Complete ride report here.
Planning the route in Connecticut [Large Picture]
Cape Neddick, Maine. [Large Picture]
Maine Coastline. [Large Picture]
Maine Coastline. [Large Picture]
New Hampshire rest stop. [Large Picture]
New Hampshire rest stop. [Large Picture]
On the last day of work before the trip, I rode the XS to work. Enjoyable ride, everything working. On the way home, about 9 miles from the house, the engine cuts out in mid traffic. What the ?! Got restarted but only kept it running with higher rpm's. Hmmm, electrics acting up. Checked battery when I got home. Levels were at minimum, but straight battery test was 11.5V. Checked the new brushes I installed. I solder joint looked suspect. Ran out, got a new Champion battery and re-soldered the brush. Stressing to get things done so I could spend some time with my wife and son before leaving for a week. Everything seemed okay after that. Went to see fireworks (delayed due to weather on the 4th). Got to bed after midnight.
Woke up 4:20 a.m., had to load the bike. Got going around 6-ish over to my partner's (Fred's) house. Bike started and ran well, figured everything was OK. At the first rest stop, I hit the 'lectric start and the neutral light went out! Some signs of weakening electrics again at low speeds. Decided to stop at a local service shop in DuBois, PA - J&M Cycle Service. Battery was giving off between 7-12V with nothing connected, no amp draw. Long story short, loose battery terminals and weak fuse clip connections were the culprits and in the process of the wrench squeezing the clips, one broke. Ended up splicing in a single automotive fuse clip, putting washers on the terminal bolts to keep them from bottoming out and, $28 later, away we went.
Rode like crazy (70-75 mph interstate blastin') to make our first night's destination of Kettletown State Park in Southbury, CT. Made it by 7:45 p.m., 450 miles + logged. You should have seen the looks on all the campers faces when two "bikers" rolled into the campground. Every man, woman and child stopped what they were doing to watch where we were going to stop. Kinda like they were all secretly saying "please don't camp next to us." Set up camp and ran for food. No further problems with the XS at this point. Ran out to get food and discovered going back to the campground in the dark the XS's instrument lights had given up the ghost. Not too concerned about that. Got back and got a much needed good night's sleep.
Day 2 began rather well. Good breakfast at Friendly's, then back on the road to make it to Maine by that night. Connecticut cagers are easily the worst breed of people I've ever had to avoid on a cycle. On a Sunday morning (and I'm assuming every other day, too), they patently exceed the speed limit by 15-20 mph. We were blasting 70-75 mph and getting passed by just about everything else but tourist cagers. Getting around Hartford was a bit tense.
Somewhere along the interstate in CT, I noticed my right mirror was showing me my shirt sleeve. I figured I had bumped it setting my helmet on it at one of our stops. I reached over to adjust it and watched it quickly reset itself to peering at my shirt. I signaled, moved to the shoulder and got my tools out to tighten the nut. As I started to raise the wrench, it became apparent the mirror was attempting to commit suicide. The metal back plate was tearing itself from the pivot arm. Another quarter inch and it would have been airborne! I wrenched it off and stuck it in the saddlebag. Back on the road and continuing uneventfully toward Maine. Running a little behind time schedule, but not bad. Made a gas stop in Sherman Mills, and found out rain was moving in, and we still had 80 miles to what we intended to be the day's final destination. Doubtful we'd make it and be able to set up camp, so we accepted an offer from a local to lead us to a closer campground, about 16 miles away. Birch Point Campground in Island Falls, ME to be exact. Very nice place with lots to do: pool tables, bowling, small kitchen for greasy food and snacks, laundry, etc. Got set up, called home and started laundry. Asleep by 11:00 p.m. Rains came overnight and continued through Day 3 as an on/off drizzle. Little else to do but suit up and ride. Rode in excess of 350 miles up through Caribou, ME, then swung towards the Canadian border and followed the St. John's River valley up to Madawaska and Fort Kent, the most northern, public road accessible points in Maine. Continued down Route 11, very scenic, great ups, downs and twists. The XS crossed the 20k mileage mark. Route 11 is also a primary route for logging traffic. Every time a truck rolled by, the smell of pines made me think of Xmas. Made it back to Sherman Mills, then continued to the town of Orono, just to the east of Bangor. Didn't feel like setting up in the rain, so we got a motel room for the night and let everything dry out for re-packing in the morning. Fred, somewhere along the way noticed that his Sportster was missing on one cylinder at low speeds, chugging, coughing, etc. Still uncertain of the cause. Bikes were filthy from the rainy day ride. Rinsed them off in the morning with the aid of hotel towels and washrags, using the wastebasket as a bucket. Couldn't stand seeing that grunge on the bike.
Morning came, and with it better weather. Cleaned up the bikes, packed up and decided to head for southern Maine, specifically US Route 1, which follows the coast, more or less. Grabbed a quick breakfast at Pat's Pizza in Orono, ME and got on the road. Missed a couple of turns, but no big deal. Ended up making a stop at Central Maine Harley Davidson, between Hermon and Carmel, so Fred could try solving his misfiring cylinder with a new set of plugs. Got the plugs changed out and once again on the road. Got down to Hampden where we picked up US Route 1A which joins US 1 around Stockton Springs.
Despite the common sense aspect of wearing a helmet, Maine has no helmet law, so I rebelliously packed my helmet for the coastal run. This was not a mistake. I enjoyed that cruise more than any other in recent memory. Cool breezes from the bays, warm sun on my growing-in head stubble...tremendous! Made a brief stop in Camden to check a Civil War monument I thought was Joshua Chamberlain. It wasn't specifically him, but a monument to the dead who served from the Camden area. Next stop was Rockland and the Owl's Head lighthouse. I'm not much of a lighthouse person, but Fred had an interest so... Once there, I too found a glimmer of interest. Back on the road. Next stop, Pemaquid Point lighthouse. Maine Route 32, leading out the promontory, was not too far removed from trail riding IMO. Nothing dangerous, just not smoooooooth. Some photo ops, then off and running again. At one point, Fred was going to attempt taking pictures with a point-and-shoot camera as he rode, but he quickly found out just how much vibration get transferred to the camera and changed his mind. Followed US 1 until it joined I-95. US 1 turns into even more of a local road than we had been on and I didn't want to run into a lot of local business traffic late in the day. Jetted down just south of Portland and found a campground in Scarboro. Made camp, then went for dinner. For the first and only time on the trip, we stopped for a lobster dinner. Prices were ridiculous! I could have stayed and gorged myself to this day. A single lobster dinner (whole lobster, not just tail) was $13.95 with fries and cole slaw. Two lobsters - $19.95, three - $23.95, plus the option of an all-you-can-eat buffet for $13.95 and add a lobster for $5.95! I was too afraid my heart would stop from all the warmed butter, so I opted for just a single. Fred was trying lobster for the first time in his life and came to the conclusion that its more work than its worth. Okay, okay so part 3 wasn't very harrowing, but the trip couldn't be all mishaps, could it?! XS was doing very well at this point, BTW.
XS went to bed the night before rattling some chain. Upon morning inspection, I ended up adjusting out the rest of the way. I was now out of options if the chain got any worse (which, of course it was bound to). Oiled it, packed the bikes and got the morning ride pointed toward the third of four lighthouses we visited. It was only 10 miles away, so it made for a good start to the day. While there, we noticed two guys fishing in a small inlet next to the lighthouse. It wasn't long before one of them was hootin' and hollerin' and his buddy was shooting a roll of film at him. After what I think was about a 15 min. struggle of scampering back and forth across rock outcroppings, the guy finally lands what we guesstimated to be a 30 inch, 18 lb. striped bass. Beautiful looking catch! After several more photos, the released it back into the water, then told us he was late for getting back to his wife and two-year old in Cincinnati. I'd say so. Odd thing was, he left in a car with New York license plates. Not my prob. Back out onto US 1, with the goal of leaving Maine by the end of the day, passing through New Hampshire and potentially staying somewhere in Vermont. Ah, if only it were that easy...
As we rolled into Kennbunk/Kennbunkport, Fred pulls up and asks if we can stop at a service station. He feels his forward control foot pegs are loosening and wants to borrow a wrench to snug up. Easy 'nuff. Stopped at a Texaco, borrowed a wrench and snugged his little heart out. Since I was lead dog for the bulk of the trip, I pulled out first, heard Fred pull out behind me then...SCREECH! I quickly checked my mirror and...NO FRED! I made an abrupt u-turn and found Fred back at the Texaco station holding his footpeg in his hand. The mounting bolt had sheared off as soon as he pulled out and put his foot on it. To add to the mayhem, it was the left footrest, under the shifter. Nearest cycle shop was six miles away. He decided he'd try to ride it out, resting his boot on the side case. Along the way, the remainder of the bolt still on the bike was starting to vibrate out. No small thing considering it's a motor mount, too. Stopped at a welding shop, where a stray bolt, washer, nut combination was obtained for temporary purposes.
Reconfirmed directions to the cycle shop (Kickstands and Wheelies, Wells, Maine) with the warning "They mostly deal/work on crotch-rocket bikes." Figured all cycle shops/techs can relate to "rider in distress" situations, and carried on. Boy, what a mistake! We pull up, walk in and see a couple of bleached hair, earring pierced, sandal wearing punks with attitudes. Fred quickly describes the situation and asks if they have an EZ-out and a drill he can borrow to get the remainder of the bolt out of the actual peg. The response floored me and made me want to throw down right there and start swingin'. This prick says, "I don't think we can help you. We're using our drill to polish a bike." Like they only had one friggin drill and it would take all day to un-chuck a buffing pad. Before I got myself in trouble, we decided Fred would stay and try and get the bolt out however he could, while I ran, first to a hardware store, then NAPA auto parts to find decent quality replacement bolts. Fred caught up to me at the NAPA store, and told me he successfully extracted the bolt by hand. It had just enough material for him to spin it out by hand with the help of a drill bit. Even NAPA couldn't help us with the correct bolts (3/8-24 fine thread, 2.5-3" long), but made a call to Port Hardware in Kennebunkport and found the right ones. A short trip there, with directions to follow the road around to Walkers Point, home of former President George Bush. Fred replaced both bolts for obvious reasons and away we went. Nice cruisin' along the beaches and we were able to park the bikes and get pix with Bush's compound in the background. Continued riding to Cape Neddick lighthouse, fourth and last. Not much happening their, but some souvenir buying for my kid.
Pressed on into New Hampshire and stayed the night at Lazy River campground in Epsom. Found a great local restaurant, stopped for ice cream on the way back, then laundry. Sheer excitement!
Next up...how NOT to ride mountain twisties!
Thursday morning starts as great as the rest. Good night's sleep, terrific weather, etc. Go for breakfast at the previous night's dinner locale, The Circle Restaurant in Chichester, NH, named so because its located directly off a traffic circle (a.k.a. rotary). Think Griswold's European vacation:
"Look kids, Big Ben, Parliament..." This place has great food, great friendly service and more than fair pricing. My choice as best of the trip. Our route will take us through Vermont, around and in Green Mountain National Forest and into New York where we'll swing southward back towards PA and home. Looks like we'll be home Sat. afternoon.
As we cross the border into Brattleboro, VT, we pause to adorn our soft little craniums with helmets, as Vermont is a helmet law kind of state. I tell Fred, I'd like to stop at a gift shop and pick up one more thing for my son. He explains he's been "riding rockin' chair" the whole trip, it doesn't matter to him where I want to stop. Very shortly thereafter, headed west on Route 9, we discover said gift shop on an uphill run. We pull over, park the bikes and proceed to make our way toward the store. Not more than 10 paces from the bikes, I believe the XS chose to express its need for a nap due to all the hard work it had been performing as a touring machine. It promptly plunked over on its left side, spinning the only remaining mirror and spilling gas from the carbs and filling opening. Amid a multitude of obscenities my mother would beat me for, Fred and I righted the XS, parked it in a different spot, perpendicular to the aforementioned hill and figured no harm, no foul, all that was needed was readjusting the mirror, nothing broken. WHEW! Thanks God and Done (hopefully they're not one and the same)(just kidding, Done) for that set of crash bars.
After mentally debating over which T-shirt looked less baby-fied for my seven year old son, and some conversation with the nice young lady running the gift shop, Fred and I say our good-byes and make our way out the door. The XS decided, while I was shopping, it would show me who's boss. I found it on its side, again, having fallen UPHILL! Fortune chose to stick its finger in my eye at that point. When the bike was righted, the clutch lever was broken and the left side of the bars was now located inline with the gas tank. Not being from the area really screws you up when trying to find a cycle shop capable of aiding and abetting a person in my condition. In the span of a phone call, however, Lynde Motorsports, in Guilford, VT turned up a clutch lever replacement, gave excellent directions that even a tourist could follow, and TA-DA! I had a clutch lever. The bars, on the other hand, were not so lucky.
Fred and I together did our best Schwarznegger act to pull the left side, but only marginally succeeded. I was now riding with my left wrist at a rather unnatural right angle to my left arm. Still operational, however, so we pressed on, with the thought of finding a shop somewhere along the way capable of assisting. Sticking to the original route of Route 9 to Route 100 to Route 11 to Route 7, around and through Green Mountain National Forest, I discovered why handlebars are meant to be symmetrical. For a typical bike, the route would not have been very technical, as far as twisties. Yes, there were some nice ones, but nothing obscene. On the other had, when you attempt such courses with gimped up bars, it tends to suck the enjoyment right out of it. Still a pretty ride, though.
Coming down Route 7, we entered the town of Bennington, home o one of the hugest war memorials man has ever constructed. I mean to tell you, they have this 300-some foot obelisk sticking up out of a field, you can see from almost anywhere. I thought maybe it was a homing beacon for the mother ship or something. On the west side of Bennington, we found a Yamaha shop by sheer luck. Hoped they could help with the bars and perhaps take a link or two out of my ever-expanding chain. No such luck. We arrived at 5:01 and were told all the service guys leave at 5:00 and had already packed up the shop. I should expect as much. Offered directions to a shop 30 miles away, into New York, in Troy City. No guarantee they'd be able to help. While gunning our way through, Fred spied a local garage with a motorcycle inspection placard displayed and with a door standing open.
Raymertown Garage - home of Tom Grant (proprietor) and his cronies. Some down-to-earth, no B.S. guys. Tom agreed to take a look at my situation, and after little thought decided the best course of action to be blocking a hydraulic bottle jack between the bars. A dozen or so pumps of the handle later, may bars looked almost new. They are by no means perfect, but goddamn they're close and my wrist won't be trying to bend in directions it shouldn't. Tom didn't feel he could do anything with the chain, but expressed his belief it should be able to make it home. Running out of daylight and weather looking to become a factor, we needed to find a campground right quick. Followed our route of New York Route 22 south (east of Albany) looking for signs. Found Cherry Plain State Park and after motocrossing our way for two miles found it closed and locked up tight! Pressed on till we ended up at Woodland Hills campground in Austerlitz, where we had just enough time to set up camp, and go have dinner at the truck stop at the bottom of the hill. Mind you, I'm still running with no instrument lights at this point. An inconvenience, at best, but an annoying one.
At last! The final chapter and some closing conclusions and insights. Woke up Friday with the feeling of just wanting to be home, already. It felt like we had been out for more than six days, at that point. Over breakfast at a truck stop, we observed the weekend weather forecast for PA and NY was rather moist. Still, we began to plot a course to enter PA and travel west across US 6 in the northern ¼ of the state. Once on the road, my chain began offering its death rattle at anything below 3K rpm. Actually, it was slack enough to be running across the bottom cross tube of the frame. I figured if we could make it to the interstate, perhaps I stood a chance of getting home. Alas, before long, my concern became whether it would eventually slack enough to jump right off the sprocket. Stopped at a gas station/quick mart, looked up the nearest shops and called. One in Mahopac, said they could help, no problem. The other, a slightly larger outfit in Poughkeepsie, wanted to schedule to look at it the week of the 31st. It didn't seem to have any effect that I had already explained I was travelling through on my way home to PA. Before heading toward Mahopac, an older gentleman recommended we head for Danbury, CT. Said there was a big Honda/Suzuki shop there who would, in his opinion, definitely be able to help. Didn't really want to be heading back eastward considering the weather would be moving in, but since it wasn't that far out of the way, made a break for it. I don't have to business card in front of me, but the place is located on Route 6 on the western outskirts of Danbury. Art Flokos, the service manager, was completely understanding and readily offered options. He expressed an opinion that the chain was too far gone to try cutting links out just to get home on, but he had a $23 chain which would definitely last long enough, and then some. He also opined the rear sprocket looked good enough to make the trip, but was showing signs of wear. By the time this chain wears out, he recommends changing out both sprocks.
An hour or so later (sometime around 1 p.m.), we began the journey westward. Sky was already taking on ugly shades of gray, but we resolved to ride until we got wet, then regroup. Sight seeing was eliminated as we, once again, blasted back along I-84, through NY and into PA, through Scranton and down onto I-80. Near Lock Haven, PA we encountered the first water droplets. Pulled off at the next rest area and covered everything with a second layer of garbage bags. Just made it under the shelter when the sky opened up with waves of water, thunder and lightning. Had a cup o' coffee and a candy bar while waiting, and noticed a rather sharp drop in temperature. 30-40 minutes later, the rain ended and we made our way out to grab our rain gear and suit up.
After the storm that passed over us, I was simply amazed that I-80 westward provided mostly dry riding surface. Fred's reasoning was the v volume of traffic and wind would have been enough to keep it from staying wet for too long. While waiting for the rain to subside, we made the conscious decision to press on for home, no matter what. We were already in PA, theoretically not more than 4-4.5 hours from home. It didn't make sense to try and stop somewhere when the forecast was for still more rain the next day. Homeward bound it is, then! Ran through a few brief sprinkles along the way, nothing hard enough to pull off for. Arrived for a final gas stop in Emlenton around 9:10 p.m. We were going to take divergent paths at that point, since Fred's home was closer to there than mine. I didn't have a problem with that, but Fred's conscience kicked in and he decided to lead me through some back roads that would set me up for an easier route home. Still running without instrument lights, the best I could do was keep a reasonable distance from the Sportster's tail light, which didn't prove very difficult. Light rain and fog were setting in and the visor on my full face had turned to crap. Misted inside and out, and every water drop refracting any and all oncoming lights. Flipped the visor up and rode with the weather in my face. Nothing else I could think to do. At least I could see clearly. When Fred and I finally parted company, I headed west across Route 422 to I-79 into the town of Zelienople, PA. From there, its usually a half hour, back road ride for home. I had no concept of time, just knew I was getting closer to home with every spin of the wheel. Ultimately arrived home at 11:10 p.m. Pried myself off the bike and started unstrapping everything in the garage. Didn't want to risk anything sitting overnight being wet. Got in the house, stripped off all my gear (rain suit top and bottom, denim jacket, hooded pullover "ghirka", boots, gloves, etc.) took a nice long, hot shower and crawled into bed. The mighty XS had not failed! I was home safely and grateful. The trip that had started a mere seven days prior, covered over 2600 miles (after final calculation), crossed through seven states (including home state PA) and cost a little more than $100 in random cycle repairs had come to a close.. It was all over, but the telling (and photos, which are still pending).
Some observations, conclusions and insights:
- Never attempt anything like this alone. Not only would it have been tremendously boring not sharing the experiences first hand with someone, but it incredibly helpful during moments of distress;
- 75 mph on any interstate is NOT the best way to see the country. It's exhausting and makes your head buzz for a long time after;
- 75 mph IS the best way to make it to a far off destination in the shortest amount of time;
- This country has a lot more to it than I think most people are aware;
- Helmetless riding has its rewards; it should not be outlawed, but it does boil down to common sense;
- Adversity is best viewed in hindsight;
- No matter how well you check your bike out before a trip, odds are something completely out of left field will screw you up (breaking mirrors, foot pegs, clutch levers and the like);
- An XS CAN be a touring bike;
Final tallies:
Total trip: 2600 miles (and change)
Avg. interstate gas mileage: 50 mpg
Avg. daytrip gas mileage: 55 mpg
Total trip cost, incl. Repairs: $500
Number of days: 7
Thanks to everyone who took the time to read along and offer feedback.
This list is nothing without all of you!
Thanks, once again, to:
J&M Cycle Service - DuBois, PA (John)
Raymertown Garage - Raymertown, NY (Tom Grant)
Lynde Motorsports - Guilford, VT (unknown)
Danbury Powersports - (Art Flokos)
NAPA Auto Parts - Kennbunk, ME (Bill)
Port Hardware - Kennbunkport, ME
Bill Chamberlain
