There’s more bad news than good for this update, but things are still going my way. Well, they are in the sense that I have plans in place to deal with the monkey wrenches that keep flying at me.
I have had to yet again cancel and re-plan my trip. Originally I was headed to New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland. That trip was canceled for a rather good reason: a rare vintage airplane is going to make its last ever flight, ending an era. That was supposed to happen in September or October, but was moved up to early August.
Fine and dandy then; I’ll just run along the upper US states…ones I haven’t been to in a long time, or ever, and all of them states I haven’t been to on a motorcycle. Working my way up from Kentucky I spent some time in Dayton, Ohio, where the Wright Brothers had their company and did most of the development of their aircraft after they worked the bugs out at Kittyhawk, NC.
Still dealing with lethargy and depression, I made the most of it, then worked up to the norther end of Michigan’s southern half. That’s when a slight toothache turned into a major one. Unable to afford dental care in the US, I decided to turn south for Mexico, where I already have an excellent dentist who has done some great work for me in the past.
More of the same
But if you’ve been following along, you’ll likely note that most of my trip hasn’t been a trip, but getting to places to start a trip. From Bisbee to Park City for the Veterans Charity Ride, from there out to Lexington to visit family, then this long run down from Michigan to Mexico.
Most of my miles have been on interstate or 4-lane highway. That on its own isn’t a huge deal, but I have been trying to “make time” on those runs, and you can’t knock out 400-500 mile days if you keep pulling over to look at the world’s largest fiberglass crab or detouring to camp near a waterfall. That’s the point of these trips; the going to places and seeing the things is the goal, not getting to a final destination.
There’s plenty to see, but only if you have the time and inclination to see it. Being on the road — focused on a destination — does not usually allow for this.
But with life, in a general sense at least, the trick is doing something with what you have. You make your life or life happens to you, but as long as you’re living life will keep happening. So I tried to enjoy long, sometimes hot days on the interstate. There were beautiful sites mind you, but there is a lot of repeating scenery because Illinois and Indiana are on the edge of the corn belt (the name of the corn-producing region of the US where most of the world’s supply is grown).
Missouri changes for sure, especially as you get to the Ozark area where there is denser forest, low mountains, and a lot more lakes, streams, and rivers. My tooth was absolutely killing me up to this point and I was popping ibuprofen like candy to take the edge off, and finding chain restaurants that served breakfast all day, since pancakes and scrambled eggs don’t require a lot of chewing.
Back to the home country…
After poking through Oklahoma the scenery began to get familiar. When people think of California they tend to imagine beaches and palm trees or foggy ranges full of Redwoods. Those are there, but so is a LOT of desert and flat, arid grassland. Death Valley, the Mojave desert, part of the Sonoran desert… it’s all there in California. The Yucca tree is as Californian as the Redwood.
So understand when I say that Texas reminds me a lot of my home state. The foliage is slightly different, the terrain more ranging, but it’s all still familiar. The flats were still green which is odd for late July, but times they are a changin’. Eventually they yellowed, and patches of brown mixed with the green.
I had been on interstates that loosely followed old Route 66, “The Mother Road,” but hadn’t been stopping to see the kitsch. Shamrock, Texas though, was a nice overnight stop. The interstate didn’t really bypass it, even though time has. It features all things Irish-sounding, even though there’s no obvious link besides the towns name.
The place was more happenin’ in the 1960’s when 66 still came through. It was a “cruise town” much like you’d see in the movie American Graffiti. High school seniors climbing the water tower to prove their bravado, drive-in diners… small town America. Seems most those teens left to find more opportunity though, but today the town is quiet, not derelict.
There is a fully restored Conoco art deco gas station, with all its neon-lighted glory. I had already been through here on my 2022 road trip though, so didn’t bother to take photos. I stayed at the same motel — the Blarney Inn — which is a perfect example of the old style motor lodge.
From my 2022 trip. Same spot, different date. It’s very impressive at night when the neon is in bloom.
They’re built specifically for families or traveling businessmen on the road, laid out in a U-shape so you can pull right up to your room and unload. I love this design and don’t consider a place to be a motel unless it has a similar layout. Doesn’t have to be a U-shape, but you need a parking spot in front of your room, a 1-story layout, and simple amenities in the room.
Home stretch
I wanted to make it to Bisbee from Shamrock but quickly realized it was over 700 miles, so I picked another kitschy town for a motor lodge experience: Roswell, New Mexico. The ride there was typical desert, in that it was hot and generally featureless. Flat tires remained an issue because the plug used to fix my punctured tire would get pulled out any time I went around a right hand curve at speed.
Sometimes I’d only make it nine miles, sometimes 20, sometimes 50. Eventually I shoved two plugs in side-by-side, which is always worrisome when a hole is big enough to allow for that. It could at least get me 150-200mi before coming out.
The proper fix is an internal patch. Instead of jamming a gooey strip of leather into the hole from the outside, there is a plug with a round patch at the base, similar to what you’d use to plug a bicycle tube.
To do that though you have to pull the tire off the wheel so you can install it from the inside, then snip off the excess on the outside (see above picture for reference). That’s not something you can easily to on the side of the road; tubeless tires are stiffer than tube-type, and the wheel has a special “safety bead” inside, which helps keep the tire on the wheel should you have a blow-out.
I just kept plodding along and hoping (it was my only option) because most motorcycle shops will not take on the liability of plugging tubeless tires. Just the same, I made it to Roswell during peak heat in the mid-afternoon and settled in at the Western Inn. I got some decent Italian food at a nearby spot, soaked up air conditioning, and slept.
The final stretch was now about 430mi of desert to Bisbee. It sucked, as Roswell (and New Mexico in general) are popular spots for missile testing and secret nuclear projects because there’s a whole lotta nothin’ out there. I did pass through the Mescalero Indian Reservation and the mountains in that area.
It was nice to trade scrub brush for pine trees, but mountains mean curved in the road, and I was repeatedly stopping to re-plug my tire. They’d clearly had some major flooding, with sandbags piled up, damaged buildings, and even some National Guard vehicles still in the area.
Finally, near Holloman AFB I started to run out of plugs. With only one left, I redoubled back nine miles to Alamagordo and grabbed a 20-pack at an auto parts store. It was a good call, because I’d go through another five on the home stretch.
So.much.of.this…
White Sands is a nice area if you don’t mind standing in the baking sun to look at sand dunes, but I wasn’t in the mood. Ditto to the missile museum and space museum. I just kept the bike pointed southwest and tried to ignore the heat. Stopping to plug the tire was now a routine: riding gear off, hat on, roll the bike to get the damaged part of the tire showing, plug, roll it so I could get to the air valve, hook up the pump.
While it ran I’d grab something from the cooler, which I filled with ice and different drinks for this exact reason. Also sip on some water, even though it was in the saddlebag and was at least 100 degrees. Make promises to god, beg for mercy and strength, then pack it all up and rejoin the road.
I did meet one guy at a gas station who had passed me. He had tried to pull over when he saw me but was going to fast. He was also a motorcyclist, active military, and we talked bikes and travel and the open road. It was a nice diversion for a moment.
The constant stops were really adding up though, and my 6pm arrival to Bisbee eventually became 9:15pm. Thunderstorms finally got me too. The cloud were just a wall of gray, and I was heading at the center of them. Eventually I started thinking they would only threaten rain: then came the lightning. And then the wind. On the plus side it made for some dramatic views and also dropped the temperature by about 15°F.
It also reduced visibility and stung the hell out of my face. Such are the trade-offs. You can have the comfort of being strapped into a jet airliner and travel at 35,000 feet, but then you can’t have the smell of the wind and the crackle of the engine that you get from an open cockpit biplane. They are two different things.
Having cleared the storm, the road suddenly turned me south, back toward the edge of those gray clouds. I got a few sprinkles, a lot of lightning (some nearby, though still well over 2mi away), and a bumpy 2-lane road. It followed the border to Arizona before eventually crossing it. By this time the sun was down and only a gray-white halo of the sun’s final moments remained on the western skyline. I did stop from some sunset pictures before losing the golden hour though.
I Struggled the last bit into Douglas, AZ, slowing dramatically for any right-hand turns and hanging off the bike like I was at the racetrack, so as to keep it as upright as possible; I didn’t want to do anymore tire plugging in the dark, laying on a wet roadside. Eventually I got to Douglas and grabbed a burrito to celebrate (also because I realized I hadn’t eaten anything in over 24hrs).
Back on the bike the tire had leaked down to 29psi. I checked and the plug was still in place, but had a slow leak. Pumping the tire up to 45psi I decided I’d just jam the last 30mi before it could leak down. Then more rain hit. The dark, the rain, and oncoming headlights made it impossible to even do the speed limit, and by the time I reached Bisbee I was back at 29psi.
Thinking back to moments like this in Michigan. Finally on a 2-lane, warms temps but nice breeze, views, but also a lot of pain in my teeth.
“To hell with it: this is a problem for tomorrow.”
And it was. I got some sleep and made my dental appointment the next day. That was a bummer. Yes, infected tooth. Yes, root canal and crown are needed. No, can’t do it just yet.
See, the infection has to go down, and even though it felt much better than just a few days ago, it was still too much to deal with as far as a root canal goes. So, antibiotics for 5 days, then root canal, then crown. At the very earliest I will be able to hit the road on the 4th of August — the day I was supposed to be arriving in Canada.
So, with about 2,300mi between me and my destination, it’s more about getting there before the Martin Mars makes its final flight, on a tentative Aug 10th. The plane is already in the water, running, and doing high-speed taxi runs down the lake. Here’s a recent news report on their efforts:
In summation, I am fixing my problems, but my problems are also trying to “fix” me so I can’t accomplish my goals. I have more than my share of life kicking me in the face for no reason, and still have the stubbornness and tenacity to persevere. The last little bit is up to god or luck or the universe or whatever you want to call it.
In any event, I’ll be yet again hauling ass up the interstate instead of poking around the backroads, but there are worse things to be doing with my time I reckon.
Johnny Killmore 