Wednesday, August 26, 2020

Episode 1: Cooter, Bubbles, 2 Buells, and a Ninja, HAI!

     "The difference between an ordeal and an adventure, is attitude" says author Bob Bitchin'. He got that nick-name from the legendary Cheech and Chong, was a body guard to Evel Knievel, a long time biker, and extreme sailor... so with a repertoire like that, I trust he's right. 

     With both Bubbles and I soaked with sweat, our motorcycles disassembled under a very small shade tree in a very hot desert, the mushroom cloud of a fresh grass fire only a mile away, and the sharp hum of 30,000 volts still vibrating up my arm, it was clearly time for a better attitude. But we'll get to that.

     My version of Mr. Bitchin's quote goes: "The difference between a trip and an adventure is lack of planning". I don't mind a plan, so I'm sure it's just sheer laziness that I usually end up adventuring, and this was no different. Except, The Bubbles.

    A lifelong friend, lionhearted companion, and a perfect puzzle piece to add to this usually solo stupidity adventuring. Only just having her one year anniversary passing her MSF test with honors (haha), I have no doubt of her skill, safety, and will power, to make this an even better Escape From LA. In the last year, her voracious desire for the sport has netted her 3 cool motorcycles, competent repair skills, and even a full restoration of her first bike! She's done a half dozen track days, LA traffic (no, your city is not 'as bad as LA') and over 10,000 miles spent winding through the Santa Monica Mountains, apexing her little pig-tails to her hearts content. But me, as an old hand at this, knows there is always something new to upset your balance (that there's foreshadowing, folks).

     Both Bubbles and I knew the dumpster fire that 2020 turned out to be was going to force us to be a bit more comfortable with winging it, and that suited us perfectly. Armed with a bunch of new, untested camping gear (don't do that), zero reservations (do that), a tentative destination to my Mumzys place 2 states away (Marionberry pie for breakfast? Cmon, ALWAYS do that), and our positive attitudes, spent the last night in a comfortable bed, completely sleepless with excitement.

     Buells are fantastic motorcycles. Fun, weird, and simple as a hammer. You know how people resemble their pets? Same thing for motorcycles. I have made many miles and many happy memories saddled up on Stella, my XB-12STT, and since Bubbles drank the Buell-aid, she'll be riding an XB12Scg she bought last year from Rio. We met Rio over Craigslist to buy the bike, who not only put a giant box of extra parts in the deal that will be very handy in a day or so, he also turned out to be a good friend. Also very  handy in a day or so. The bikes are basically identical, with 1200cc V-twins, except I ride the long/tall version, and hers is the short/low one. Like I said, pets.

     There was one other pet that made the cut.

Ya. I know.

Get it?

Now you get it...

    The morning of, went without a hitch. Up early, coffee, Cliff bar, a game of solitaire on the throne, last minute second guessing packing, and the only proper way to leave the city of LA is to go through the Angeles National Forest. But to get to Pasadena from the start point near LAX means 3 of the worst freeways LA has to offer, and even Monday morning traffic can be lethal. Literally. 

     We made it through the NASCAR-esque bump drafting and lane changes that LA traffic is known for, to the first gas stop at the base of "The Hill" not too shaken (but definitely stirred). My first thought was "Some motorcyclists choose to travel by interstate freeways only". Not to begrudge anyones choice of entertainment but no, miles aren't the point. The destination isn't the point either.

     The whole length of Angeles Crest Highway is stellar scenery that should be enjoyed at a slow pace. Instead, it gets completely ignored by motorcyclists because there are 1000 gorgeous curves to fly through as well. I'm familiar with those roads now thanks to the Satans Whores Motorcycle Club Ltd, LLC that are nice enough to show me that waking up at 5:30am on a Saturday (on purpose) can actually be fun. Burning off the edges of your tires is a fantastic way to spend a sunny day with good friends. Allegedly, officer.

    Perfect blue skies and hot weather only solidified our resolve to do the absolute minimum of any freeway riding that we could possibly do and head for some elevation via the tiny black squiggles on the "map". I put "map" in quotes because the pathetic paper AAA road maps are, well, pathetic. They are fine for traveling by interstate, but then why would you need a map? It's true the free maps are you getting what you pay for. The Apple Maps App color engineer gets a swift kick in the 'nards as well. Dark grey squiggles on a dark green background? Kick. Road names and whole roads that disappear with the slightest zoom out? Kick. 1pt font that doesn't enlarge? Kick, kick. Wheres that positive attitude again? 
    Thankfully I know my way around the lakes, through the Antelope Valleypast Willow Springs Raceway (where both Bubbles and I have had many fun weekends racing our hearts out), avoiding the 14 Freeway, just popping out for a fuel up in Tehachapi and short jaunt down the 58 towards Caliente/Bodfish road. It's only the first day and already I'm anxious for the next set of curves past this flat, boring valley. The next turn off is the Caliente/Bodfish road that connects to the aptly nick named Lions Back road. Lions Back runs the spine of golden grass hills and free range open cow pasture and was just resurfaced to boot! So when we exit the highway I throttle up and shoot forward on this perfect and desolate road leaving Bubbles to catch me at the next turn off. With plenty of daylight left, the plan is to take this road to the end, around Lake Isabella, through Kernville for lunch, and follow the Kern river up and up to pick our first campsite somewhere in an open pasture deep in the Sequoias. But we never made it.

     Only a few miles deep into this personal race track I spotted the perfect photo-op to catch Bubbles doing her thing, I pulled over next to a burbling stream and set up for my best Micheal Bay action-type impersonation. This will make a great video of her shooting around the corner, some free range cattle hiding under the shade trees in the background, lightings just right... I wait, it's hot. I take off my jacket. Still hot, I take off my helmet, carefully listening for the rumble of her V-twin coming. But only silence.

    Silence does grow. So does worry. Theres no hope of the comms working in this valley, and no hope of any cell signal this remote, so on with the gear again, and flip the u-turn I never wanted to have to make.

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