Day 11 Park-life (under pressure)

Text only for now, I’m a bit off the grid, use your imagination and then add some. I’ll edit in the pictures once I’m closer to an irradiation tower or military grade WiFi.

In the South

Thanks to Brendan for pointing out that I should check the tyre pressures, they were high and I headed over to Walmart to pick up a digital gauge and pump, and spare tail light bulbs and some arthritis painkillers that I thought might help my hips. I also fitted the tank bag and relocated my tools and spares into it. The handling seems more stable now.

Shopping

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Day 10 Overlook overload

Wide

Deliberately I left the hotel at kicking out time, the weather radar had the rain clearing and I wanted dry roads for today’s adventure. Google maps didn’t want to play along, who could blame it, its algorithms finely tuned for the fastest or most economical route, I was an outlier in a data world. It took four waypoints to finally persuade it to get with the plan.

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Day 9 The long and windy road

Blow me! Did it blow, from when I left Joe Paparo in West Lancaster, across the long span over the Susquehanna River and through York the wind blasted me, at times pushing the bike sideways a couple of feet. The sun shone but it was cold and uncomfortable, it took 58 minutes (not 59) for a cramp in my leg to demand a stop at a pizza shop, thankfully closed, to stretch and put on more layers.

Hey Joe!

Gettysburg was historic and a little spooky, monuments to the dead, cannons to show how they died, odd wooden fences that funnelled them to their deaths and re-enactors dressed up to show how they looked before they died. Nothing very civil about war.

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Day 8 Not so bad Friday

Donald drove me in to the diner this morning, I drove myself back.

Donald was economical with his words, I am not so inclined, if you prefer Donald stop now, you know what you need too.

The diner crew were in residence and I was flattered that I no longer need to say “I’ll just have a coffee” my habits are known. It was tipping down as I arrived and that was some concern to me because my motorcycle lift is situated next to a blocked drain that doesn’t. Joe had bought a couple of Gazebo’s to erect outside covering the bikes that need to be displaced for any activity to happen in the workshop. We put them up to cover the eight or so bikes moved outside. I used a snow shovel to displace the standing water before it breached the threshold into the workshop and set about fitting the new spring and replacement gears.

Trying to be organised like Joe

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Day 7 A fine Philly

It made much more sense for me to request that Roland overnighted me the gear that he had found, but where’s the fun and adventure in that? I rose with the larks, or oversized robins that pass for larks around here and bade farewell to the my landscaping friend Francisco, not before he could cadge a roll up.

Larking about

Nikki, a young mum with a down to earth plan to raise her kids then buy an RV and see the country, drove me in to announce my plans to Joe and the diner boys. Joe, Ben “lock her up”, Bob who is over 90 and John were there. John has a great story of how he was keeping a 1968 Triumph to eventually build when he retired and his son approached him saying that a friend wanted to buy it so he let it go. Some time later, probably years, his son invited him around and showed him the restored bike and told him it was for him. Car SOS watch out! That stuff always gets me welled up.

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Day 6 The Mail Lady only knocks once

Once again slow out of the blocks this morning, Her Majesties Revenues and Customs sent me a menacing reminder that my VAT return was due and I panicked and tried to submit one a month early. They and I should really chill out.

A shadow of my former self

Linda was my Uber host on the way in, I’d like to give her a tip, courtesy of Jim Morrison, “keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheeeeal”, it was my fault, I found a mobile phone on the rear seat as I got in and that was a big distraction.

I arrived at the diner too late to catch Joe but not to late to engage with Ben in conversation about the NRA, the Muslims and the threat that the Democrats present to the United States, I just had a coffee. Vernon arrived and we talked a lot about WW2 naval battles.

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Day 5 Shopping with Joe and Casey

Drama fans look away now, this was a quiet day.

A slow start at the new hotel, nestled between the freeway and the railroad tracks, which is cool because the infrequent trains do that lonesome wailing horn thing, music to my ears even as it echos off the Tuxedo warehouse next door. The pool is covered and looks like a buried trampoline, presumable because it gets a lot hotter than this and people appreciate a seasonal change even if only from English summer hot to scorching inferno.

My what long legs you have

I was a little tardy heading in to Joe’s because I needed to send a begging email to Roland at http://sparepartsco.us/# explaining my gearbox woes and requesting parts help. “What shall we do about the begging letters?” asked the lottery winner’s wife, “keep sending them” he replied.

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Day 4 Help me Joe Paparo

I awoke, not refreshed, for the reasons cited previously, and packed like I meant it, whatever happened I had to move on. Skipping a shower and shave through sleeploss I left my stuff in the room and headed down to Paparo Cycles for 8:15 because a picture on the internet had implied that he might open at 8, the door said 9 and it wasn’t wrong. Jo drove up from the diner next door and I liked him already, 66 years old and independent, the last of the few, and he liked my bike, accent and manners.

Hey Jo!

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Day 3 Hookers and blow…

…is how my friend Adam would describe the raucous party that went on until the early hours in the motel room a tissue thin wall from mine. Not to mention the in car, in car park, entertainment demonstration and screaming outdoor rows, there I did, sorry.

Yummy

Day 3 had started quietly enough with a Travelodge “Breakfast of Losers” and brightened up when housekeeping gave me a bottle of beer and some extra ‘coffee’ filter bags. I collected myself, wrote a post and secured Abe in an Uber to deliver myself to Annie Baileys, at Caleb’s suggestion. A large and largely civilised Irish bar and restaurant offering a “Full Irish Breakfast” which I took to include at least two pints of cool and delicious Guinness. It didn’t disappoint and the sunny courtyard bar allowed me the opportunity to digest.

Chad, the black sausage is blood, just so you know

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Day 2 Not so Good Saturday

I promised insight into Italian motorcycle mechanics, I didn’t pledge any drama.

30 odd years ago the gear shift return spring broke on the gearbox leaving the lever flopping about like the proverbial and a chunk of spring steel floating around the gearbox. It happened again today. This time instead of resting, quietly, away from the spinning gears the detached section engaged in noisy conversation with one or more of them.

I stopped on the outskirts of East Petersburg to assess the situation and was presented with the first consequence. To get the bike onto the center stand it needs to be rolled backwards about a foot, it declined. This is a problem because without the center stand I have to support the bike and luggage or lay it down. It appeared that the errant metal was wedged in such a way as to act like a ratchet pawl on one of the final drive gears, connected directly to the back wheel. I could roll forwards but not back.

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