Chapter 5

Brainerd to Home

7/17/02 was spent changing oil, doing laundry and getting re-packed for the ride toward home. We went to the store and I bought some fancy birdseed. Marve'n Carol live on 15 acres and their front lawn area has some 30 trees scattered among the cut grass. The birds in this country are far more colorful than those found here. I saw Gold Finch, Purple Finch, Cardinals, Orioles and I don't recall what else. Marve'n Carol also operate a squirrel farm - they don't intend it that way but what with all the bird feeders he has, he has squirrels! Lots of'em too! Ground Squirrels? Yeah, he has those as well. Marve spends more'n a minor amount to time devising ways of protecting his feeders from the squirrels. And, as near as I could tell Marve and the squirrels are still running neck'n neck with this game! However, I should mention that Marve keeps a .22 rifle loaded with birdshot and from time to time will use same to stay even with the squirrels or the crows.

I was due at Moon Motors the next day (tomorrow) as their second customer for their BMW technician. Marve had the oil (I'd bought him a whole case), and I checked the valves for the first time since leaving home. Only one valve was found to be just a tad tight.

7/18/02 It's 7:02 AM and spitting rain. I don my raingear and I'm ready to roll. Marve pulls me down the drive with his pick-up and I fire right off. I was putting the starter (rope) away when Marve straightened-up my gas tank pack and hits the kill switch. Aargh! Start over! Now Moon Motors and Monticello are about 75 miles from Marve's place but the instructions are pretty straight-forward - mostly freeway.

I arrive in Monticello (later having learned I turned one off-ramp too soon!), ride through what I thought was Monticello (but only on the outskirts) . Ah-hah! Here's a man and his son closing the gate to a building-supply outfit, they're in a dump truck. I pull-in along side and speak-up to the cab. The man tells me to go back, cross the tracks and the shop's on the immediate right. Thank you! He roars-off

down the road and I start to waddle backward as I don't have room to U-turn on this gravel driveway. All the rocking back'n forth causes the gas tank pack to hit the kill switch! You guessed it! Dead in the water I was I was. I pushed the motorcycle to the side of the road and, figuring it nice'n warm, outta fire right off. Can I get it going fast enough on flat ground?

Waddle waddle waddle, pop the clutch. Nadda! All I'd done was walk right out of one of my rain boots. Park bike, retrieve boot and survey my situation. The next driveway led into a gun club, there was a little dip there...perhaps, just perhaps it'd be enough! Well, it wasn't! Now what?

I placed my helmet on the road, the international distress sign that a motorcyclist needs assistance. It wasn't more'n about 10 minutes when this BMW rider comes zipping down the highway, he's looking at me but not slowing down. As he passes me I shrug my shoulders with palms-up. I hear him back-off the throttle and a quarter mile further down, his brake light illuminates. There's hope here! He comes back. I introduce myself, explain my problem, show him my 'starter rope' and request a tow. He's never towed anyone. Not to worry I explain, it's only for a couple feet, my motor'll run. What a teacher. I took off his right saddle bag, hooked us up, and down the path to the range we went. He slowed on hearing my horn; I was running once again and not two miles from a new starter motor.

It was about 9:10 AM when I shut-down at Moon Motors. They take the bike and I store my rain-gear, helmet, gas tank pack, etc. in their lunch room. I walked a couple blocks to a breakfast place, ordered a big meal, up-dated my diary and wrote post cards.

When I got back to the shop the job was done and I set about to re-pack and had to wait for the bill. I was pleasantly surprised here, $353.40 total, labor included. A bill I was pleased as punch to pay. Got instructions to the post office, gassed-up and was on my way. Hills be damned!

I headed south an around Minneapolis, pausing in Plymouth to call my cousin Steve who lives there. Not home, message left. Next, I called my niece in West Des Moines Iowa - that was on the same freeway I was then riding. Molly is the only other motorcycle enthusiast in the family. She answered the phone and yes, we could do dinner. She wasn't sure just how to direct me so I said I'd call again, when close.

I called Pat, asked her to call Marve and inform that I was fixed and not to worry. (Marve requested notification). Pat said she'd do that and e-mail Dave that I was going to see Molly later that afternoon.

I was back on the road, the damn freeway with all it's butt-numbing speed. IS #35 is straight, fast and flat, least it was until I hit a l-o-n-g construction zone of one-lane, no-passing that I thought would never end. I have some trouble finding West Des Moines, having first found the 800 block of 12th Street in Des Moines proper. Stop a pedestrian who gets me squared away - it's back on the freeway a bit. I later get to a gas station in West Des Moines just a couple blocks from Molly's place and instructions from there to here place were very straight forward. I get to meet her natural mother (Molly was adopted by my brother and his ex-wife of 30 years, Barbara). Molly currently lives with her natural mother. Molly is brown-eyed, black hair and her mother, very fair with grayish-blonde hair. The two women have three cats, Molly's (Harley-cat), being a 22 pound short hair with eyes the size of quarters but very affectionate. One must be sure to use proper lifting techniques when picking this animal up.

Niece Molly Weld

I off-load my cooler so as to have room for Molly (she's currently without a 'ride') and we're off to a steak house, the Long Branch. We have a very pleasant meal, coaching the youthful staff on making a proper Old Fashioned. Afterwards we take a ride around West Des Moines which is a very clean community with lots of very new developments.

I'd dropped Molly and reclaimed my cooler when I took a break at a rest area on Interstate #80 at 9:16 PM. I needed a place for the night, figuring on a motel. I turned north for the town of Adel but couldn't find a motel. The town impressed me with an illuminated court house occupying a whole 'square' of downtown, this with illuminated 4-face clock tower. I head west on US #6 and even in the dark twilight understand this is beautiful country, but buggy. My headlamp illuminates lots'o bugs and the grasshoppers occasionally hit my helmet - they go out with a 'bang'. US #6 comes back to IS #80 at Stuart and I nail a motel, the New Edgetower. My helmet breaks - sort-of, on dismount. I called Pat and was told she'd just read about the grasshoppers in Nebraska, where the roads looked alive with the critters. I shower but Stuart IA has the same water as at Marve's, hard. Did you get the soap off? The hard water feels slick against the skin. Check the helmet, it lost a special shouldered screw. Damn! After a cocktail I rested up and naturally I thought of my friends, the Stuart's, me being in Stuart IA'n all.

07/19/02 Oh boy! I've been traveling too long with Marve! Wide awake

at 6:50 AM. The Weather Channel in the motel is telling me it's already 76º with 78% humidity. My first task is to get off the Interstate, and I do with US #6,

I breakfasted in Anita. It's threatening rain again and as I roll into this rural community of Atlantic I pass the Nishna Valley Honda dealer, big shop! It looks like rain, they sell helmets - why not shop? I did; it did! I then got 'screwed' by a Honda dealer - at no charge either!

US Hwt. 6 East of Omaha

US #6 runs right straight into Omaha. You cross the Missouri River and you sir, are 'downtown'. I continued straight-away, through downtown, through the suburbs and about the time the stop'n go traffic, coupled with the heat, were starting to get to me, I was outta town - just like that! Nice city, gently rolling hills, lots of new construction and clean. Must be a 'Mid-west thing'.

NB Highways 2/92 are dotted for 'scenic beauty', but this IS Nebraska! I'm headed that way, breaking for lunch in St. Paul and writing postcards. I took a break Ansley where I connected with Hwys. 2/92 and made a mental note that I'd have to gas in Broken Bow. It was time to refold the map.

I stopped to kabbitz with a motorist having car problems - one he fixed by removing the air filter. He's a railroad worker, the 'road' being one of the main employers throughout Wyoming and Nebraska. Railroad you say? You betcha, and only moving one commodity, one way - coal. 100-car trains with a minimum of three engines with one 'pushing'. You see a train at least once every fifteen minutes. The track is, with rare exception, laid in pairs so as to accommodate the volume. For the most part the scenic route follows the Loup River, or one of its tributaries. The road, all two-lane blacktop, has lots of 'sweepers' with a lot of green along the river banks. The Loup is relatively shallow and swift moving with a lot of riffles. It really is a pretty route....for say 20, 30, even 40 miles but this is Nebraska. The locomotive engineers would usually respond to my gesture to 'blow the whistle', an effort which perhaps relieved boredom for both of us.

I shut-down relatively early today in the Nebraska National Forest, about 6 PM local time. A national forest in Nebraska? Think about it! This is the middle of the 'Great Plains'. But yes, there is a forest and yes, like San Francisco's Golden Gate Park it's all planted. The forest actually got it's start with the WPA and the Depression of the late 20's. Nice facility, swimming pool, tennis courts, gravel tent pads etc. Reasonable too, a no-hookup site was $8.

It's 104º and I'm set-up you bet I drink!

Nebraska National Forest

I eventually found as phone called Pat and met with some other park users. I was told that today's temperature hit 104º; it surely felt like it! I then returned to my tent site to work on my diary. I was writing in same when YEOW! Damn yellow-jacket just bit me on the inside of the right forearm, I hadn't a clue he was there.

No mosquitoes, but more'n a few of these pesky critters - all of whom were keen on my cocktail mixer.

Train tracks run across the driveway into the park and at dusk I walk down. I mix-up a 'walkaway cocktail'; train'll be along soon, right? Wrong. I waited about 40 minutes and was walking back toward the park's driveway when I saw the electric semaphore signal the approach of a train. It rumbled past and before I could get back to my tent site, two more trains came through. I like trains; used to be a railroader myself way back when, in Auburn WA, for the now long defunct Northern Pacific. I wrote some cards and with tripod, took my own photo.

7/20/02 It was 0820 before I was all packed'n ready to go. It was very warm.

I was actually pleased to get away as I had the misfortune of camping next to some selfish numbskull who kept a Honda generator running all the time in the back of his pickup, the open end of which was aimed right at my campsite next door.

I crossed into the Mountain Time Zone almost immediately after leaving the park and gassed in Mullen and had breakfast. Ergo, it was 8:57 local time when I returned to the road - still following the map's 'scenic dots' and waving to train crews. I hadn't ridden 50 miles when I paused in Hyaniis NB to mail cards, buy new cards and stretched. My arrival in Alliance (big railroad town) was heralded with a parade - but not one in my honor. I was able to sneak into the back of the fuel station at the disbanding area, fuel, stretch and head back to the Deputy Sheriff who let me sneak-in. He directed me around town and I left the scenic NB#2 for US 385 South before taking a cut-off toward Scottsbluff. It was stretch-time in Minitare at 1201 and gas a half-hour later in Gering. I paused here to refold and study the map. State-line was just ahead and the sky was starting to look formidable.

It was 12:51 PM when I crossed the state-line on Hwy. 92 just outside Lyman NB.

In an effort to minimize my 'interstate highway time' I'd opted for a collection of lesser roads that let me zig-zag west. I dinned in a cafe in downtown Torrington which was next-door to the Post Office. They close early on Saturday and I was one of the last customers of the day - for both establishments I'd guess. I tried to take a short cut, WY# 160 from Ft. Laramie but after about 4 miles, now past the historic site, the road turned to ugly gravel. It was 'turnaround time'. As I passed through Gurnsey WY a bank sign informed that the time was 2:56 PM and 104º.

Eventually, I hit Interstate 25 in Wyoming and turned south for Wheatland, skies looking evermore ominous. It's 3:35 PM and starting to rain, this with thunder and lightning in the distance. Two next-door gas station/convenience stores just ahead.

Now normally I'd determine the station based solely on the lowest posted price for fuel. Circumstances alter cases - which provided the greatest degree of shelter was the moment's thrust. I'd gassed and moved the motorcycle for optimum shelter when KA-BOOM and it started to rain like a cow peeing on a flat rock. Whee! It was an excellent time to shop for refreshments that could be nursed as I waited for the storm to pass.

During this interlude I'd made contact with another motorcyclist who was in the adjoining gas station when the storm blew-in. He crossed over to my 'station' and we kibitzed for quite a while. He was a youthful, long-haired Harley rider out of Indiana and was chasing his relatives all across the country. Nice kid.

Skies are clearing by 4:47 PM, the storm has cooled everything off - it's 'jacket time'.

Note: My diary next says that at 7:12 PM I entered Colorado and at 8:17 PM I'd registered at the KOA in Fort Collins. However, an awful lot happened between 4:47 and 8:17. I'll quote from my diary here:

"9:18 (PM) Time to make notes. All went well today until the road from Wheatland, where I waited-out' a thunderstorm and departed sans rain gear, but with my motorcycle jacket 'on'. I wanted WY#34 as it went where I wanted to go and the country was worth seeing. On turn-off (onto WY#34), I saw a sign for construction delays but thought to myself, it's Saturday, a construction delay was no big issue. Beneath that sign was another, it read "motorcycles not advised". Whoa! I thought.

I paused and waited to inspect traffic coming off the road, examining them for mud etc. I didn't see any. I proceeded down WY#34."

What a road! Twisty, with changes in both width and pavement materials. The road goes past a Buffalo ranch and after 20+ of wondrous experience, here came the construction zone. I throttled-down and entered the un-paved road surface about 20 MPH, at what looked like a good safe speed. "BUT WAIT!", I wrote. "This is closer to quicksand than anything else!" I slowed some more but as I do the motorcycle seems to settle into the road and I find myself with little control - the back end tries to slip-out, I stab the ground and correct but now it wants to go the other way around. The front wheel is not responding! The other foot stabs the ground to push upright. Too much! Violently shaking now from side to side and down we go!

The left saddlebag's catch to the rack is broken. I kill the engine as I get up. My left ankle and leg are hurting and I can't pick the machine upright, not enough strength and or traction as the tires just slip in the 'goo'. I off-load everything external on the motorcycle and place it all on the edge of the roadway. I fight it but do get the motorcycle upright, but it's facing the wrong way. Standing along side the cycle, leaning it against me and holding the front brake, I spin the tires by slipping the clutch and it comes around to desired direction of travel. Damn I hurt!

Crash Site - see scars in 'goo'?

I get the motorcycle onto the center stand and re-load it, now using a bungee cord to hold the one saddlebag against the motorcycle. I'm dripping wet with sweat and take a break sitting on the arm of a parked caterpillar-type tractor. I lit-up my briar and thought about my position. Decided to take some pictures for sure. I was doing this when a vehicle approached from the other side of the construction zone. I flagged the motorist down to ask how much of this road surface was ahead of me.

The fellow looked up'n back down the roadway and said I was about halfway through it, that it ended just over the knoll in front of me; that it was 'okay gravel' after that.

Covered in 'goo' Stuff sticks to boots as well as tires.

(Can you see the swelling ankle?)

Well, I thought, if I'm halfway through it I at least know what direction I'm gonna ride. I mount-up, a painful experience in it's own right, and proceed by paddling with my legs as I slipped the clutch to inch forward. Problem, back-end wants to pass the front-end, or dig a hole. Well, about 80' from where I first went down, I go down again, but a passing motorist watched my plight and helped me upright, this time without unloading the motor. The front tire wasn't turning smoothly inside the fender - my main problem. The 'goo' built-up like concrete. Again, I found myself facing the wrong way but was able to 'dog-paddle' around to direction of desired travel. He watched me inch forward, almost to the top of the knoll now but I had to 'break'. White smoke (read 'clutch'), was billowing out from beneath the gas tank. I had to let it cool down some.

Have a smoke! Don't get off the motorcycle though, that would've been a painful experience I could avoid. When I did start-up I worked my way through another 30' of 'goo' without going down and found myself on the promised gravel. I was able to move through the remaining construction section without further difficulty. That 100 yards of 'goo' taught me to have a very hefty respect for any sign that says 'motorcycles NOT recommended'.

I'm in The Fort Collins KOA writing this, now 9:53 PM. When I cough a rib hurts. I didn't plan to be here. I tried to get a motel in Laramie, the twin-city to Cheyenne. The first motel had a room, then it didn't, (I was seeking a 'smoker room'). Now my jacket, boots and jeans are covered with this concrete-like goo. That first motel wanted $60. +tax and it was nothing to write home about. Well, see, it 'Cheyenne Days' and there's a heavy demand for motel rooms, with the operators 'cashing-in' on the circumstance. I opt to shop some. Second motel in Laramie, this time I leave the jacket on the bike, they have a 'smoker room' for $55. - I'll take it! I pay-up ($59.95 with taxes), get the keys but then the clerk suddenly finds the room NOT available after all. I get my money back and I'm on the road. Now my pre-crash 'plan' was to ride WY#130 out of Laramie but lodging didn't look good. While riding out of town I saw the sign for Ft. Collins CO and thought 'No Cheyenne Days there...', went that way.

Beautiful road.

I saw a 'Rest Area ahead' sign and thought perhaps my mud-encrusted appearance was working against me so I stopped with intentions of scraping-off some dried mud (concrete?) and changing trousers. Very painful to walk, even more so to get-off the motorcycle as one MUST pivot on the ball of the left foot using the side-stand.

I got the boots off, another painful experience, and used my Swiss-Army knife to cut'n scrape. Got out clean jeans and hobbled to the rest-room, no room to change there, nothing to sit on, etc. Went back outside and sat on the retaining wall next to the motorcycle. Cars kept coming and going. The hell with it. I changed my trousers right there in front of god'n everyone. Daylight is rapidly fading - I gotta roll.

As I came into Ft. Collins I saw a KOA and thought that'd be cheaper than a motel. Pain must've been fogging my thinking. Paid the $26. for a tent site and called Pat right away. "Blah-blah-blah it's your own fault", says she. (She's right of course!)

I finally get out to the tent site, a gravel pad but one into which you cannot drive tent pins and I'm faced with strong gusting winds. I had a hell of a time getting the tent up and the rain-fly secured.

I did mention gusting winds? Ft. Collins KOA here

The skies kept changing and I noted that I must anticipate rain by tomorrow. It's not cold, just windy! I walked my jacket over to the faucet to try'n clean-off some, then bungee'd the jacket to the motorcycle to dry. I can't get my left ankle comfortable - I wrote "tomorrow will be illuminating'. This was the second night in a row that I was turning-in without dinner so I must be losing weight. I noted last: "It's now 10:15 PM".

7/21/02 I had a fitful night's sleep. I awoke early and hobbled-off to the shower. The uneven campground surface was painful to walk on and this all required that I put my left boot on twice! Yeoww! It took a long time for me to break camp as I was moving so slowly. I gassed-up right across the street at 9:08, using my credit card at the pump so as to not have to dismount. I rode-out CO Hwy. #14, a really scenic ride into the Rockies, one Pat'n I took several years ago coming home from our 'Big Trip'. On that occasion it was cold, with snow on the ground and on the payment (though very shallow). This time, sunny, warm and for the first 25 miles, clogged-up with fishermen. Was it opening day of the season? Perhaps, I couldn't explain the masses otherwise. The route follows the Cache la Pourde River.

I needed a break, but where/how? I stopped at the Big Bend National Forest Campground where I found a huge bolder I could lean the motorcycle against and get off using the good leg. Riding was reasonably comfortable but shifting, normally done with the toes of the left foot, was now done by lifting the whole leg. It was 10:16 AM and I was about 2/3rds of the way to Walden which was 99 miles from where I gassed (so said the sign). I arrived in Walden (just over 8000' elevation) at 11:11 and it was 67º. Pat'n I spent the night here, it was so cold the motor was covered with ice in the morning and we pushed it into the sun before breakfast.

Well, today I parked in front of the Post Office, mailed letters and hobbled-off to a cafe across the street.

It was 12:55 when I arrived in Steamboat Springs, having crossed Rabbit Ears Pass at 9,426 feet elevation, gassed and noted excellent MPG (seemingly - remember, no odometer). I took time to scrape the inside of the front fender (again), as I'd smelled rubber. If you look closely in the photo that follows you'll note some abraiding of the tire's tread (left side - your right!).

Wyoming 'Goo' left in Steamboat Springs

I took a break in Craig, another in Meeker. It was 3:21 PM at the latter. I rode to and through Rifle an out on Interstate #70 where the posted limit is 75 MPH. I ducked into a truck stop just east of Grand Junction. 193 miles since gas in Steamboat Springs and I still hadn't been asked to shift to a reserve tank. I WAS getting good MPG! I called Pat from the Utah Welcome Center on the Interstate, it's 57 miles from the Utah/Colorado boarder. At 8:30 PM I'd checked into the Budget Inn Motel in Green River. Cheap! $33.34 tax included. Called pat again.

7/22/02 Awoke just after 6 AM but went back to sleep but that didn't last long. The whole motel was awakened by a Harley rider several doors down - he was getting an early start and we all had to know about it! The morning started with a long stretch of no gas, no towns etc. so I gassed and ate in Green River. Also, I wrote five cards. It was now 9:13 AM and met a rider pulling into the restaurant that I'd over taken and passed the day before, in Colorado. This was the same restaurant I'd left just minutes earlier. He was riding a beautifully restored R-60/2 and was reluctant to take it over 60 MPH. He seemed truly grateful when I told him that that model had a real 'flat-spot' in the timing's advance curve at 60-62 miles per hour and suggested he try 64 MPH at least, that his machine would run much smoother. I also told him it'd run all day long at 70 MPH without harm.

I took a break at 10:26 AM in a view area, about half-way between Green River and Salina. I took several pics of the so-called painted desert from the saddle.

Interstate #70, WB, central Utah

It was 11:38 when I took a break at Richfield, I'm still riding IS #70. Made a note to buy gas at Beaver. 12:38 gassed in Beaver, just shortly after having to go on reserve. I took-on 5.113 gallons of gas. I left Beaver on Hwy. #21 for Milford and points west.

Only light traffic between Beaver and Milford. At 1:52 PM I took a break just below the Frisco Summit and since Milford only six vehicles passed me going the other way. Talk about a lonely road! I crossed into Nevada at 2:47 PM (now 1:47 PM as the state line is the demarcation for the Pacific Time Zone. I loaded-up with gas at a 'card-only' gas pump in Baker NV, this is adjacent Lehman Caves, a cave tour well worth doing for those passing this way.

Scenes of Highway 21 e/r connection with US #50 at Lehman Caves

Needing a break I welcomed the 20 minute highway construction delay that I hit 25 miles east of Ely, enabled me to just roll-through Ely. It was 3:52 PM when I took a break just below Robinson Summit ( east of Antelope). Eureka in 40 miles - will stop'n eat in Eureka. Took on 4.184 gallons of gas and ate in a Chinese restaurant - pretty good too, Kung Pao Chicken. I arrived here (Eureka) at 4:48 PM and was back'n rolling just after 5:35 PM.

I checked into a motel in Austin (the Lincoln Motel - $32.40 tax included) at 6:30 PM. (Highway 50 here is part of the original Lincoln Highway, ergo the name.) Austin is a comfortable day's ride from home, I was gonna make it! I called Pat and got a run-down on the plumbing problems at the church. Nice enough abode, had to take a non-smoking room and by-in-large, didn't smoke in the room. I was able to buy whisky off-sale at the bar in the International Hotel across the street. Pricey, but I didn't have to walk far ($15. for a 5th of Early Times). Cooler was filled with ice gratis. It was an experience. The International Hotel is the oldest licensed hotel in Nevada history, (License #1). The hotel was built originally in Virginia City in 1859-60; the bar itself arrived in San Francisco before the Gold Rush (1843) from England. The latter is all walnut with highly carved, deep relief decoration. The back mirrors are supposed to be all original, except one. I was told that the original International Hotel was dismantled in Virginia City and with the bar, moved to Austin in 1863. Have a drink Chris, your TV gets damn poor reception on one of its' two stations. I took some pictures of Austin, it is an historic town, still supported by in large by gold miners to this day.

Nevada's First Licensed Hotel Downtown Austin NV

7/23/02 0805 I'm ready to roll. I couldn't very well sleep-in, the walls were thin enough that I heard everyone else's wake-up call. I'd gassed the night before. Having studied the map the night before I had a revelation. Just outside of Austin, about six miles down US Hwy. #50, was a junction with NV Hwy. #722. And, if you followed this road you'd see that it ends back on Hwy. #50, just as it began. However, #722 is 55 miles long where if you were to stay on US. 50 you cover 64 miles. O'lay! NV#722, was a road I'd never been down and a shorter route to boot!

I pulled-out of the motel dragging a bungee cord and was hailed by a middle-aged couple who walked-over. Given my foot I asked the gentleman to hand me the end of the dragging cord (I have a sprained ankle, remember). He did and I learned that they were both BMW riders, staying in a different motel. She was out of Colorado; he out of southern Illinois. We talked roads and experiences. They were keen on the cafe and bar in the International Hotel when I told them of my historical lesson. They were equally interested in my suggestions relative California routes worth seeing, and of my notice of NV #722.

Railroad Pass is Highway #722's route over the Paradise Range and it starts out across a valley that angles away from US. 50. Good pavement too! It's straight as an arrow for about 18 miles so 75 MPH is not unreasonable. Just as the road rises into the mountains two signs catch your attention, one says the road is NOT routinely maintained, the other says 'Open Range'. The road starts to twist'n turn as it rises-up a box canyon. It has everything, dips, sweepers and some posted 20 MPH turns. Cattle are on the road at various places and they amble out of the way.

The pavement remains superb! This is one of the prettiest roads in Nevada. You leave one box canyon and start another. During the 55 miles of #722 I passed two rest /way-side table places and one historical marker. I passed two ranch houses in the canyons and only two vehicles passed me going the other way. Hwy. #722 is a 'must -do again' and certainly should be a notice for any serious motorcyclist heading across Nevada on US #50. I photographed the western intersection of US 50 and Hwy. #722.

Hwy NV#722, US#50, high left

My next town is Fallon and I'm about 20 miles east of there when my motor coughs'n quits. Can't be gas I left with a full tank, no? NO. I switched to reserve and the motor fired right-off. Where'd the gas go, I pondered. DUMB! I'd last gassed when I ate, in Eureka 67 miles east of Austin. Somehow I had it in my mind that I'd gassed on arrival in Austin the night before when it was Eureka. These are the problems one has traveling without a 'gas gauge' (odometer/trip meter). Egad! Did I have enough gas to make the next station? That was my immediate concern at this juncture. I slowed down some to improve mileage and kept waiting for that first reserve to run empty (I have a second reserve mind you...). I come to a gas station several miles east of Fallon but since I hadn't been asked to switch to the second reserve I relaxed and pressed-on (cheaper gas of course!). I stayed on Alternate US. #50, a route which will connect with Interstate #80 at Fernley. US #50 otherwise goes to Carson City and up to South Lake Tahoe and down the mountains into Sacramento. US IS# 80, on the other hand, goes passed the north shore of Lake Tahoe. I ate breakfast at the Wig Wam Cafe/Casino just south of Fernley..

Once onto Interstate #80 I was retracing the start of my whole trip. I did a rest stop at 1:25PM at the Donner Summit rest area, bought gas and stretched in Davis (just west of Sacramento) at 3:52 PM and ducked into A&S in Citrus heights. A&S is a big dealership, the one that supplies the California Highway Patrol with all their BMW needs. I need to replace a front turn signal lense as one was badly cracked/chipped on a construction zone in Canada. Item not in stock! Well, just out of curiosity, did they have a starter motor in stock for my machine? No. I was home between 5:30 PM and 6:00 PM pausing to buy Pat some flowers and a box of candy at the shopping center up the hill.

It was a memorable ride. Pat says NEVER, EVER AGAIN! She got lonely, but she was invited along. Next year's rally is scheduled for Charleston West Virginia, it's a sure-bet I'll be there!

End