor of marking the front wheel of Jerry's BMW. Brenda and Pat are the finest folks and hosts on the planet. I think their attitudes are exemplified by the sign hanging in Brenda's kitchen, "Friends are Everything". If you have great friends like Pat and Brenda you have a great life. As always the food was to die for. I keep dropping hints that I'm available for adoption. Even Munchkin out did himself with his upside down creations. Most of us were ready for an early crash on Friday evening. JoeJoe brought out the A-list films that none of us would ever admit to watching at home. Friday's award winning feature - Hot Rod. Staring nobody anyone had ever heard of before or after it's release. I can safely say this was the worst movie I have ever seen, and I've seen some bad one's. It was so bad it probably qualifies for cult status. Another round of beer please. After the feature film, I retired to the tent and became part of Wild Kingdom. I kept expecting to see Marlin Perkins. I'm a city boy, what the hell do I know about the country. There are all kinds of strange noises out there when the sun goes down. Overall very relaxing except for the retarded rooster that lives nearby. I thought roosters were supposed to crow at sunrise or something close. This dumb assed bird was crowing all night. As he got warmed up he initiated a chain reaction of dogs joining the night serenades. The coolest sound was the owl Saturday night. He was a hoot. So while others were struggling with the snoring of their room mates, I was enjoying natures music. Wild Kingdom indeed. I shall remember to bring a tent again for my next travel experience. Saturday morning we discovered that I stayed warmer in my tent than most stayed in the bunk house. Something about heaters in some rooms, drafts in others. Sorry, it's a one man tent. It really was very pleasant. Saturday riding was great as expected. Those roads along the bayou are awesome. The old steel bridges bring back great childhood memories. I think we met the most miserable person in Louisiana at lunch, our waitress. If she were to smile or even acknowledge a customer I think she would have dropped dead on the spot. At least the food was good. Glad she wasn't with us, we would have had to leave her somewhere, anywhere. Saturday evening the food was again great. Beer was flowing in some corners. Lies were being told and everyone was in a jovial mood. The choice of films improved with Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull. Another great relaxing evening around the fire. I don't remember when I headed for the tent, but I obviously made it because that's where I woke up. Sunday morning I had the tent and everything packed up before most were moving. Coffee to jolt the heart into action and ready for another ride. Unfortunately it had to be toward home. We took a very long scenic route that was excellent except for the near disasters near New Orleans. I think I finally got the Ford F-250 grill imprints removed from the back of my saddlebags. Last minute lane changes in bumper to bumper traffic is one experience I think I'll skip next time thank you. We finally made it home sometime in the late afternoon. Another great trip in the books. I don't remember the total mileage, somewhere over 950 I think I heard someone say. They were all great, and only 2 1/2 tanks of gas! Until next trip, ride safe. Tim aka: "Prince of Darkness" The Low Road Trip. And this year was just another fun filled ride with great friends, good roads and lot's of wonderful food. If you can only make one road trip a year make sure you make it the Low Road, I promise you will not be disappointed. Thanks Pat & Brenda for being the perfect host & hostess as always. I really enjoyed it. Sam Okay George says I have to pay the Piper yet again because I went on the ride or I don’t get to go on another Sandie ride. Well I have taken time outta my precious day off to sit down and do this so I hope this Piper guy (or gal) is happy. All I know is one day I’m going to find this Piper and we’re going to have a serious discussion on the social ramifications and the continuance of his/her good health to leave me outta this kinda stuff. Nuff said. Well since George decided to shorten the trip to three days instead of the usual four (I guess he was going to miss his favorite soaps and didn’t want to fall too far behind in the story line) I decided to leave on Thursday and the Munchkin decided to join me. We met up in Navarre and headed North. The temperature was a balmy 42 degrees and we were headed North, into the cold, so lets just say we ain’t the smartest Sandies but if we headed South we’d be wet, soooooo (and we already did the East and West thing so we didn’t want to cover ground we’ve seen a hundred times. And yes I have ridden East to go West, it’s a Sandie thing don’t ask) where was I????? Oh yeah, the time you ask 7:30 AM AFTER the Sun came up, not the BUTCRACK of dawn like before (yeah I bet you thought I wouldn’t mention that, well you were wrong. And yes I’m still bitchin about it to George (I just like to annoy him, and I do it oh so well just ask him!!)). The trip I laid out looked nice, some roads that I haven’t been on and places I’ve never seen. I showed George my route and he changed his, and I only used a 2D GPS (a.k.a. a map). No I don’t own a GPS, nor did I use Google Earth like some people (yes George I’m talking about you, and yes I always pick on George this way. Don’t worry he’ll pay me back later on down the line). The trip there was relatively uneventful. We saw a lot of woods, a house that was built like a castle using cinderblock construction, the oldest building in some Podunk town, and did the obligatory Sandie U-turn. Munchkin headed South just outside of Wiggins Ms. and I continued on to Doc Pat’s place. When I arrived everybody was still working on the cabins trying to get them ready for the migration of my fellow Sandies the next day, so I took off my jacket and pitched in. We hung the doors and worked on bed frames until we noticed that we needed more stuff, so that would have to wait until Friday when we could get to the hardware store. Okay time to eat! And then the unthinkable happened, Doc Pat and Brenda asked me to sleep in the Big House and not the servants quarters, my status had been raised from a lowly Sandie to new heights. I could sleep where Sandie presidents, vice presidents, road captains, Joe Joe, and numerous other Sandies (except me) have slept (I guess I stink or something, they won’t tell me). But I declined, I decided I liked it where I was on the food chain (I got friends down here, and I like it). Friday was filled with running around getting things ready for the arrival (yes George likes to make a grand entrance). We fixed the things that needed fixin, and then the dodo hit the oscillating rotating device (shit hit the fan). Doc Pat’s Harley wouldn’t start (wait haven’t I been here before???). Yes this has happened before, but Doc Pat just got his bike outta the shop and the work that was done was right where the problem was. Soooo, in order not to void his warrantee with the shop we loaded it on the trailer and took it back. But before we left Brenda tells Pat “why don’t you just go and buy a new Harley?” Decisions decisions, I could tell Pat was tempted, but he wasn’t given up on his bike. At least not yet. So off to the shop we went. You know it never seems to fail that when you really need something it breaks, or gives you grief. Well to make a long story a little shorter they could not fix the problem and we left empty handed. We got back in time to see the Sandie swarm over the cabins putting the things together that we were going to but got side tracked. Later I heard that Sam told everyone that if they didn’t put the bed frames and stuff together they were going to be sleeping on the floor. Ahhh, ain’t motivation a wonderful thing. One of Pat’s friends lent him their Harley so he would not have to rent one. Now that is a good friend, but I would trust Pat with my bike too, so. Brenda laid out a nice spread for dinner, so we all dug in until we could not walk. Then we just sat around telling lies and catching up with good friends. Saturday morning came early and everyone eventually got moving, drank some coffee, and made preparations to get underway to head to breakfast (for those of you that read this stuff, you noticing a theme? Something to do with food, maybe?). We stopped for gas and Pat left the gas key on his loner Harley at the house, so I waited with him and Brenda until the Brenda’s daughter brought the key. We finally got to the Cajun Village and met up with everyone. While we were eating someone noticed that Chris’s bike had a flat rear tire. Now you know your in good company when the whole group isn’t going to leave the stranded guy until we know he is taken care of, you can’t buy that kind of friendship (you may be able to rent it for a while though). Arrangements were made to get the bike to a shop that was open, and most of the group left for the ride. The day got warmer and it was a beautiful one, one that makes you glad you ride. I have been on these roads before with Pat and Brenda, and I would ride them again and again because they are some really nice roads. We ate lunch at a nice little seafood place, and then we hit the road again. We met up with Chris and his entourage at the bike shop, and they were just finishing up. Talk about good timing. From there we headed back to Pat and Brenda’s place for more food and telling lies. Sunday came, and we had to pack up for the long journey home. We geared up and headed to breakfast (there is that food thing again). We usually stop at Paul’s in Ponchatoula, but Pat lead us to a different place. The food was good and so was the service. We said our goodbyes to Pat and Brenda and headed home. Some of the group headed down the super slab, and the rest followed George. I decided to follow George across the Causeway into New Orleans. The Causeway is a nice trip, but dealing with the I-10 traffic is another story. Needless to say no one got run over but we had some close calls. Finally George exits the super slab into, well lets just say not a very nice part of the city. As we were riding down the road I felt like a piece of meat at a buffet, thinking must go faster, must go faster, and then the inevitable happens……it seems that a beer bottle that was in Dave’s cooler on the back of his Wing fell out after hitting a big bump and shattered right in front of Chris and Mary Ann. And Chris got some glass in his eye, so we had to pull over. Chris and Mary Ann were not having a very good Low Road Tour to say the least. Well Chris got the glass outta his eye and we were on the road again. Luckily there wasn’t any real damage to his eye. So we headed home down some beachfront roads to Mississippi, there we split up and some took the super slab, and some continued on down the beachfront roads. Things I learned: 1. Chris and Mary Ann had some bad luck but kept smiling, I’d ride with them anywhere. 2. If it takes you 463 miles to go 250 you must be a Sandie. 3. Sandie’s are eaters with a riding habbit. 4. 4 day trips are better than 3 day trips. 5. Pat and Brenda are still awesome hosts, thanks for everything. Animal Tina and I started at 5:22 in the evening. Hit the interstate ( high side) set the cruise at 75 on gps 80 speed odometer and 4 house later arrived at pat and brenda's house. After falling over a stump I couldn't see and after the laughter died down we went inside. Great roads, great host and near perfect weather. You have already heard about the adventures. Flat tire, glass , and a turn you could died for. I mean really died for. We were invited back for spring ride. When do we leave? Duk and Tina A good ride! The food was good The ride was good The people were good The couch was good JoeJoe

Reunion Tour 2008 page From 19 June, 2008 to 23 June 2008 the Sandollars rode from Fort Walton Beach, FL to Northeast Tennessee to attend the Martin family reunion and to ride the roads around the area. The following are the Sandollar members accounts in their own words. The Reunion Tour 2008 in Our Own Words In the Early Morning Dawn, Sandies Ride; 5:55 in the morning traveling down hwy 47. The sun slowing picking thru the clouds, as a fog hovers just over the fresh-planted corn. Cool morning, bike humming, what a great morning to ride. Smokehouse is just an hour away. About 55 minutes into the ride guess what, a phone call. My brother is at the wrong place. Yea he was late. Just back from a foreign country heading to another foreign country. That's right Alabama. I mean bless his heart, he don't know what a hen aig is. He doesn’t know what a hen aig is but it didn’t stop him from eating them. Eyes swollen, barely any sleep, but plenty of hunger. Brothers to the end, I mean I couldn't let him eat alone. Ordering another breakfast just seemed liked the right thing to do. Off we go to Tennessee. Interstate the worst way to travel unless you’re in a hurry, and we were. Alot of road to travel. Finally hit the back roads in north Alabama. Friday morning we headed to the Dragon. 318 turns in 11 miles what a ride. After some souvenirs, we hit the hellbender. Joejoe and the Mitchell headed off from the rest of the group. Not wanting to be left behind after I adjusted my camera, I took off after them. That's right I had a video camera. I passed George, Sam, and Jerry, I know George set aside so I could pass, I appreciate it and I headed for the leaders. Not long before Tina and I caught them. Joe on his Hyabusa, Mitchell on his BMW and me and Tina on the 1800. We flew right on by about 500 hundred feet did a front wheel stand and tape them coming head on. I have the tape to prove it. If the tape didn’t run out honest, that's the way it happened. I’ll send u the tape soon as I can. Until then just imagine it in your head and that's the way it happens. The next day we went to the Reunion. Most of us dressed in motorcycle gear. All but George, no George dressed in FISHING PANTS. I know they were fishing pants because a youngster said, "hey George I like those fishing pants". It was great to see all the family and talk about old times. I know I was part of the family because I voted and donated. And the fact that Janet Moody was there. Long lost double third cousin on mother's side, maybe. David Moody Editors Note: David is presently under a Doctors care for Mental Issues; please take his imaginary Journey accordingly. George does exist and is a very good rider, wearing real gear. Editor The 2008 Sandie Reunion Tour The 2008 Reunion Tour started just like most Sandie Road Tours, early ( O dark 30 o’clock) and right on time. The night was clear and cool, almost chilly for this time of year. We rapidly progressed up Hwy 85, P .J. Adams Rd, US 90, up Rte 189 through Andalusia to a new road for me, RT 107. Reaching Greenville for breakfast with an outstanding average of right near 60 mph. Dave and Tina were waiting there and Chris M. caught up with us before we departed. Someone needs to talk to that boy; he should know that a BMW never arrives late. He must have thought he was still on a V-Rod and made a few gas stops. One word about the café, they make the best “hub cap” sized biscuits you’ve ever seen, but don’t order a grilled ham & cheese sandwich. A grilled cheese runs $3.75, add the ham to it and it costs $8.50. Musta’ been a prize winning pig. Another gas stop at Gadsden then on to Chattanooga, Tenn. After a total of 427 miles for the day... We stayed at the Main Stay Suites, very nice rooms with a completely equipped kitchen. Had a super supper at the Texas Roadhouse. They gave me two delicious pork chops so big that I had to bring one home for a midnight snack and still couldn’t finish it. Almost forgot, Skwirrel and Steve G were just missed by an idiot driver who proceeded to wipe out another bike right in front of them. They stopped to help and luckily, the rider didn’t seem badly hurt. The car’s driver biggest concern was that he wouldn’t make it to a store before they closed. Left the next morning after a hotel breakfast for a bunch of “twisties”, ending at Deals Gap. It was as curvy as ever and crowded with all the GW’s from the annual Honda Hoot at Knoxville. There were quite a few State Police there also and they weren’t shy about chasing down anyone they felt were unsafe. After we stopped at the “Crossroads of Time” café on Deals Gat, we continued down Rte 28 known as the “Hellbender”. This is a great ride with wider, smoother roads with many “sweeper” type curves without all the traffic, cops, and crowds—highly recommended. Leaving there, we went through many, many small villages connected by interesting roads until reaching Maggie Valley. There we had the most confusing part of the ride with 3 or 4 people trying to decide where to eat with everyone else in the middle not on cob’s making 5 or 6 u-turns and a few stops before settling down at a great home-style cooking buffet. After lunch, we went to a museum with motorcycles of all ages and types. Our Road Boss did manage to get a 50% discount for all of us (after his shirt got him a 100% discount!). Even at full price it still would have been a good deal, the owner even did a burn out and high speed run on an antique bike down the aisles of the museum (although part of the bikes chain guard fell off). Leaving there, we proceeded to Elizabethton, Tenn(our destination) with a total of 720 miles in two days. Arriving there was the most pleasant surprise of the trip. On a slight rise about 40 yards from the Watauga River was our home. They were called Bee Cliff Cabins and some were cabins, but our place was a fully equipped house with 3 bedrooms on the top floor, 2 bedrooms on the lower with 2 living rooms. 3 baths and 2 kitchens. We were met by Sam’s Mom, Dad and brother with his wife. There were 2 BBG’s stoked up for a great cookout. The next day we rode the Snake/421. I believe this is more fun than the Dragon. In Shady Valley, there is a biker store/café/gathering place. Within 12 miles of the store, there are 489 curves. They have a sticker that says it all “Dragon Smagon, in the playground there be twisties”. Highlite of the day was a reunion that included 4 or 5 generations of relatives and 9 traveling freeloaders with a table that must have been 50 feet long crammed full of some of the best home cooking and desserts you’ve ever seen. JoJo and I were in heaven. All the folks were the most open, friendly people I’ve ever met... When I was asked who I was by an attractive elder lady, I answered that “I was an out of state freeloader” she said “Freeloader or not, you still have to give me a hug.” A real sweetheart, she turned out to be Sam’s aunt. We left he next morning (Sunday) traveling south mostly on twisties down through North Carolina almost to Georgia before heading west to Chattanooga. Other than an hour or two of on again/off again rain, it was a great run. Sam & George left us there as they had an appointment the next day. The rest of us ran south to Gadsden for fuel then everyone except Chris M. and I stopped nearby for the night. He and I pressed on getting to Prattville, Al about ½ hour before sunset. I was surprised to find even with the gas stops, two lane twisties and rain, we traveled 521 miles that day. After sleeping in and having a hotel breakfast, I left for home. After a small mishap in Georgiana, I made it into Niceville just before noon for a well-deserved foot long chili cheese dog and strawberry shake at DQ. All told, 41/2 days and 1623 miles of great riding, it doesn’t get much better than that. Jerry G (The Comb) A Skwirrel’s Journey How to write about an absolutely fantastic trip to TN the Sandie way I can only hope to do it justice through my description. We gather in the o'dark thirty hours of the morn. Ride up toward the freeway via the backroads hooray! So much better! We stop at a nice place to eat called the Smokehouse. Meet up with the rest of the Sandies. Take a bit of freeway then we all head off to the backroads up Lookout Mint AL through Lookout Mint GA to Lookout Mint TN. How cool is that! Descend the mountain and onto the freeway where 24 and 75 sort of smish together...at 5 PM ewww. Since we all knew where the hotel was, we didn't have to keep together as usual. Plus, the cars wouldn't let you in the lane when you need to merge anyway. Im sure y’all know how it is.. blinker on until you think the battery would die.. as you use you eyes like a chameleon to look forward backward and sideways... get a slight opening to merge the bike into the lane some yahoo fills it in as your bike is almost half in the lane. Traffic comes to a sudden halt, but the yahoo who is cutting in line across the 3 lanes cuts right in front of a bike that happens to be coming up in the fast lane...on Steve's left. The idiot clips the biker's front tire and causes him to "lay her down". Here the miracles abound. 1..the car in back of the biker stopped on a dime and didn't run over him 2..no pieces of bike went into Steve's lane the would have compromised his riding 3..the rider was able to friggin' stand up afterwards! Welcome to friggin' Chattanooga! Later on Steve and I make it to the hotel and were able to resume the fun with the Sandies. Next day we all head out to the Gap....Oh my gawd!!!!!! After living in FL for decades, the definition of "hills" is so much different than mine. Like a roller coaster ride, there's up and up then UUUUUPPPPPPPP!!!!! I swear I could hear the ominous sounds the coaster makes as it slowly rolls upward before it drops like a rock down the track. Here we go! Can't scream ..too busy holding on! Heeding the advice I was given earlier..."don't daydream ,don't sightsee pay only attention to the road".. oh yeah and pay no mind to the tire marks and blood stains on that sharp curve. Go granny Go! Make it all the way down and see the Sandies waiting.. smiling, congratulating. Woohoo! Into the shop to buy my red badges of courage! I swear I felt so full of...testosterone!!!! A few things I learned afterwards...engine braking is a good thing and just because the picture of the Gap on a map is flat does not mean that it is! Was like doing Uturns on a hill. We did it and no one left anything for the Tree of Shame. A great ride! We all go to the cabins.. so nicely set in a serene country setting. I loved it. Sam's kinfolk come in and we are treated to grilled supper and great company. Was so nice watching Sam and her brothers and parents having a good time visiting. They are some really great folks!! The next day we all get led through another animal's body part. The Snake. Nice rolling curves. Everything is so pretty. We all go to the re union greeted by some really nice kinfolks. One cool dude there was attired in star shaped Elton John glasses and court jesters hat! That night we are treated to George's culinary arts and some of Jerry's Capt Morgan. Next morning it's time to say goodbye and head home. Wonderful place to be. Had a wonderful time with wonderful people. The route home was not a straight line.. and that's what makes it so much fun. I have to say this...if it weren't for being in the Sandies club, I know I would have not seen or experienced as many things that we have seen. It's a blast and I’m so glad to be a member Sharron (Skwirrel, Da Queen, et .al.) The NOT ride This is a biggest NOT ride I've ever been on. First of all, I wanted to take my big touring bike, a Harley Electraglide Ultra Classic on this 1600-mile trip but noooooooooo, some person who will remain nameless says I just gotta take the Hayabusa Sportbike. So the first NOT is NOT riding the Harley Touring bike on the Reunion Tour. Then comes the next NOT. This is Summer, this is June, this is the hottest time of the year....NOT! We leave Fort Walton at NOT light out time and only about 63 degrees. Guess what? It drops to the 50's by the time we get to the Alabama line. So when we stop (for my second breakfast of the day) at the Smoke House it is NOT dark anymore. Then we proceed to hit the road again it is NOT cold anymore. Somehow, it magically warms up to acceptable temperatures, the 80's NOT the 60's or 50's. When we get to the motel that evening, it is NOT very far from the Steak House. So what's a hungry Sandie to do? NOT give up a chance to eat a steak dinner is what! That is when that nameless person drops the Sandie Coin at dinner and I did NOT have my coin on my person, it was NOT very far away in my jacket pocket in my hotel room! The following morning we leave again almost before NOT light again. Next, stop Deal Gap! So there I am on a 160HP super-Sportbike ready to slay the Dragon, NOT. Seems the Tennessee Highway patrol had other ideas. The fourth curve into the DRAGON there are 4 police cars ready to escort anyone that needs it. So I end up massaging the Dragon instead of slaying it. Can you say "30MPH"? Stopping at the Gap store, we do some shopping for t-shirts and stuff. I took some photos of the Tree of Shame. Glad we did NOT leave any mementos on it! We also took a bunch of pictures with the Sandollar Banner. Guess what? I did NOT forget to leave room in the photos so I could Photoshop us all in the same picture, including the photographer. So after NOT eating any food at the GAP we head down the mountain. When we get down to the bottom, we did NOT see two of our group following us so we pulled over and waited for them. It was NOT a long wait and we had time to take more photos. Our next stop is the Wheels Through Time museum. That is one place you do NOT want to miss. If you wear your Sandollar Club patches and stuff, you may even get in free and NOT pay any entrance fee like George did. Seems the Museum is planning to move to Arizona in the NOT too distant future so don't wait too long to visit them. After the museum, we headed through the hills to get to the cabin. Seems that when we got there the keys to the front door were NOT available. So jumping for joy our intrepid group danced on the front porch, NOT! We did have a nice BBQ style cookout that evening and an empty belly was NOT found anywhere in the neighborhood. The following morning under a bright sunny sky, (NOT) we headed to the SNAKE, highway 421. Had a good time following the Martin brothers (our intrepid guides) along parts of the Snake under an overcast and sometimes drizzly sky. I only had one problem. We were headed to a feast at the Martin reunion but riding the Snake was just too much fun, so I could NOT figure out which one I wanted to do more. We ended up fashionably late to the food but it seems that the meal was held up and we did NOT miss a thing! NOT a bad way to end a morning's ride. Again, NOT and empty belly was found in the neighborhood. I was NOT feeling very chipper after the feast (seems it was naptime) so I and a few others headed back to the cabin via the local Harley shop. When we got to the shop, we hung out for about an hour and then used Steve's wonderful GPS machine to get back to the cabin real quick, NOT! Seems his little GPS toy likes to take the scenic routes through some lovely trailer parks and such. So ends another great day, NOT! Seems we have to eat some more food before we call it a day. Can you say "NOT and empty belly was found in the neighborhood" again? The following morning we start the day off by visiting the Watauga Dam just up the hill from the cabin. I'm glad we did NOT run into the two deer standing in the middle of the road on the way up to the dam. We NOT only took more pictures, we talked to some hikers and observed the beautiful scenery. While riding down from the dam we did NOT forget to visit the little Church In The Wildwood and take some more pictures. Then it was another short downward ride to the Martin estate to say our goodbyes to our hosts and of course, we did NOT forget to take more pictures. We also did NOT forget to stop at the Huddle House for breakfast. Again, "NOT and empty belly was found in the neighborhood". Heading back to the south was NOT a bad ride either. We found some NOT so traveled and NOT so well known roads with all kinds of nice twists and turns to enjoy. All in all this was NOT a bad ride and I would NOT have missed this ride for anything. Joejoe UP AROUND THE BEND (AND AROUND THE NEXT BEND AND THE NEXT AND THE NEXT--) Why does George always make these trips sound so fun and simple? “Come on”, he says, ‘join us on the reunion tour. It will be loads of fun, lots of twisties, the Dragon’s Tail, the Snake, the Chameleons Tail, the Dogs Leg, the Chickens Beak” and a few more I think he just made up names for. “A nice days ride, a good hotel to rest in, good company and then a short run to the Dragon’s Tail.” Sure, it sounded so simple and fun. And mostly it was. He also mentioned in passing “oh-it’s going to be hot so dress cool”. That last as an after thought I think. Or maybe more of a disclaimer. And then of course “did I mention we will be leaving really early? Like 5AM early?” Sure, now the truth starts to leak out. But being a Sandie, I’m up with Skwirrel at the appointed time at the appointed place with a big bunch of Sandies headed north to the first stop. It was deliciously cool outside. A wonderful temperature to ride in. High 60’s to low 70’s for several hours. However, as we stopped for breakfast at the Smokehouse restaurant near I-65 (yes, fellow Sandies, this trip would include a lot of the dreaded and much avoided Interstate Highway System, a necessary evil for Sand Dollars when time is of the essence), it started to get a bit warm. Mitchell joined up at the Restaurant after an errant stop by him at the wrong Smokehouse. Filled up, rested and eager to ride, we went outside and found the temperatures had climbed to the low 80’s and was going higher. Nevertheless, we headed out through Montgomery, through Birmingham, and up past Gadsden. Off the super slab into the hills, some simply nice rides to start out. As the Sandies got closer to Chattanooga, the roads got twistier. Is twistier a real word? Who cares, they got more twistier the closer we got because we were riding the spine of Lookout Mountain up through Georgia, Alabama, into Tennessee. Great roads. And only one Sandie really knew where we were. Can you guess which one? Sam? Nope, George? Not a clue, Me? Totally clueless as well. The answer will soon be revealed. Climbing the rest of the way to the top of Lookout Mountain, we circled Point Park, the site of a Civil War battle known as the “battle above the clouds”. Up and down and around and around we went. The reason we were going in circles is because Skwirrel, the Queen herself, was leading us. Now you may ask just why she is in the lead instead of our intrepid director of directions, George. Because she was giving us the grand tour of her childhood home, that’s why. It seems she grew up on the mountain, looking down on her soon to be royal subjects in the unsuspecting town below. She was the only one who knew where she was for sure and what was around the next corner. Of course she ditched us soon and we had to send out a search party. Mitchell cornered her and we all got behind George again as we started to slide down the mountain. Just a note here folks. If you are not up on your hills skills, don’t even attempt this feat. Switchbacks, tight right and left hand turns, steep, and I mean STEEP, downhill all the way to the bottom. Lots of brake smells on the way down from our crowd and the other vehicles headed down too. Arriving at the foot of the mountain, we gassed up and off onto the Super Slab we went on the way to the motel. As Skwirrel and I were held up by a bit of traffic, we got on late. The others were about a half mile ahead and traffic was horrendous on this road. If you don’t have to go through this town (Chattanooga) during rush hour, then please go around it. A silver Toyota pickup comes off the On-ramp, barely misses Skwirrels rear tire, I brake hard to miss him and he continues on to the next lane. Thirty seconds later another biker on a 02 VStar passes me. Just in time to get taken out by the pickup changing lanes. The VStar tumbles, the rider tumbles, Skwirrel goes to the right shoulder and stops, I hit the brakes, cut into the left shoulder and prepare to pickup the pieces. Surprisingly, the guy on the bike sits up and then stands before I get to him. He’s mad and takes off his beanie style helmet. There’s a chunk out of the top of the helmet by the way. He has a t-shirt, jeans and leather vest on. No gloves or heavy boots. He has a couple of minor abrasions on his elbows and otherwise seems ok. He had also bounced off a small red import car that, fortunately, stopped just before it ran over him. Traffic is blocked; Skwirrel is chasing down the pickup, which incidentally, had also stopped on her side of the road. The guy in the pickup tells her “well, the store closes in 15 minutes” and “I guess this means points on my license”. No Sh#@#6t Sherlock. He sits and waits for the cops at least. Once the cops and ambulance, etc get there, the statements are all taken the bike is awaiting a trailer and off we go to join the others at the motel. Traffic is still horrendous and now we are especially vigilant. The hotel is a refreshing break for the evening as we relax. George was right, good company was there. All the Sandies who headed up that way and Dr Cycle Therapist, Terry C his own self, with his wife, were there also. Off to dinner, a nice steak, and a few libations for those desiring such and lots of fun. Returning to the hotel, Skwirrel meets some old friends (did I mention she grew up there?) and off to the steakhouse they go again for some further libations. More fun to be had by all. I went to bed exhausted. And that was just the first of the five day trip. The second day we got underway and up the Super Slab we went again. Soon we were off the big concrete ribbon and onto the smaller, twistier, more fun, asphalt sections in the state. Suddenly we were upon it. The Dragon. Skwirrel took her time, handled the curves very well, albeit slower than most. Head turns, braking and entering curves all went well. Being way behind, we stopped for a breather near the top, talked to a few folks and took a few pics. Soon we were passing the area where they stand and take pictures of everyone passing by. We also noted several police type vehicles standing around. Seems that every time a group of bikes came by that looked like they could go fast, the LEO’s took off and followed them. Did I mention the speed limit on the Dragon is now 30mph? Did I mention they have already had more fatalities on this road so far this year than all of last year together? Seems they are doing their best to limit the squids from committing suicide. Not to mention the cruiser riders who think they can keep up with the Busa’s and ZX14’s. Safety was the word of the day for Sandies. Only one Sandie had anything close to a close shave. But I won’t mention Dave M’s name here. At the bottom of the hill shopping was the order of the day as the lady Sandies hit the store for appropriate souvenirs. And trust me on this folks, there were plenty of things to buy to remember ones trip. Decision’s Decisions decisions. Skwirrel and the others, some of the guys too, got the loot and off we went. More awesome roads as we headed to the Wheels Through Time Museum. You just know you are in a classy place when you see a 12 foot high chopper (that runs) sitting outside. Inside, George bribes the owner with a Sandie coin. It works; we all get in half price. Once inside the owner walks over to a Crocker, fires it up in three kicks, rides it around the inside of the museum and then does a burnout half the length of the building. Like George said. “I guess if you own the place you can do that.” Indeed, several times throughout the time there, bikes were started up. Bikes older than even me. Or George. And even a couple older than Jerry. Outstanding exhibits everywhere. Not enough time to really appreciate it but perhaps some other day when we are not in a hurry to get where we are going. Speaking of where we were going, we arrived at the lodge soon after. Beautiful place, on a hill overlooking a river with trout fisherman wading, a nice twisty road going further up the hill overlooking Lake Wautauga and a beautiful view! It just doesn’t get any better than that folks. A big delicious cookout and to bed we all go. No, not to just one bed. Quit thinking like that! Shame on you! Rested and ready we head out the next day for a ride through the hills guided by Sam’s brothers. They are really good guides and we hit the road named the “Snake”. It was a fun road, not as challenging as the Dragon and not as tight in the turns. No problem, Skwirrel had lots more fun on this road. Not because of any lack on her part but it just wasn’t as intense as the road the day before. All of us enjoyed the ride and mid day we attended Sam’s family reunion, hence the name of the ride being the “Reunion Tour”. Some fine folks and fine fried chicken was there. We enjoyed the day and the food and the folks. I’ve got to say, Sam’s family was very friendly to a bunch of bikers in off the road. Thank them all for us Sam. Back to the motel for some of us while some others went to see the “Blue Hole”. I have no idea what it looks like because even though pictures were shown, none of them resembled a blue hole in anything. Maybe someone has an actual picture of it they are hoarding? Sunday we all packed up and headed towards Chattanooga again. Once again we encountered some very enjoyable roads on the way. Even the mountain road with gravel on every turn was fun. But the fun was cut a bit short as rain moved in. After a rest at a truck stop we headed out on the super slab again for awhile. Soon though, we were hitting the more local roads. Not twisties per se, but fun and scenic nonetheless. As we neared Chattanooga, Skwirrel, myself, JoeJoe, Mitchell and Jerry decided we did not want to face the heavy Monday morning rush hour of Chattanooga. We continued on another hour past there and found a Holiday Inn Express to hole up in. Jerry and Mitchell kept on the road and I hear they made it to Prattville that evening. The rest of us had a nice supper and headed out the next morning. We averaged 75mph headed down the Interstate towards home, stopping for gas and once to eat at the same Smokehouse restaurant we stopped at on the way up. Refreshed and refilled we hit the road to the house. Only two hours away, we took our time and arrived back home around 4pm. The pets were all still alive, some minor indiscretions by the kids while we were gone and most of all, we rested in our own beds. There’s no place like home, no matter how enjoyable the trip. Can’t wait till the next one! SPCTRESTEVE My Journey Of Re-Discovery I will let Jerry G and Steven G gives you the day to day, I was there stuff. For me this trip was all about a renewal, a back to why I love Motorcycling. In this time of change, it was nice to rediscover the joy of riding with friends on sweeping roads, topping a hill and the next valley is spread out in front of you and the road you’re following flows downhill and disappears into the trees. Riding with Sandies that had never been to East Tennessee helped make this renewal happen, the excitement was infectious. No matter how bad the traffic in Cherokee, no matter how many U-turns in Maggie Valley (9), everyone just had fun. Even the people you ride with add to the whole timber of the Road. Well, the Mitchell and the Duck added to the level of fun. The people you meet along the way if they ride a Motorcycle, you have an instant bond. It was all about watching Sam with her family and watching them interact with the Sandies. Like The Duck voting on Martin family business since he did contribute money to next years family reunion. The time one of the more eccentric Aunts wanted to know what side of the family he was from and he remarked to the effect “he was here from Florida to eat the free Lunch and she remarked that she hoped he had enough to eat. It was watching The Sandies roaming around The Wheels in Time Museum and they really understood the significance of the exhibits. It was listening to the conversations around a meal table and how everything revolved around those motorcycles outside and the journey still to come . It was watching the expression on JoeJoe’s face when he realized that he had left his Sandie coin at the Hotel. It was Skwirrel’s smile when she pulled into the Store at Deals Gap after running the Dragon. This was a Journey for me, it helped me rediscover what I had come to love about Motorcycling: The Roads, The Friends, The adventure and how that adventure is as close as 5 miles or 350 miles away. George The reunion tour 2008. I rode, I saw, I liked Good bike, good friends (ok riding acquaintances), and good roads Sore butt, sore legs, sore brain and one Alabama ticket for "not doing a good enough stop" The End The Mitchell

The Capital City Challenge ride for 2008 is in the history books and for those who were unable to attend, you missed a great ride. The morning we left started off dreary, overhead clouds threatened to rain on us. The merry group of riders who again follow our fearless Road Captain George into unknown adventures were ready, willing and able to ride. Ok, maybe not all were able to ride; some of us make attempts at it. Anyway we hit the trail going down onto Hwy 98; we headed for Panama City where we then ran up 331 to Hwy 20. The Rain still ever looming, we trudged on. Arriving in Tallahassee around 11 am, we located the mall and the Motorcycle Cop Competition. Folks if you have never seen this done before, you are missed something extraordinary. The way those guys handle those bikes is awe inspiring. After watching the competition, we headed to the hotel. After some problems with mine and Jerry’s reservations, (booked at the wrong hotel by accident and trying to deal with a real jerk to get it canceled so could stay with everyone else) we got into our rooms and unloaded our bags. We then went for a ride on a beautiful street shaded with moss hanging trees. There were lots of wonderful curves to lean the bikes into. We then stopped at this little country store where they make homemade sausage. The Sandies being the food whores we are, decided it was time for a little snack. I ordered a 6” sausage with mustard and a tea to wash it down. That sausage was the best tasting sausage I have ever had. After a little while there, we got back on our trusty steeds and headed back to the hotel and dinner. Dinner was at a steak house next to the hotel. The place was quite elegant, the atmosphere, cozy, the food…….AWESOME! We shared many appetizers amongst the group and Lee (Rocketman) was gracious enough to share his Spicy Thai Shrimp. It was fantastic. After dinner some of us retired to our rooms for the night, others seemed to have a wild brew ha-ha in the parking lot. I’m sure George will write about that in his article. Sunday morning arrived with a slight chill in the air. We loaded up our gear ate breakfast at the hotel and headed out for another day of misadventures. Our first stop of the morning was in the town of Cairo. No not Egypt, Cairo Georgia or Florida, not sure what state we were in then. Cairo is the birthplace of baseball legend Jackie Robinson. Nice town to visit. Our next stop was then in a place that is near and dear to many a heart, CLIMAX! Yes, you read it right, we had a visit to Climax on the trip. Now before your perverted little minds start to wonder, it was Climax Georgia, not some seedy hotel room or dirty little book store. We only lasted a minute in Climax then we were off again to Lake Seminole and a country buffet at Wingate’s restaurant. The food there was awesome and the wait staff was full of humor as it seems they like to give my tea order to someone else each time I would order. The waitress kept saying something about not staying in my seat after I ordered it is why she kept giving it away. We had a good laugh over this and when I was getting some desert, she came up and gave me a hug and thanked me for making her day. With our bellies full, we headed for home. We had more location to visit on our adventure, Fallen Water State Park to see the tallest waterfall in the state! If you ask my opinion, it is the only waterfall in the state. We hit the road hard and put down some miles. When we got into Chipley, we easily made our way to the park, paid our $2 dollars to get in and went to see the waterfall. George has been going to this place for 50 years and has never seen water flowing over the falls. We hiked down to the falls and with all the rain that we have received lately, it was spectacular! The falls are73 feet high and there were a beautiful rainbow in the mist. We took pictures, Becky and Cool hand Luke (Not Luck) acted like a couple of young kids smooching under the falls. We had to remind Becky that this wasn’t Niagara Falls. After all the hoop-law settled down, we made our way back to the bikes loaded up and rode back to hwy 90 and the final leg home. Once in Defuniak Springs, some of us stopped for gas and the others pressed onwards to the final destinations. The trip was one I will remember for a long time, the laughing, the roads, and yes the food were all incredible. We are lucky that we have such a talented and adventuress club to ride with! I can’t wait for next year!!!!!!!!!!!! Keith D (RL) ---------------- I survived my first overnight trip with the Sandies. WOW. I have to say I had some stressful times. Where do I start? I guess it would be Saturday Morning. I thought The Mitchell told me that the group stops about every hour to get gas and to use the bathroom. So about 45 mins into the trip it was time for me to use the bathroom. I’m thinking I have about another 15 mins and then we will stop. I had to unbutton and unzip my pants to relieve the pressure on my bladder. I sure thought I was going to have to pull over. Only problem is I would have gotten lost since I didn’t know the route that we were taking. Some where around 45 mins later we stop and I thought I was going to not make it to the restroom. Thank god I was the first girl to get to the bathroom. One of the guys said I came out of the bathroom with a big smile on my face. From then on I was pretty good on the restroom. Ok now to Red lights. I’m not sure how many red lights I had to run to stay with the group. I know I know. Your saying well if you would of rode on Mitchell’s BMW rather than driving your own four wheeled BMW you wouldn’t have had to worry about that. RIGHT? I know you are. LOL Ok now to the anxiety I had two cars get between me and Steve, he was the last bike in the group. And I just knew that the light would turn yellow and Steve would go and the car in front of me wouldn’t go and I would be stuck. Ok now to the Police. I found out that the Sandies don’t know how to drive the speed limit. The speed limit was like 45 mph and we were going anywhere from 60 to 80 miles an hour. And then my radar detector started going off. I knew I was going to get busted. I could only imagine what that ticket would cost, 80 in a 45. I think I would have been taken to jail. Thank god that that was a blue day and I didn’t have on all my pink Harley stuff because I can only imagine what the girls in jail would of done to me. LOL. Thank goodness at the end at 331 in Defuniak we stopped at the gas station because a Highway Patrol was so ready to pull us over. Then on the way home we broke off from the group and The Mitchell wanted to see how fast he could drive his bike he left me in the dust. What a nice guy.. HUH Ok now to the good stuff. It was interesting watching the Police do the challenge and watching them drop their bikes. I had no clue how they picked the bikes up after they dropped them. I learned from the event. Thank you to The Mitchell for buying a new helmet so I could ride with the group to Bradley’s Country Store. That was a great ride. It was beautiful seeing the Canopy roads. Thank goodness we got to the store when we did. They weren’t too happy to see us there they keeps saying we are closing. I’m sure they like the money we spent. They have awesome smoked sausage. Dinner was nice. It was great having everyone at dinner. Jerry didn’t make it to dinner I understand he was in his room with his Captain Morgan. Waiting on his bed for Sharron and Steve. He missed a great dinner. My Prime Rib was yummy. Thanks to Steve for the Coin Challenge. When he threw his coin down. I played it off like I didn’t have one. But you have to remember who my boyfriend is *The Mitchell* do you really think he would let me go without a coin. So thank you Steve for my Key Lime Martini it was so yummy I wish I had a picture of The Mitchell’s face when he took a drink of it. I only needed one and I was buzzed. After that The Mitchell and I went back to the room and tried out the Jacuzzi.. NICE.. I’m kind of bummed that we weren’t apart of the drama the rest of the Sandies had at their hotel. From what George said the police got called because the girls were getting wild singing outside. The girls would be (Miss Tina, Mrs. Lisa, Sharron, and Sam.) And what I understand is that George was also a part of it. I’m sorry we missed out on your guy’s fun. On Sunday we missed breakfast because we had to get on the road but we had a good lunch at the Fish Camp. And I learned to use the bathroom every chance I could after the Saturday morning event. Just when I thought the trip was over and we were on our way home. We stopped at the Falling Waters State Park. We got to see a Beautiful water fall with a rainbow. That was really nice. It was interesting seeing the sink holes. George said that he has been to see the waterfall for over 50 years and that was the first time there was actually a waterfall. Since we had a lot of rain the water was really flowing. I can’t wait for the next trip. This one took us 4 ½ hours to get to Tallahassee and 7 hours to get home. It was fun. I want to thank everyone that went. The Mitchell, Steve, Sharron, David M., Will, Lee, Keith, Joe, Jerry, Sam, George, David Moody, and Tina for making me feel welcomed to the group. Since I was a Virgin on this trip. Becky ---------------------- One More O-Dark-30 get up for an overnight trip to the Capital City Challenge to watch the real Bike Pros show their stuff. This was the fourth one I’ve been lucky enough to see and still can’t believe how they herd those Hogs. The course was one of the best, with four separate layouts run consecutively with the clock running the whole time. Even practicing 8 hours a day, unlimited funds to cover Clutch and Brake repairs, I still couldn’t make it. We left there, took one of Tallahassee famous “Canopy Roads” to Bradley’s Country Store and one of the best smoked sausage sammiches ever. Next day, it was a perfect day to ride. In typical Sandie fashion we went to Ga, back to Fla. Then back to Ga, again. Had lunch, a super Buffet, at the Lunker Lodge on Lake Seminole. Great ride home from there, perfect weather and a full belly. Thanks to 2 No-Doz, I didn’t even need a nap. My personal high point was Skwirrell’s reaction when I told her I really felt sorry for the Tallahassee Female Motor Officer. When Skwirrell asked “why?’ I said that if she had killed 2 more cones she would have made “Ace”. Jerry --------------- Ok let's skip the getting there part, let's move right on over to the police competition. Now to watch these officers handle these big bikes was pretty awesome. I mean foot pegs scrapping, motor mounts protecting the motor. I thought when we left it would be the last we would see of the officers...I thought wrong. We left the mall; I don't know how many bikes. But there was this one, reddish looking lots of seats, tires, Four Doors or maybe two, had a name very similar to a German Marque. But it wasn't a trike, but still more than a trike. This more than a trike followed Mitchell. Maybe someone took a picture you decide what it is. Checked in at the hotel freshen up and off riding. You know the drill. Beautiful roads great people, wonderful time. Back to the hotel and then to eat. Thought party time was over, we watch Squirrel drink fifteen long island teas ( Well maybe only a couple, but that wouldn’t make for a great story), but noooooo. Get to the hotel and Hippie John and his sibling (a former Top Officer of The Sandies) no more names mentioned, are playing loud music. Squirrel not her real name, was there and two someone’s who ride on the back (names begin with Tina and Lisa). Again no real names mentioned to protect the innocent...it ain't them. George and myself was there trying to keep some order. No such luck. Remember the officers...you decide. Dave M --------------------- My first overnighter as a Sandie, must admit I was a bit nervous since my first day ride, the Ed’s Red from Hell Ride (ERfHR) was, well, let’s just say memorable, and with the two prior days of nothing but rain, surely it couldn’t be worse but I figured what the heck and packed for the short overnighter. Saturday morning, leave time 0700hrs – I’m not a morning person and never will be – plus the weather was damp, cloudy and cool. Everyone mounts up and we head off east on 98 towards Panama City. For whatever reason, un-luck of the draw, I’m leading the second group. Mitchell would later comment that he’s figured out my new nickname – RL 2 ‘cause I’ve caught EVERY red light through Destin, San Destin and beyond (Sorry Keith). Anyway, as we press on through the misty rain and slick roads, the sky looks like it could open up anytime (thoughts of the ERfHR keep popping up). Thankfully, it never does and we keep riding East. I’m doing my best to set a modest pace when Rocket blasts by, as Skwirrel put it, the “fly by”. At the next light – yep, caught another one – I ask skwirrel if the pace is ok and she said you’re doing fine. We make Tallahassee and find the Mall to watch the Motorcycle competition. Enough police officers to make even an honest man nervous, but the competition was impressive and everyone enjoyed it. The highlight for me was watching them pickup the heavy HDs after the drop, and one officer tossing the cone that he was dragging over his shoulder in disgust. About 2:45, Sam tells us we’re heading out to check into the hotel and go for a short ride – which was fine with us. We arrive at the hotel and everyone gets checked in ok except Jerry and RL – read their story for more on this. Anyway, we settle into our rooms, then, meet outside for the afternoon ride. George takes us down a nice, shaded winding road, a perfect end of day ride, arrive at this little country store that’s famous for it’s smoked sausages. After confirming that we are having dinner at a steak house, I settle for a honey bun instead to satisfy my sweet tooth. That night for dinner, after everyone is seated, we notice that MacRocket is missing. I go back to his room only to find that he’s already at the restaurant but somehow missed us being seated. All I can say is the food was terrific – prime rib outstanding. Was entertaining to watch Skwirrel and her 3 long island teas (she kept insisting she wasn’t driving), and every one else enjoying the perfect atmosphere. Steve did a coin check only to have it backfire on him, he didn’t mind and everyone gave him a break – oh well, good times indeed. We get back to the hotel and I later hear a party broke out…heard someone almost got tossed out of the hotel…you’ll have to ask George the details. Next day, Sunday was absolutely beautiful for the ride home. George cut us a break by making our first and only u-turn early in the ride. We rode through scenic back roads but I knew we were in trouble when we all rode into Climax, Ga, the stories started, (wonder if I can mount a cb on my Sabre), had an early lunch at Lake Seminole, saw some impressive sink holes and the highest (an only?) waterfall in Florida, then on home. Oh, while still leading the second group, seems we get separated again due to me catching EVERY stop light through some town on 90 W. Definitely a great ride with some of the best people I’d ever hope to ride with. Already looking forward to the next, but you may want to think twice before letting me lead another group. Joe R (aka RL 2) ------------------- The Four State Tour: Capital City Challenge 2008 Well we left at 0700 hours (that is 7 am for you non-military people.) We started down highway 98 enroute to Tallahassee. Now there are three ways to measure direction in Sandollar terms. There is the most direct route by road, the path the crow’s fly, and then the George Engler route. The Engler route is unpredictable and never, never, never direct and straight forward and that is what we got on the roads to Tallahassee and back to Fort Walton Beach. We had a good group and if I remember this was the most on a trip to Tallahassee we have ever had. The main focus of the trip was to watch the Capital City Challenge. But first we had to get there. We picked up Rocketman further down 98 and then proceeded on to a road not fit for a tank let alone a motorcycle. It reminded me of some pot-holed road from Western Pennsylvania or West Virginia. I got hit by road debris at least two times. After this short (20 miles out of 450 plus) the rest of the roads were pure riding roads. For anyone wanting to experience the best roads in Florida for motorcycle riding, then the canopy roads just north of Tallahassee must be rated as some of the Florida’s best in terms of scenic beauty. The rolling tree curtained roads bordered by farms and horse ranches make this trip to the Capital City worth it every time. The Capital City Challenge is worth the experience just in seeing what can be accomplished by good riders on good motorcycles (what? did they ride both Harley-Davidson and BMW machines.) Now who in their right mind would own both brands of bikes? We as Sandollars do skills…but these riders DO SKILLS ten times up. Even seeing motorcycles being dropped does not diminish the accomplishments of these riders, male and female alike. Well worth watching. We then went on a short ride to one of the Sandollar landmarks. Like the old store in Burnt Corn, Bradley’s Country Store is an icon in our trip books. Bradley’s is a quaint little store that specializes in the homemade smoked and fresh sausages. Along the way to the store is one of the most unusual yards I have ever seen and most of the riders probably miss it on every trip to Bradley’s. It is partially hidden by a small tree line off to the left as we travel through the outskirts of North Tallahassee. It has a huge American Flag flying but even more unusual are the statutes of whales and dolphins in the yard. One whale has a water fountain shooting out of its blow hole. I told Becky before hand to get her camera ready for the picture. She got a great picture of this. Dinner as usual at Marie Livingston’s was fantastic. They serve some of the best prime rib in the state. I had the grouper, which was also very good. I also had a pork chop from George’s plate and that might get my vote on our next trip to Tallahassee. Wingate Landing is another of those food icon places in Sandollar lore. A simple country buffet that is just over the Georgia line at the base of Lake Seminole. The trip home was another Engler route that of course varied from the planned excursion, but again well worth any diversions that we did. Falling Waters State park is another one of those unique experiences that needs to be seen in the state of Florida. The state of Florida and the state of Georgia are two of the four states alluded to in the title of this writing. The remaining two states: since we traveled through Climax, Georgia that makes the state of ecstasy, and then the standard Sandollar state of confusion. Chris “Cool Hand” the Mitchell --------------------------- Thoughts From the Road 1. George’s GPS always leads us to water (a.k.a. rain) Note to Sandies: we need to reprogram that sucker to find sunshine 2. Just when you think all the gremlins are worked out of your bike they attack 3. RL in the number six position on the first group is bad news for the second group 4. Dodging potholes is a good skills lesson 5. George knows where to find sausage, even in Tallahassee 6. When the president does a coin challenge he loses (thanks for the beer Steve) 7. Sandies eat at the best places 8. No pole dance this year but the police were very polite (so I’m told, I was in my room) 9. Sunday is just a great day to ride when the Sun is out 10. Becky takes a LOT of pictures 11. Mitchell can tell what is wrong with you just by eating your food 12. After 40 years George finally got to see the waterfall 13. Georgia has weird town names 14. A bunch of Sandies entering Climax (Ga, get you mind outta the gutter) one right after the other is a weird sight. 15. Signs in Climax (yeah I can’t stop writing it) Enter: Ya’ll come, Leaving: Ya’ll come again. Not to mention the Climax Community Group (I’ll bet they have fun) 16. There is no place like home 17. If you are going to ride, ride with people you like (or that you can make fun of) 18. If your bike ain’t dirty, you don’t ride enough Animal ------------------------------- The dove flew to the Ark and presented Noah the twig.Noah turned to the Sandies and said "It is now time to go forth and ride". Hastily we mounted our awaiting metal steeds and took off toward east..where the sun was rising and the land was drying from the non stop rains of the previous week. George rounded the herd of us riding cats and aimed us toward Tallahassee. A direct route in Sandie speak to the motorcop competition starting at 11 AM. Be there! And there we made it...on time! Watched in amazement to the skills of the cops weaving in and out the Maze of ConeLand...tight,tight turns. Sounds of scraping metal as they drag their floor boards in the maze. Men in tight pants and boots..oh yeah baybee...hunka hunka...but I digress... Very talented men and women showed their prowess in mastering the fine art of maneuvering the huge Harleys and BMWs in the tightest mazes of cones. Enjoyed watching them thoroughly. Time for us to check in at the hotel. Later we gather together to go on a short ride to Bradley's Store..home of the delicious homemade sausage.We travel very beautiful canopied roads... a great route away from the hustle and bustle and red lights of the city (caught so many red lights that actually wore off my nail polish on my big toe from shifting so many times). Thanks to George's skillful herding, we all made it there ..right before closing. Good timing! I love that store..set in such a serene country setting consisting of huge old oak trees draped in Spanish moss and maintained pastures. Riding to there is a treat. We all make it back to the city of red lights and to the final destination of the day...the hotel. Which I might add is waddling distance to a fine restaurant..with a full bar heh heh. We all gather for fun,food and libations. So much fun hanging with the ridingest group of nuts..that's what it's all about. Always have a blast. After stuffing ourselves, we all meander back toward our rooms. The fun can't be over yet..it's too early! My son Shelby and Steve head back to the room..I..on the other hand...gravitate to where the wild and crazy Central Sandies are congregating..with his sister Miss Aiding and Abeting Sam of FWB Sandies....that's right..I'm squealing on ya. I will say this..Hippie John does have a bodacious sound system on his bike and I'm glad he shared it with us (and the other hotel guests). Those wild folks were told to keep it down. I, on the other hand ..was busy adjusting my halo (cough). Next morning it's time to head west. George manages to squeeze in a goodbye Uturn before we are on our way leaving Tally the pretty way (back roads) . Explore the water fall of Florida caused by a sink hole.Who knew Florida had one? Was in full flow due to the previous rains. And of course eating at a buffet at Wingate's in Seminole. Yummy. This is what it's all about..getting together with great friends, exploring the world and having a blast doing so. Getting off the proverbial porch. da Skwirrel

March 2008 This is Paco's story of his unplanned trip to the Big Bend area near the end of March 2008: Robert arrived late Friday evening. After greetings and salutations, we pop the cork and start discussing THE PLAN. Inebriated we decide to wing it. Richard, that other piece of scooter trash, was supposed to hook up with us but the siren song of Hollywood beckoned. He got a gig as a co-director to some trashy movie. His fame will spread. Next will be the fleshpots of Bollywood, cavorting with dark skinned nubile nymphs. His loss. Saturday morning, bikes loaded, we head west towards Big Bend National Park - the biggest one in the Federal system and the least visited. Lion Warning We arrive in Del Rio, Texas at 1:30 AM, tired and looking for a place to rest. They had a biker rally, fishing tournament, and rodeo all on the same weekend. Only two rooms available: one, smelling of curry and stale cigarette smoke, on the bad side of town for $130 + tax; the other with a single bed, no hot water, heat or air conditioning for $88 + tax. We move on. At 4 AM, we find a dusty patch next to some 18-wheelers. After our farting and snoring intruded on the rumble of the big rigs' engines, they cranked up and left... Breakfast in Marathon, Texas at sunrise, in a cold outdoor café - chilled eggs and coffee. Then on to Big Bend. More pics and tall tales to follow. Cool morning and day. High 60's and sunny. Perfect. Breakfast again at the Kosmic Kafe. Then on to Glenn Springs, Pine Canyon, parts of the River Road again, Black Gap and the Old Ore Road. More of the same. Class 1 and 2. Off River Road, we stop at the Mariscal mine. Quicksilver, discovered in 1900 is the reason for the existence of Terlinqua. In 1943, the price collapsed, taking along the economy of Terlinqua. Robert pinched one off into one of the chimneys thinking that it was the latrine. I have pictures to prove it. What a face of agony! Must have been a Mexican Corn Log. Black Gap road was absolutely the best. Parts are probably class 3. Very technical in spots. Only four-wheel drive vehicles with high clearance can attempt it. This was the site of my first drop. I stopped for pics of Robert coming down a rocky portion. When I mounted my bike, I fell off the other side. Cactus hurt. Later on, on an uphill right-hander, there was a slick rock 3 feet high, 6 feet long +/- I tried to use it as a berm, like you see the MX’ers do at the track. The bike lost traction and we slid down its face. Still in the saddle but in an awkward position. I had to get off to position the bike for a run up the boulders as that was now the only line available to me. I hate to backtrack, even though it would afford better traction, so I just muscle it up. After much dabbing off this or that foot I made it to the top, breathing hard. On to the Ore Road. Maybe a class 2 in parts. Very loose stuff here and there. Jimmy Lewis taught me that the perfect Zen moment comes when you are flowing and thinking of other things. Well I was going down a slight incline when my parched lips were tasting the ardent kisses of my lady. In front was a rut or wash out. No worries. Lean the bike, easily clear the obstacle, then nothing but smooth sailing. Well I commit the cardinal sin of all motorcyclists - I look down! Softball size loose rock catches my eye, thereby my rear wheel, front tire skids right into the obstacle I was trying to avoid. Rut catches wheel, forward progress is abruptly interrupted, human becomes projectile. Simple physics, dumb rider. ATGATT (ALL THE GEAR, ALL THE TIME) is my creed, but due to heat and seeking more comfort, I had attached my elbow guards loosely by the Velcro strips instead of slipping them on like a sock, then cinching them down securely. Well, the rest of the gear protected me in this run of the mill face plant. The elbow guard, though, rode up, and my forearm mated with a small rock. Ripped a chunk of MY precious flesh open to about the size of a dime. One eight to one quarter inch deep. You could see the globs of white fatty tissue in the jagged rip. Do you call this Washboard Rash? The Hill Country Rub? Always carrying an emergency first aid kit, we applied anti-bacterial cream, gauze and tape. Then headed in. At the Study Butte grocery/liquor store sought assistance, as I needed stitches. The local PA (17 miles away in Lajitas) could not be reached as the phone lines were down - a common occurrence. The hospital was 90 miles away in Alpine. What to do? Well, bought the finest American made whiskey, then as an after thought, more gauze, anti bacterial cream, hydrogen peroxide, and rubbing alcohol - almost $16. Put my hands up at the banditos. The whiskey was cheap at any price. Back at camp, went to the showers to remove the trail dust and field dressing. Had to Cowboy Up and clean/ scrub the wound with soap. Then pour peroxide, then the rubbing alcohol. It had me screaming like a thirteen-year-old girl. Gobs of ant bacterial cream and gauze along with the bourbon would get me through the night. Day’s mileage: 140. Next morning broke camp and headed home. Had to dance the Texas Two Step with my arm again. Second, go round hurts just as bad as the first. Stopped just outside of San Antonio and ate at Rudy’s Country Store and Bar-B-Q "Worst Bar-B-Q in Texas". They don’t lie. Arrived home at 5AM unloaded. Cleaned bike, started chores, and went dancing again. This time those ardent kisses are the better balm than bourbon.

On Saturday April 21, 2007 some not-so-sane Sandollar Club members decided to try their hand at riding 1000 miles in under 24hours. The following are some of their stories: IRON BUTT? (I don’t think so…) What on earth have I gotten myself into? A couple of months ago I had come home from work tired and desperately in need of rest and some ‘do nothing’ time. After two beers and an hour of relaxing, I got a phone call from George Engler. “What are you doing later this spring?” asked George. My two beers responded with far more enthusiasm than I actually felt and said that I was “up for pretty much anything’. I was later to discover that was mistake number one. George preyed on the fact that I had once told him that I had always wanted to do an Iron Butt ride (probably had a couple of beers that night too). For those not familiar, the Iron Butt Association (IBA) is a national group who sanctions long distance motorcycle rides, usually timed. The rides vary in length and time with the most popular one being the ‘Iron Butt SaddleSore 1000’ (riding a minimum of 1000 miles in less than 24 hours). These rides are subject to levels of proof and documentation usually reserved for border crossings into former Soviet Bloc countries: witnesses (and their phone numbers), receipts with address/date/time stamps, fuel and odometer tracking, an official person to certify start/finish place & time, etc. Still, it’s an elite group of motorcycle riders and the reward for completing a sanctioned ride is IBA membership and a license plate frame that says, “IRON BUTT Association – World’s Toughest Riders.” It takes a very special kind of person to be inordinately proud of a small piece of metal which contains the words “IRON BUTT” in all capital letters then put it on the back of your bike so thousands of strangers can see it each day in traffic. And, yes, Sand Dollar motorcycle club members are exactly those kinds of people. Imagine my (sober) surprise when George called and said “Let’s do the Iron Butt this weekend!” Um, ok. If I have to… I guess… Let me paint a mental image for you, just to set the stage… My dad has been going through radiation and chemo-therapy and I have spent most of what passes for ‘spare’ time the last few weeks at his house. My only full-time employee has been on maternity leave for 6 weeks and the two part-time employees are both college students with approximately zero schedule flexibility, both of our retail stores have just shifted into longer summer hours and my wife and I are task-saturated and exhausted. So how am I going to spend my only day off in a month-and-a-half? That’s right, I’m gonna ride a motorcycle 1000 miles in less than 24 hours. Apparently that which I lack in intelligence, I more than make up for with sheer mind-boggling bad judgment. There was a small devil on my left shoulder (who bore a striking resemblance to George, now that I think about it) who kept saying, “Go ahead! You can do it. It’s a motorcycle ride! There’s not much in this world you enjoy more than riding a motorcycle“. Listening to the little devil was mistake number two. The agreed upon meeting place and time was a convenience store on MLK Blvd. at two. That’s Oh two hundred A. M. o’clock in the morning, by the way, in case you were thinking that the Sand Dollar M/C might do something sane and reasonable like leave in the daytime. Nope. We leave in the middle of the night when nobody is awake except criminals and the police officers who chase them. While we did have a couple of current and past peace officers in our group, most of us are just a little shady and are a not qualified for actual criminal-hood. I rode up to the meeting place and immediately noticed that there was exactly one motorcycle in the parking lot when there were supposed to be 10 or 12. That one motorcycle did not belong to George. I couldn’t believe that after talking this thing up and arranging it through dozens of phone calls and hundreds of e-mails, George was going to blow it off. While I was adding “Take out a contract on George” to the top of my mental ‘To-Do’ list, George and about nine other Sand Dollar members rode up over the space of just a couple of minutes. Say whatever you will about the Sandies, we may not have the tough street cred of some other Motorcycle Clubs, but we are a damned punctual bunch and we still strike terror into the hearts of restaurant cooks and wait-staff all over the southeast. The poor woman who was working the grave-yard shift at the store really didn’t know what to make of the dozen or so motorcycle riders in full road-warrior gear. We’re all walking around talking and cross-talking to each other and all she can hear is, “mumble, mumble, murmur, IRON BUTT, mumble, mumble”. After a dozen requests for her signature and the store’s address and phone number, she got so that she wouldn’t even look at us any more. You’ve got to present a truly strange appearance for third –shift convenience store staff to think you’re weird. They’ve seen everything. If you can weird one of them out, you’re world-class. After completing forms and receipts, filling gas tanks and emptying bladders, thereby establishing a pattern which was to continue unmodified for the next 19 and a half hours, we were off. (OK, it could be said that we were all a ‘little off’ or we wouldn’t have been there at oh two hundred A.M o’clock in the morning, anxious to go to Texas.) Professional hurricane magnet and weather channel guru, Jim Cantore had promised beautiful weather for our ride. Lows in the upper fifties and a high in the upper seventies - Perfect motorcycle riding weather. As we pulled out on the open road the temp was actually in the mid-50’s and was a little “brisk”. The temperature continued to grow ever more brisk until we merged from I-110 onto I-10 West just out of Pensacola. At that point, it changed from “pretty damn brisk” to cold. No euphemisms. Not ‘cool’, ‘nippy’, or ‘chilly’. Not ‘airish’ or ‘invigorating’. Not ‘spring-like’. It was COLD. Bone-chilling, demoralizing, frost in your nostrils, icicles-hanging-off-your-(Iron)Butt COLD. I seriously considered turning around while still within an hour of my house. I’ve ridden in some pretty cold weather but that’s when I was dressed for it. All I had on was jeans, a tee-shirt, a denim shirt and a riding jacket designed for ‘brisk’ weather, not COLD. When it’s genuinely cold, wind-chill at interstate highway speeds on a motorcycle can be fierce. You become aware of every single place where air is entering your clothing, no mater how small the amount. You hunch your shoulders forward to cut down on the air rushing down your collar. Scoot your feet back on the pegs and raise them up on tip-toe to prevent the air from going up your pants leg (this particular blast of artic air is VERY noticeable). You squeeze your knees in tight against the tank and tuck your elbows in, too, while leaning forward to minimize surface area exposed to the wind. In spite of your discomfort, you suddenly realize that a term from high school having to do with chimpanzees and football fornication is a very accurate description of your posture at this moment. You don’t care. It was COLD all the way to Mobile, Alabama. There, presumably because of all the concrete and asphalt, the temperature climbed up a good 10 degrees to “pretty damn brisk” again and we didn’t encounter anymore artic weather for the rest of the trip. Sunrise over your shoulder on a motorcycle trip is a magically peaceful time. You can feel the warmth grow around you with the light. The sun begins to make good on Jim Cantore’s promise of beautiful weather and suddenly, instead of wanting to turn around and go home, I couldn’t think of anywhere on earth I’d rather be. Even the smells change with daybreak. Riding through towns, large and small, where people are starting their day by having breakfast at Waffle house or Mom & Pop’s cafe. We ride by, inconsequential as ghosts, and smell the bacon and eggs, the waffle on the side with maple syrup, and always the coffee aroma, floating in the background like a bass-note. We ride on, chasing the sunrise line at over a hundred feet per second and the nameless people get on with their day, never knowing they shared a little bit of it with us. After the gorgeous sunrise, the miles just rolled by. Coastal Mississippi and eastern Louisiana a mix of beautiful natural estuaries and cedar flats, occasionally jarringly punctuated by astonishing devastation and row after row after row of white FEMA trailers, very visible reminders of the equally natural incredible power and fury of Hurricane Katrina. We crossed into Texas and eventually arrived at our destination, Winnie, Texas, the turn-around point. We were now officially halfway. It was also lunch time. Only the Sand Dollar Motorcycle Club would leave at two in the morning and ride over five hundred miles for lunch. In Winnie, Texas. At a Subway sandwich shop. Inside a truck stop. With food, fuel and restroom breaks out of the way, we started toward home. You start to count the miles individually, every mile putting us exactly one mile closer, looking for towns and landmarks you recognize as visual proof that you’re actually getting closer. In the back of my head is a small annoying child-like voice that keeps saying, “Are we there yet?” It’s mid-afternoon and the warm sunshine and lunch have combined with fatigue to make me drowsy. I’ve ridden motorcycles for forty of my forty-nine years. I’ve ridden when temperatures were in the teens, and in temps over a hundred degrees. I have ridden in fog thick enough to drink it out of a cup and rain so intense that visibility was probably better in the tea-cup fog. At night with a burned-out headlight, or with a broken clutch cable, brake failure, you name it. Once, when I was much younger, with the help of a willing and adventurous girlfriend I was able to do things on a motorcycle that you don’t ordinarily associate with a moving motorcycle. One thing I had never done before on a motorcycle, though, was sleep. Not on a moving one, anyway. I woke up when I ran over a couple of ‘Bott’s Dots’ (the little reflectors in the middle of the road) at around 85 miles an hour. Waking up at 85 (alone) on a motorcycle is the kind of thing that gets your absolute and undivided attention. Right Now. In this case, it also cured my drowsiness. I got a shot of adrenaline that left a taste in my mouth like I had licked a battery and it was a good 15 minutes before my heart rate dropped below 100. I was awake like I have rarely been awake in my life. Except for some extra time in the bathroom at the next rest stop, I didn’t experience anymore difficulties with drowsiness. The last 25 % of any marathon undertaking is ‘grit your teeth and get through it” time. All of us were really looking forward to finishing. Mentally and physically worn out, we were all using up the last of our ‘second wind’. Unlike most group activities, our group all get along well, even under adverse circumstances. And when you talk now to all of us who made this trip, everyone is all smiles and tells you about how much fun we had and how cool it was. But on the last 200 mile leg of the trip home, each and every one of us had gritted teeth and not much to say. We just wanted to be done. Home, safe, asleep. When we arrived at the convenience store at the finish, the same woman was working the grave-yard shift. Even she seemed impressed that we had traveled over a thousand miles since she had last seen us in the wee morning hours of this same day, 19 and-a-half hours earlier. The smiles came back. We talked and cross-talked for a few minutes, all of us proud and happy to have done it – even happier to be done with it. Everyone is actually eager, for the first time in almost 20 hours, to get on a motorcycle. Because this time, the next stop is home. There was for me, however, one feeling that stood out above all others, a single focal point that summed up the entire ordeal: My ass hurt. IRON BUTT? I don’t think so….. Oh, and mistake number three? I didn’t take nearly enough pictures, because now that my butt feels better, I realize I had a helluva good time and spent 19 ½ very memorable hours with some incredible friends. A little time to relax – a couple of beers – I might do it again, sometime… Motorcycle Michael Editors Note: What Michael accomplished was a feat beyond measure, his Personnel and Ride circumstances were all very large Obstacles. But he persevered and accomplished a major Milestone in Motorcycling. I don’t quite know how to explain this ride. It was probably the most boring and exciting ride I’ve been on. While the scenery did not change much the thrill of the ride was tense and fast paced (see email George sent out). We rode so hard that some of us could not ride any further. Literally, leaving our bike on the road Until Steve went and got some gas. I’m telling you there was one bike that had so many jackets, chaps and etc. that ten pounds could have made the difference in leaving it on interstate or making the next fuel stop. There is so much to mention on this ride. If not for the CB radio the ride would have been even more boring for me. The radio helped to keep me alert. It was exciting to hear how fast we average, the time we spent on the road, the total time, and of course the banter that was happening from all that had radio’s (is it lunch time yet, are we there yet,). For those of us who were off and would not go (Tina) the crocodile farm and the air boat rides were really wonderful. Steve our local traffic advisor kept us appraised of on coming cars, and trucks. When you have been on the road for ten plus hours your concentration or at least mine was not as sharp as it was the first hour. So thanks a lot Steve. The different bikes that were on the ride, were probably not for that distance. I'm impressed with Sam, Chris, and Michael. George sent out article about fatigue before the ride. I got home and left the key in my motorcycle. Thank goodness it was in the garage, with the door closed. Sunday my iron butt, had rust on it. David ( RUST ) Moody IRON BUTTING My how things change. When George first told me about the leaving time for the Iron Butt Saddle Sore 1000, it seemed reasonable. After all, 11pm isnt that late at night, but it would get us out of town and through the countryside during darkness and (more importantly) less traffic on the interstate. The interstate you say? What in the world are Sandies doing driving on an interstate? Planning for the SS1000 quickly became an exercise in deciding which interstate highway to take, not whether or not to take one. No time for backroad tours on this Sand Dollar outting. I-10 to I-12 to I-10 and we are there. Now then, just where would we be? Winnie Texas. According to my planning it's 517 miles one way. With a total of 1034 miles round trip, it was the perfect destination for a 1000 mile ride. Out and back in less than 24 hours. Easy. Just hit the throttle and go, right? Almost. We had a total of ten Sand Dollars show for the event. That made it perfect for us to get the group discount from the IBA (Iron Butt Association). It makes it a bit cheaper and the club President can certify the final paperwork. Sam was more than happy to do that for us. Thank you to her for her part in all of this. If nothing else she kept George in line, and that, in itself, can sometimes be quite an accomplishment. Not that George needs reigning in now and then but he does come up with some "unique" ideas from time to time. George calls a couple of days before we left and told me it was a no-go for an 11PM leave time. 3AM would be much better he says. Like a dumbie, I say "gee ok" and sign off on the change. Not that George needs me to sign off on anything but I think he needs the positive reinforcement now and then. Just my opinion of course. At 3AM on Saturday the 21st 9 Sandies showed at Tom Thumb number 10 on MLK blvd in Fort Walton Beach. The staff at the Tom Thumb certified the leave time and off we went. The adventure begins. At this time of the morning there is very little traffic, the weather is cool (more on that later) and everyone is fairly fresh, most having had a good sleep before the start. Rolling into Pensacola and up I-110, things became a bit startling as a construction truck was BACKING UP ON THE INTERSTATE either placing cones out or picking them up, didn't matter, the guy was backing up. Some Sandies went left around him, the others went right. I don't know what the heck happened to the cage behind me, I was just happy he stopped when I did. That was one of the rare incidents.to happen on this trip. Onto I-10 we roar, hit high speed and heading west. Life is good, no traffic, good riders and good bikes. Two Tom and Jerry G hit it hard and off they go, leaving the rest of us in the dust. Soon they disappear and we are now seven. Things go well and we pick up Dave (he rode in from Monroeville to join up) at the Mississippi rest area just inside the state. We didn't even stop, he joined in just as if he had practiced the move before. Again we are on the highway and heading west. By this time we are all noticing that it's not just a little chilly out. It's COLD! We start donning our cold weather gear when we make the next stop. At the first gas stop Chris M shows George and the rest of us his "auxilliary gas tank" (it's a plastic one-gallon container), saying he's prepared to go the distance. Our Intrepid Road Captain tells him, " nah, you wont be needing that, we will stop every 132 miles." Putting he can away empty (key word here folks is "empty"), off we go. Somewhere in Louisiana, 110 miles from that stop, Chris's VRod sputters to a stop. Being Tail Gunner I stop with him and tell the rest of the group we will catch up. I hear Tommy N tell George that Sam is now on reserve and they need gas. We are about 20 miles from a group stop. It seems the V Rod just wont go 85 mph for hours on end and make it much past 110 mile on one tank. Loading up Chris and his empty can, we hit the next exit, gas up and go back to his bike. Within minutes we are on the way and join up with the group at the next stop. At this point, let me say that it was not a break down of the bike, it was not the riders fault and it certainly wasn't the Road Captains fault that this happened. Who knew Harley would design a fast bike with no legs? Ah well, a minor incident after all and now we plan 100 mile gas stops. All is well as we roar on into the west. Winnie Texas, other than being just a tad over 500 miles from Fort Walton Beach, really is not a vacation spot. I'm sure the proud Texans who live there will tell you it's a heck of a nice place to live, but I'm pretty sure I wont need reservations to stay at a hotel there anytime soon. Tommy N tells everyone that we are going to Winne to get some pie. Pecan Pie. We never do get any of that pie, but we did eat at the Subway before heading east. Only 517 miles to home! As we leave George behind, ( that's right we left Winnie while the Road Captain was performing an important task, he was loading his CD player for the trip home) the traffic is picking up as it's now mid day. Through the construction zone near Beaumont M2 has to make a slight detour as a highway construction pick up truck makes it into his lane despite the fact M2 was already there. No harm done as M2 deftly swerved into the shoulder space, the guy went on as if nothing happened and we were once more all safe. At the next gas stop we hear George and Tommy on the CB and let them know where we are. Joining up we head Eastbound and homeward. Farther on we meet up with Dave M and Chis M, who had been the first to abandon all semblance of following George. Nothing remarkable about the trip to this point, other than a couple of very minor incidents. Just as we near the area where Chris M ran out of gas, M2 now pulls over. George and the group keep going as two of us check to see the problem with M2. Low oil light. Seems that his FZ1 turns 6000 rpm at the speed we had been traveling and burned some oil. Perfectly normal, but kind of unexpected. We hit the next exit and M2 buys a quart of oil, pours in THREE OUNCES and off we go. Catching up with the others we have a quick bite to eat. MacDonalds works just fine for fast food at this point. Only a few hours from home now, eight tired and sore Sandies head out. One more fuel stop for some and we will be home in plenty of time. Going through the tunnel in Mobile, I was sorely pressed to honk my air horn. But being a good guy and all, I didn't. George thanked me. By this time we all are pretty tired but, surprisingly, alert and aware. Normally at this point of a long day you get easily distracted and find your mind wandering. OK I know some of us have wandering minds anyway, but this is diff--Hey did you see that Ghost Rider is out on DVD? Gulf Breeze was the last pit stop for those with short legs on their bikes. The rest of us continued to Fort Walton Beach and filled up at the Tom Thumb number 10, right where we started from. Once again, the staff was happy to see us back and signed off on our paperwork. The staff also told us that Two Tom and Jerry G had been back at 9:30. An hour and a half before us. Unfortunately, they also told us that Two Tom had lost his wallet and all of it's contents somewhere in Louisiana. Jerry G graciously paid for the two of them for the rest of the trip. See? Sandies take care of each other, on the road this is an important thing. Stuck 500 miles from home, no credit cards, no cash and no drivers license can be quite stressful. 19 and one half hours from starting we had completed the IBA SS1000. Was it fun? Yes indeed. Was it stressful? Yes indeed. Was it challenging? Yes indeed. Would I do it again? Nope, but there is the Bun Burner 1500 to consider. If you have a choice doing the SS1000 then I recommend a small group of travelers. We had eight at most of the time. That many slows things down considerably. It takes longer to gas up, longer to eat and with more people, the more likely incidents will happen. Even with the expert group we had assembled, the gas pumps and waitress' were slowed down by the number of people wanting the same thing at the same time. Perhaps three or even two in a group with a common start/stop place would work much better. As I reflect on that trip, I marvel at the fact that ten bikes, ten riders went a thousand miles each, that's a total of 10,000 miles with no major incidents, no injuries and everyone on every ride made it back safe and sound. A testament to good preparation, excellent bike designs and excellent rider skills. A job well done by the Sand Dollars. George, Sam, Jerry G, Two Tom, Steve G, Chris M, M2, Dennis H, Dave M, Tommy N. Well done by all! Did we have fun? Yes indeed. Did you miss a good time? Yes indeed. SpectreSteve It was a great journey. Some apprehension as we gathered for the departure, but the group was the best as they talked about how we would stay together to help in the event something happened. That is just how Sandies are. The whole trip was a basic ride for us, with a couple of u-turns (a Sandie tradition) and only a couple of minor incidents leaving no one behind. This event shows that all we do in practice helps in the daily riding and improves our ability to deal with minor issues on the road. The small traffic issues that included a car running off the inside shoulder and crossing our path to the outside shoulder to stop and recover, to the merging traffic trying to push Michael to the inside edge of the road, we were able to handle these with no panic and continue our ride without incident. I would like to compliment all of our members, even those who didn't do this ride, for their dedication to improving their skills and making riding safer for all of us. We definitely ride with the best. Just a few thoughts about why I consider riding with the Sandies the best part of riding a motorcycle. It really makes it a better ride. Dennis (Iceman) Hamby The Thousand Two O’clock in the morning the alarm went off. Normally that would be OK as I could go back to sleep for a few hours more, but not tonight and anyway I have been up since twelve. I initially went to bed at ten, with the bike packed and ready to go on the Sanddollar Saddle Sore, 1000 miles in 24 hours trip. So with two hours of sleep I trudged to the shower and then scarfed down a banana and breakfast drink. Got on the bike and proceeded to navigate my way down to the Tom Thumb on Freedom Way. Got there around 0245 to get my first gas receipt and see what fools actually got up to do this ride. As George often says that Sanddollars are not the sharpest spoons in the drawer what I seen at the Tom Thumb were eight people, me being number nine, (number ten will come in the picture later) who had trouble even seeing what was in the drawer let alone sharpen any spoons. Knowing that I had the smallest gas tank I pulled out my “reserve” one gallon tank that I had stored in my saddlebag. George being the great road captain he is looked at me and laughed saying he would ensure that I would not need that as he had scheduled stops with some room to spare. Of course he said this after he shouted, “Damn Mitchell, you just made me lose a bet,” alluding that I was not showing up. Strike one for old Engler. Well we get the paperwork for the start completed and off we go. Now for I am beginning to feel tired and I think to myself, “There is no real shame if I just say I can’t do this right now and go home.” I kept thinking this all the way down 98 to Pensacola and on to 110, which is like driving the Gauntlet in some auto video game with hazards all over the road. I convince myself to try to make it to at least daylight and then see how I feel. Getting onto I10 caused another shock which woke me up pretty fast…cold. It was very cold to say the least. Here is where Jerry “Possum” and Tom took off and left the rest of the group. We stopped for gas at about 130 miles and then started off again. George must have had that video game in his mind as we now sped down I10 through the rest of Alabama and into Mississippi at over 85 miles an hour for 110 miles, picking up our tenth rider as we drove through the first Mississippi rest stop in the form of David from Monroeville on what another Haverty Couch, I looked down the row of bikes and it looked like a couch sale from Haverty’s traveling down I10. Of all ten riders only myself, Sam on her VStar, and Mike M on his sport bike was not on a moving lounge chair. I almost thought that I saw one of them pour coffee from a coffee maker on the dash of his two wheel automobile. Well we kept proceeding down I10 at break neck pace at wayyyyyyyyy above the posted speed limit, not that that would normally be an issue. But then I heard, ok rather felt a sputter in the VRod (not a couch, heck not even a lounge chair, more like an outdoor bench on wheels). Yes you that already know I ran out of gas on I10. Now with Steve being behind me he stopped and yes I had to ride b………….backseat on his Valkyrie. No wonder he wears earplugs, that bike is too loud, and that is saying something as I ride a Harley. Me with my one gallon gas can riding as a passenger probably was not a pretty site. Well we got the VRod back in operation and finally met up with the rest of the Sandies at the next programmed stop. Here I found out that Sam had had to switch to her reserve tank. Now I don’t feel so bad. Well we finally came through Louisiana and into Texas. In Texas the wind picked up so bad that it felt like I was wrestling a Texas Longhorn with the solid wheels on my bike. We finally made it to Winnie Texas and ate lunch and then started back. When we got into the Eastern end of Louisiana I was hit by the sleep monster once again. With about 250 miles to go I started really dragging. It was starting to get dark and now I really questioned myself if this ride was really what I wanted to do. I debated my options and decided to try to keep going on being so close (a close 250 miles being relative when talking 1000 miles). After putting on a jacket and reflective vest and eating a Snickers Energy bar and a Starbucks double shot espresso I left with the group heading east. Another double shot at the next stop and I was actually wired for sound at this point. Mike M had a bit of trouble with his bike and now we have the second bike stopped on I10. He had to get some oil and then he was back on the road. Probably the worst part of this ride (OK actually the whole ride was some of the worst times on a bike I have ever had) was going from Biloxi to Pensacola on I10 at 8:30 at night at 85 miles an hour weaving in and out of traffic. We finally pulled into the initial starting point and I was never so glad to be through with a ride than I felt then. The things that helped me on this torture was the back belt I wore, the bicycle riding shorts with gel pads, and the earplugs I got from Steve G. I will never, repeat never, do something as stupid as volunteer for another Saddle Sore 1000 miler on a VRod again. Now when is that Sanddollar Iron Butt 1500 scheduled for? Chris (The Mitchell) Mitchell Editors Note: What Chris did was well beyond the Norm, his Ride was not equipped for such an epic journey. It is a testament to Chris, the person, that he made it.

Editorial Note: this article was first published in January 2006. By Tim W. Over a year ago I sat down with a wild idea and an Alabama map to lay out an all Alabama grand tour. Sounded like a great idea to me at the time. I was able to map out the grand tour letters and put together a pretty nice loop through lower Alabama. Unfortunately the best laid plans are always derailed by other higher commitments, so the route and map got filed under a ton of useless paperwork like mortgages, bills, life insurance policies, etc. Last month the family and I were looking at a calendar and discovered that the planets were in some sort of cosmic alignment resulting in the convergence of elementary school days off, civil service holiday and scheduled days off, and suddenly we had the opportunity for a four day weekend September 2 through 5. Of course Sean, my eight year old, put his bid in for Wild Adventures Amusement park in Valdosta Georgia. Maricetta, the wife, put in her vote for Tampa and Busch Gardens. I put my vote in for four days of relaxing on the couch with the rest of the family gone to either Wild Adventures or Busch Gardens. Like I would ever get a vote. As the long weekend grew closer the bidding became more intense. Finally it appeared the eight year old with all the energy had worn down the queen and the bus driver, me. Wild Adventures was the destination. Unfortunately we forget to include that bitch named Katrina in the voting. Like an unwelcome relative, Katrina visited the gulf coast and made a mess of everyone’s best-laid plans. Suddenly there were no hotel rooms in a 300-mile radius. Stories of gas shortages threatened any road trip to Georgia. We decided to stay close to home rather than risk problems on the road. So Friday morning 2 September we went ahead and dropped Sean off at school. (Don’t tell anyone we were going to keep him out to make the four day weekend) Suddenly it’s 8:30 and we are without plans for the day. Then I remembered the long ago mapped out grand tour – Carpe Diem! I said to Maricetta, “How about a nice motorcycle ride.” I grabbed the map and we headed out. Our first stop, Joe and Eddies of course. No self respecting Sandie is going to start a trip without breakfast at Joe and Eddies. The breakfast was great as usual, and bittersweet. They closed to begin their remodel just three days later. Once fueled with food, we headed North into Alabama about 9:00. I did not exactly give Maricetta the details or projected distance of the “nice” motorcycle ride. Which ultimately broke a 350 mile day. S-A-N-D-O-L-L-A-R M-C, eleven letters, no problem – got them all mapped out. Make a note, just because it’s on a map doesn’t necessarily mean there’s a town there, or a sign, or a city hall, or a fire department……….. you get the picture. Stop number 1 Dixie, East of Brewton at the junction of Hwy 11 and 15. Note smile on pillion warmers face, it’s still early in the day. Stop number 2 Carolina, South of Andalusia at the junction of Hwy 29, 15 & 31. Stop 3 Andalusia, hwy 29. What a neat town. We are going to buzz up there some Friday evening and hit the old picture show and a restaurant. Stop 4 Libertyville, South of Andalusia on hwy 55. Blink and you will miss it, like many of the small towns in Alabama. Yes, they really do have a City Hall. Stop 5 Red Oak, North of Lockhart on Hwy 55. Stop number 6 Onycha, South of Opp on Hwy 331. I’m not making up these names. They have both a City Hall and a fire Dept. Stop 7 New Brockton, North of Enterprise on Hwy 84. Is that a great picture or what!! Stop 8 Avon, East of Dothan on Hwy 84. We are far, far from the hood. Stop 9 Was to be Lytle on Hwy 52. When you lay out this route Mapquest shows you three little towns in a row, within 20 miles of each other that work beautifully for the grand tour. Lytle – Marl – Samson. Unfortunately we could not find a single sign, building, church, outhouse or anything in Lytle. It does not exist in reality. Stop 9 was to be Lytle on September 2, but we had to go back to Lockhart, on the 4th to get a photo. Lesson for anyone else planning a grand tour – don’t pass up a letter, even if it’s not in your originally planned route. Stop 10 Marl, just a mile from the nonexistent Lytle on Hwy 52. You can’t miss it. And yes, that sign IS the only thing there. Stop 11 Sampson, Junction of Hwy 52 and 87. As you can tell by the Sampson picture, the sun was setting and we had to head home. It had been a fabulous day of back roads and very little traffic, except passing through Enterprise and Dothan. Made it back home without a hitch. A great 350 mile day, only used a tank and a quarter of gas. Another Sandollar trip in the history books. What’s next? Where’s that Georgia map? Ride safe, ride often. Tim & Maricetta W.

Editorial Note: This article was first published in July 2005. By Doug M. We, my best friend and wife of 35 years and I, decided after a couple of recent incidents including a blowout at 60 miles an hour, a loss of power to the headlight at night and the failure of the final drive coupling on our 23 year old V45 Magna, that it might be in our best interest not to stray too far from our home territory, thus the Grand Tour (A short version). Waking up to a beautiful Saturday morning, having survived Friday the 13th, we agreed this was the day to go. We headed out of Niceville about 8:30 AM and headed North on Hwy 285 for our first letter in Mossy Head, then proceeded East on Hwy 90 to pick up D,A,and C in Defuniak Springs, Argyle and Caryville. After back tracking to Westville we found 181 North and Headed for Leonia and a quick stop at the local gas station (yep, they’re still as friendly as ever) we picked up our first L. Leaving Leonia we headed for Samson (S) on our way to the Piney Grove Superstore, about five miles north of Sampson, for a much needed lunch and butt break. An iron butt we ain't. After an enjoyable deli lunch with good company we proceeded north on Hwy 87 toward New Brockton to collect a much need N. Successful in our quest, we headed west on Hwy 84 to the city of opportunity, Opp , and our O. Continuing west on Hwy 84, we snatched up our second A then made a quick right turn onto Hwy 29 followed by a quick left turn onto CR 82 (ok, there were a few miles between turns) on our way to Red Level. After catching a few curious looks from passing citizens we decided to depart the grassy knoll at the Red Level welcome sign in quest of our second L, and our final letter . Lockhart Alabama gave us just what we needed and we headed for home. The weather was great, the people were friendly, the country side looked and smelled fresh, creating an all around excellent experience covering 257 miles.

Editorial Note: This article was first published in January 2005. It was a beautiful day/the sun beat down/I had the radio on/I was flyin'…Tom Petty says it best! Except the radio was my own voice in my full-face helmet…hey, we can't all drive a Winger! So there I was, out and about on a gorgeous day in southwest Alabama looking for letters. I have been a Sandie for I guess about two years now and completed the Grand Tour a hundred times over, but without the proof. I finally made up my mind to get the evidence and my patch, since I'll be leaving for Tyndall AFB soon. I decided on the perfect day to knock out all my letters given that I knew I had at least one in the bag for sure, Andalusia, the other reason for my trip. Since I bought my 919 at the Honda shop there about 3 months ago I wanted to take it back to the same dealership for service. The folks up there are really great and the roads are a ton of fun; especially on that 919 because it's so nimble and responsive. Besides, what Sandie worth her salt can pass up a beautiful sunny day on an equally beautiful bike? To begin my journey I got up around 6 AM with an air temp of around 30 degrees F. Although cold and early, (did I mention it was cold?) I figured this would give me time to get my service done at the dealership early enough to afford me time to tool around and find my S-A-N-D-O-L-L-A-R-M-C. I planned on getting some of the letters before I made it to Andalusia, so I stopped in Milton to take out my first letter. I counted on taking the "D" in Dixonville Alabama, right on the FL/AL state line off highway 87/41. Well, for those of you that are counting on that one, forget it! There's a sign right off 87 for the Dixonville Baptist church. I turned at the sign and ended up driving George style (multiple U turns) because that's the ONLY sign for that stinkin' church! And to add insult to injury I never did find the church (or anything else for that matter) with a "D" in Dixonville. I did, however, take advantage of the U-turn set-ups to put my popsicle fingers on the bike's motor so I could feel them again. Moving on, I realize after my unplanned detour I better make time for the dealership. I happened upon Allentown, my other "A", without having to double back or take off on a tangent, so I nabbed it while I found it. Count, two… I departed the Honda shop around 11, giving me time to grab a bite to eat. There's this really great Mexican restaurant up there, they have the best salsa and their sopaipillas are out of this world! I ate with gusto then took Andalusia as planned for my other "A". I certainly caused a few heads to turn because I took the pic at the big marble sign with the flags that welcomes you to the city. Well, in and of itself, that's not a grand statement, but I had to position the bike so I could get it in the picture with the sign, which is surrounded by grass and no safe place to pull over. Well, I just made myself one! I rode the 919 right up onto the cement triangle that separates the turn lane at the light, so I was right in the middle of traffic, although safely! Snapped the photo before the cops could show up and was gone again. Since I missed my originally planned "D" I took it in Dozier. Heads up, the only sign there is located on a narrow bridge at the bottom of a hill. So, I strategically parked as close to the side of the bridge as I could, ran about 5 yards back, snapped the pic with record time, and then promptly took off again. After that I lucked upon Luverne. After that stop, I got the best "S" of all time at a church in Sweet Home, Alabama. Lynard Skynard fans rejoice! Moving on I grabbed my "O" in Opp and realized I was tired, it was going to be dark soon, and I just wanted to call it a day. So, I pointed the 919 southward and headed back home to Navarre. Along the way I bagged Carolina to finish up a mere 3 letters short of the coveted Grand Tour patch. Never one to fall short of a goal, (or pass up a long ride on a great day), I took off again about a week later for another ride where I got the post office in Lillian AL and a church in Robertsdale AL. The Holy Grail is just around the corner at this point. However, that last letter was trouble for me, the "N". I rode all over Alabama (twice) short of going to Never Never Land to find that N. I know, I know, I could just take the shot in front of any sign in Navarre and I'd be done, but I am a purist at heart and couldn't bear to throw in the towel and wimp out after over 400 miles and umpteen hours. Well, at least not do it and be proud of it…so there you go. After I completed my project, I got the added bonus of being the first female to knock out the grand tour. Come on, ladies, let's go riding and do the Grand Tour in one day as an all girls trip! Anyway, that's my Grand Tour story; hope you enjoyed my narrative as much as I enjoyed the trip! See you on the road… TJ

Editorial Note: This article was first published in June 2004 by Robert W. Completing the Grand Tour tells part of the story of my first two long distance trips since learning to ride last fall. My first trip was inspired, in part, by the Sandollar article “The Low Road Tour 2003” to Natchez Trace, Ms and Louisiana, and a desire to visit some friends along the way. True to the Sandie philosophy of avoiding the Interstate slabs, I followed US 98 to Hattiesburg, MS where I branched off on secondary roads to historic Vicksburg. I knew little about Mississippi, and was surprised by the beautiful, rolling countryside and rich farmlands as I traveled northwest of Hattiesburg. After some sightseeing and a good dinner, I ended a perfect day by planning the next day’s route to Alexandria, LA …..then, discovered that I had left my Louisiana map at home……not a problem I thought as I entered way points into my GPS. I awoke to another sunny spring day and, after breakfast, was headed to Natchez Trace for a pleasant trip into Natchez, Ms. Since I didn’t have a map, I decided to continue south on US 61 into Louisiana and a welcome center where I could get one. After an hour or so, I changed screens on the GPS to an ADF mode and was surprised that Alexandria was northwest of my current position….don’t understand…that’s not possible….so I pressed on. Just over the state line, I stopped at the Louisiana center where I met a very nice lady who had lived in Destin for many years. The wall map told me that Alexandria is about 60 miles southwest of Natchez, MS and I had now gone some 70 miles south and, unlike the Sandies, I did not want to make a U-turn. My immediate problem was crossing the Mississippi River. My new Destin friend convinced me that my navigation error was a good thing. Natchez She explained that there was a ferry in St. Francisvlle, some 20 miles further south, which would take me across the river to LA Route 1, one of the oldest and most scenic roads in the state, leading to Alexandria.I was excited by this information and continued south. Visitors to St. Francisville are greeted at the city limit sign by a very aggressive police force. Flashing blue lights and two automobiles pulled over to the side of the road grabbed my immediate attention. As I turned on to the main street, I picked up my own police escort to the ferry landing. He lost interest and turned off as I rode up to a handwritten sign that read “Ferry Closed.” My map showed that continuing south to Baton Rouge and taking US 190 to US 71 into Alexandria was my best alternative. When I reached US 71, I found it to be a raised, well maintained road cutting through some very steamy swamps…an isolated area with little traffic. About 25 or 30 miles later, the road changed to concrete with very pronounced expansion strips. The rough ride was driving me crazy, when I pulled over to drink some water and to photograph the town sign in Lebeau, LA. The shoulder was narrow and off camber leaving the parked bike standing straight up. I noticed that the vibration from the rough road had loosened the attachment pin for my left hard bag…just lift the bag up a little, reinsert and turn the pin. When I lifted the bag, I felt the bike begin to tilt to the right. I learned then that one couldn’t lean across a bike and prevent 700 pounds from falling. I was lucky that it rolled over into the grass without damage. I tried not to look passersby in the eye as I picked up the bike and took my picture. On to Alexandria. Had an enjoyable evening with an old Eglin friend who now works with the Bureau of Prisons at the Federal Prison in Alexandria. My lingering memory of Alexandria is one of multi-lane roundabouts and very aggressive drivers. Late the following morning I made the relatively short run to Lafayette, LA, and discovered some very good food in the nearby town of Breaux Bridge. The next morning, Saturday, other friends were coming into town and we were meeting at the home of their friend, who happened to be the new Harley dealer in Alexandria, LA. Our plan was to spend a nice evening together and return to Ft. Walton following Sunday’s breakfast. Good food, loud music and too much to drink with too little sleep changed my plan. After a mid-day lunch, the auto drivers departed for FWB. I mentioned to my host that I didn’t think that I could ride around the block without falling off the bike, He understood and I spent another day in Lafayette. Monday morning I took US 90 south through Morgan City and Houma into New Orleans. Of course, the city is congested on a workday and road construction provided another frustration in winding my way through the heavy traffic. Continuing on US 90, I rode the Gulf Coast through Pass Christian, Gulfport, Biloxi and Pascagoula. In the afternoon, I rejoined US 98 in Foley, AL and, amid the school busses and local traffic, worked my way to Pensacola and on to FWB. Ten hours on a motorcycle seat is a long day for me. This trip was a confidence builder and good learning experience in preparing for my trip to the Washington, D.C. area a few weeks later in mid-May. I left Okaloosa Island shortly after 7:00 AM on May 17, and got as far as Sandestin before pulling over to answer my cell phone. Problem resolved and phone turned off. Rode to US 331 to FL 20 to US 231 into Dothan, AL. There, I picked up AL 52 to Blakely, GA and US 27. My day on US 27 took me through farm country and small towns interrupted only by Columbas, GA before reaching my destination of Rome, GA. I decided during the planning phase to make motel reservations through Orbitz.com, and was looking forward to arriving at “The Country Hearth Inn “ and a hot shower. As I neared the address, I noticed that it was not the best neighborhood. Finally, I saw the painted cloth sign covering the former motel name and announcing “The Country Hearth Inn.” After my shower, I took a short nap before dinner. As I was leaving the room, a little voice told me to secure the bike with a cable and padlock in addition to locking the forks. A young couple was parked beside the bike and watched my preparations. The husband said that I had better lock it well if I was staying the night. He went on to say that they had stayed the night before, but was now moving to another motel. He indicated that, when the sun went down, the motel was a marketing center for cocaine, crack, crank and prostitution. It was too late and I was too tired to find another place….that is why I pay for insurance. I awoke and checked the bike several times during the night. By the way, I did get a call on my room phone asking my name and wanting to know if I was lonely. No sale. I headed out early the next morning on GA 53 to pick up US 411 into Tennessee. The rolling hills became larger and I entered the Chattahoochee National Forest.. Shortly after entering Tennessee, I turned on to US 64/74 and the hills were becoming mountains in the Cherokee National Forest., a very scenic area with deep green forests and whitewater streams. Followed US 74 into my next destination, Ashville, N.C. Very nice motel…thank you Orbitz . While checking out after breakfast, a helpful young clerk informed me of extensive road repair and detours along the Blue Ridge Parkway to the Virginia line. I was disappointed, but decided to continue my planned ride along the BRP. (Jumping ahead…there was no construction or detour only grass mowing in several locations.). This was my first time in the twisties and the speed limit of 45 MPH seemed fine with me as I entered some of the steeper turns. I think I learned more about riding and my bike’s performance in 120 miles than I had learned to that date. From my readings, I knew that you braked before the turn, leaned, accelerated, and looked through the turn. Now, it was just a matter of making these elements work for me. I found that I was looking through the turn with my eyes, but glancing at the fog line along the edge of the road. I made the hair on the back of my neck stand up several times., before forcing myself to actually turn my head as I looked through the turn. My turns and confidence improved rapidly, and I began to really enjoy the experience. I don’t think that I am ready to take on the dragon at Deal’s Gap, but I do think that I am now a better, safer rider. While enjoying the ride in the afternoon, the engine became silent and I coasted to an overlook. Switched to reserve and pulled out the map. I decided to drive a few miles and exit into Laurel Springs for gas. Pulling off the BRP,I had to drive about 5 miles into town. I passed two buildings as I entered the town and suddenly found myself in the wilds again. With my Sandie U-turn, I stopped at the two buildings (neither a gas station) and noticed a hand painted sign “Laurel Springs - This Is It - There Aint No More.” At the next exit I left the well-maintained BRP for a poorly kept secondary road with a steep grade and sharp turns highlighted by loose gravel. I descended very carefully past the shacks and old singlewide trailers surrounded by two or three junk automobiles into metropolitan Deliverance, N.C. (Actually, Whitehead, N.C.). Turned out that the owner of the general store/gas station was a friendly gent and we talked for some time. I left the BRP at Mt. Airy, N.C. to connect with US 221 into my next destination, Roanoke, VA. Roanoke lies in a valley, and I departed the city on US 460 East riding between fog shrouded mountains heading to Appomattox, VA and the site where General Lee surrendered the Army of Northern Virginia to General Grant. While some of the houses and out buildings in the park are original, the courthouse and other houses were rebuilt due to a major fire in the 1890s.. I worked my way north on US 15 past Culpeper, VA., and then turned on to US 28 to Manassas VA and my daughter’s home. I chose not to ride in the Washington area due to the heavy traffic, road construction and poor road maintenance, especially on the bridges. Even driving a car there is an unpleasant experience. I decided to return on June 1st, and ,after a final cup of coffee with my daughter, left her driveway at 7:45 AM. With a full tank of gas, I began heading for US 28 and more rush hour traffic than I could have imagined. One hour and fifteen minutes to clear Manassas city limits. My plan was to follow US 1/301 form Fredericksburg, VA to the North Carolina line knowing that I would be traveling through the center of Richmond and a number of small towns. Moving through Richmond went well until I made a wrong turn which lead me over several brick and cobblestone streets before I could get turned around and back on course. Leaving Richmond toward Colonial Heights, I began to see familiar bridges and older buildings that trigger memories of my childhood and family trips. I stopped in Colonial Heights and enjoyed lunch in a shady park where my elementary school once stood. I look around at the streets and homes and remembered them as they appeared to a 6 year old. Across the Appomattox River, the city of Petersburg appears to have sunk to the bottom of the economic pit. My depressed senses were heightened as I rode on a city street covered with a thin layer of sand and then discovered that I was in the middle of a diesel oil spill. I rode very carefully for several miles until I was sure that my tires were free of contamination. Before reaching the North Carolina line on US 1, I stopped to take a break, and noticed that I was traveling on a beautiful divided four lane highway and that there was not another vehicle in sight in either direction. Everyone rushes to the interstate highways to get there a little faster, but pays in terms of stress and piece of mind. It’s a shame. The traffic through Raleigh was very heavy, and I looked to connect with US 401 to Fort Bragg. I did not make motel reservations for my return since I had no schedule to keep. I entered the reservation and rode to Pope AFB for the night. Regrettably there were no rooms available, but they said that Fort Bragg still had space available. Tired and hungry I registered for my room and was informed that it was $82.50 per night.. I politely informed them that $82.50 for a single room was outrageous, and slowly mounted my bike to leave Fayetteville. I found a room at a reasonable price a few miles down the road in Raeford, NC. Ended up the day with 12 hours on the bike. The next morning I left for South Carolina on US 14/401 and found myself trapped behind a cattle truck in traffic on a two-lane road.. I kept telling myself that I was very lucky that it wasn’t a load of pigs. Continued on to Sumter where I rejoined US 301/601 through Orangeburg and into Georgia. I was charmed by the city of Statesboro and rode through the town with the strains of the Allman Brothers playing in my mind. As I approached Waycross, GA the weather was building quickly to the west convincing me that this was the place to spend the night..Another 12 hour riding day. I stayed at the Holiday Inn and was surprised by a very good steak dinner special for $9.95, mixed drink coupons and a free breakfast buffet the next moring. All for much less that the Army wanted for their miserable room. I awoke early on my last day on the road eager to get home, but saddened that my trip was ending. The trip through Valdosta and Tallahassee was unremarkable, but I could again see the storm clouds building to the west. Once on FL 20, I could see that some folks in the Panama City area were getting deluged and the storm cell was not moving. I had been very, very lucky over the previous six days missing numerous showers and storms. As I approached FL 77, my luck ran out and the storm caught me before.I could put on my rainsuit. Soaked, I slowly approached the intersection and found that FL 20 was closed and a detour routed traffic through Panama City. What was an additional 40 minutes or so? My overall memory is the beauty, diversity, productivity and wealth of our great country.

Editorial Note: This article was first published in May of 2004. By Matt M. Well here it is. A little story bout a swamp dog and his motorcycle. You all know what spring does to motorcyclists; well I guess I fall in that category. Some of you seasoned members might remember me when I was with you; tall, skinny, not young, not old guy (think of a good looking Joe Joe with light brown hair and a little more of it) riding on the little blue rocket; Yamaha YZF-R1. I hope they are fond memories, because mine are. This April (2004) I got the itch, you know the bike-buying itch. So I traded old Blue in for the Beast. Amazingly enough it is a totally different animal, it has very bad manners. The beast is a 2004 Suzuki GSXR 1000. I think some would agree. I started to get to know it a little better a few days after I took it from the dealer. It seemed like the perfect excuse to get some new PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) and visit all my family. And as Forest Gump would say...So I did. The day after Easter I set out from my home here in Bossier City, Louisiana on the Break-in tour. My first stop my sister's house in Plano, Texas just north of Dallas. I would 'cop a squat' or 'grab a rack' at her place that night and go to the well know Moto-Liberty motorcycle apparel store in Dallas the next morning. On the way there I ended up on the I-635 loop around D/FW right at rush hour. OH MY G_D! Not used to that. I tried light speed so I wouldn't have to see the cars. The stay went well, I arrived just in time. My niece had made refrigerator surprise! It was delicious. The next day, to avoid the traffic on I-635 I did the yuppie thing and PAID MONEY to drive on Bush Toll way. It reminded of Bush, flat and empty. Haha Moto had everything you could want. I picked a nice mesh summer jacket and matching pant all with approved CE armor. So with business done I took off to see a friend of mine on the way to my other sisters house (I have 2 sisters and 1 brother). My friend lives in Durant, Oklahoma. He is the editor of the Durant Democrat daily paper. I strolled up into the paper office like an old west cowboy with all the ridin' stuff on. We talked and had lunch and I was on my way again. Next stop my childhood hometown of Antlers, Oklahoma. (pop. 2500) I visited some friends around town and went to dinner with the sister. The morning of the third day was here and I was on my way to Tulsa town, because my brother lives just west of Tulsa in Locust Grove (his wife's hometown). I was going to watch my nephew play t-ball, visit my bro and see an old school buddy in Tulsa....So I did. I tried to get my first bike service in Tulsa but that didn't work out. As you guess I am already past 600 miles. After lunch with brother and old friend we picked the bike up from the sorry dealership and filled up and set out again. I was going south the long way this time, the back roads, the nether regions, pastures, prairies, hills, curves, the breath of scenic highway one and Talimena Drive swept past my cheeks.... because I was going south not east. I literally drove past it. On this leg of the journey I took the only highway picture of the trip at Robbers Cave S.P. I arrived back in Antlers, Okla. well before dark. Open roads no traffic! Teleportation? Day five, Antlers, Oklahoma to Shreveport, Louisiana. Driven this many times before. It's alright until 30 miles north on Shreveport the roads start getting rough and the tiny ship gets tossed (if you know what I mean). Home safe and sound with only 2 close calls the whole trip from people without eyes. Awesome! 1200+ miles, 5 days. Now on to the SANDOLLAR M/C Grand Tour of North Louisiana! I figured if I could stay in the saddle from the previous trip the Grand would be a piece of cake. This does require planning! Some letters are hard to find and some towns I went through didn't have signs or postal centers. Luckily the route was less than two tanks of gas, seeing as how it costs almost $10 to fill with super unleaded now. Hey, this isn't my truck!? I left Bossier City mid morning heading east on Interstate 20. 20 minutes later I get off onto old Highway 80 at Dixie Inn(D). One down. The next hour and a half was on highway 80 going to Ruston. (R). Along the way I pass through Minden (M), Taylor, Gibsland, Arcadia (A), Simsboro (S), and Grambling. In Ruston, I also get a shot of LA TECH University. (L). From Ruston its south down highway 167. Passing through Clay(no sign), Ansley (A), Quitman, North Hodge (N), and Jonesboro. At Jonesboro turned west on highway 4. I drove through Lucky but was not, no signs! In Castor (C) I stopped for lunch and fuel, the only place in town with both. Drove through Ringgold because I had the R already and intersected highway 71 at Loggy Bayou (L). Now it was time for the out of the way letter (O) which was 60 miles north Loggy Bayou in Oil City. In Oil City I took pictures of the Louisiana Oil Museum and for good measure to finish the day I went another 12 miles to get the Louisiana border sign, even though it doesn't count. Just for good measure. The most fun about this was passing the same people all day after stopping to take pictures. I suggest this for everyone! It's makes a great day. This took me 6 hours and around 200+ miles.

Story by Will F. I started out at 6 AM to fuel up and get some grub from Joe & Eddies before we started the trip. Sam and George were already there; I swear they must start out really early just to be the first ones there every time. After breakfast we waited for Hack to show up, and we did not have to wait long. We left and headed down 98 to pick up JoeJoe and Munchkin on the way. The roads were a little crowded by the people on their way to work, but not to bad. The old Harley was running great! After we got on the highway and started cruzin' things just fell into place, all was right with the world. I think that a lot of the people we passed were jealous of us because we were out having fun while they were on their way to work, bummer. We stopped for fuel about every 80 miles, JoeJoe's max mileage while cruzin above 70 (on his Harley, it only 3.5 gallon tanks. I don't know why Harley didn't put 5 gallon fat bobs on that model, must have been that Japanese Engineer they hired), which worked out great for rest stops. We stopped in Mississippi to see George's better-looking brother and got a 50-cent tour of the Coast Guard Station. The Mississippi Cruze In was going on, so we took a look around, but not many hot rods had made it there yet; although, we did see a lot of them on their way there traveling down the highway. I didn't know that there were that many 55, 56, 57 Chevy's in this area, all painted red and white. In Louisiana at the place we stopped for fuel some one was tearing up the countryside and putting in a shopping mall, go figure, nothing around for miles but they are constructing a big mall? I guess they think that if they build it people will come, maybe it will become a tourist attraction or something, whatever. Made it to close to Pat's and called for an escort; unfortunately, Pat was about 10 miles away waiting for us where he thought we'd be, oh well, we were in no hurry. Just as he showed up it started raining (and it didn't let up for two days) I don't know what was the cause for the rain except the maybe the Sandie curse, where they go rain shall follow. Finally made it to Pat's place, and Brenda had a feast waiting, Spaghetti with meatballs (homemade) and a great sauce, salad, and garlic bread, good eating. Everyone found a place to sleep, Munchkin and Hack in the motor home (ask Hack about sleeping on the wet spot), Sam and George in the spare bedroom, I took the back room, and JoeJoe took the couch, guess he didn't like the top bunk. Pat suggests an after lunch ride to work off the big lunch; everyone was up for it, although it was still raining, except for Sam (I think she was the smart one) because she found a comfortable place on the porch swing. There are lots of nice twisty roads by Pats house, but the general consensus was "that they would be great if it was dry out" (the phrase of our stay in Louisiana) lets just say that the tires seem to slip and slide a little more in La. Back at Pat's place we put up the bikes, wrung out our socks, hung up the rain gear, and went inside to relax. Everyone slowly broke off and went to bed about 10 pm to get some rest for the festivities of the following day, 300 + miles done and more to go. Ahh, the dawning of the second day, up at 5:30 AM, just could not sleep past that time (normal wake up at home). Weather prediction is "RAIN", clearing around noon, "yeah right". The day started with George making coffee, which got people up and moving, breakfast was being made, JoeJoe on the computer to get the latest up-dates on the weather, and anxious Sandie's praying for clear weather to ride in. The hardest part of the waiting was that Pat had a great ride set up for us, the plans were set but mother nature would not cooperate with our wishes, oh well adapt and overcome. While waiting for a break in the weather we started reading the magazines and motorcycle parts catalogs that Pat had sitting around. George complained that Pat only had Harley parts books around, but I informed him that he had alternative motorcycle parts catalogs in the bathroom on the little role next to the cat bowl (aka: toilet bowl). he didn't think that was funny, I don't know why. Finally enough was enough, and we got our rain suits on and went riding. Pat in the lead, and I was bringing up the rear. We were doing the normal Sandie thing, looking for a place to eat. Well, ya gotta eat. We ended up at the Cajun Village, nice quaint tourist place, and being tourists we fit right in. The locals thought that we were crazy for riding on such a beautiful rainy day, but we informed them that we were Sanddollars and that this was normal riding weather for us (ain't it the truth?). We had some excellent chow, not as good as Brenda's, but it was still very good. Munchkin had empty saddlebags, so he did some shopping to fill them, and the rest of us checked out the place. Mostly we were just killing time hoping that the sun would make an appearance. Since the sun would not cooperate we decided to head back to Pat's place to wait out the rain and pray for better weather.We went by van to Catfish Charlie's restaurant, it was still raining and crossing the bay on the boat to Mindorf's didn't seem appealing because most of us were still wet. What can you say we were whimps, but dry ones. Dinner was excellent, that is why I like riding with the Sandies, they know where all the good grub is.Sam celebrated her birthday (I wasn't about to ask her age because I was sitting within striking distance). They have a dock out back that has underwater lights to attract the Turtles, so the tourists can feed them, lots of Turtles, Geese, Ducks, and 1 water rat (kindda looked like a wet road rat, but what do I know). A good time was had by all. Upon rising on the third day we awoke to wet ground and, can you believe it, "no rain". Everyone started to get motivated, get organized, pack the bikes, drink lots of coffee, and before we could leave "TADA" it started raining, oh well, another day in the trenches. Pat's brother Don was waiting at the Chevron down the road, so while trying to leave, George, not wanting to forget our lovely time in Louisiana, dropped his helmet in the mud, I think he was fishing for mudbugs, and he had to clean it out before leaving. Everyone left and went to the Chevron to wait for George and fuel up before heading to Mississippi and the Natchez Trace. Went to breakfast a couple miles down the road to fuel up our stomachs. The rain abated for a little while as we left the restaurant, but found us a little while later. Once in Mississippi the rain stopped, and we saw an odd object in the sky? It was bright and warm, I've heard of it but I haven't seen it in a while. Anyway, we made our way to the Trace with a stop at Wally World (Wallmart) for refreshments to have lunch on the Trace. Once we found the Trace, yeah, typical Sandie u-turn, the road wasn't crowded with tourists; the sites were interesting with a lot of history behind them. We were going to try and make Jackson before leaving, but it was getting late and George wanted to get to the Beverly Drive-In, I guess he had a hot date with Sam. We were riding hard across Mississippi to get to the theatre before dark, but due to things almost falling off Honda's (sorry George, I had to tell) and the rain, yes it rained again, we just didn't make it to the movies. We kept going till we hit Hattiesburg, MS. Where we were going to stop for the night. Now, this is the part that I have to explain my "Blazing My Own Trail", we were coming to a light and it was changing, so I got stuck at it, but I watched which way the group went. I really did not get caught at the light I stopped. I was following the pack for three days, and do you know what three day old road rats smells like? And wet road rats at that. Lets just say the smell was getting intense in the back, the bugs hitting my windshield were already dead before impact. I was just looking for some fresh air because anything was better than what I was breathing. OK, back to the story. After motel hopping we settled on one, can't remember the name, toooooo tired. Met up with Hack after getting settled, and since we could not find anyone else we went for food. Of course, we must have been slow because everyone else was already at the Longhorn, seated, orders placed. We sat down at the next table, and the waiter must not have known that we were all together, so we were ignored. Hack went to the bar for some beer, and I don't know about anyone else but that first beer after a hard days riding tasted great, and it was served in a chilled glass goblet. After this trip George probably thinks that I'm an alcoholic, but I am just a plain drunk, I don't waste my drinking time going to meetings. We still couldn't get the attention of the waiter, so we sat at the bar watching football. After eating it was time for sleep. The last day we awoke to sunny skies, and moderate temps. The hotel had a good continental breakfast, and it was free. After everyone was done eating we said our goodbyes to Pat and Brenda, Munchkin, and Don. We started the last leg of our journey. George wanted to find the checkers museum, don't ask, so we set out for the objective and found the Beverly Drive-In, we were just a little late to see the movie. One of Hattiesburg's finest stopped, probably to check out the "ruff looking bikers" haha, he was really helpful in escorting us out of town in the direction of the museum, but we did not succeed in our task, drat. So we hit the road heading for home with five bikes. The trip home was interesting because we found some reeeeeeeeally nice roads to travel, namely Mississippi 548, and a few more. The more we traveled East the colder it got, especially when we were traveling through Alabama, so we turned South. The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful except when the train engineer blew his horn and Hack nearly jumped off of his bike, and when the trailer next to Hack jumped over a curb, it was not his day. Life's a journey, not a destination, and this journey was no exception. Plainly stated "I had fun". The rain could not dampen my spirits, nor my attitude. The only thing I can tell those Sandies that have not attended a trip like this is to just go and have fun. Remember a bad day on the bike is better than a good day at work, or something like that. "THANK YOU" to Pat and Brenda for their hospitality and putting up with me, and to everyone else on the trip!!! THE END (of this trip) Story by Pat & Brenda: What more can be said? They came...we rode...we ate...we got wet...but we laughed a lot. Once again it was our pleasure to welcome the Sandies into our home for what is becoming an annual event...THE LOW ROAD TOUR. With much anticipation, Brenda and I busied ourselves getting ready for the Sandies' incoming. Beautiful weather all week before..but upon arrival..the sky began to cry like the Indian Motorcycle dealers going out of business across the land. Wait an minute....INDIANS......RAIN.........HUHHHHH...could there be a connection? Anyhowww... after getting the group settled in...eating..we began what was to be the main event for the next couple days....watching the weather channel and JOE-JOE on the computer watching the screen show clearing over our area....buttt...the old fashioned weather monitor....the arm out the window....showed continued falling of the SKY TEARS !But we didn't let that stop us... we had a route planned....rain gear...and the SANDIE spirit to ride on....SOOOO... we suited up and rode some both of the first two days on the wet...somewhat slippy roads. Did that bother us? No indeed....it did not....it only turned our front porch into a display stand of the different wet weather gear available to riders today. Friday night we did give in and take the van to CATFISH CHARLIES for dinner and celebration of the date which marks the birth of the RIDER OF ALL TIME (anyone who has had to follow George on his LOST voyages as long as she has deserves that title) SAM. Thanks Munch for the Munchies. Saturday was a special day for me...not only was the weather clearing a little, but my Big Brother Donald was riding with us. He just started riding a couple years ago and really has taken a likin' to it...this was his first road trip with a group and he loved the ride and the interaction with the Sandies and looks forward to the next trip. We got a late start Saturday morning...nobody war real anxious to start another wet ride...but the farther north we went the sky began to dry it's tears and blue skies peaked through the clouds here and there. I really like the back roads to Natchez and the Trace was beautiful as always...but the route we found to cross the state of Mississippi diagonally to Hattiesburg...was an unexpected joy.....curvy...great scenery...bumps and potholes to dodge...and the UNKNOWN of what was around the next curve. A little editorial time here...the years I spent riding with the Sandollars while I lived in Shalimar, I would ride at the end of the line...way in the back...lollygagging along...eating my snacks and thinking up ways to aggravate George. What would it be today?.... sneak up and run past backfiring...no haw aboaut standing on the rear floorboards and mooning him at 70mph...laugh and stir the pot when we had to make the infamous u-turn because the road ended or we were just lost....that was some of the most enjoyable times of my life....George provided so much entertainment. There is a saying that goes something like "If you are not the LEAD DOG..the scenery never changes".....well I'm here to tell you that if you are the LEAD DOG...you can't really enjoy the scenery because you are tooo busy watching for the next turn...worrying about getting lost...and just feeling responsible for the enjoyment of the whole group. It isn't bad leading over the familiar roads around home...but going up into Mississippi onto unknown roads...well that is where it becomes more work than fun. I was lucky...only a couple of DETOURS...and a group of understanding..."WHAT THE HELL, LETS HAVE FUN" people made my time as LEAD DOG bearable...a couple times I tried to give the LEAD to George, but he would have nothing to do with it. SOOO....appreciate your Road Captain...George makes it look easy, but he puts a lot of time and effort into the planning of the rides he leads and puts up with a lot of griping at times...just be glad you can enjoy the RIDE without the pressure. Enough soap-box time. Great dinner in Hattiesburg...too bad we got into town too late for the DRIVE-IN movie...there's always next time. Brenda and I and Donald really enjoyed the time with the Sandies...the weather could have been better..but the company sure could not have been better...Lookin' forward to next time. Hack's Remarks: What I learned. Pat and Brenda are wonderful people for puting us up and puting up with George. After 3 cross country rides, I'm addicted. Dave doesn't snore as loud as I was lead to believe. Sam has more common sense then the rest of this group ( she didn't go out in the monsoon to ride that 1st day) and should be our president. Joe taught us the true meaning of " something". Don, Pat's brother, chews tobacco and drinks beer, he's OK in my book. I'm glad George doesn't drink. If you pack the right tools you won't need them, metrics for the jap bikes, adjustable wrench, hammer and a 25 ft. tow rope for the harleys. Will is too easy going for an anchor clanker. Sleeping on the wet spot isn't as good as it use to be. And the number ONE thing I learned was; the guy who says no whining on this trip is going to be the first. I'd like to thank Pat and Brenda for the great food and terrific roads hope to see you next year. Hack

by SPECTRE STEVE "Hey", Paco said, "Anyone want to go to the Motorcycle Jubilee in Springfield?" "Why, sure" I replied. That was the start of a relatively short trip from my home in Navarre to Springfield Mo. and back. We logged a bit over 1550 miles. It was to be a good weekend, despite rain showers, heat, and one crazed cop. Paco shows at the Gas station in Navarre around 9:20AM on Thursday, we gas up and are on our way by 9:30AM Cutting through Mobile on highway 98 was our first real challenge. Following Paco, I find he is indeed, a Sandie, as he makes a U-turn to get back on the right road. Through Mobile, four lanes all the way for quite a while, then a lunch stop near Hattiesburg MS.. Found a nice little souvenir shop that served delicious ice cream. Paco tries the local flavors and I try the strawberry. Tough bikers can always try the strawberry ice cream because we are secure in our bikerhood. Looking around, I see a whole shelf of hot sauces. I pick up one for Skwirrel because she likes those hot things. It's called "XXX After Death". Later I find it lives up to its name. She still won't even look at that little bottle without having the local burn unit and fire dept. on standby. On the road after lunch, we take a couple of back roads to skip Jackson and end up in Vicksburg. Coming through one little town in MS. we look up and see a local Law Enforcement Officer signaling us to pull over. He kindly informs Paco that the modulating headlight he is using is illegal in "his" jurisdiction. Paco, using his well-known powers of discretion, decides wisely to simply comply, turns off the modulator, says "yes sir", and we continue. Yes, we know it's legal in all states, yes we could have argued the point with the local Gendarme`. No, we did not feel like being introduced to the local Magistrate while he lectures us on the evils of arguing with "his" police officers. Deciding not to stop in Vicksburg, we push on towards Little Rock. Highway 65 through LA. and AR. is a pleasant enough drive, just not many twisties to play on. We get just south of Little Rock AR. and decide that is will be a good day's drive if we can make it through Little Rock before dark and stop just north of there. We pick Conway AR. to stop for the evening. Picking a motel, we ask for nonsmoking rooms, get two rooms, ask for 5AM wake up calls, walk in and I find ashtrays in mine, along with that smokers funk hanging in the air. While I switch rooms, Paco does chain maintenance, we clean up, and walk to a nearby restaurant. What can we say? The place we chose wasn't at the top of our "places to eat again" list. A good nights rest always does wonders for a traveling soul. Refreshed, fed, bikes packed, and we are on our way again. One more time we show our Sandie heritage by immediately missing our intended turn. Finding an alternate route, we decide to take the twisty way north. It only lasts 30 or so miles, but it was fun to ride with plenty of hills and fair twisties on the way. Joining up with highway 65 we continue on and find rain, stopping for gas, another biker asks if we are going to the Jubilee. Yes, we are, I inform him. After exchanging pleasantries, we are on our way again. Rain, more rain and rain again. Finally, we arrive in Springfield. Rain is falling and we don't expect to see many bikes at the Fairgrounds. Looking for a place to stay, we find a motel directly across from the event. Reasonable prices, rooms are not too bad and it's only a short walk across the street to get to the Jubilee. There it was-a whole acre of Gold Wings. Wings of all years, colors, configurations and accessories. My goodness, look at all the chrome! And look, all the passengers are dressed like all the drivers! Goodness me! Look at all the trikes! There is even a Harley Trike or two. And over there is the generous parking area for the handicapped. It's full! Of Gold Wings! With Handicapped parking stickers! Well, at least they are out riding. Going into the Jubilee, I quickly find that they need to rename it the Gold Wing Jubilee instead of the Motorcycle Jubilee. Frankly, I was disappointed that there were not a large variety of bikes present. Mostly GW's, a few Valks and the occasional Harley tourer. Lots and lots of GW trikes. Paco finds that the dealers for the demo rides promised had canceled a week before the event. He registers his disappointment with the event managers, as do I. Next year they will be having the event in Nashville. But, not to despair, the "main event" of the Jubilee is sure to be fun. It is the World Championships for Motorcycle Drill Teams. Saturday comes and we look forward to the elimination rounds of competition. Sitting in the bleachers we see several GW's go through the paces of competition for the single bikes. Some very good riders were out there. But to tell the truth, we have several riders in the Sandies that could have competed with just a bit of practice. They were impressive nonetheless. We watched as one rider completed his demo and wheelied out of the arena. On his 1500 Gold Wing. It was a double wheelie too. That was fun to see and I was impressed with the amount of control that they had over their bikes. However, we were informed that because of the weather, the team trials had been postponed 'till Sunday afternoon. Disappointed, we had already agreed to leave Sunday morning. We won't be able to attend the Championships, which were the main reason we came in the first place. Ah well, such is life. The best laid plans and all that. One unexpected pleasure came from watching the Purple Peddlers Tricycle Drill Team from Ohio. They were doing all the moves that you would expect from a first class drill team. But they did them on pedal tricycles. And they were all ladies. The youngest one was 62. Now that's impressive. Sunday dawns and we are up and ready to go. Heading South from Springfield, we hit Branson MO. and have breakfast. Several other bikers pull in and we chat. Branson is a favorite weekend destination for many bikers. We accidentally tour more of Branson than we intended, showing our Sandie colors again. Breakfast in Branson Heading out, we take highway 65 again, for about 30 miles, then south via Highway 7 into Arkansas. Highway 7, if you didn't already know, is designated as a National Scenic Route. It also is one of the nicest twisty rides around. Lots of hairpins, sweepers and just plain fun turns. Even at the end of summer, there is little traffic that day, the occasional motor home and pickup truck is all. Getting near the top of the ride, we stop and take a couple of pictures while the rain holds off a bit longer. It's looking a lot like rain, again. Rain seemed to be the main theme of this trip. In fact most every trip I take seems to be filled with rain. Hmm, you don't suppose it's me do you? Twisties are habitual. Even slow in the rain, they are fun. I was sorry to get to the flatlands again and drive those long, long straight-aways. Deciding to skip past Little Rock on back roads, we find another nice not-so-twisty-but-fun road. Paco and his BMW are cruising along at our customary 80-85, hitting the curves, straightening the hills, when we spy another bike ahead, it's a Harley with a guy driving and a gal on the back. I swear she looks back at us. But when Paco passes, the guy obviously didn't know we were there. He does the classic swerve and almost hits the ditch. Situational Awareness is a wonderful thing if you use it. Look in the mirrors folks; don't be surprised by the sudden appearance of any vehicle. On we ride, the never-ending road has an end this evening though. It's located in Vicksburg. We check out a couple of motels, choose one, unpack, clean up, and off we go to a restaurant recommended by a local. It's a nice enough place, the food was OK, but the service lacked something. That something was called service. There was little or no attention to us by our waitress. Others were arriving, being served, eating the meal and leaving by the time we got the attention from our waitress and told her we were really there to eat, no kidding. She finally brought the food and we consumed it rapidly. Hungry wolves would not have had a chance at my seafood pasta. Back to the motel, a good nights sleep, no wake-up call. That's twice we asked for wake up calls and not one ring for either of us. Good help must be hard to find. Off we go down highway's 27 and 28 to skip past Jackson MS. again. Not that we don't like Jackson, we just didn't want to push through all that traffic coming or going. We make it all the way to Florida before we decide to part ways. Paco wants to get back home; I want to take a little more scenic route. Paco rides off down the Interstate, I head off down 98 through AL. Enjoying the final leg of my journey, I find, once again, RAIN! Not hard enough to dress for it though. But I sure get tired of riding in rain. Home beckons now and I hurry through Pensacola and am home in the early afternoon. Skwirrel welcomes me home as only she can. Don't ask. Lessons learned from this trip? Paco is a good companion for riding and finding roads. I enjoyed the entire time, rain or no. Just because a restaurant looks good and is recommended doesn't mean it's going to be good. Always check with multiple sources for events far from home to find out exactly what you are going to see when you arrive. Motels don't always wake you up when they say they will. Rain is inevitable. If you dress for rain, it won't. Rain will NOT spoil a trip. Just be prepared for it with a little planning and forethought. Wrong turns wont spoil a trip. Sometimes we find things that make the "wrong" turn the "right" turn. Heck, the worse that can happen with a wrong turn is that you may have to turn around. A little time is all it takes. Home always looks good when you return. There's no place like home. Say that three times while clicking your heels together and you will still have a long drive ahead of you. Spectre Steve

(July 15th through 23rd, 2003) (Steve W's story in his own words) OBJECTIVE: To my brother’s in Ohio then to AMA Vintage Motorcycle Races in Lexington, Ohio for a camping weekend. DAY ONE, 15 JULY: The bike was ready...had been for a week. Packed the night before. My wife looked at me standing in the garage at 6AM and read me like a book. She asked “are you dreading the trip?” and I had to be honest (you’ve got to be honest when you’re not any good at lying). “Yes, a little” was all I could say. Anyway, I broke one of the motorcycle commandments that morning. “Don’t ride unless you’re mentally prepared.” (I’m sure some wonder about me and mental anyway). After an hour on the road I was ready (talk about being behind the power curve). “I’M GOING TO DO THIS!!” Up through Dothan, Eufaula to Columbus, Georgia, 185 North to 27. Rome, Georgia and a oops, yes...I’m a Sandie, wrong road, 41 North instead of 411. Checked the map, I can get there from here! Eventually got to Madisonville, Tenn. Stayed in the motel Joe Joe advised ,Motor Inns of America ,$35.00 a night. 509 miles, 10 hours the first day. Why did I push so hard? The “Dragon” had been calling for the last 200 miles. The Hardies next door to the motel, sucks.. That is all I’m going to say about that. DAY TWO: 6AM up, packed and on the way to the Cherohalla Skyway. Oh yea, that’s 5AM our time. 30 minute ride to the entrance of the park. Nice and cool out feels great, the day before the heat was ungodly. Entering the Cherohalla I realized why they have so many accidents, the scenery is beautiful, it’s hard to keep your eyes on the road. Big sweeping curves, the road is in just great shape.After about 5 miles I realized I couldn’t see...fog. As always, it wasn’t bad at first, but soon it was to the point of slowing to a crawl. No traffic on the mountain and I can’t see 10 yards in front of me. Felt like a twilight zone episode. Next thing I know I’m out of it and hauling butt again. Then I realized I was above it and would have to go through it on the way down. But what a good ride up and down round and round. The Valkyrie loved it. Third and fourth gear right on the strong part of the torque curve. Back in the fog this time it was so bad I just stopped, getting vertigo, couldn’t fix my eyes on anything. Took about a 7 minute break, back on the road, bet I didn’t ride ½ a mile and was in the clear. 33 miles of great road.Next time I won’t start so early. On to the “Dragon”. Stopped at the resort on the south end of the dragon and talked to a few folks. One couple was on a Gold Wing trike traveling the country with there wiener dog! I don’t think my cat would go for it. The Dragon: 318 curves in 11 miles, it sounds scarier than it is. The road is in perfect condition, the curves had a slight bank to them and if you’re not being pushed and can ride your own speed it is a blast! If you ride a cruiser you’re going to drag pegs, cause the road encourages you to slide up to the front of the seat and power through the corners. It’s better than...you know...one of George’s all you can eat buffets.Ok, it was time to leave this garden of Eden, had to get to Ohio, the Buckeye state, the land of (put your hand over your heart) “Woody Hayes”!!! Fastest way was I-75, I went from heaven to motorcyclist hell. They must have launched every semi in Knoxville. They flat beat the crap out of me for the first hour. One thing I did learn is the value of a set of ear plugs. Finally made it to the bypass of Cincinnati, around onto a nice rural Ohio road, 127. Problem I had was being on the bike for over 10 hours and my wrist was locked to seventy five. Got to my brother’s (Greg) in one piece, the Honda never missed a beat. 492 miles, 12 hours. DAY THREE: Rode the local area getting the last minute items for the camping trip. Just a note about my brother. First he’s the last of my immediate family, I’m 17 years older (yes Chris, he’s 34). We never grew up together, I joined the AF at 19, when he was 2. He had to listen to mom and dad say why can’t you be more like your brother his whole childhood, and we’re the best of friends. Doesn’t make sense. That night I cooked one of my specialities, teriyaki rib eyes. Two reasons for the meal, one I feel a person should pay their own way. If Greg’s wife was going to put up with me, the least I could do was buy and cook supper. Second reason, I knew we would be eating crap for the next 2 ½ days camping. DAY FOUR: On the road to mid Ohio, Greg did a great job packing his Concours, 8-man tent, cooler, 2 air mattresses, sleeping bag, 2 folding chairs and clothes. My load was small, tools and repair kits, sleeping bag, clothes, pillow and a blankie. Never leave home without your pillow and blankie. First stop Bob Evans for breakfast, remember about eating crap...well Bob tried to kill me. After eating and on the road 20 minutes I thought my lower GI track was going to explode. Every bump in the road brought tears to my eyes. Emergency stop at a gas station. All I can say is I wouldn’t want to be the next guy to use the facilities and no more Bob Evans.On to the raceway, Greg was leading. He knew the route well. Caught up with 4 people on crotch rockets going to the races, waved as they made a wrong turn, saw them about 3 hours later at the track...hmmm, potential Sandies! The track, mid Ohio is out in rural Ohio 2 miles from Lexington. Two and a half mile road course. They also set up an MX track in a farmers field, racing on grass the way moto X was first done by the Europeans. It was one o’clock when we found a nice flat spot for the tent, about in the same spot we did the AMA super bike races last year, boy was that a zoo. Hoping the people at this event are a little more civil. Weird thing about this spot was that it had a plastic fence running around three sides. The area was right in the middle of the rest of the camp ground and the size of a football field. A few other people camping in it, no signs saying reserved, so what the hell, we pitched the tent, set up camp. The whole time you could hear the racers on the road track practicing, sounded like a bunch of pissed off bee’s, I was getting pumped.. Off to check out the track and venders. These guys practicing were flat hauling the mail and doing it on old bikes that in some peoples minds belong in a museum. On to the venders/swap meet. One and a half hours of looking at bikes in every condition and, well, you name a year and a model and it was there. Like I said 1 ½ hours and we didn’t make a dent in the swap meet. Found out later they had 900 venders and we looked at everyone over the course of the weekend. Supper that night was pizza. Got it from the Domino’s golf cart driving guy. About 20 yards away was a camp site with 5 moto Guzzi’s one with a Velorex sidecar. Had a good talk with them. The Guzzi was an automatic called a convert. The cool thing about this whole thing was if you saw a bike at a camp site you wanted to learn about or just say I owned one of those, you walked in, asked who’s and what year and you just made a new friend. 9:30PM I called my wife on the cell phone and said “Listen to this”, holding the phone in the air. She said she couldn’t hear anything. Exactly!!! Probably 2,000 people camping and it was so quiet you could a cricket fart. What a difference from the superbike races of last year. DAY 5: Whole day of racing and looking for old bikes I’d owned even found a 1967, 175 Bridgestone, the third bike I owned. 1970 Bultaco matador, bike #4, and my last dirt bike, 1972 DKW in which the guy brought to race in the Moto-X 125 class. By that night the campground was full, at least 3,000 folks. Found out from the neighbor who showed up that day with an Ariel, a 500 BSA and a Triumph, which he rolled out of the back of his motor home, that we were camped out in the moto-x paddock (garage area, in this case you brought your own garage) Oh well, no one asked us to leave so we didn’t. That night we partied with the Guzzi folks for awhile. They had live entertainment, a guitar player and banjo picker. It was good until they started playing that cry in your beer stuff. So, Greg and I check out some of the other camps. Got invited into a camp with 9 mopeds, no kidding, great folks. We joined them and watched On Any Sunday part 2. After the movie, back to the Guzzi Camp. 10:30 everyone down and out except two, one guy was trying to build a fire big enough to be seen by sky lab. Then the two most important guys in the camp showed up, introduced themselves, shook hands all around. When asked what they did, they were the guys in charge of emptying the port-a-johns. I love meeting celebrities. DAY 6: Ahhh the smell of 2 stroke exhaust in the morning. Motocross day 7AM and the last minute tinkering the wing dinging is music. Brings back great memories. I want to camp in the paddock next year. Bratwurst and sauerkraut for breakfast beat the heck out of Bob Evans, no after affects anyway. Walked around the road track watching the races. If the track outside of Birmingham, Barber Motor sports Park, is as good as Mid Ohio, I’ll have to go. Party over, time to head back to Greg’s. DAY 7: Woke up to rain, went back to sleep DAY 8: Tuesday, overcast. Hit the road, 127 South to Cincinnati bypass. This time no interstate. Got off on 50 to Indiana to 421 South to Frankfort Ky. Early on 421 I rounded a blind corner and found a doe standing in my lane. This was 10:30AM, don’t they ever sleep! 60 miles of twisties to 127 South. This road turned into an endurance run. I rode 127 South all the way to Chattanooga, TN. The only flat place was around Danville, Ky. 445 miles and it flat wore me out...11 hours. DAY 9: Wednesday, 27 South to 185, then 431, 231, 90, 285, and home. Rained on and off until I got to 185, then it got so hot I had to shed the rain gear, wished it would rain some more. Finally got to 90 last gas stop. Not quite, make it to Mossy Head and my butt needed a break. Walked around in circles for awhile and back at it. Pulled up in the driveway and my son-in-law is setting in the garage watching speed channel. All he has to say is “your bike is a mess and there’s no beer in the fridge”. 438 miles 9 hours, total miles 2,286. One of the things I came up with that really helped was I wrote the road numbers on the inside edge of the right mirror with an erasable marker. Next day wiped off and wrote the new days numbers. Would I do this again? You bet your bippie...and I am. But Greg and I have a little different plan for the vintage races, just wait and see. Sidehack (Steve W)