I got home yesterday and after a 13 hour ride, I think bed was the only option. Today, I had to get up and take the youngest to his father's for the weekend, a journey to Northern Virginia, usually about 3 hours, that took nearly 6 hours round-trip including stopping for lunch at Taco Mexico in Prince William county and the subsequent bathroom stop(s).Needless to say, I'm exhausted and writing about my return trip is that last thing I have been thinking about.
Based on what I read, was advised to do and what my inner explorer wanted to do, I took the long route home. Purposely avoiding the interstates, I wanted to get a true feel of a bike adventure on the pavement. The plan was to leave Rome, GA, follow route 53 to Fairmount, GA, turn north on US411 and ride it into Maryville, TN. From Maryville, I would jump onto US129 to US11 and follow it to Salem, VA where US11 and route 460 split, follow 460 to route 24 in Appomattox, VA. Route 24 intersects route 60 near Buckingham county. Once on route 60, I would follow it into Midlothian, VA, turning onto the 288 bypass and follow it to route 6 (Patterson Ave. for the Richmonders) which takes me home. Boring I know. However, I want to lay out the route I planned because it's important to note that the only Interstate I followed was a 15 miles stretch in Wytheville, VA where US11 and I-81 are the same road. I wanted a purely scenic route home, time be damned. I got just that.
I left Friday at 8 AM sharp. I made it to Calhoun, GA and then to Fairmount, GA without incident. As I rode route 53 to Fairmount, I remembered that this was the route we used to take when we would ride to the mountains. I have a picture that I need to scan in which 5 or 6 of us are sitting on our (then) bikes in our leathers, looking super bad-ass (read: sarcasm) getting read to tackle the road that winds through Suches, GA. It's nostalgia and sadness all at once knowing that I haven't seen or heard from a few of those guys in 7 or 8 years. Once in Fairmount, I turned north on US411 and rode by where route 53 splits off into the mountains. Were I to have more time and be in better fitness, I would have taken the route as it would take me through Suches and then, if I followed the right roads, to route 129 in Tennessee, aka The Tail of the Dragon located in Deal's Gap.
US411 took me straight into Maryville, TN. I'd never been there and was pretty blown away at how beautiful the area is. It's roughly 20 miles from Knoxville, TN and made for a good stop. I pulled into a Shell station, filled up and took a quick break. The owner of the Shell kept telling me I should ride back the way I came about a mile and take "the road". I asked what he was talking about and it turned out that the northern edge of Deal's Gap was right off of US411. I thought about it and, remembering the last time I rode it in 2004 being in better shape and sounder mind, decided not to as I had a looooong way to go.
I drove another mile up the road and turned north on US129. Another 2 or so miles had me on US11 and finally on the longest stretch of road I would take the entire day. My father had told me about a particular BP station that is located right about where US11 passes under Interstate 40. I dismissed it as poor memory on my father's part until I passed the very station he told me about. Score one for 7+ decades of long term memory.
US11 goes right through the heart of Knoxville, TN. I passed by the University of Tennessee and saw parts of the city that I had never seen before. US11 meets with several other routes and, as soon as it passes underneath Interstate 40 in the heart of downtown Knoxville, it takes a very sudden and unexpected turn to the east. I missed that part of the trip apparently. Route 441 goes north and it took me a good 15 minutes of driving through Knoxville traffic in 100 degrees to figure out I had missed US11. Whoops. I turned around and eventually figured it out, but not until I had lost 30 minutes of drive time and had to ask a sketchy looking dude in a very loud voice "IS THIS ROUTE 11??!?" two times while he traversed a crosswalk in front of me. Ear plugs save your ears, but are hell on everyone else when you are communicating.
The only decision I had to make in planning this route back that I left until the very last second was which way to go on US11. At some point in the middle of the 20th century, US11 was split into 2 separate roads, US11E and US11W. They are called that because they are west and east of each other...duh. They each run the distance from east of Knoxville all the way to Bristol TN/VA. Each one presents a different set of towns to ride through but they are, mileage wise, identical. The only thing that I read that caused a moment's hesitation was that US11W used to be called Bloody 11W because of all the traffic fatalities. That's a bit morbid, but at the last second, I chose 11W to take to Bristol.
The road to Bristol was uneventful. At one point, US11W merges with route 325e. I missed the exit that was US11W outside of Rogersville, TN and had to ride about 3 miles out of the way to turn around. Well, 3 miles was far enough for me to see the first of several lakes that surround Rogersville and the area. Topping the hill, I could see down into the lake that is nestled between the mountains. It was shimmering and, again, I was tempted to go off course for a few minutes to explore. I decided not to and made a mental note to revisit on my trip back down in a few weeks time. Words cannot describe how beautiful the scenery was. It's like a dream. I made my way back to US11W and on to Rogersville. Riding through the town was worth the trip. Much like the lake I had seen 20 minutes before, the town itself was beautiful. Part of the allure of traveling back on non-interstate roads is the scenery. That scenery includes all the wonderful little towns that one passes through on the way home. Rogersville was first town that surprised me with it's personality and beauty. It's one of two areas that really took my breath away.
Past Rogersville, I rode through other beautiful towns in Tennessee such as Mount Carmel and Church Hill. I made it into Kingsport, part of the so-called "Tri-Cities" area. I had not been through the city since the early 90's when my family and I were active in the Mustang club of America. Kingsport was the site of the grand Nationals one year, the pinnacle of Mustang shows then (and probably now too). I remembered nothing of it so I just enjoyed riding through the town. Of note is the cities use of traffic cameras and one speed camera. Funny how a small town in Tennessee is following the British and putting up these rather intrusive devices.
When I got to Bristol, I remembered my father's advice to take the interstate for a few miles until I had cleared the downtown area. He reasoned that, being very hot, I would be stuck in traffic and be very warm. I stopped at a gas station at the point where US11W and 11E merge to be US11. I drank a good bit of water and, while using the bathroom, was surprised to see my left eye was in bad shape. The night before I left, I rode out with a friend to have a parting beer. On the way home, as I lowered my visor after pulling away from a traffic light, a gnat or some type of fling insect flew DIRECTLY into my left eye. It took a few seconds to die as I could feel it moving around on my eyeball. By the time I had made it home the mile to my parents house, my left eye looked like George Burns does now. Dead.I used some eye-drops and when I left that morning, my eye looked good. I figured the State Trooper who was eyeballing me (pun intended) in the gas station must have thought I was some meth-head what with the red eye, the flattened hair and soaked t-shirt. Oh and the big Longhorns sticker on the back of the bike.
Taking no heed of my father's advice, I followed US11 on out. It was hot and took a while, but I made it through and onto several small towns after Bristol. One in particular was, much like Rogersville, unforgettable. It reminded me of the little town I grew up in, Cave Spring, when Cave Spring was bustling and had lots of business coming through. There was a local fair going on and a farmers market on the main street. People waved at the bike as I passed through and at the other bikes that were going the opposite way. It would have been great to stop and look around, but again, I promised to pass through again soon and take time to enjoy it. At one point, a little bit past the Tri-cities area, I passed though a small town in which a property owner had, by my estimation, 2-300 Volkswagen Vanagon vans. That's 2 to 3 HUNDRED of them sitting in neat rows and in buildings on the property. I know obsession when it comes to cars (anyone who knows me knows that), but this is like...I don't honestly have a word for it. It was definitely bizarre.
From there, US11 took a winding route that paralleled I-81. I would ride down the road and pass through towns I had only seen from the Interstate. Marion, Chilhowie, Radford and Christiansburg were all explained to me in 10 minutes by riding down the center of the towns and seeing what each had to offer. Every so often, US11 would come to a complete stop and I would have to go left or right over the Interstate and then back onto 11 again. I liked it because I had time to stop, stretch my legs for 10 or 15 seconds, and then blast off again. When I got to Wytheville, VA, I had to get onto the Interstate for about 15 miles because someone got lazy and merged the roads. Suckage.
A little further down and I was finally approaching Christiansburg where US11 and US460 meet. I made it through with no issues and, as I rode into Salem a little bit later, I sadly said goodbye to US11 as it traveled north and I was going east on 460. I made one more stop at a Sheetz, drank some more water, fussed over my eye again and wondered what downtown Roanoke would be like as it was the next stop that I was unfamiliar with (my family is from Salem, VA mostly so I know the downtown area pretty well).
Roanoke turned out to be the b-hole of the trip. Plenty of crazy drivers and loads of traffic meant a long haul through the area. Once I saw the turn off to Troutville, VA, the area where I normally get onto the Interstate going south, I was relieved because I knew I would be able to shift through traffic.
Several miles and 612 speed traps later, I pulled into for my last gas stop 11 miles outside of Appomattox, VA. How do I know it was 11 miles? Read on... I pre-paid inside with my card because the pump was out of order for cards. Anticipating my gas usage, I paid for $20 worth. I used $15 and was lucky to squeeze that much in. The sun was setting and I wanted to get on the road. As I stood in line for a second time to get my refund, I downed a water. When I got to the counter, the girl was on the phone. Mind you, there was a line behind me and, like my other stops, I was looking a good bit different than the folks standing around me. Green t-shirt, black riding pants, blue boots (they match my helmet!) and a red eye that earned a stink eye from anyone who noticed. The girl behind the counter announces to me that she has had to call the manager to get the $5 refund because she isn't aware of how to do it. So what you ask? Well, the manager had to drive to the store to do it. 20 minutes I waited...I watched the sun go down further and further. The only good thing about the stop? The bike used 3.9 gallons and had gone 215 miles. That's 55 miles to the gallon. Prius who??
Back on the road, I had to make some time up. Anyone who has ever riden an older bike knows that the headlights aren't worth much so I wanted to get home as soon as humanly possible. It's 90 miles exactly from my doorstep to the turn off in Appomattox to get on US460. It was 11 miles from the gas station to the turn off. So I had 101 miles to go as I left the gas station at 7:45. As I mentioned before, the trip was 13 hours exactly and I left at 8 AM sharp. Do the math.
The final leg of my trip consisted of a high average speed, a beaver or some other brown animal bum rushing my bike from the side of the road, 2 state troopers who acted as though they didn't see a red bike flash by them at an unmentionable speed and a swarm of insects that avoided my eyes by committing suicide on my visor.
The final figures for my trip were: 50.5 mpg average fuel consumption, a half quart of oil used in roughly 1300 miles, 1300 miles of road covered and no speeding tickets. I also had 2 days worth of blue feet from my boots, road breath to kill a moose, gain of 10 water weight pounds on the trip down, loss of 10 pounds of sweat on the trip home, and a bad case of dumb-ass in Knoxville.
I can hardly wait to do it again.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
So I made it...
Just as a warning, this is a long entry so if you aren't time wealthy....
I left about 9 a.m. yesterday for a variety of reasons that had nothing to do with my planning the trip for a week or better. I had wanted to avoid the rain that was inevitable and leaving an hour and a half later than planned was not going to help things. I made it to Appomattox, about 85-90 miles, in a little under an hour and a half. Got some breakfast, used the boys room and left. I made it my goal to travel at least a hundred miles between stops and build up to longer drive times as I went. The last time I took a long bike ride was 2002 and that was about 530 miles...this trip was 633.
My next stop was Ironto, VA to fill up. I went 190 miles, no gas light, and after filling up, the average mileage was 50.1. Not too shabby. I drank a 20 ounce water so, anticipating some heat, I wouldn't dry out while riding. How wrong I was...
34 miles later, near Dublin, VA, I ran into the first of several storms. There is a really long, sweeping part of I-81 that allows anyone who is able to look to their right as they drive to see what must be 50 or miles worth of the western part of Virginia. The ugly cloud that I saw looked like one of the alien spaceships from War of the Worlds, the one with Tom Cruise and his Xenu friends in it. The rain looked like tendrils coming from the mother-ship and soaking the ground just a few miles away. It wasn't the rain that worried me, it was the frequent lightning that kept streaking across the cloud. It also made me consider that the roads in Knoxville and the entry ramp onto I-75 south in Chattanooga would be slick, slick, slick. So there was that to think about for, oh, the rest of the trip.
I pulled into a BP station and it was perfect timing. The rain came down like a bucket of water left over a door as a prank. It was BAD. About the same time as I pulled in, a couple on a larger (and nicer) BMW pulled in. We chatted while we waited for the storm to pass and I found out they were going the same way as I was. They had their nice Aerostich suits and Schuberth helmets, a GPS mounted to the handlebars of their bike and in general, were obvious bajillionares. I had to make do with my Tourmaster and Firstgear items, my Arai helmet being the only ritzy part of my equipment...oh and I was wearing jeans which would serve me well the remaining trip as they soak up and retain moisture really well. Because riding with a wet crotch is supremely comfortable.
When the storm passed, I got on the road and risked the road spray. I was soaked within 10 miles. By the time I made it to Abingdon, the sun was back out and I was able to dry out. I hadn't noticed yet that my boots were wet inside but hey, I'll get to that. I made the mistake of thinking the rain was over and continued on my journey.
I stopped again just past Bristol to fill up. Once again, 50 mpg and I had a quick lunch of over-fried chicken tenders and so-not-made-of-potatoes potato wedges. I noticed that my feet were feeling wet so I went into the bathroom, pulled my boots off and dumped about a 12 ounce can's worth of water into the sink. I wrung my sock out and repeated for the other foot. My toes looked like Jared Loughner, ugly and twisted (too soon?). I put the still damp boots back on thinking "now they can air out and my feet will be fine!"
Within 5 miles of leaving the station, it was raining again.
The rain lasted from outside of Bristol all the way to Knoxville. 100 miles of rain, road-spray and trucks throwing road-spray up onto my visor. My "rain resistant" gloves gave up their resistance about 30 miles from Knoxville, my boots were...well, no sense in even rehashing it, they were full of water. The only saving grace for me was that the jacket and my helmet were bone dry. I was also able to use my grip warmers to help keep my hands from freezing from the dampness so it wasn't too bad.
For anyone who has ever driven I-40 through Knoxville, you can understand why a biker on a wet road would cringe at the thought of riding through. The entire road is twisty and chock-full of traffic. I got there at EXACTLY 5 p.m. The timing of a dead man... Fortunately, the skies began to clear as I approached the city so the ride through was dry and I was able to avoid the worst of it. Getting to I-75 and heading to Loudon, TN for gas, I was feeling pretty good. The only things I worried about now were the ramp to I-75 south in Chattanooga, the one that is like a 90 degree turn, and the one lane road right outside of Loudon, TN that always has a massive traffic build up, but hey, no more rain, right?
2 miles onto I-75 and a cloudburst hit me. It rained for an amount of time necessary to soak me again. And it stopped. It just stopped. And it stopped in time for me to get into line for the one lane road. No sun to dry me out while I sat on the bike. No substantial movement to get the wind to dry me out. Just rain soaked jeans and boots. Rain drops running down my butt crack. Yes indeedy...
Once I got through the traffic, a half mile burst to triple digits to shake some water off, I stopped to top off my tank, dry off for a moment and head to Rome. Loudon to Chattanooga is about 80 miles so I had 80 miles of sunshine and clouds, time enough to really dry off and make up some time lost in the rain previous. As I approached the outskirts of Chattanooga, I saw the clouds again and cursed my luck in my helmet. Mother Nature loves me. All I could think about (and had been thinking about) was that damned ramp on the south-side of Chattanooga that was like an ice rink.
I drove through the city for 15 minutes anticipating the rain. It never came. I just figured I would get pounded as soon as the ramp was in sight and my butt was ready to clench at a moment's notice. The ramp came...and went. No rain, no soaked pavement, no drama. Just smooth sailing the rest of the way.
The rest of the way proved to be Rossville GA. For those of you who do not know the area, Rossville is the second exit in Georgia so about 5 miles or so from Chattanooga. I stopped in at a rest area, called my wife quickly before the heavy rain started to tell her I would be in Rome within an hour and got back on the road. It rained like a hurricane from Rossville to a little south of Dalton. All I could think of was the warm shower waiting for me at my parents house. I made it to the Calhoun exit, took 53 to Rome and pulled into my parents driveway a few minutes after 8.
True to myself, I called my mother (Who I had told I was riding down Tuesday so as to not worry her all day) and asked if she could get something out of her car that I thought I had left from the last time I visited. She walked out to check and there I stood, 20 pounds of water in my boots, 10 in my gloves.
In the end, my mothers surprise and her happiness to see me made the rain seem not so bad. I'm looking forward to the trip home with perhaps some more adventures.
I left about 9 a.m. yesterday for a variety of reasons that had nothing to do with my planning the trip for a week or better. I had wanted to avoid the rain that was inevitable and leaving an hour and a half later than planned was not going to help things. I made it to Appomattox, about 85-90 miles, in a little under an hour and a half. Got some breakfast, used the boys room and left. I made it my goal to travel at least a hundred miles between stops and build up to longer drive times as I went. The last time I took a long bike ride was 2002 and that was about 530 miles...this trip was 633.
My next stop was Ironto, VA to fill up. I went 190 miles, no gas light, and after filling up, the average mileage was 50.1. Not too shabby. I drank a 20 ounce water so, anticipating some heat, I wouldn't dry out while riding. How wrong I was...
34 miles later, near Dublin, VA, I ran into the first of several storms. There is a really long, sweeping part of I-81 that allows anyone who is able to look to their right as they drive to see what must be 50 or miles worth of the western part of Virginia. The ugly cloud that I saw looked like one of the alien spaceships from War of the Worlds, the one with Tom Cruise and his Xenu friends in it. The rain looked like tendrils coming from the mother-ship and soaking the ground just a few miles away. It wasn't the rain that worried me, it was the frequent lightning that kept streaking across the cloud. It also made me consider that the roads in Knoxville and the entry ramp onto I-75 south in Chattanooga would be slick, slick, slick. So there was that to think about for, oh, the rest of the trip.
I pulled into a BP station and it was perfect timing. The rain came down like a bucket of water left over a door as a prank. It was BAD. About the same time as I pulled in, a couple on a larger (and nicer) BMW pulled in. We chatted while we waited for the storm to pass and I found out they were going the same way as I was. They had their nice Aerostich suits and Schuberth helmets, a GPS mounted to the handlebars of their bike and in general, were obvious bajillionares. I had to make do with my Tourmaster and Firstgear items, my Arai helmet being the only ritzy part of my equipment...oh and I was wearing jeans which would serve me well the remaining trip as they soak up and retain moisture really well. Because riding with a wet crotch is supremely comfortable.
When the storm passed, I got on the road and risked the road spray. I was soaked within 10 miles. By the time I made it to Abingdon, the sun was back out and I was able to dry out. I hadn't noticed yet that my boots were wet inside but hey, I'll get to that. I made the mistake of thinking the rain was over and continued on my journey.
I stopped again just past Bristol to fill up. Once again, 50 mpg and I had a quick lunch of over-fried chicken tenders and so-not-made-of-potatoes potato wedges. I noticed that my feet were feeling wet so I went into the bathroom, pulled my boots off and dumped about a 12 ounce can's worth of water into the sink. I wrung my sock out and repeated for the other foot. My toes looked like Jared Loughner, ugly and twisted (too soon?). I put the still damp boots back on thinking "now they can air out and my feet will be fine!"
Within 5 miles of leaving the station, it was raining again.
The rain lasted from outside of Bristol all the way to Knoxville. 100 miles of rain, road-spray and trucks throwing road-spray up onto my visor. My "rain resistant" gloves gave up their resistance about 30 miles from Knoxville, my boots were...well, no sense in even rehashing it, they were full of water. The only saving grace for me was that the jacket and my helmet were bone dry. I was also able to use my grip warmers to help keep my hands from freezing from the dampness so it wasn't too bad.
For anyone who has ever driven I-40 through Knoxville, you can understand why a biker on a wet road would cringe at the thought of riding through. The entire road is twisty and chock-full of traffic. I got there at EXACTLY 5 p.m. The timing of a dead man... Fortunately, the skies began to clear as I approached the city so the ride through was dry and I was able to avoid the worst of it. Getting to I-75 and heading to Loudon, TN for gas, I was feeling pretty good. The only things I worried about now were the ramp to I-75 south in Chattanooga, the one that is like a 90 degree turn, and the one lane road right outside of Loudon, TN that always has a massive traffic build up, but hey, no more rain, right?
2 miles onto I-75 and a cloudburst hit me. It rained for an amount of time necessary to soak me again. And it stopped. It just stopped. And it stopped in time for me to get into line for the one lane road. No sun to dry me out while I sat on the bike. No substantial movement to get the wind to dry me out. Just rain soaked jeans and boots. Rain drops running down my butt crack. Yes indeedy...
Once I got through the traffic, a half mile burst to triple digits to shake some water off, I stopped to top off my tank, dry off for a moment and head to Rome. Loudon to Chattanooga is about 80 miles so I had 80 miles of sunshine and clouds, time enough to really dry off and make up some time lost in the rain previous. As I approached the outskirts of Chattanooga, I saw the clouds again and cursed my luck in my helmet. Mother Nature loves me. All I could think about (and had been thinking about) was that damned ramp on the south-side of Chattanooga that was like an ice rink.
I drove through the city for 15 minutes anticipating the rain. It never came. I just figured I would get pounded as soon as the ramp was in sight and my butt was ready to clench at a moment's notice. The ramp came...and went. No rain, no soaked pavement, no drama. Just smooth sailing the rest of the way.
The rest of the way proved to be Rossville GA. For those of you who do not know the area, Rossville is the second exit in Georgia so about 5 miles or so from Chattanooga. I stopped in at a rest area, called my wife quickly before the heavy rain started to tell her I would be in Rome within an hour and got back on the road. It rained like a hurricane from Rossville to a little south of Dalton. All I could think of was the warm shower waiting for me at my parents house. I made it to the Calhoun exit, took 53 to Rome and pulled into my parents driveway a few minutes after 8.
True to myself, I called my mother (Who I had told I was riding down Tuesday so as to not worry her all day) and asked if she could get something out of her car that I thought I had left from the last time I visited. She walked out to check and there I stood, 20 pounds of water in my boots, 10 in my gloves.
In the end, my mothers surprise and her happiness to see me made the rain seem not so bad. I'm looking forward to the trip home with perhaps some more adventures.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Aaaaaaa...relief...
I made it. 11 hours, 4 storms and 8 white knuckles later (thumbs don't count), I'm getting ready to sleep. I'm exhausted from keeping the bike on the road through storm after storm. Stupid as that is though, the trip was a blast!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Preparations
Well, the plan is to leave for Georgia in the morning early or, if the weather does not cooperate and/or my sunburn isn't completely gone (it's about 95% at this point on Sunday), wait until Tuesday morning.
I pulled all of my old bike bags out of the attic yesterday (yes, the attic in 102 degree heat. It blew but you already knew that) and of course, I can't find ANY of the straps for my tank bag or saddlebags. Fortunately, the tank bag is also magnetic so there shouldn't be any issues there. The saddle bags are in fair shape. I haven't used them since 2002 when I rode to Danville Virginia on my R6 from Rome. One of the straps that wraps around the bag is completely gone and there is a small hole where the strap was apparently burned off by my rear tire. Otherwise, the bags are in good shape.The missing strap is only a safety so I'll make do and perhaps replace it with a bungee cord ('cause I'm ghetto like that) Since I'll be using hard bags in the future for any long distance riding, this is a minor issue.I'll just have to make sure that particular side has clothes only in it so as to keep the weight down.
Today will essentially be me getting the bike prepped and ready. I'll probably put the bags on, take the bike around the block a few times, and see if there is any shifting or other issues. If the saddle bags are an issues, there is always the back-pack that doubles as a pillow...or kinda.
I pulled all of my old bike bags out of the attic yesterday (yes, the attic in 102 degree heat. It blew but you already knew that) and of course, I can't find ANY of the straps for my tank bag or saddlebags. Fortunately, the tank bag is also magnetic so there shouldn't be any issues there. The saddle bags are in fair shape. I haven't used them since 2002 when I rode to Danville Virginia on my R6 from Rome. One of the straps that wraps around the bag is completely gone and there is a small hole where the strap was apparently burned off by my rear tire. Otherwise, the bags are in good shape.The missing strap is only a safety so I'll make do and perhaps replace it with a bungee cord ('cause I'm ghetto like that) Since I'll be using hard bags in the future for any long distance riding, this is a minor issue.I'll just have to make sure that particular side has clothes only in it so as to keep the weight down.
Today will essentially be me getting the bike prepped and ready. I'll probably put the bags on, take the bike around the block a few times, and see if there is any shifting or other issues. If the saddle bags are an issues, there is always the back-pack that doubles as a pillow...or kinda.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Kroger
Wow. My trips to Kroger will never be the same. During a brief run to my local Willow Lawn Kroger, I was bullied. Yes, my 5'10, 225 pound sunburned body was bullied while in line to cash in a voucher from the Coinstar machine. The bully was a good 6'1 and an easy 170 pounds...and at least 65 years old.
As I waited to cash my voucher, the man I speak of stepped in front of me to play lotto. It was over quickly and as he looked at his lotto numbers and began to walk away, my anger overcame my better judgement. I said "Excuse me..." loudly as I walked to the counter. The man turned and said "Can I help you?" in a sarcastic manner to which, once again, I could not resist an answer. This older gentleman had very deliberately walked in front of me and now challenged my verbal reprimand. How do I know it was deliberate? As I stood in line, I watched the man walk to the counter, look at me as I was looking at my voucher, and as soon as the line was open, he immediately stepped up to the counter. The man looked right at me and still cut in line.
"You cut in line" was my response. I was pretty pissed because the guy knew what he had done. "You weren't in line" was his response. At this point, I had already handed my voucher to the lady behind the counter, a lady who was looking a little uncomfortable at the thought of a senior citizen getting ugly with a man half his age or less, and was waiting on the cash. I looked the guy in the eye and said "You cut in line, you did it on purpose and you knew good and well I was in line. Why else would I be standing here?". The guy smirked at me, grinned and said "You weren't in line. You're wrong.".
I'm staring a moral dilemma down. Do I continue to argue with this obvious asshole and risk the issue escalating? If it escalates, what happens? A 70 year old man either pushes a 35 year old man and gets his ass beat down meaning said 35 year old man is a horrible person for beating up an old person or does the 70 year old man push said 35 year old man and proceed to beat up 35 year old man, ruining the 35 year old's life and forcing him into hiding?
"You cut in front of me and that's the skinny of it. You thought it would be ok because all you wanted was a lotto ticket and thought it would be short enough that you could get away with it. You didn't and now you are pissed that I called you out. You should drop it and move on". I thought that would end it and save my ego in the process. The old guy didn't though. "Well, in the future, I'll make sure to never do it again...".At this point, the guy is again smirking at me, a smirk that turns into a glare as he turns and walks away.
I got bullied and told off by an old man at Kroger. It doesn't get much more humiliating than that. Unless he kicks your ass.
As I waited to cash my voucher, the man I speak of stepped in front of me to play lotto. It was over quickly and as he looked at his lotto numbers and began to walk away, my anger overcame my better judgement. I said "Excuse me..." loudly as I walked to the counter. The man turned and said "Can I help you?" in a sarcastic manner to which, once again, I could not resist an answer. This older gentleman had very deliberately walked in front of me and now challenged my verbal reprimand. How do I know it was deliberate? As I stood in line, I watched the man walk to the counter, look at me as I was looking at my voucher, and as soon as the line was open, he immediately stepped up to the counter. The man looked right at me and still cut in line.
"You cut in line" was my response. I was pretty pissed because the guy knew what he had done. "You weren't in line" was his response. At this point, I had already handed my voucher to the lady behind the counter, a lady who was looking a little uncomfortable at the thought of a senior citizen getting ugly with a man half his age or less, and was waiting on the cash. I looked the guy in the eye and said "You cut in line, you did it on purpose and you knew good and well I was in line. Why else would I be standing here?". The guy smirked at me, grinned and said "You weren't in line. You're wrong.".
I'm staring a moral dilemma down. Do I continue to argue with this obvious asshole and risk the issue escalating? If it escalates, what happens? A 70 year old man either pushes a 35 year old man and gets his ass beat down meaning said 35 year old man is a horrible person for beating up an old person or does the 70 year old man push said 35 year old man and proceed to beat up 35 year old man, ruining the 35 year old's life and forcing him into hiding?
"You cut in front of me and that's the skinny of it. You thought it would be ok because all you wanted was a lotto ticket and thought it would be short enough that you could get away with it. You didn't and now you are pissed that I called you out. You should drop it and move on". I thought that would end it and save my ego in the process. The old guy didn't though. "Well, in the future, I'll make sure to never do it again...".At this point, the guy is again smirking at me, a smirk that turns into a glare as he turns and walks away.
I got bullied and told off by an old man at Kroger. It doesn't get much more humiliating than that. Unless he kicks your ass.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Beach
My biking adventure, or practice for the soon to be adventure, has been delayed by the silliest of things. Took the family to Virginia Beach on Sunday, put my white ass in the sun for waaaayyyyy too long and now have some pretty wicked sunburn. I just bought a very nice used Tourmaster all weather jacket and, of course, I havent been able to test it or enjoy it.
Aloe Vera and Ibuprofen are my best friends right now.
Aloe Vera and Ibuprofen are my best friends right now.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Test Ride
I took the Beamer for a moderate ride yesterday. I figured a nice jaunt down the road would scare out any ghosts in the bike after the major service I treated it to. I took 288 to route 60 and rode to Cumberland. After doing the spline service that apparently runs about $300 at the dealer (did it myself for the cost of the lube, roughly $9), the bike shifts much better. Cruising at 75-80, the bike is pretty smooth. At one point, I looked down and the bike was at 105 and I had not noticed. I've had an issue for the past few years with my arms getting numb when I ride due to the vibration in the handlebars when riding. If I hold the grips without squeezing them, the numbness doesn't seem to be an issue. I rode for a little over 100 miles round trip so I had plenty of time to test it out. My original plan was to ride to Appomattox and back, about 190 miles round-trip, but the rain showed it's hand and I was not prepared for it. I wore my Joe Rocket Ballistics Mesh jacket and my older Teknic gloves, so I had nothing waterproof to keep myself safe. In the end however, the trip was a success as no issues showed up from the bike or my arms. I'll need to figure out something to wear for underwear to keep my thighs from chafing, but that's manageable.
Next up will have to be some tires. I've been looking at Shinko as they make the odd sizes but in modern compounds. I'm running Michelins right now, but the front is showing some wear and tear. I'm planning a short tun to Georgia next week (or the following week if that doesn't pan out) and I figure that will be the final trip on the front tire for this bike.
Next up will have to be some tires. I've been looking at Shinko as they make the odd sizes but in modern compounds. I'm running Michelins right now, but the front is showing some wear and tear. I'm planning a short tun to Georgia next week (or the following week if that doesn't pan out) and I figure that will be the final trip on the front tire for this bike.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Plans
So I've decided that I want to make a long bike trip. Since leaving my last place of employment, I've felt like something has been missing. I know how silly that sounds and everyone says something to that effect at some point, but it's the truth. I need to, shall we say, reset myself? As that thought goes, I've decided that an extended trip on my motorcycle is in order. I have yet to define "extended", but I do know that it will involve several states and a few nights spent on the road. I fancy making the cross country trek to Seattle as a means to see my best friend who moved there and left me all alone on the east coast.
To say I have some planning to do is obvious. I've been doing all the maintenance on my bike this past week (thank goodness for BMW reliability eh?) and I will start looking into some better gear for the trip such as better boots, a more seasonable jacket, some riding pants (jeans on a long trip? no thanks) and some more suitable gloves. I also have to consider luggage so I'll be checking out some BMW hard bags as well as some aftermarket items. New tires as my front has perhaps 2k miles left on it, some new PIAA l.e.d. lights so I can actually see at night...well, the list goes on.
But first, a destination needs to be determined.
To say I have some planning to do is obvious. I've been doing all the maintenance on my bike this past week (thank goodness for BMW reliability eh?) and I will start looking into some better gear for the trip such as better boots, a more seasonable jacket, some riding pants (jeans on a long trip? no thanks) and some more suitable gloves. I also have to consider luggage so I'll be checking out some BMW hard bags as well as some aftermarket items. New tires as my front has perhaps 2k miles left on it, some new PIAA l.e.d. lights so I can actually see at night...well, the list goes on.
But first, a destination needs to be determined.
Giving this a go
Since I know, in no uncertain terms, that I talk too much and love to ramble on about all sorts of garbage, I think a blog might be a good way to channel some of that energy and nonsense into something easier to digest. It's so totally egotistical too so there's that as well...
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