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Last October I flew from Dallas to Albuquerque and traded my '98 Ultra for an identical '02 at Chick's Harley-Davidson, where I had kept my '98 since August '99. I put 600 miles on the new scoot that weekend to get the break-in restrictions behind me. Then came the dry spell - six long months before my first trip of '02.
Saturday, April 13. I flew to Albuquerque, picked up the new scoot and rode 200 miles to Roswell. Sunday, April 14. The Roswell destination was so I could attend the AHDRA Alien Nationals (photo 01). Regrettably, the event was beer-free, and seeing a tub of sand-encrusted, hot in-the-sun beer (photo 02) made the brew deprivation even worse, a hardship you'll see corrected a few photos later. The eighth-mile strip (photo 03) is an old airport runway, and mothballed aircraft loom on the horizon (photo 04). The fastest top fuel times at the strip were in the 4.7s at around 158 mph. It was a big event, with 150 entrants and trailer rigs from all over the US.
I met and visited with '01 wide glide jockey Randy Mertz from Midland, Texas (photo 05). I also met John Basore, who markets parts for, kits and complete editions of the Harley-Davidson Super Sprint in a cafe racer format (photo 06). These are 250 and 350 cc scoots from the early 1970s. Kits start at $2,500 and complete bikes at $5,000. Talk to John and place your order at (800) 795-6574. John also passed along a helluva conspiracy theory. According to him, HD lobbied Congress successfully for new engine (not exhaust) noise restrictions that will take effect in 2006. The restrictions are so severe that no air-cooled engine will meet the standard, thus crippling the market for HD clones. John says that only HD (in the US) has the capital and resources to develop a new water-cooled engine that will meet the standard, thus meaning adios for S&S, Polaris, Indian and others. True? Let me know. Before leaving the drag strip I shot a United Airlines 747 resting eternally (and rather disgracefully) on stacked pallets (photo 07). When brother John and I were in Roswell two years ago (see July 2000 journal on this Web site) we exercised our elbows at a saloon called Variety Liquors (1100 West Second Street). The memory I cherish most was that all the barmaids at Variety have bitch names, so I stopped in again to get refreshed on bitch names and Budweiser. I did a no-flash shot of an old cowboy doing some hustling across the bar (photo 08). But best of all, bitch names still rule. Cindy, who served me, is Intense Bitch (photo 09).
Donna, who remembered John and me from '00, is Miserable Bitch, and manager Marilyn is Super Bitch. The joint (photo 10) is a little rough outside, but the indoor part is fun. Go check it out. On the way back to the motel I flagged down Becky and Jay Neeley in their 1929 Model A Speedster (photo 11). I also shot the poster for the drag races (photo 12).
Monday, April 15. Mostly an in-the-saddle day - 405 miles to Douglas, Arizona so I could have an unremarkable dinner across the border at La Hacienda in Agua Prieta. Tuesday, April 16. Rode west to Bisbee and immediately found a great saloon at The Bisbee Grand Hotel, 61 Main Street (photo 13). Unfortunately, I got there at 7 a.m. local time, so the only thing I enjoyed was small talk with owner Bill Thomas. I also shot Bisbee's mountainside skyline before leaving (photo 14). Pantagonia is a pretty little burg. While there I shot the old Buick (photo 15), which is in excellent original condition. Correct me if I'm wrong; it's a 1953 Roadmaster. For the past year I have contemplated how to connect an ordinary Walkman headset to the bike's stereo system. Photo 16 is my crude prototype. I started with an 8-foot Radio Shack Stereo Audio Extension Cable (catalog item 42-2492 - $6.49), cutting off and tossing the male end. On the remaining end with the female jack, I stripped the three conductors on the end of the wire, twisted them separately and simply stuck them directly into the pinholes in the bike's receptacle. The bike's spring-loaded receptacle cover holds them in place. The bike has seven pinholes, so finding the correct three was tricky. Now I can use those in-ear ear-bud headphones inside my helmet without being encumbered by the microphone that is attached to the factory headset. Send me 50 cents (no credit cards please) and I'll tell you which are the correct three pinholes. Or, figure it out yourself like I did.
Since returning to Dallas I have made a similar adapter cord that uses a seven-pin connector that matches and plugs directly into the bike's receptacle. I'm going to connect it to the passenger headset receptacle and run the wire under the seat, emerging between the front of the seat and the tank where I can plug and unplug easily. If you're interested in this gizmo, shoot me an e-mail. I sent an all-black, serial number 000001 edition of the adapter cord to Muthuh and I await his evaluation as I write this now. Photo 17 is my new GPS handlebar bracket, something I bought at a Dallas bike show last December. This thing is extremely well made, and it's easy to remove the GPS at night. My bracket accepts a Garmin GPS III, III-Plus and V (what I'm using now). The manufacturer's Web site is www.ram-mount.com. I've shot it vacant back in 1991, but I shot it again - the Longhorn Grill (photo 18), now doing business again at the Arivaca exit between Tucson and Nogales on I-19. At a Nogales border parking lot I shot the license plate of an “I Love Lucy” fan (photo 19). You may be too young to remember black and white TV. Not me.
Across the border in Nogales, Sonora, I shot a fleet of pizza delivery vehicles (photo 20), drum and bugle practice at an elementary school (photo 21) and some kids at the same school who were fascinated by my digital camera (photo 22). Brother John had recommended a Nogales eatery called La Cueva (The Cave), where he had dinner in January '01. I found it (photo 23) gutted by a major fire since John was there. So I went back to my old cater-to-gringos standby, El Cid. Two guitar-pickers showed up and they were downright good. So I sprung for a couple my old Mexican favorites, Piel Canela (Cinnamon Skin) and Quizas, Quizas, Quizas (Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps). See the guys belting it out for me in photo 24. Other diners had them singing the usual gringo favorites like Spanish Eyes. Thank you Jesus that I didn't have to listen to Vaya Con Dios!
Nothing I've mentioned in all my ride journals has sparked more inquiries than my Home Depot motorcycle alarm, the $23 gadget that rings a doorbell in my motel room if the scoot is raised off the side stand. Here are updated photos of the alarm armed on the pouch in the Tour Pak (photo 25), activated (by my finger) (photo 26) and the in-room 110-volt plug-in chime (photo 27). I've learned from one inquiry, Bilbo Bagger in Omaha, that not all Home Depot stores stock the thing. But Bilbo advised that Lowe's does have them. Here are the particulars: Heath Zenith Wireless Plug-in Entrance Chime, model SL-6168-A. There is no Web address on the package, but what is listed is Heath Company, Bowling Green, Kentucky 42101-9004 (so it's probably P.O. Box 9004). The bar code on the package is 0-16963-61680-6. My rigging of the alarm is also described pretty thoroughly at http://www.carolinamcevents.com/articles/vancealarm.html, a Carolina Motorcycle Events Web site hosted by able and friendly webmaster John Weakly. Check out his site. One other comment about the alarm. The two components that end up on the scoot are a small magnet and a small transmitter that sends a signal to the doorbell when the magnet and transmitter become separated (as they will when my bike is raised off the side stand). The battery in the little transmitter lasts forever - mine is three years old and still kicking. Wednesday, April 17. I made a huge mistake today. The night before I reset the trip log in the GPS. In the morning I called and booked my favorite room at The View Motel in Cottonwood. I went up I-19 to Tucson, and then took 77, 79 and 60 north to Apache Junction, where I picked up 88 to Roosevelt Dam on 188. Along the way I shot a pretty lake on 88 (photo 28).
Still on 88, I shot a one-truss bridge (photo 29), then another beautiful four-truss bridge (photo 30). The largest of the four trusses may be a Pennsylvania truss, and they're pretty rare. There is only one Pennsylvania in Texas, and my outfit built it in the 1930s. If you've read my other stuff, you know I'm a bridge guy. Big time, in fact. My screw-up was not studying highway 88 carefully enough on the map, because after the nifty bridges I approached a sign, “Pavement Ends - No Pavement Next 22 Miles.” Turning back wasn't a good option, so I forged ahead on the worst 22 miles - one hour - I've ever ridden on a non-dirt bike (photo 31). The problem wasn't just the lack of pavement; it was the grueling washboard ruts (mini whoop-de-dos) and occasional sandy stuff in which any dresser (or big twin, for that matter) really gets squirrelly. The ride got so rough the GPS turned itself off. Hell, I almost turned myself off! Along the way I shot a small Warren pony truss (bridgespeak) on the dirt road (photo 32). I survived the ordeal but it wasn't my idea of fun. The pavement at Roosevelt Dam never looked better!
At day's end I shot the GPS trip log (photo 33). The “Max Speed” wasn't posted in the dirt, I promise. Thursday, April 18. Yesterday's motocross ride (highway 88 dirt) prompted me to think “reduce weight, carry less.” I took the passenger backrest off the tour pak (I've been having trouble getting girls lately anyhow, so why have a passenger backrest?) (4½ pounds) and also scrounged up seven pounds of some other nice-to-haves and UPS'd all that stuff home to Dallas. I hustled up through Jerome to Prescott so I could renew acquaintances at Matt's Saloon (see May 2001 ride). Barmaid Santana (May 2001 ride) has moved away, but Julie (photo 34) obliged for a photo presenting the colors. Dinner was at the Manzanita Inn, a very-German place in Cornville, just north of Cottonwood. I liked this place in '94, but lowered my opinion this time because their fancy portabello mushroom appetizer with crabmeat had, instead, that artificial krab concoction that isn't crabmeat (what is pollack anyway?) (I checked the dictionary - a North Atlantic food fish similar to cod, but darker) (Hey, it may be the main ingredient in krab, but crab it ain't). Staff accents and foreign entrees don't a great restaurant make, says me. Friday, April 19. I woke up and genuflected (figuratively) to acknowledge my 26th anniversary with my super employer, Austin Industries in Dallas. Like last May, I scooted down to Phoenix so I could do e-mail on the Blackberry pager - had breakfast at the same Denny's that Muthuh griped about last year because it wasn't a diner with a girl's name. Nothing spurs excitement like looking from high above at a road you've been on below (photo 35).
I also shot photo 36, showing the general hillside ambiance of Alpine-like Jerome, Arizona, indeed a fun pass-through burg. Caution: the local cop has a radar gun. At a gas stop on the way to Phoenix, I met Victor (photo 37), a Vietnam vet originally from New Hampshire who rides a Bad Boy and, as a volunteer, drives a DAV van on Fridays, taking vets to the VA hospital in Prescott. Good guy and a good visit. After my e-mail breakfast at Denny's I motored the 85 miles back to Cottonwood and headed north through Sedona and Oak Creek Canyon (photo 38) to the scenic overlook south of Flagstaff (photo 39).
Sedona is the Santa Fe of Arizona - tourists, scenery and high prices. The same economic engine as Sturgis propels commerce in Sedona: T-shirts. But I did some Sedona time anyway. The big deal there is red rock scenery (photos 40, 41, 42 and 43), the kind where you expect John Wayne to emerge and say, “Howdy, pilgrim!” I found a watering hole in Sedona, the Cowboy Club, and shot a photo of barmaid Margaret presenting the colors (photo 44).
Saturday, April 20. I headed for another Arizona favorite, Safford. A lot of the ride was scenic, including breakfast at the Nifty 50s Diner in Pine (photo 45) and the marina at Roosevelt Lake on 188 (photo 46). My first stop in Safford was Don and Vienna's Bullpen, where I shot photos 47 and 48 of a guy named Maverick's micro-dog, Peanut, savoring some spirits. Last year's barmaid, Midge, has retired, but replacement Charlotte was happy to oblige for photo 49 - another presentation of the colors.
Sunday, April 21. I decided to ride New Mexico 152 between Silver City and I-25, and to sidetrack along the way in New Mexico through Pinos Altos up 15 and southeast on 35 north of Silver City. On the way, I had a great breakfast at Kranberry's in Lordsburg (1405 South Main). Photo 50 is Lake Roberts east of the intersection of 15 and 35. At the Emory Pass overlook on 152 I shot photo 51 of the GPS. The crosshatched section of the screen is geography for which I hadn't downloaded a detailed county map. I stopped at the S-Bar-X Saloon in Hillsboro, where I got photo 52 of barmaid Ann Bean presenting the colors. Before leaving I also shot photo 53 of the saloon's Blonde Night poster. My kind of event.
At the east end of 152 I rode up I-25 to Truth or Consequences and parked at an old favorite, Andy's Bar, where I was greeted promptly in the parking lot by affable and cordial Rick Hart, a photographer, writer, cartoonist and storyteller. Rick has a '98 Sporty and a '77 FL, but this day he was saving gas by riding his Yamaha moped (photo 54). Monday, April 22. After spending the night in T or C, I rode up I-25 to Albuquerque, where I did a load of laundry, dropped off my stuff at the mini warehouse and left the dresser at Chick's. The following morning I flew back to Dallas on a 6:30 a.m. flight, and was on the job by 9:30 in Dallas. The whole trip was 2,200 miles - all of them very sunny, some a little on the cool side (high 20s some mornings), and most of them very windy. Another ride begins May 18 in Albuquerque. Stay tuned.  For Information, contact: dvdallas@pobox.com
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