I'm 73. So what? Lead or GIT!

Excellent report, really, really digging this one. Some awesome observations, and some one-liners that are soooo appropriate, even without context. Thanks!

I ride umpteen thousand miles with only an occasional " fall down go boom". I get home - trip in the front yard and RE- Compress the previous Compression fracture of T-12. Percocet and Vicodin are fighting for control. This latest test may require a detour or two. Will know more in a day or so.

A tightly cinched body brace has me walking around with my tongue sticking out.

More soon. John M.

Yeah, it's like the only time your back goes out is not while you're
camping, but when you're at home getting out of bed.

Get well and ride us some more stories.

Hope you heal up soon!

Enjoying your RR. We did an epic trip to Alaska in 2009 and this is bringing back good memories.

Me too. Fall has arrived. 29 degrees this A.M. Mexico awaits.

Drivel​

I start my morning rides very slowly. For good reasons - the motorcycle like all machinery, works better when all of the parts have been warmed up to their operating temperature gradually.
The same goes for me. I start my routine long before starting the M/C. If I am having a good day - it takes less than 20 minutes for me to get out of bed. (That is actually true.) I stagger around trying to remember if I took a shower earlier or should I just act like I didn't and go get wet. A wet towel often tells me it is the second use that A.M. I peek inside my mouth to see if I still have teeth, wave a razor at my face, push the hair out of my eyes and I am ready to tackle - putting on socks. During the night, my legs get longer. All of my bendy parts are bent in the wrong places or are bent in the wrong direction. With a modicum of moaning, deep breaths and puff outs, I can sometimes swing a sock out and over the top of my toes. With careful maneuvering of my other foot, I can trap an edge of the sock and wiggle it along the top of my foot to where it hangs up and won't go any further.
The foot with a sock dangling off the end will not slide easily into a boot or a shoe. But, it can be wadded up along the entry way and with judicious pushing and turning - the sock relents. It slides onto the foot and the foot is safely ensconced in the boot/shoe. Note to self: Don underware and pants first. Boot/shoe does not slide readily through garments.
Enough of this deeply personal stuff - on with the rambling, rider recollections. My M/C has a series of black bars indicating the operating temperature. Initially shows none. After a bit - one peeks out. A while longer and three bars indicate it is ready to go. This can take ten miles to occur on a frosty morning. Meanwhile, I am tuning into the sounds all the individual parts make and the duets formed by others. Tires hum, chain drive trains make a swishing sound, loose parts all have distinctive rattles and squeeks. As all the individual sounds blend into a melody that my body not only hears, but feels . . . I am changing from a lump squatting atop this orchestra and into an Androidal relationship.
Throttle movements, clutch engagements and foot shifts become a synchronous act repeated hundreds and sometimes thousands of times a day. It is like stuffing three pieces of bubble gum into your mouth simultaneously. Initially it's awkward and hard to chew. Then a transition takes place. You no longer think about this alien wad of material. You chew. You stretch the gum against the back of your teeth. You flatten it with your tongue prior to blowing those first tentative bubbles. It just all happens.
As the day progresses, I feel that I ride better. My scan from right to left, to the mirrors and back forwards, is smoother and faster. I get a feel for the road I'm on. Riding in traffic, splitting lanes on a L.A. Freeway give different vibes than a romp through the mountains around Big Bear. We get those same feelings in a car - but have to consciously seek them out.
Now. . . what has this to do with anything? ? ? I closed yesterday speaking about some Japanese . . . ah so. . ..
I had a good day of riding. I was on the Cassier - no markings - no curve signs - no speed recommendation on rounding curves. I was reading the road and really felt in harmony with it. We had a rhythem going that was - what I imagine dancing is like. (I don't dance.) I was moving swiftly, but not terribly fast. It was early evening and shadows were working their way up the mountainsides and occasionally hid portions of the roadway. I occasionally saw the headlights of two automobiles behind me. They would close the gap between us on the straights and fall behind in the twisties. The map indicated that I needed to cover another 50 to 60 miles to find a campground or a Motel. I kicked the speed up a notch.
We had a series of long straights stretches. The two cars jumped on my back door and tried to hang on. A challenge. . .. At the next curve, I downshifed and came off the apex with it all cranked on. . . flew down some straight stretches, braked hard entering the curves (None of the curves were blind), and accellerated as hard as I could coming out. This only lasted a couple of minutes. The cars were gone. I dropped back to cruise mode. When I spotted an overdue gas station, I pulled in.
I had barely gotten the kickstand down than I "Felt" a car park very close behind me. I didn't turn to look. I turned the key off, pulled off my gloves and slowly turned. A Japanese man was standing in the same relative position as State Trooper Christiansen had stood a few days ago. He startled me. He was waving his arms and almost shouting. "YOU SOME RIDER. I RIDE JAPAN. I VEDDY GOOD. YOU FAST. FASTER ME." I took my helmet off. His eyes got bigger. He turned and shouted at three other Japanese men exiting from the two Subarus. "OH! YOU SEE THIS FAST RIDER NOT KID. . .. HE OLD MAN!" They each had to have their photo taken with me. They followed me all the way to where I turned off the Highway into a Resort. They honked and waved. With their windows rolled down - I could hear them cheering.

Info:

I maybe late, but Im in

Welcome aboard.

Power Grid​

Awakened to an overcast sky and with a taste of rain in the air. The rain never caught up. I was hit by an occasional splatter - just enough to smear the visor
I hoped to eat in Iskut. The gas station/General Store had little in it. After fueling, I ate a handful of TrailMix, took a swig of water and headed south.
The road changed. There were sections with painted lines and signs saying - curve - slow - don't - blather. Yech. . . Then I came upon the clear cuts. The earth had been skinned. No trees or bushes remained - just dirt. The trees and bushes had been ripped out of the ground and were now consigned to slash piles. Piles 50 to 60 feet in diameter and 30 feet tall were placed every 300 to 400 feet apart - FOR FORTY MILES!
Today was a "hurry up and wait" day. I came to the first flagger standing in front of about 25 cars, trucks and Rental Motor Homes. He waved me to the front of the line. Great! I parked, shut down and asked why we were stopped. "They are loading a big drill." I pondered on that for a while. I figured that it would become clear - a big drill? It didn't. I broke out the TrailMix and offered the flagger some. He declined.
"Uh, What's with the clear cuts and the slash piles?"
He said, "They are going to put a high voltage power grid through here. There is a lot of huge equipment and several hundred workers. The piles will be burned after the first snow. The logs in the piles are either punky or have rotten cores and are not good for anything. They are using helicopters to haul out the good stuff. It's a $10,000.00 per hour operation to use the helos." Naturally, he didn't say all that in one nice short paragraph. It took a while. He pointed out the drill. It is 2 1/2 meters in diameter. About 8 foot ! They drill an 8 foot diameter hole about 20 feet deep. Drop in an 8 foot diameter pipe - fill it with concrete and then along with three other pipe stands - they are the base for the steel towers to hold the cables aloft.
We were released. I led the procession. The big motor home - behind me - held up all the rest of the road train. I was making good time. I came to another flagger.
A bridge was directly in front of us. There was a flagger at the other end. That looked odd. A couple of guys with hard hats and clipboards were on the bridge looking upwards. Hmmmnn. The flagger came over and said, "Look at the top of the bridge."
WHOA! It is an all steel bridge about 150 feet long. It has some pretty heavy girders and posts. The top girders have been struck and are now VEE shaped pointing at the other end of the bridge. No one knows what hit the bridge. They are going to let traffic through - one vehicle at a time. I was first. I crossed quickly!
I found another gas staton with cafe. The cafe offered pre-wrapped sandwiches stored in a refrigerator. They did not have expiration dates. OR they had today's special, "1/2 can Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup = $5.50." I gagged down a sandwich of Mystery Meat. Oh my, it was tasty. Hey, a breakfast sandwich at 2:00 P.M. ain't all bad.
It was apparent that this would not be a high milage day. A few miles later I saw a different kind of flagger. A Black Bear was sitting beside the road eating red berries from the bushes. I slowed to a stop, grabbed the camea and snapped a picture of his butt scooting into the brush.
Stopping and buying gas at every opportunity worked well today. The last leg was 259.9 miles between stops. Made it. Checked into a Motel in Hazelton. The taste of rain is back in the air at 10:00 P.M. I am calling this day complete.

Beginning of clear cutting


Slash Pile


More Slash


Part of drill - beside trailer


Bridge Work?


would a driver notice the "Bump"?

Representing!!!!

I'm late but I'm in. I'm only 64 but I've got all your problems and some more issues but I manage to spend around 2 months on the road every summer and I don't do motels, I camp. Sometimes Aleve, sometimes Hydrocodone and sometimes even Oxycodone but always forward. Winters are for "tuneups". This year is another back surgery to fuse more Vertebra. I've been riding since I was 12 and I have no plans to quit! One of my best friends is 76 and he's still racing. He quit drag racing bikes at 60 but a couple years ago he decided he wanted to go to Bonneville so he built a bike for that. Ran it last year and burnt a piston but we leave in 2 days to run it in the Texas mile. I go along to pit crew but I did run my street Harley at Bonneville since I was there, ran a 147 on a hopped up soft tail that I rode out there.
Give 'em hell Calimusjohn. You're only as old as you think you are. If you aren't out tearin it up when I'm in your neck of the woods next summer I'll look you up and we'll swap lies .

Story sounds familiar. Having a "Down" day today. A. It is snowing. B. Second compression fracture of T-12 last Thursday. C. Ortho Doctor on Wednesday D. No one to blame! John M.

Rain Date​

Good news first. Rain, lots of rain washes off most of the ground in dirt and mud. Bad news: It rained all day. Strong winds, cold rain and construction zones filled the majority of a less than memorable day.
I am 120 miles east - southeast of Prince George, British Columbia. The area has beautiful green, lush rolling hills with yet another range of mountains peeking up in the east.
My route from here is a big question mark. I can't decide on just what I want to do. Tomorrow will tell.

A natural Flagger



Ceiling in Motel

Framed​

Had a strange event during the night. At 11:20 P.M. a very loud explosion and shaking of the Motel awakened me. I immediately thought the gas station some two blocks away had blown up. Since I found myself standing, I openned the door just as a bolt of lightening struck the ground on the other side of the building. It really shook and rattled the building and unleashed the rains.
Rainglobs the size of golf balls splattered the ground. The Manager had suggested that I park the bike on the porch under a roof. I said it would be just fine staying in the parking lot. Good Grief! I was wrong again. At least any remaining mud/dirt were now history.
I hit the road by 9:00 A.M. That's almost a record on this trip. I seem to get later starts each day. Yesterday was a prime example. I was staggering around the room waiting for the pills to kick in. Then I plopped down on the bed. Too bad. My spectacles were directly under my plop. SPIT! ! ! I stood and looked at the two lenses lying separately from the frames. I thought - Good thing I have a spare pair. Too bad they are on a nightstand at home. It is only about a thousand miles of blurrrrrr ahead.
I start down the Highway. I reach the town of Smithers. It has to be of good size - a Harley-Davidson dealership is at the entrance. I stop and ask two moving blurs in a crosswalk about the location of Wal-Mart. Blurs don't speak English. Great. Dandy. I find an old Geezer. He says, "Nope. No Wal-Mart. They voted against it."
O.K. I find Main Street. I see a sign - Ye Old Pastry Shoppe. Well. . .. I point at a brown globule and request a cup of tea. The glob is a Cinnamon bun about 4 1/2 inches square and 3 inches tall. The tea washes the belly bomb down. I ask about Optometrists . . . go down the block. I float down the block on a sugar high. Aha! The Eye Emporium has two Doctors and a staff of four. I tell my tale of woe to a young (They are all young now) lady. She looks at the frames. She inspecks the two tissue wrapped lenses. She says the screws are missing. I hoped she meant the frames. She disappears into a back room. I sit. Twenty minutes later, she emerges and says, "Here you go. Good as new." I offer payment in adition to THANKS. She refuses. I try to shake her hand, but she spotted the folded bill held within. Drat. Last resort. "Either you shake my hand and then take your boyfriend to lunch OR you have to go and have lunch with me." Drat and DOUBLE DRAT!! She shook my hand. With a heavy heart, I left her. BUT - I could see.
My route carried me through Jasper. I rode through there last May - when it was void of tourists. Now it is filled to overflowing with people who left their brains at home. They don't look. They don't see. Motorcycles and cyclists are invisable. Tourists are allowed to speed up, slow down, park on the berm, park in the traffic lanes or do both and block the entire road while the Driver and any number of spry Elders cavort about waving food at wild animals. There should be score signs around: BEARS = 1, Tourists = 0.
So, rather than becoming one of them, I ran the gauntlet and escaped south. I did see that the surroundings, though they were the same - were different. Greens were brilliant. Sun on snow and ice was refracted and reflected in a million directions. Cameras just don't even come close to capturing the depth. Maybe a 3-D movie shown inside a geodesic dome could come close. Animals abound. The Yukon and British Columbia will remain on my "Bucket" list. I shall return.
The eateries within the park were jammed. Therefore, my big brown Cinnamon bun became breakfast, lunch and a snack before sitting down to eat at 8:45 P.M. 509 miles down the road. In Eureka, Montana I finally found a room at the Inn. The manger was taken.

Hi , im here !!!!!! also a little late !!!!!!!

That does it.

I read every page. I'm impressed and awed. Thank you, calimusjohn.

I'm in.

Hey John,
Try this
https://www.ncmedical.com/item_304.html
or Google "sock assist" to see what else is available. I used one of these to get my socks on before and after hip replacement surgery. Works great, inexpensive and light weight.

Welcome aboard.

You must be easily impressed and awed. . . Thanks JM

Wow! This sure beats having legs shortened! !! JM