Struthers Bros.: Best Motorcycle Shop, and dinner rides!

Just a quick post to say congratulations to Struthers Brothers Kawasaki Suzuki Triumph at 5191 NW 2nd Ave., for being voted Best Motorcycle Shop in Des Moines in a recent poll conducted by Cityview! In addition to carrying a variety of motorcycle brands, Struthers Bros. also carries apparel, parts and gear, and has an extensive selection of pre-owned bikes of many makes and models. They also carry Midland USA communication and helmet-cam equipment. 

Struthers also hosts dinner rides throughout the riding season. Remaining dates and locations are:

Saturday August 10– Dinner Ride to Checkerboard in Pleasantville
Saturday August 24– Dinner Ride to Community Tap in Fort Dodge
Saturday September 7– Dinner Ride to Country House in Colo

All dinner rides leave promptly at 4:30 pm from the Struthers Bros. parking lot.

The dealership is also hosting the Ride Against Diabetes on Sunday August 25 from 12:30 pm – 3:30 pm. Cost is $25 per person. Click here for the flyer shared on their Facebook page! While you’re at it, be sure to “Like” Struthers Brothers on Facebook and visit their website at www.struthersbros.com.

 

 

Family travelogue: Steve & Stephanie’s excellent adventure

All photos by Stephanie Green, with the exception of the one taken in front of the “Summit” sign at Pike’s Peak. That photo was courtesy of Random Stranger.

Now that everyone’s back safe and sound, I just have to share the little adventure that my husband and daughter undertook last week: they went on a dad/daughter road trip to South Dakota and Colorado! And although I didn’t get to go with them (due to lack of vacation time banked at work), I am SO glad that they went – Steve loves Colorado and it had been 20 years since we last were there. And I’ve always wanted Stephanie to see the mountains, the Black Hills, and the Badlands.

After a lot of discussion, Steve decided to rent a car rather than ride the motorcycle. It would give the two of them an opportunity to share the driving responsibilities – and, as it turned out, the car was a much safer place to be at a couple points in the trip. Still, both legs of this trip – South Dakota and Colorado – of course make beautiful bike trips. I rode pillion with Steve on the Colorado trip back in 1989 (my first real motorcycle ride!) and of course we’ve been to South Dakota twice on our trips to Sturgis in 2006 and 2009.

Their route on Day 1 took them to western Iowa and north to Sioux Falls, SD. West from there through Mitchell where they looped through town to see the famed Corn Palace, and on through the Chamberlain area where they stopped at the Lewis & Clark rest area and Al’s Oasis. They stopped at Murdo (home of “1880 Town”) for the night. This is the same route we have taken to Sturgis, with the exception that we stay overnight at the halfway point of Mitchell. Stephanie has been as far as Chamberlain several times, having traveled to some of the towns around there on missions trips through her church. This was the first time she had been west of that area.

 

The next day they continued west, taking the Badlands Loop and stopping at Wall Drug before heading on to Rapid City and Mt. Rushmore. Rain dogged them as they traveled the Badlands Loop, but they stopped at several of the scenic overlooks anyway and explored some on foot.

 

They left Rushmore and traveled Iron Mountain Road to the south before stopping for the night at Hot Springs, SD.  We’ve traveled IMR twice on the bikes – Steve said that of course it’s still beautiful, but not nearly as enjoyable to travel in a car as it is on the bike.

On Day 3 they traveled from Hot Springs west to Wyoming and then south through Cheyenne to Colorado. In Loveland they picked up Highway 34 through Big Thompson Canyon and Estes Park, then in to Rocky Mountain National Park. They were still getting a lot of rain – they said when they were up in the Park that it was “sleeting sideways” for a time – to be expected up in the mountains. Shortly after they snapped a photo of the two of them enduring the sleet, they said the sun came out and it was beautiful for the rest of the trip. I was very happy to hear that they got to finally enjoy the mountain views under sunny skies. Trail Ridge Road took them through the park, then they continued south to Granby, through Kremmling, and south to the tiny ski town of Silverthorne where they spent the night.

 

The next day’s destination was Leadville – a former silver mining boom town that has staked its primary tourism claim on being the home of silver king Horace Tabor and his young wife, Elizabeth “Baby Doe” McCourt, who together lived one of America’s most captivating rags-to-riches-to-rags stories. They visited the tiny shack where Baby Doe lived her widowed years following Horace’s death, the long-silent mine that had produced the Tabor’s millions, and the open fields of abandoned mines. They also visited Healy House, home of Leadville founder August Meyer, and the Dexter Cabin – an example of a Victorian-era hunting cabin.

 

 

 

 

 

From Leadville they headed east toward Colorado Springs, where they took an evening drive through Garden of the Gods. They also drove past the former location of the Flying W Ranch, where Steve and I have great memories of enjoying a “chuck wagon supper and cowboy show” on our first bike trip together back in 1989. Sadly, the Flying W burned to the ground during the Colorado wild fires a couple of years ago.

After an overnight stay in Colorado Springs, on their final day of touring they visited Pike National Forest and drove to the summit of Pike’s Peak. For decades, the road from the gift shop at the midway point on Pike’s Peak to the summit was “paved” only with fine gravel. Sheer drops and a lack of guard rails made the road an un-nerving challenge no matter what type of vehicle was used. Steve reported with some disappointment that the road was recently completely paved, and several guard rails added – many of which were already dented and scuffed from contact with vehicles. “Nothing stays the same,” he lamented. Except perhaps for the millions-of-years-old mountains and the incredible views. :) 

They both reported having a fair amount of trouble dealing with the high altitude and thin mountain air. Steve said that he was glad he had not brought the bike on this trip, becoming so dizzy on Pike’s Peak that he realized he likely would not have been able to ride down. It’s interesting that these physical effects had never been an issue for him on any of four or five previous trips.

After a visit to the summit, it was time to begin the trek home. They traveled the rest of the day heading east through Colorado, Kansas, and Nebraska, with an overnight stop in Kearney, NE before arriving home on Day 6. Upon my return home from work that day, I was treated to a slide show of over 1,000 pictures – almost as good as being there!

 

 

22 miles of string

Okay so the other day I was riding along highway 34 from Albia to Ottumwa. Now the west-bound half of the highway appeared to be freshly paved. The east-bound section did not. While I was mildly annoyed at having to even be on this highway in the first place, and further annoyed to be riding on the crappier half, what really ticked me off was the presence of string.

Every several feet, for probably 22 miles – to the point of complete distraction from all the stuff I should have been thinking about – there were lengths of white string laying in the road. Some of the lengths were sort of tangled up, some were outstretched. Some were pressed down into the pavement, but some were loose and sort of half-billowing/half-laying across the road.

I could not, for the life of me, figure out why it was there. Had it fallen off a delivery truck in spools, and unraveled? Come out of a garbage truck?

It seemed like the sort of thing that wouldn’t bother a cage driver one bit. But if a hunk of that string got caught up in somebody’s spoked wheel or tangled up in a chain-driven bike, well I don’t know what could happen but it just seemed potentially dangerous.

And unsightly. Why if an old Indian chief happened to be standing anywhere along here looking out over the roadway, I’d bet dollars to doughnuts he’d have a tear running down his cheek because of all this wretched string*.

Eventually, after looking at wad after wad of used string, a thought began to form that it had something to do with the paving project taking place in the other lane. As I got closer to Ottumwa, one thing I noticed about the string was that there was a bright red-orange dot of road paint every however-many feet, and on each dot was where a length of string seemed to be stuck to the pavement.

My Holmesian mind began to whir and click like a well-oiled steel trap. Or something. Clearly, a road crew person had painted the red dots on the highway. And the string was anchored at the dots. That meant a road crew person had something to do with the string, and since paving was what was obviously occupying the road crew, it stood to reason that the string was connected to the paving project.

But if the string was used in paving, and the paving appeared finished on that side, and the string was no longer stretched out but was instead either lying in tangled clots along the road or ground into the pavement… why would they leave it in the road where it might pose a hazard? Why not simply remove it? Hell, why not even re-use it, and save us poor schlubby taxpayers some money?

Anyway, the Internet is a wonderful thing. I looked it up when I came home and sure enough, there is ample evidence that string is used in paving. Just LOOK:

And here, we have what appears to be some math-y thing going on which is from pavingexpert.com and clearly references string.

So after staring at string for 22 miles and looking it up on the Internet, I’m now pretty sure the string was used in paving. I’m unclear as to why it was still there, even though it was obviously no longer serving a useful purpose. Can it be that road crews love to litter, hate motorcyclists, and loathe taxpayers?

I hesitate to paint with such a broad brush here, but you KNOW that on every road crew there’s one guy doing all the work and seven others standing around.

You’d think one of them could pick up the frickin’ string.

 

*PS -Did you know that “Iron Eyes Cody,” the Indian in that “Keep America Beautiful” PSA from the 70’s, wasn’t an Indian at all? Nope. He was an Italian from Louisiana. True scoop, I read it on the Internet.

 

 

 

Good Guys Heartland Nationals 2013

If you’re a biker chick you might also be a bit of a hot-rod chick – like me! For the past 22 years (except for one) we’ve staked out our parking spot with whatever street rod or custom classic we happen to own that year at the Good Guys Rod & Custom Heartland Nationals here in Des Moines.  As it turns out, however, this year marked only the second show in 22 years that we have not attended. I’ll show you why in a future post, however just know that normally, last weekend we’d have been baking at the Iowa State Fairgrounds with the other hot-rodders were it not for something really cool that happened instead.

My biker-and-hot-rod pal Shirley – and her hubby Garry – DID attend the Good Guys show this year, and she was great about taking some pictures and sending them my way to share with you! So – indulge your inner hot-rodder a moment and just look at these beauties… this year the Good Guys show in Des Moines had over 4,000 confirmed registered cars! And that was before they threw the gates wide open on Sunday for the “newer-than-’72” cars!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s always a colorful show! Thanks, Shirley, for all the wonderful photos!

 

 

Solo ride to Drakesville

I wasn’t planning on taking a 227-mile solo ride, but as things turned out, it just wasn’t in the cards to saddle up with the Merry Band on Saturday. So, with even my own family otherwise occupied for the day, I had a choice: I could map out something shorter, or set out on the original long route and cut it short if I wanted to.

With no timetable other than to be home before dark, I decided on the latter approach. I left around Noon and made my first stop about 30 miles south of Des Moines, for a couple of reasons: one, to top off gas, which I had not done in Des Moines.

Two, I had put sunblock on my arms and face before I left, but after only a half-hour I could tell I was going to burn. (The sizzling noise was a clue…) So I knew I needed to stop and re-apply. Turns out, the sunblock in my saddlebag is only SPF 15. What kind of idiot carries SPF 15?? THIS gal!

From there I headed south and east along S23 and G76, both scenic county roads I’ve been on several times. G76 junctions with Highway 5 at the tiny town of Attica, so I turned southeast on 5 and made my next stop at a Casey’s General Store in Albia. I almost cut the trip short here, as I was feeling a little overheated. But by the time I bought some water, used the bathroom, and washed my face, I was feeling better.

I had wanted to take a gently-curving county road from Albia over to Ottumwa. Inside the store, I had a conversation with two young clerks about how to find that road. “Randy” immediately directed me instead to the state highway just down the road a few blocks, telling me that was the fastest way to get to Ottumwa. I showed him the photocopied page of my map again. “I didn’t really want the fastest route. The county road looks like it has some curves; the state highway looks pretty straight.”

At that point “Missy” stepped into the conversation. “That road is the old highway. You just go two blocks up and go east at the light. That street becomes the county road.”

Randy: “Yeah but it’s closed isn’t it?”
Missy: “No, I don’t think so.”
Randy: “I think it’s closed.”
Missy: “Well if it’s closed there’s a gravel road that takes you down to the regular state highway.”
Me: “I probably don’t want the gravel – if it’s closed I’ll just turn around and come back this way to the state highway.”
Randy: “I think it’s closed.”
Missy: “I don’t think so.”
Me: “Thanks a lot…”

Back to the bike, slathered on some more SPF 15, and off I went to find the county road. Turns out, Randy was right – H35 was closed. Back I went, past the Casey’s with a wave just in case they happened to be looking out the window as I went by (“I told you it was closed.” “Oh shut up, Randy!”) and on down the road to State Highway 34.

Now here’s the thing about 34: it’s busy, and it has a lot of truck traffic, so it’s not in the best condition. At least not on the part going east out of Albia. On the part coming west into Albia, it looked like beautiful fresh blacktop – but on the part going east, well the “fresh blacktop project” hadn’t been completed yet. So I was pretty annoyed by the time I got into Ottumwa, having to settle for the flat, straight, crappy half of the state highway instead of the beautiful, scenic county road that was closed.

And then Ottumwa. Oh my gosh, I have to say I just wasn’t feeling Ottumwa. You know how a lot of towns have these sort of landscaped office or industrial parks on their outskirts these days? And generally they look pretty nice if a little blah? Well Ottumwa seemed to have more like random stores here and there… a Kohl’s department store… then a little farther down the road an 8-plex movie theater… then a large public swimming facility.

But even though these were nice amenities, it just felt very industrial. It was like… like… like a state highway slamming into the back side of a city instead of a nice county road easing into a small town.

Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess I hadn’t realized until I looked it up later that Ottumwa has a population of about 25,000 – it’s not a small town like Albia or Winterset. And here’s the other thing: I had studied up on (and memorized) the route I needed to take once I was in Ottumwa to get onto the scenic county road that would take me down to Drakesville. But the problem was, that memorized route was based on coming in from the county road which (bless Randy’s heart) was unexpectedly closed.

So once I got into Ottumwa via the industrial armpit section, I had no idea where I was going. And the state highway quickly turned into an even more industrial-looking thing with actual exit ramps. Well who the hell knows which exit to take, in Ottumwa? Anyway, I took one, and of course it was the wrong one.

So I stopped at a gas station and asked directions to the road I wanted, but again I got a clerk who wanted me to take something different. I specifically asked about County Road V17, and when I did I got the “blink… blink… blink…” stare of a 22-year-old who has lived here all his life and probably has cruised every one of these roads at night with a case of beer and as many friends as the Ford Taurus his parents bought him will hold – but still has no freaking idea what the county road numbers are.

“Oh that road’s gravel,” he said by way of dismissal of V17.

“Are you sure? My State DOT map says it’s paved.”

“No, it’s gravel. If you’re going to Drakesville, just take 63 south.”

CRAP! Alright Second Randy, since I don’t know where I’m going and would most assuredly abandon this trip right here and now if I could Jeannie-blink my way back to Des Moines, I will slather on some more SPF 15 and TAKE FRICKIN’ 63 SOUTH.

By now you can guess that my attitude had shifted dramatically. I didn’t want to be in the heat, I didn’t want to be so far from home, and I sure AS HELL didn’t want to take 63 South because I had by then missed out on TWO roads that I was certain are the prettiest, smoothest, and curviest in Iowa.

Finally after a mind-numbing 20 miles straight south along Highway 63, I spotted the turn-off to Drakesville – a county road called J3T, which on my map is a designated Iowa Scenic Byway. I turned to the west, and felt my mood shift immediately because of this:

The realization that there were Amish families and farms along this road was somehow very calming. Perhaps, I told myself, if they can live their entire lives at the slow, simple pace that they do, then surely I can get my mind back to a happy, scenery-appreciating place and leave the hideous Second Randy far, far behind.

Besides, now I had a new mission: looking out for Amish wagons. I didn’t see any for awhile, but as I got closer to Drakesville, suddenly it seemed like every vehicle coming in the opposite direction was a horse-drawn wagon. The drivers were mostly pairs of young people.

I slowed way down as we would approach each other, hoping I wouldn’t spook the horses. I waved to a pair of young girls driving one of the wagons – the girl holding the reins waved back. I passed a farm where two boys maybe 7 or 8 years old were sitting out in the front yard, watching the highway traffic, both dressed (on a 90-degree day) in long dark trousers and long-sleeved deep blue shirts. I waved to them too and they waved back.

By this time I was feeling very serene. I was utterly delighted to cruise into Drakesville which appeared all but completely deserted, except for the two cars parked at the tavern and a few more over at the convenience store. The post office, and a few dilapidated buildings lined the tavern side of the street – I was in heaven once I saw their peeling, chippy white paint! There was a grassy median in the middle, then the other half of the road beyond that.

I stayed long enough to take a few pictures, dig some Chap Stick out of my saddle bag (fortunately not yet completely liquified), and drink some of the bottled water I’d bought back in Albia (miraculously not yet completely warm).

Sitting on the crumbling stoop of the building I’d been photographing, I watched an Amish gentleman roll up to the four-way stop in his buggy, then turn to the east. It was so quiet on the street, I could hear the clop-clop-clop of the horse’s hooves from my position about 50 yards away.

Finally it was time to move along. I slathered on more SPF 15, and continued west along County Road J3T through Bunch, Unionville and into Moravia. At Moravia, I was stopped again at Highway 5 and a sign told me I was just 9 miles south of Albia – the town where I’d encountered Missy and First Randy a couple hours earlier. I could continue west, and pick up the meandering route home I’d plotted through the Lake Rathbun area, or I could turn right and be at Albia in about 10 minutes. From there I knew it was about 90 minutes to home.

Drakesville and the road leading into (and out of ) it had restored my mood, but by now it was 4 pm and I was feeling the effects of having been in the 90-degree heat all afternoon. I decided to save Lake Rathbun for another day, and turned right toward Albia. I stopped at a different c-store for more water and a potty break, slathered on more SPF 15, and continued on toward home along Highway 5. This connected to Highway 92 near Knoxville, so I followed 5-slash-92 until the two roads split off, following 92 into Indianola. A final brief stop to text my family and let them know I’d be home soon, slathered on a final glob of SPF 15, and was home around 6 pm.

Now let me be clear: some time, I will give Ottumwa another chance to win me over. I’m sure it is a lovely place with much to recommend it. And overall, I had a wonderful afternoon and am very glad I went! But I’m not sure these long solo trips are really my thing.

More on that in a future post, perhaps.

Divas ride to Reiman Gardens & Wildlife Care Clinic

Had a really wonderful day with the Chrome Divas of Des Moines last weekend, the ladies’ riding group that I helped to found in 2011 along with Shirley, Coyote, and IowaHarleyGirl Stephanie. There are ten of us now which means we usually have anywhere from three to seven for our monthly designated ride days. In June we were headed to Ames to visit scenic Reiman Gardens, and the Wildlife Care Clinic – a veterinary clinic for injured wildlife.

We gathered in Des Moines at Sambetti’s (the official home of the Chrome Divas of Des Moines – YAY PAUL!!) and set out shortly after 11 a.m., pretty certain it was going to rain at some point but sort of hoping it would be while we were off the bikes. Around 11:30 we were heading north through Ankeny, and as we approached a major intersection, we could look up ahead and see that it was raining hard just west of the road we were on.

We were catching a few sprinkles as we rolled to a stop at the light, so I decided to pull off and just let the shower pass over the road. It started raining on us in earnest as we went through the intersection and pulled into a strip shopping center. We parked quickly in the available spaces in front of the building and stood under the overhang for a couple of minutes before the real downpour started. At that point we went into the CJ’s Bagels shop to wait out the rain.

Meanwhile, our Diva sister Megan was texting us from our destination and letting us know it was also raining intermittently in Ames.

Forty-five minutes later, the sun was shining and we were drying off the bikes, and moments later we were again on the road heading north. Another ‘local shower’ crossed the road as we approached Huxley just a few miles south of Ames, but we missed that one entirely and rolled into Ames around one o’clock. (Almost two hours to go 35 miles? Pretty typical – at least for me!)

Our first stop to explore was Reiman Gardens, the 14-acre gardens of Iowa State University which serve as the learning laboratory for horticulture students. We toured the indoor butterfly garden – oh my goodness, magical! – as well as most of the outdoor spaces. The Gardens include rolling hills, wide open vistas, a large lake, formal Asian-inspired areas, informal cottage-style gardens, a large collection of nature-themed sculptures, and many other beautiful features. I swear this place is like having the world’s prettiest yard without having to do the work. Below are just a few of my pictures – you can click through to my personal Facebook page to see the full album of photos.

 

 

 

We left Reiman mid-afternoon and headed across the street to the ISU Vet-Med complex, where Megan had directed us to meet up for the Wildlife Care Clinic tour. The clinic gives veterinary medicine students first-hand working knowledge of emergency animal care, and focuses its efforts specifically on wildlife because so few other places will handle those animals. This was truly a very educational experience – our tour guides Sarah and Katelyn introduced us to all the residents of the Clinic, both permanent and temporary. Most of the permanent residents had been fully or partially blinded after contact with vehicles: we met Ernie, who managed to make possums look fuzzy and cute! We met Harvey, a great horned owl; Kali, the barred owl; Sora, a red-tailed hawk; Screechy, an Eastern screech owl; Kessie, an American Kestrel with only one wing; and several others. Temporary residents included a mama and baby cardinal, a distraught coyote pup, and turtles Frank Sinatra and Aretha Franklin. Below are a few of them.

 

 

 

 

Our last stop in Ames was famed barbecue venue Hickory Park, where we were joined by Janet/Seven Over and enjoyed ice cream desserts. We were excited to hear from Janet about her recent ride to Washington, D.C. where she and her husband Gerry participated in a police-escorted ride-in to the Law Enforcement Memorial. They worked in a ride through the Tail of the Dragon on their way back as well. 

The ride home was short, sweet and dry – in all a lovely day with interesting destinations and of course wonderful fellowship!

Dear Creston: You’re not doing it right

Okay now that I’ve slept on it (til Noon, I might add), I can report that I am better able today to speak positively about our experience in Creston on June 22.

We had a beautiful ride, the weather toyed with us for half the day but ultimately was fine, we saw two beautiful old buildings enjoying a bit of resurgence (and lots of old buildings still waiting their turn to resurge) and as always the Merry Band was awesome company and made lemonade out of lemons. (If you are a “short version” sort of person, that’s pretty much it in a nutshell – you can stop reading here. For the rest of you, read on for the full scoop!)

After waiting almost two years to the day to attempt a return ride to Creston, I was really looking forward to taking a look around the restored 1899 train station and the restored 1931 Phillips 66 gas station.

So sometime around Thursday, with weekend weather predicted to be hot but humid, I put the hammer down and proclaimed Saturday as Ride Day, with Creston as the destination. And not only Ride Day… but Get Up and Leave in the Morning Ride Day. As opposed to Sleep Til Ten, Fart Around For Three Hours, Have Brunch, and Maybe Take Off Around Two P.M. Ride Day, which has become a habit of ours.

Anyway, we made plans to meet up with Garry, Shirley and Tim around 10:15 on the south side of Des Moines. From here we went south down one of my local favorites, R63, which the night before had carried us down to possibly the biggest Indianola Bike Night EVER.

We turned west onto G14 which cuts through the north end of Norwalk, and at Cumming becomes G4R – another area favorite, being the scenic route to Winterset.

There is a moment on this road that always gives me an opportunity to appreciate the beauty of Iowa – the trees and rural buildings on the immediate roadside come to an end, and you are at the top of a long hillcrest looking to the left out over a beautiful rolling landscape, then the road starts to descend and you are riding right into that very view.

I always wish I could somehow capture the depth, the expanse, and the joy of a view like that. But of course, the tools at my disposal only capture a two-dimensional version, and there’s no safe place to stop anyway. So, I find myself just stealing a few extra seconds to fix it in my mind before returning my focus to the road in time to set my line for the curve ahead.

G4R junctions at 169 just north of Winterset, and as is our norm we stopped at Winterset to grab a bottle of water. The weather was indeed warm and humid – all the way down G4R we had been watching some clouds coming our way from the southwest. Fortunately, the actual rain from those clouds missed us by about 5 minutes: as we were standing around the convenience store parking lot in Winterset, we could look back to the north and watch it pour on the very section of road we had just come down.

It was here that we parted company with Tim – I should have taken a better picture of his bike, which is a liquid-cooled marvel of engineering called the Boss Hoss. It has a GM 350 V8 engine, with a radiator. And an automatic transmission. And reverse. How he wrangles this 1300-pound monster around is beyond me, but Tim says he enjoys it as both a cruiser and a conversation piece. He’s a backroads kindred spirit for sure who has taken a lot of neat videos from this bike, along some of Iowa’s prettiest highways. We were glad to have him along for the ride down to Winterset – I’m wondering if he got rained on as he headed back to Des Moines!

We left Winterset along Clark Tower Road (P71), and took that til it ended in gravel – at which point we did a U-turn and backtracked a couple hundred yards so we could cut over to Highway 169 and continue on south down to Highway 34.

All along, again the tease/threat of rain pursued us – at one point we were riding south directly under the edge of a gray rain cloud that was moving east, but somehow we missed all but a few sprinkles. And, once we turned to the west on 34, the only thing we caught was some wet pavement – we had once again missed a good downpour by only a few minutes. And yes, I had the words of Shirley’s brother-in-law Chuck ringing in my ears: “Janet is the luckiest broad I know.”

We rolled into Creston around 12:30 and easily located the restored train depot. WOW, what an impressive building, and with AMTRAK and BSNF service going through the area daily, we were excited to step into the building and be surrounded by visitors, workers and a bit of railroad history. Unfortunately, we were met instead with the ghost of John Candy:

Only there was no “moose out front.” There was only a series of locked doors on every side of the building, and the sound of Sad Trombone, mocking us with its wah-wah-wahhhhh. I’ll be honest: I was foot-stomping, lower-lip-quivering, pouting-like-a-three-year-old MAD. What kind of historic attraction is closed on the day normal working people can come and see it?

I did manage, begrudgingly, to take a few pictures of the historic building that would not let me in. I even peeped through the windows and got a couple decent pictures of the first floor interior. It looks really neat – lots of shiny subway tile and old wooden benches – and yes there is a model railroad set up inside which is probably ALSO pretty neat to see when the building’s open, and yes that is a rack of tourism brochures on the countertop but of course I DIDN’T GET ANY OF THOSE EITHER.

Anyway, time for lunch and at this point the sun was out and it was really humid (meaning, we were wilting a bit)… so we cruised around the old business district and saw some pretty neat old buildings – in particular the Iowana, a former hotel that is now an apartment building… and a rather imposing US Post Office, both located on Elm Street to the north of the depot. Lots of grand old homes in town, too, many of which appear to be in desperate need of restoration before the Great Wandering Wrecking Ball catches sight of them.

Out on Highway 34, we chose the Creston Family Restaurant for lunch, and glad we did… wide selection, good service and good food… and a friendly resident who told us that the restoration of the depot had been quite the controversy at one time, and that it was now used primarily for municipal offices. (This would have explained why it wasn’t open on Saturday, were it not for the restored passenger area on the first floor that is sure to attract history AND train buffs alike. On Saturdays.) This guy is the only person I’ve ever met who owns a separate motorcycle just to get him from his rural home to the garage “in town” where he keeps a gleaming Honda Gold Wing trike in a friend’s garage that he rides all around the area. (Yep, he needs a separate bike to take him to his bike.)

After lunch we cruised a quarter-mile up the highway to see the restored Phillips 66 gas station – a little 1931 building that looks like a brick cottage and has the old visible gas pumps out front. As it turns out, Phillips 66 founder Frank Phillips grew up near Creston in Taylor County, Iowa, so this was one of the original stations he built when he founded his oil company after pursuing first a career as a barber and then as a banker. He was, obviously, far more successful as an oil man.

This building is said to be a “Visitors’ Center,” but alas, was also closed on Saturday when – it seems to me – a lot of visitors might be visiting. Our enthusiasm dulled at this point for historic Creston buildings, and having been admittedly somewhat placated by chocolate cake back at the restaurant, I wasn’t quite as disappointed as I had been at the depot. And the little station is pretty cool even if we couldn’t step inside. It was apparently moved to its present spot just so it could be preserved, and deserves the extra boost that a small parking area and a volunteer staff could bring to it.

From here we were ready to head home, so it was back along Highway 34 to 169, up 169 into Winterset where we stopped again at a convenience store for a water break, then east on Highway 92 through Patterson and Bevington, then north up Highway 28 through Martensdale, Prole, Norwalk and Lakewood.

We traveled about 150 miles and were home by around 5 pm – despite the closed attractions, a really nice day riding overall.

I’ve shared a few pictures here, but for the full album feel free to click through to my personal Facebook page. (And speaking of Facebook, Biker Chick News has its own page there – click here to “like,” because I know you really, really like me. Maybe you even like-like me… capiche?)

On Sunday, we slept in and then discovered that the garage door won’t open. I’m telling you, if it doesn’t get fixed soon you might just see me out in my driveway, cutting a motorcycle-shaped hole in the overhead door with a Dremel tool.

 

 

TV’s Jax of Sons of Anarchy cancels Iowa Grand Rally appearances

Actor Charlie Hunnam has been forced to cancel all appearances at the Iowa Grand Motorcycle Rally on Friday, May 31 and Saturday, June 1, due to the shooting schedule of the TV series in which he stars, according to a news release issued May 14 by the Iowa Grand Rally.

The “Sons of Anarchy” actor will be unable to attend the two-hour public ‘meet & greet’ session on Saturday, and the three 90-minute private ‘meet & greets’ – one on Friday evening and two on Saturday afternoon – at Iowa Speedway in Newton.

Anyone who purchased a private ‘meet & greet’ session will have their full order refunded, with a period of 7 to 10 days needed for the refund to be processed, according to a news release issued by the Iowa Grand Rally. For more information on this refund, please contact the Iowa Speedway ticket office toll free 866-787-8946.

The Iowa Grand Motorcycle Rally, slated for Thursday, May 30 through Sunday, June 2, is the first major event on Iowa Speedway’s busy 2013 schedule. The Rally’s entertainment line-up will include live music acts, numerous food, beverage and merchandise vendors, bike displays, tattoos, burn-out and talent contests, motorcycle drag racing, lawnmower racing, body painting, and the ever-popular ‘Wall of Death’ motorcycle daredevil show.

Additional information about the 2nd Annual ‘Iowa Grand Motorcycle Rally’ may be accessed on the Rally’s official website, www.iowagrandrally.com, or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/iowagrandmotorcyclerally. Vendors and potential advertisers may reach Iowa Grand Rally Coordinator, Sabrina White, at swhite@iowaspeedway.com for details.

 

Friday Fives: Road hazards for motorcycles are not all deer and pot-holes

As if its not bad enough that most drivers these days seem to be dangerously distracted by cell phones, dashboard toys, and/or a sense of self-righteous road rage, motorcyclists also have a whole slew of other potential hazards to manage. Some are commonly discussed, such as deer or rain-slicked roads. But there’s a wide variety of other situations, objects and circumstances that can cause serious problems – for any driver, really, but with likely more dire consequences for people on motorcycles. Here are a few I’ve personally encountered – you probably have too.

1. Four-legged friends – Riding through a deer-laden gauntlet isn’t the only way animals can pose a problem for a motorcycle. Be on the lookout for overly-enthusiastic dogs charging out from a farmyard… determined crows picking morsels from a fresh hunk of roadkill… wild turkeys lumbering up from the shoulder… or even turtles. Yes, turtles. Although it seems they move slow enough to safely avoid, it’s a little unnerving to spot what appears from many yards away to be an Army helmet in the middle of the road, only to realize that it’s actually moving and you need to assess its speed and position.

2. Road surface deterioration – It’s easy to misjudge the size of a pothole, so be wary of all of them, particularly after a rain when water disguises their true depth. But also look out for “vertical” holes – the kind that are long and narrow and run with the direction ot the bike’s travel instead of across its path. These can catch your tire and yank the bike right out from under you. Likewise any section of road with a vertical seam in it, where one section has settled lower than the other. A friend of mine once got her front tire up against the seam of uneven adjoining sections, which threw her from the bike – fortunately at a low speed. Also, man-hole covers. A hard rain can force an iron man-hole cover up out of its “seat” and onto the pavement as water rushes through the storm sewer underneath. Bad enough when you can see it laying in the road… but potentially horrible when you are riding through even just a few inches of standing water and can’t see that the iron disk – and the hole it used to cover – are in your path.

3. Other surface issues – It’s truly a wide world out there when it comes to what can compromise the road surface. You’ll find plentiful advice about riding in the rain, along gravel, etc. But there’s a lot more to surface compromise than water or gravel. Out on the rural roads, its common to encounter a home owner astride their riding mower, throwing cut grass out onto the highway. Grass and leaves (also patches of gravel) hinder your tire’s ability to grip the road so be very cautious traveling through these patches especially when wet and/or on curves. And give that homeowner a friendly wave just for good measure. Another possibility: street paint. Have you noticed that crosswalks aren’t always just two horizontal stripes anymore? These days they can be giant blocks of solid paint spanning the width of the roadway. I’m absolutely certain these large blocks of paint slicken the surface and reduce tire grip, especially when rain-soaked. There’s one on a curve that I pass over every time I’m coming home from the north – I make sure I ride between the painted blocks.

4. Debris – We’ve all been stuck behind a construction vehicle now and then, and felt the tick-tick-tick of dirt or gravel coming off the truck. But consider that any open vehicle carrying “stuff” can pitch items large or small out into your path – from plastic grocery bags to household goods. Also pay attention to trailers, boats, or other items being towed. I’ve seen car parts come sliding off a flatbed trailer, water pouring from a boat that had recently been pulled from the lake… and, I was once traveling behind a pickup truck towing a covered boat, and the cover on the boat came up and off. Fortunately it sailed off to the side, but it certainly could have posed an interesting visibility problem for me had it come back my way. It doesn’t even have to be actual debris to be a hazard. It can be anything in the road that’s not supposed to be there. A few years ago, a drunken pedestrian stepped out in the road directly in front of my oncoming friend. Both were seriously injured in the resulting collision.

5. Optical illusions – Some hazards are not really problems in and of themselves, but they create a visibility issue. The other day we were on a road where there was a horizontal seam about every 20 feet, and every one of them was covered with black sealant. Twenty feet goes by pretty quickly on the bike, so it became a constant stream of black stripes whizzing by. It created some issues with depth perception as well as a huge visual distraction. I call this the Willy Wonka Effect because it reminds me of that annoying scene in the Gene Wilder version of the movie where they’re traveling down the chocolate river in his freaky boat with the LSD-inspired scenery. Riding in dappled sunlight can have the same Wonka effect.

As you can see, distracted drivers and deer are not our only worries while riding motorcycles. What’s the most unusual hazard you’ve ever encountered, and how “close” was the call with you and your bike? Thoughts or tips on dealing with any of the above?

 

 

Why I ride, Part 5 – Epilogue: Potential… and perspective

“It’s only when you hit your 40′s that you can look back at a picture of yourself when you were in your 20′s and realize just how much potential really lay ahead.”

That’s a paraphrasing of a remark I heard once on the radio that really hit home. And it’s so true: you really don’t understand, when you’re young, what it’s going to be like when you look back. And then, when you are in your 40′s, and if you happen to come across a picture of yourself from, say, your college days, you probably gasp and think, “Look how YOUNG I looked!” And the reason it’s so surprising, I believe, is because you’re seeing not just your physical youth… but your innocence, too, and complete lack of perspective.

It’s been kind of entertaining recently, recalling the memories and milestones in the “Why I Ride” series I’ve been posting. And on a parallel plane, I’ve been looking through a lot of old pictures for other reasons – and that’s been equally entertaining.

The shot of me at left is from the Fall of 1983. I’m 21 years old; that’s just shy of 30 years ago for those keeping score. I’m about five years past my last ride on the Honda Express, but five years away from the epic trip with Steve to Colorado. Kind of a mid-point in my motorcycle journey where bikes aren’t even on the radar. The picture was taken in my efficiency apartment across the street from the Iowa State University campus in Ames, Iowa, early in my first semester at the school, to which I had transfered after two years elsewhere.

I look at that picture and I can immediately conjure all the most important circumstances of my life at that moment – and of course memories of “bright college days” come flooding back.

But today, I also realize that at the moment this picture was taken, I knew what I wanted to do but I had no idea who I would become. And I think that is the question that pulls so strongly at your heart when you come across a “young” picture: Did I become who I thought I would be? And perhaps more importantly: Do I like who I’ve become, even if it’s not who I thought I would be? 

I am very, very lucky – when I look back at a picture of myself in my 20’s, I don’t think about failing to meet my potential – though Lord knows I haven’t achieved half the shit I’m capable of. I just laugh about how smart I thought I was, but how little I really knew about the world, and true joy, and true pain, and what’s important.  I might also pine just a little for the tiny sum-total of my life’s worries at that moment. That’s the perspective 30 years gives you, I guess. I’m grateful that I feel like I’m doing okay when I stack my present life against what that girl had planned for her future.

This week I read a lovely blog post by Jeff Maddox, who calls up a few of the key moments in his younger days when “life became a little bigger.”

Life was going on around us and we were taking in the view beyond the grasshoppers, mud puddles and those really straight sticks you would find every so often that you couldn’t stand to leave behind.

That business about straight sticks really grabbed me, because for me it was pretty rocks: I’d walk home from elementary school every day past a house with a pea-gravel driveway, and almost daily I’d find a little rock that was so pretty I had to keep it – failing to understand that it was the whole driveway that was cool, not just one little rock. And that that one little rock’s purpose was not to serve as my own personal treasure, but to be a beautiful detail within something larger – something that needed to be left intact for others to see, and appreciate, if only they would take the opportunity.

I think that’s ultimately why I ride. After the goofy phone booth, the nerdy Honda Express, the rickety learner bike, and everything else, I ride because it is a tremendous opportunity to live in the moment. To experience ordinary details – like deep green corn stalks tipped in early Autumn gold, or a ten-degree drop in temperature at the bottom of a long hill, or the scent of manure coming off a farm field – that I would otherwise miss because life has become so much more complicated.

I think it’s also why I spend so much time on this blog spotlighting the details of each and every ride. I want as many people as possible to simply look around for themselves and see the details of their own life – and appreciate their beauty, and the beauty of their own big picture.

Even if they aren’t who they thought they would be.

 

Here are the other parts of this series:
Part 1: The Telephone Booth
Part 2: The Honda Express
Part 3: A Sickly Bleating
Part 4: Rebel Biker Mom

 

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