XC 1X2

Raphael and I woke up and walked to grab breakfast and caffeine. We talked about the next few months of our lives over Brazillian food. We've both recently graduated and found ourselves jobless. We both want companies that won't treat us like garbage. Anyone can get a job, it's hard to find a decent one. I packed up and hit the road at around noon. The ride back was smooth if a little hot, although I'm getting used to that by now. High 90s all the way to San Luis Obispo. The route is familiar, this was the first time in a while that I didn't need to use my phone to navigate. I pulled up to my parent's house at around six, it was nice to see them waiting for me at the bottom of the driveway. We've been in touch throughout this trip so there was not too much to catch up on over dinner. After dinner with them I grabbed a beer with some friends at Figueroa Mountain, the same brewery we went to the night before I left. It feels odd to be here. I'm a little an

Another day, another wake up at oh dark hundred hours for no reason. The others in the house gradually rose and we made breakfast with tea. Michelle and Amy had expressed interest in motorcycle rides and I was happy to provide. One of the greater joys of riding a motorcycle is sharing that joy. Michelle had a helmet so we suited up and were good to go. I found a loop that took us up through the (steep) hills behind the city to a vista. The route down was different. Michelle got a slow, but technical, ride through Cragmont. Amy got a faster run tailing a Corvette into downtown. They are both excelent pillions, light and easygoing. After lunch I said goodbye and popped off to the city. Traffic was moving slow enough to necessitate lanesplitting which I am still getting the hang of again. I stopped at a higher speed until a group of bikers zipped by be between the lanes. Safety in numbers, I joined in. The 45 minute drive to Mission Dolores Park took 30 minutes. Even parking went smoothly

My last cannonball day. The four of us made our way out of bed to grab breakfast. It was so nice to eat chilaquiles again. Just one of the little things that let me know I'm getting closer to home. On my way out of town I saw an In-n-Out. I wasn't hungry but it did make me happy. I had a lot of ground to cover so I got to work. Faster is better in this case. The less I drag my feet, the less time I spend in the heat. I made it to the California border in short order. Here I took the only photo of a state's welcome sign. To me, that lets me know that this is home. A golden welcome Lunch happened in Corning, which purports to be some sort of olive capital. From there, sweat. It was over ninety for three hours of today's trip with temperatures peaking just shy of a hundred as I hit Fairfield. I was able to (legally) lanesplit my way through morning traffic and escape to the cool of the bay. The chill ocean air felt nice. I made it in to Berkeley and caught up with Michelle

I enjoyed a slow morning in Lebanon. James, my friend in Medford, was not going to be off work at 6:30 and he was only 200 miles away. I took breakfast at a small counter in downtown Lebanon. Friendly cooks and friendly service. I took the bike to fill up, an experience I had been dreading. I puled up the the station and the attendant asked, "You got it?" I said yes and ran my card with a sigh of relief. Apparently it is common for attendants to allow motorcyclists to fuel their machines for themselves, in spite of the legislation. I wound down the old highways to today's first stop, Eugene. I found an Indian joint (mediocre) and a bakery (delicious) to kill some time at. After that stop I left for Medford. I quickly ran into a long stretch of traffic which was slow enough to force me between first and neutral. This is annoying enough on any bike but on a Guzzi, my dry clutch was very unhappy. I decided it was time to start splitting lanes. Illegal, yes, but just as illeg

My fire reroute enabled me to sleep in a great deal longer than expected, one positive side effect of the new path. I ate breakfast which included honey from Jerry's bees! I'd met the colonies yesterday so it was only fitting to try the products of their labor. After saying goodbye to Roberta, I was off. I stopped into a Mexican restaurant for lunch and got gas right before the Oregon border. Oregon is a full-service gas state and I was not about to try that out on a motorcycle. Bikes can be notoriously difficult to refuel without splattering the bike, rider, and attendant in gasoline. I figured if I could cut it to one fuel stop in the state it would limit my misery. I rode on for the night's stop, Lebanon, a small town smack in the middle of Oregon just off I5. Happily, I was able to walk for dinner. Unhappily, this is one of those towns where I was not able to strike up a conversation with the locals. Oh well. A 100 Grand bar eliminated my sorrows and I went to bed. Toda

I woke up at my graunt and gruncle's home in West Seattle. Over breakfast (with homemade jam and homelaid eggs) we talked about my travels and what I had seen in the country. My gruncle Richard shared some stories from when he trekked around Europe on a BMW R25. Many of those stories seemed to involve crashing. I spent some of the late morning applying for jobs. It seems that the pressures of real life are in fact starting to get to me. I left the house just before noon to spend some time with my friend Chris. We grabbed lunch and caught up. He has been terrorizing Alki beach with his Abarth. Riding in that is an odd experience. The loud exhaust and wing larger than the car attract a lot of stares. He dropped me off with my first cousin, once removed. Let's just call Betsy my aunt, she's older than me and tracing the family tree that far out is annoying. Betsy and her husband Jerry have been doing more quarantine projects than anyone else I've met. They have planted mor

Woke up with the sun. After Sami went off to work, I was next. Patrik and I said our goodbyes and I was off into the cool morning air. I enjoyed it while I could, today was forecasted to be hot. Spokane has some pretty areas around it. The house I woke up in is right by Riverside Park, a crater of lush, forested land right on the edge of the city. I saw the other parts today. Eastern Washington is renowned for its wheat production. It was a lot like the midwest but smokier and hotter. The smoke from the fires got so bad that at one point I pulled into a gas station to try and buy a surgical mask. All they had were cloth, not enough to keep out the fires' gift. I pressed on and was rewarded. Route two was today's road and after I got through Waterville, the brown, flat landscape morphed into beautiful tones and lush forrest almost instantly. I motored on to Leavenworth for lunch. Leavenworth was a logging town. Once the trees dried up(?) they made a switch to tourism. Inspired b

Another early day. I wake up, the sun also rises. After the first time my eyes opened at around five-thrity I went back to sleep and woke up a few times. A vain attempt to extract just a little more sleep from the early day. At eight I finally cried uncle to the sun and walked to the lobby for breakfast. I chatted with the staff over my morning tea, allowing the black stuff to perk up my eyelids. I suited up and experienced a pure moment of panic when I failed to find my keys. A million thoughts ran through my head as I checked and rechecked all of the room and all of my pockets. Was this the end? No. I forgot about that one small zipper pocket on my pants. Golden. Westbound. The locals in the lobby advised me to go to Wallace, a small old mining town in the middle of the mountains. It is set inside a canyon and today, was filled with smoke. There are many fires burning in this part of the country due to the weeks of high wind, high temperatures, and low humidity. Welcome west. I had a

I keep trying to sleep in and the sun keeps waking me up earlier and earlier. I'm going to hit pacific time tomorrow and with the sun rising when it does I may as well still be in central. Early to rise and early to bed makes a man wealthy and socially dead. I took a slow start today. I had the time, I could afford it. On a trip like this you spend two things, money and time. Some things cost money, some things cost time, some things cost both. Sometimes you can spend one to save the other. I had an extra hour to start gently. On the way to Bozeman I called my sister. Today is her birthday. If I had planned things better, maybe I could have been in Santa Cruz for it. Oh well. I got to Bozeman for lunch and ate a po boy at a cajun restaurant. Bizarre. I never thought I would be eating amazing cajun in Montana's fourth largest city. There is certainly more variety of food once you leave the midwest. Just another interstate day really. Missoula is pretty. More than anything I am g

I haven't tried to write this drunk since Amarillo. The sun woke me up too damn early. Its unwelcome rays lifted my eyelids shortly before 6 AM. Between that and the noise from the water heater I was easily caroused from bed. Or, should I say couch. I rode to Sturgis for breakfast. Outside of South Dakota, Sturgis refers to a motorcycle rally held in the small town of Sturgis, SD. The town of six thousand swells a hundredfold with primarily cruiser riders looking for a good time. The cops have a field day handing out DUIs. Outside of the rally, Sturgis is kinda boring. It feels like visiting a ski resort town off-season. Imagine visiting Breckenridge in June. Lots of buildings and signs alluding to the town's legendary status. Lots of large bars and restaurants with lots of empty space. It felt eerie. I sat at the bar at The Side Hack Saloon and talked to a local. The old man had always lived in South Dakota, always ridden motorcycles, and always disliked Sturgis and the rally.

I used to believe that continental breakfast was not real breakfast. Out here, it counts. I ate my real breakfast and set foot into the real world. I was delayed by a pleasant surprise. The weather was turning out to be better than expected, so much so that I had to pull my liners out. I was tempted to chat up the woman in the lobby wearing the Infowars shirt and cameo pants but I decided I had better things to do. On my way out of town I stopped to render aid to a young man who had laid down his R1 in shorts and a hoodie. The municipal worker operating a riding mower in the median had already come to his aid. The youth was taking his time to punch the ground in anger. I decided to leave. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. Grind The Interstate My first stop of the day was the corn palace. On the billboards it is advertised as the world's only corn palace. To that I say, who asked? I heard that there are some folks in China who are looking to build a corn palace, better differentiate.

The morning was gentle. I loaded up the bike and my Airbnb host, Susan, offered me breakfast and a conversation. I'm not one to pass up either of those things. She was curious about my trip, it seems like most everyone is. A motorcycle with California plates in Minnesota is not a common sight. I didn't make it far before my fuel light came on. I pulled off for gas in the town of Austin which is the home of Hormel Foods. They have built a Spam Museum right in the middle of downtown. If it's for free it's for me. No admission fee and I wandered around a corny display of all things Spam. There was a motorcycle related highlight. Someone took a Track T800CDI, a short-lived shaftie CVT diesel motorcycle, and made it 'run on bacon'. I have no idea why it was there. Other highlight came from the gift shop such as a 'not all hogs make it to Sturgis' shirt and the argyle Spam socks currently on my feet. This little piggy did not make it to Sturgis I continued alo

I crawled out of bed and within an hour was on the road. Part of today's prep included tightening my front axle pinch bolts. Something told me I had forgotten to snug them in yesterday. One of those things where you shrug as you boringly avert disaster. Hope I didn't forget any others. The weather was going to start hot and become rainy heading into lunch. This combination is annoying because it forces wearing rain gear, which is hot, when it is not raining. Still better than getting wet. My first stop of the day was in Madison, Wisconsin. My grandfather's old stomping grounds. I was there to see my friend Jessica who is actually from Kennet Square, a Pennsylvania town I visited earlier. We caught up (it has been some time) and I hit the road again. There was a lot of dirt to cover today and after it all I'm just too damn tired to say much about it. I'm beat. I have a series of 350 mile interstate grinds until Tuesday when I get to Seattle. It's expensive to sta

Today was supposed to be simple. Maybe even boring. Wake up. Take the bike to the tire shop. Pack. Go West. Der mentsh trakht un Got lakht. Wake up. Ride to tire shop. Find out tech decided to extend his fourth of July vacation. For those not in the know, having motorcycle tires changed can be something of a process. You should always call ahead to reserve tires. This is a necessity when you have a bike like mine which requires an odd size. Also, most tire shops will not take wheels off of a bike. Understandable, as this can be an annoying process on a motorcycle. This inconvenience is especially obnoxious because many shops will only handle dirt bikes and Harleys. Once the place discovers that you have a shaft driven bike the phone tends to make an odd click. I chose the shop I did solely because they would take my wheels off too, even after they found out that I had a Guzzi. Of course, this was all for not because of a fishing trip which I hope this man is really enjoying. The shop c

We slept in and charted a course for the pharmacy. I had gotten an antibiotics prescription for the previous night's tic bite and it was time to pick it up. I swallowed my 200mg horse pill and we went the auto parts store. Today was the day to service the bike. Nothing special, just valves and an oil change. I was able to get the gaskets shipped in but the oil needed to come locally. 10W-60 is not easy to find. Luckily, the first store had it. The gal working the register at first laughed at the bizarre oil weight (uncommon in cars and less common in bikes) but took a peek in the back and found just what I needed. The nice thing about a living fossil dry clutch bike is that you don't need motorcycle oil to keep the bike happy. Since the oil isn't around the clutch you don't need the friction modifiers. I took my oil (approved for Konneigsegg engines) and got to work. The valve lashing went easy, after we had found the tools, and then came the oil change which was also r

Happy Fourth. We started the day by dressing in our red white and blue outfits and heading to the old family summer cottage. Our entry was perfectly timed, we arrived just as the Nathan's hot dog eating contest started. The midwest is truly a different place. I never thought I would be in a room full of people cheering and hollering as a man in New York swallowed seventy-six hot dogs in ten minutes. I much less thought that I would be cheering alongside them. But, there I was. California boy learns how to enjoy a grand American tradition. After Joey Chestnut claimed his title, we made our way to the lake. We spent the morning lounging on the shores of Lake Michigan. I relaxed in the sun while others played spike ball, swam, or rode boatercycles. Back to the main house for a bit where we rested before the evening's show. Daniel and his cousin Mikey killed time my putting drain holes in coke cans with a Beretta (happy fourth). We assembled roast beef sandwiches and carried them b

Casey and I rolled out of bed and hit Starbucks. The man gets a free drink and a sandwich every day, why wouldn't we? I loaded up the bike and set off for Grand Haven. When I got about a half hour out of town another high school marching band friend, Maddie, shot me a message. She is up in Toledo and we thought that she would be on her way to Cleveland for the weekend by the time I got up but it turned out she was free all day! A pleasant surprise. I changed my course for Sylvania, Ohio to meet with her for lunch at a cafe. My route took me through some highways in rural parts of the state. Somewhere on the way, maybe around Arlington, a sign caught my eye. "Biker break, all bikes welcome!" Don't mind if I do. I pulled in to a stranger's driveway and by the time I had shut my bike off an older man with a prodigious Miller Muscle peeking out from his unbuttoned vest greeted me. He kindly welcomed me to wander his property or enjoy his bench and offered me a libatio

Evidently, I am still learning how weather works. It was raining when I woke up today so I groaned and shut my eyes for a bit longer. When it became clear that this would not cause the clouds to disperse, I finally began my morning. Packing my bags and checking the weather. Oh how I wish I had not tried to go back to sleep. These rainclouds were long, heavy, and blowing in the direction of travel. Ergo, waiting meant I would have to evade more of them. I loaded up the bike in the rain and set off, shoving my wet hands into my gloves as I went on my way. The ride to the interstate started off poorly. I realized that I had not set the waterproof layer onto my gloves properly. In order I had skin, non waterproof jacket, and glove. This allowed water to wick through my jacket into my glove liner and my hands were soaked in no time. By the time I was able to understand and correct my error, I was cursed with prune hands for the day. The morning leg where I was simply trying to escape the ra

I left Allie's house after all of her housemates had gone off to work. Vet students are early risers. The first stop of the day was Collegetown Bagels (CTB in the local parlance). This place will make you as close to all manner of bagel sandwich as makes no difference. The madmen behind the counter will kindly pull you a pint from opening hours as well. After a breakfast sandwich and tea, I made my way out, nervously checking weather radar every 10 minutes or so. That was exhausting. I pulled over and threw my rain liners in. Temperatures had cooled to sane levels so it made no difference anyway. I pulled over in a small town in front of a biker bar to do the work. I took a moment to talk to a hiker who was waiting for his wife to pick him up after his morning hike. He was from Allentown and I mentioned that I was heading to Erie. "Eh, it's not inspiring." I stopped for lunch in Bath New York. It was getting to be that time of day and the rainclouds were beginning to