‘Snaps’ blagged a cigarette from me at I started my day, the conversation opened with a somewhat off the wall request as to whether I had steroids. Those of you who have seen me will know that my temple has not been enhanced in any way. We moved on to the availability of pharmaceuticals in the UK and it became clear the ‘Snaps’ had been up all night, more alarmingly he told me that he had suffered a heart attack in prison and it struck me that ‘Snaps’ was a good nickname to give a psychopath.
Author: lemansman
Less than I’d like to be, more than I expected.
Day 23 Dinosaurs
Up and out for the 90 minute ride into Long Beach. I’m quicker now, things are finding their place and I clear the room methodically from the bathroom back to the door. Last to go is the charging kit, not for the bike battery but for phone, iPad and backup battery. The phone is good fro 5 hours of navigation and needs the battery pack for the crucial run in to the motel. The iPad provides backup connectivity and seems to have better mobile data connections than either of the two phone sims, it’s saved me a couple of times when, in exhaustion, I need to find/book a motel.
Mark’s place, yards off the Pacific Coast Highway, is amazing. I’d like to think that in some parallel universe I am him and he is, hopefully, someone cooler than me.
Day 22 A trip to the beach
She started. Not startled I departed as early as possible in order to have a small chance of getting to Mark at Moto Guzzi Classics in LA before he closed at 5 pm. It was a long shot, over 300 miles and around 6 hours in the saddle longer if I stopped to wonder at things like this.
Out in the middle of nowhere sand dunes rose up from the harsh rugged landscape and drifted across the road. The North Algodones Dunes attracted buggies of excessive, singleminded, horsepower.
Day 21 Stranded in the desert
Build it and they will come, fear it enough and they’ll burn it down.
It was moments after taking this picture that I realised she wasn’t going to start again. I already knew that the starter was playing up and initially had left the engine running then decided that in the heat with no air flow this would soon cause other problems. I turned her off. I took some photos, I stretched my lungs, I put my jacket, helmet, gloves and rucksack back on then, click, rat-a-tat-a-tat-a went the solenoid as the gear failed to engage the starter ring in productive conversation.
Day 20 The road to Phoenix
In the morning Steve handed me a piece of paper with handwritten recommendations of places in the USA that he thought I’d enjoy along with a chemical heat pack to use should I get caught out in the cold again.
The radar said “go now or get very wet”. I packed, picked a southerly route and departed, posting would have to wait.
Day 19 Are you Kidding?
A bar with no beer! Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen. They are empty, go figure, I am too polite to just walk out. Trouble with the license they tell me, I’ve left my phone on the hotel WIFI uploading pictures so no chance of scouting around for an alternative venue for afters. The salsa is scorchingly hot, which went a little way to ease my disappointment.
Billy the Kid country today, Lincoln, once the baddest town in the West, now quietly nestling between rugged hills, “The Boys” would still recognise it. The fondness for gunplay is still here, borne witness to by the bullet perforated historic markers.
Day 18 Tornado Alley
Motel, road, gas, road, gas, road, motel. A rhythm emerges and I won’t bore you with the practicalities or pain of persuading old components, mechanical and biological across 362 miles of sun bleached wind blown highway. We both made it although the portion of my large nose that protrudes below my visor is now shedding its second skin.
“That’s your problem Timothy, you just don’t think” my mother would say after my latest mishap. She was right, of course, I don’t think, not in that organised safe, all outcomes considered, all risks evaluated way. I envisage a happy path or sometimes a sad one, often a little above achievable or below believable, and off I go. Bags on bike, gas in tank, cash in wallet, let’s rock! Impulsively swinging between optimism and pessimism. What was I thinking?
Day 17 Plain sailing Sunday
I rose at 7, the fishermen had departed at 4 am and managed to hitch up their overpowering boats to their overpowered pick ups without recalling me from the land of Nod. Wandering around the corner to a gas station that I had spotted the night before, I was disappointed to find the shop closed and the pumps signed ‘card only’. I hate ‘card only’ because my English cards don’t work on account of not having a zip code to enter on the numeric key-pad at the opportune moment, sometimes they do not need a zip code but, as disappointment often offends, I avoid them like the plague. Instead I have to go into the shop, proffer a deposit greater than the expected tank full and then return for change having filled up. I kept walking, sure enough there was another around the corner, like London buses they cluster.
Day 16 Radar love
As I returned to my room last night around midnight a family of four were packing up and getting into their car complaining loudly about bed-bugs, I was not troubled, well perhaps a little by the prospect but not at all by the critters.
The morning and the outlook on the weather radar was ominous and made me glad I’d come further west. I delayed my departure in the hope that would help, perhaps it did.
Day 15 Making tracks
I forgot, perhaps on purpose, to mention the road-kill, a fine variety, ground hogs, possums, squirrels, armadillos and yesterday, a man. Lying, rag-doll, between two police cars on the verge, he wasn’t going anywhere and the ambulance that came wasn’t in a hurry. I don’t know why this slipped my mind, perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of self preservation, perhaps I’m forgetful.
Le Mans man 