2013 USA Motorcycle Tour: Chapter 3, Day 2

We arose from our sound slumber on the morning of day 2, ignited with glorious purpose. The forecast looked clear, our route was charted and nothingstood in our way to Utica. After a complementary continential breakfast of (fake) ham (fake) eggs and (suspicious) waffles we geared up the bikes and rolled out of Lock Haven, fueled with processed goodness.

Like fettling with your bike? Do one of these tours; you'll spend at least 30 mins every morning doing just that

I somehow adopted the Robin Hood boot wearing technique and didn't realize it for the entire day

What made an already wonderful morning better was route 664 and 414 comint out of Lock Haven. Kilometer after kilometer of (mostly) deserted slices of tight curvy tarmac electrified our senses as they darted through gargantuan ever greens and boound across scopic fields of grass. We enjoyed the roads so much that none of us bothered with pictures. Good thing George had the sense to turn on his Contour HD.

Emerging from the mountain roads, stumbled on a gas station next to some beautiful mountains that flanked a stream. Pictures were in order.

Somewhere along the way, we missed a turn and ended up near the intersection of Route 414 and Intestate 15. As soon as we got on the interstate to get back on track, Alok's bike popped a warning light. We pulled out of traffic and found out that his R6 had converted nearly half a quart of oil into smoke.

Gasing up before Interstate 15

Feeding the smoke machine

More bike fettling while Alok takes his topped up death machine around the block

Mr. Vietnam going for a naked ride

Once Alok's frying pan powered touring machine had a fresh barrel of oil injected into it's thirsty bowels, we quickly found ourselves lost somewhere on Route 6 in Pennsylvania. We pulled onto a random property to check our maps. What we didn't know was the property was the home and workshop of Mr. Mike Miller; Harley man, Indian (motorcycles) enthusiast, custom bike builder and all around nice guy.

This ordinary exterior hides some pretty cool stuff

A small mountain of motorcycles ...

... base of the mountain

Original Bridgeport milling machine

Original Harly 'Springer' front end... I am told it's rare

A custom bike built by Mike

Another custom bike

Mr. Miller posing for a magazine photo shoot with the same bike. Picture stolen from Google.

We stepped outside of the time warp that was Mr. Miller's workshop and made a bee line for Utica as the sun rapidly descended below the horrizon.

Merely 15 minutes away from Utica, in the darkness of an unlit New York highway, the rain came down hard. We arrived at Best Western completely damp and miserable. What a dissapointing end to an otherwise great day of riding.

Bikes tucked away for the night

POURING

Funky laundry

Tomorrow's another day

2013 USA Motorcycle Tour: Chapter 2, Day 1

In the glow of an early June morning, I warmed up my mighty green touring machine and met up with the guys. With our tanks brimmed and tires gorged of air we set off towards the Fort Eerie boarder crossing.

Old Italian: You know this bike will catch fire right?
Alok: No sweat, I've wrapped my balls in a wet towel

Predictably, there was some traffic at customs. What we had not expected though was a line that was quite literally a mile long (at least). What many don't know is that sport bike alternators don't really work at idle. George's R1 for example only charged the battery when it was spinning above 4,000 RPMs!!! So to prevent our batteries from turning into lead bricks, we turned off our bikes and pushed! For a mile!

Once we got through customs we noticed that Alok was missing. As it turned out the only brown guy in our group was selected, at random, for a series of secondary inspection procedures. Never could have seen that coming...

Crossing the border: much easier if your not brown

After an uncomfortably long time, Alok emerged from the secondary inspection hut. And with that nonsense out of the way we were Lock Haven bound.

Alok coming out of the secondary inspection hut

Alok demonstrating the cavity search position

We carried a brisk pace throughout the day. Rain was on and off as we crossed into Pennsilvania. It spanned from a light drizzle to golf ball sized droplets with the trajectory of a rifle bullet. You can see the massive changes in the amount of rain on the ground in the pictures below, as well as the the rain gear coming on and off.

Between showers, we had hot sausages at a place called Tidioute... Or as a hot blonde farm girl in a blacked out monster truck called it 'Tittyville'. I thought that was country speak for 'take me now' but I was too married to oblige and the rest of my crew was too dainty to try. If only they had been on Kawasaki's (the only bike for real men), oh well.

Nine months later, the sign gave birth to a letter 'A' and a 12mm nut

Alok enjoying the glorious peaks of 'Tittyville'

By the time we arrived in Lock Haven it was nearly midnight. We found food at Subway and vacancy at a Best Western which to our suprise had a fantastic policy. They allowed sport bikes to park out front under the veranda in plain view of the manager's office.

Last gas up before Lock Haven

Arriving in Lock Haven

Dead bugs from two states and a province

Behold the glory of the Subway, the only restraunt open in all of Lock Haven at midnight

We ate our fill of mediocrity and decided our bikes deserved a treat after the 12+ hour ride they took us through. Alok learned of a nearby coin wash and we squidded over in the most unholy of hours.

George rinsing off some of that multi-state bug collection on his wind shield

Midnight carwash squids

You missed a spot, chinaman (I'm allowed to use that word because I'm Chinese)

And that concluded the first of our 5 day journey. Already, the strain of touring started to show on everyone but me thanks to my massive (ly expensive) Air Hawk R! I dismounted my bike for the final time that night and thought 'I have been on more uncomfortable Lazy Boys'. Riding on an Air Hawk is like sitting on a bike make entirely of Gianna Michaels.

Stay tuned for chapter 3 where I PROMISE something will explode.