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)