Crawfish Caper, Day 5

Rainy Days and Mondays
Monday, May 10, 2010
Copyright(c) 2010, Jim Beachy

Goodbyes are the hardest. But shortly before 9:00 AM, I am saying goodbye to my Mississippi family and with a wave and a little toot on the horn, ride slowly away. Away from the hugs of my grandbabies (they’re not really babies anymore, it just seems good for a grandpa to call them that) and the family. Off toward home, which is one of my other most favorite places to be, and toward Kitty, who’s my most favorite person to be with.

I’d taken a quick look at the Weather Channel and it doesn’t look like I can outrun the large weather pattern that has spawned giant red splotches on the Oklahoma map and extends eastward across the country. The severe weather won’t reach me today, but rain appears inevitable.

But for now, it’s a beautiful and sunny cool morning as I head up Rt. 49, fuel within the first 60 miles, and pick up I-55 at Meridian. By that time I’m under a light cloud cover. At the Alabama line, rain spits onto my windshield and there’s evidence of recent rain, but I at 250 miles an my second fuel stop at 12:30, I haven’t hit any rain although I’m under heavy overcast skies. I check the GPS: 67.5 mph trip average. This is Ironbutt territory, where 62.5 mph is required to ride 1,500 miles in 24 hours. I am feeling great, and Solo Guy is thinking he might want to ride the thousand-plus miles home in one stretch.

It’s gotten steadily cooler as I ride deeper into the large weather pattern and I’ve been closing vents and opening heat vents. Now, at about 60F, I switch to a slightly heavier summer pair of gloves and add the jacket liner.

I hit real rain at 2:00 PM, 330 miles into the trip, between Birmingham and Gadsden, Alabama. So I do the Dance of the One-Piece Motoport Rainsuit. I have waterproof Cruiserworks riding boots, so no change-out necessary there, and I don my SealSkinz rain gloves. In a rare moment of lucidity, I remember to keep my key out of my jeans pocket before zipping up.

For the next 85 miles the rain is steady and sometimes heavy. During the heavy stretches, I switch off cruise control as I always do when there may be standing water on the road. Motorcycle tires by nature are not prone to hydroplaning as a car tire might in heavy water but there have still been reports of cruise control sensors gone wild if the front wheel (which generates the sensor pulses) breaks free of pavement contact, making the cruise control brain think it needs to speed up. So just when you want to be slowing down, your cruise control is speeding you up!

The rain continues unabated through Georgia, Chattanooga, and Knoxville as I pick up the routes eventually leading to I-81 north. Even with the rain, Solo Guy is feeling the Long Road and wants to ride the rest of the way home. I’ve lost an hour and would arrive at about 2:00 AM. This has been one of my best riding days ever. I am startled when I check the elapsed time on the GPS and find I’ve been riding for over eight hours. I feel like I just started. I haven’t listened to the radio or any music. I’ve thinking about my family and the ties that keep us together when we’re apart.

By dusk, I switch on a radio station to check the weather reports. I haven’t checked WeatherBug on my BlackBerry. It’s still raining, although I seem to riding out of the worst of it. But unless it’s necessary, I prefer not to ride in rain at night. Tonight it isn’t necessary, so eventually I make a reluctant stop in Kingsport, Tennessee after 655 miles. It has been a spectacular riding day and I’m finding it really hard to stop. This whole day was just a unique Solo Guy groove! I never felt tired, never felt the need to take a break. Fuel stops were made only because they are necessary. Rainy days and Mondays have no effect on Solo Guy!

At the hotel I meet two bikers whose names turn out to be Blair and Blair, doing something like a 32-day memorial ride tour. They write a blog about their adventures at http://www.goodrides.webs.com/.

I check the Weather Channel in the hotel and decide tomorrow will be more of the same. In a rare concession to reality, I cover the bike but don’t bother cleaning it.

Tomorrow’s ride home awaits!