Hollister, CA to Lompoc, CA
After two full weeks of motoring across the country, Rigid and Overtime have reached their half way point; Andrew and Jennifer Dudley's home in Lompoc, CA. Considering the ups and downs of the ride respective to weather, wind, and cold, the boys no doubt require a much needed respite. For on Friday morning, the journey continues... Only now, the plan will be to make it back East in half the time it took to get West... There'll be some long days ahead of us to be sure, but nothing we can't handle.
As for Tuna and myself, we've come to a realization; Concentrating on work is damn near impossible at this point. In our minds, we're already there...
Last night, our wives and several of our closest friends took us out for a 'Bon Voyage' dinner to Arties American Grill in Fairfax, VA. In the middle of the meal, Tuna received a phone call from Rigid to let him know our bikes had arrived and they were almost all in one piece... It seems a chrome fitting from Tuna's front fender was torn off in the unloading process. The driver compensated him for the damage with a nice discount for the shipping, and considering it's only a cosmetic piece and nothing that's going to effect the performance of the Harley, the food we were eating started tasting a whole lot better...
Drew with the bikes safely tucked away in his garage...
Following dinner the whole crew rolled up to the bar for a drink. The conversation was particularly interesting because much of it was centered around, not jealousy or envy, but pride... Our friends repeatedly expressed how proud they were of both of us in taking this ride, and the profoundness of the journey came back around and bit me on the ass...
On the one hand, Nelson and I are headed out to meet Rigid and Overtime in California and begin what I believe will be one of the greatest journys of our lives...
On the other hand, the realization of why we agreed to this in the first place should never escape us... We ride for those who can't...
We ride for America's Sons and Daughters who have fought and died to provide us with the very freedom enabling us to complete this journey.
The destination is our Nation's Capital. The date of arrival is Memorial Day weekend.
We Remember... And we salute you...
I'll leave it at that...
The dinner crew
Now in other news, Overtime and Rigid completed exactly HALF of the run when they reached Lompoc... And in what's become somewhat of an expectation, Rigid sent the pictures and Overtime provided the details... Both the story and the pictures are below.
"May 12, 2008
Today: 268 miles
Total: 5246 miles
Hollister CA to Lompoc CA
We packed and departed the Cinderella Motel – ok, don’t laugh too hard – it really was one of the nicer places we’ve stayed, just in sore need of a name change. The proprietor was a nice lady of Latin origin who was definitely biker friendly, had a thing for
Disney characters, and had obviously put a lot of TLC into renovating this circa 1950’s establishment.
Themed rooms (we had the Independence room – all done in red, white and blue) and carefully landscaped.
Off to Johnny’s for breakfast.
The head bar wench (Gina) and owner (Cherise) were very accommodating and skilled in the art of customer service. I’m sure we left a lasting impression as the two scumbags who blew in from the East Coast and bought them out of T- shirts. Unfortunately, we were a day or so behind a bus load of Japanese tourists who had pretty much cleaned out their supply. Who would have suspected the far reach of the Original Wild One’s influence, mystique, and popularity. You could almost feel the spirits of departed Boozefighters looking down and shaking their heads saying “Who are these goofs?”
With sadness of heart, and ignoring the desire for another breakfast Bloody Mary, we saddled up and commenced the run westward (and a little south). The idea was to intercept US 1 near Monterey and run the Pacific Coast Highway and to enjoy the pleasures of camping somewhere near Big Sur.
Departing the Hollister area, the sun was out, the temperature was climbing, the wind was down, and the aroma of Eucalyptus was in the air. Life was good.
Until we reached Prunedale (what a name!), about 20 miles down the road, where we encountered the Marine Layer - a meteorological phenomena peculiar to the Left Coast. Sunny, warm and mild inland, and overcast, cold and windy along the coast. We were soon stopping to layer up.
The further South we went, the colder it became and, you guessed it, the winds had found us again. Our fun meter was just about pegged when we stopped to gas up in the Big Sur area where we were faced with the reality of life in remote and picturesque California - $5.29/gallon gas, the highest yet. That, and the weather, sent our fun meter into the red.
Unfortunately, once committed to run the PCH, you are pretty much screwed for about a hundred miles, as there are no roads inland between Carmel and Cambria. Just south of Ragged Point, we happened upon an area of beach covered with thousands of elephant seals. Now mind you, we had, just the previous day experienced the thrill of the aromatic countryside around Merced. That was a perfume factory compared to the combination of thousands of elephant seals and an onshore wind. Talk about olfactory overload! At this the wind and cold had pretty much beat us into submission and we decided to forego the pleasures of camping and pressed on to Drew and Jen’s.
Wise choice. We were met with loving gusto, a fire in the fireplace, and many licks from Jazz and Vida Blue, the puppies Dudley. Vida Blue (wasn’t he a pitcher for Kansas City a few years back? Or was he a blues singer?), a Bluetick Hound with a heart as big as Texas was in her cone head outfit, the result of tangling with a mountain lion that jumped her in their backyard a week or so ago. Fortunately she scared off the cat and survived with surprisingly minor injuries. It seems the wild fires that ravaged this area last year had altered the ecology, environment, and, apparently, food chain, to the point were the wildlife is now encroaching where they had previously feared to tread.
We had come as far west as we were going – that is until Shane and Nelson arrive and we travel about 9 miles down the road on Friday for our ceremonial toe dip in the Pacific to commence the ride east.
Unless something out of the ordinary happens, this will be my last direct input to the blog for a while. We will meet the Village People on Thursday and the blogmeister his own self will take over.
Time now to take care of our steel stallions – a good cleaning and a change of body cavity fluids. They have been “rode hard and hung up wet” and have earned a much needed rest."
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