Tree of Shame

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

Maggie Valley North Carolina should be named Magic Valley, what a wonderful place to be on a motorcycle. I could have have stayed here for a week, right here in this little motel

I met people here who spent their summers here just riding everyday and they gave me plenty of advice on where to go, what to see and best roads to ride. I didn’t listen to any of them, I wanted to fidn it all on my own. First stop though was the wheels through time motorcycle museum which is a living museum. They constantly restore, add new stuff and is also called the museum that runs since almost all of the old motorcycles actually run. I found the place and parked in front under the shade, but first I had work to do and a few conference calls to get on.

I am sure I had the best views and the best office of anyone on the call

I almost hated to leave my new office but once inside I was in hog heaven and indian heaven and every american made motorcycle ever made heaven. One of my favorite things was the old motorcycle shop scenes where it looked like they had relocated an old shop from the 30’s and transplanted it right in the middle of the museum

After hours inside it was time to say goodbye and hit the road for the famous “Tail of the Dragon” road. I have a previous post that describes the road and a u tube video link. There was really no place to stop once you got on it so not many pictures of the road. I did say in the previous post that it was 312 curves in 11 miles, I was wrong, it is 318. Not sure what fool actually counted them all and maybe I just straighetened a few of them out. At the end of the road is what is called the “Tree of Shame” and none of my motorcycle ended up on the tree

I jump ahead to the present and have Sturgis on my mind now and only a few days left. I will be going on defcon 4 alert whcih means total radio silence, no blackberry, no phone and no computer. I will catch up this blog when I get back to home base so check back but I need the last few days to myself.

Unega, the Great Smoky Mountains

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

I’m in Denver Colorado, the map spread out on the floor, it is too big to fit on the desk. I slowly start tracing a rough route with my eyes to the right and down dreaming of riding my motorcycle to the Smoky Mountains of North Carolina. It is such a long way on the map, further than I have went before but I have been thinking about this for a long time, let’s do this thing.
Unega, Cherokee for “White”, “Misty”, “Smoky”. The abundant rainfall, high humidity and always misty covers the mountains with a purple or blue haze that gives them thier name, the Smoky Mountains. I have never been, it was time, not to mention some of the top motorcycle roads in the United States.

These mountains are not high by Colorado standards with a high elevation of 5500 feet, barely higher than where I live, but when you start at 500 feet the feel is the same.

I had Tellico Plains Tennessee as a target on my map and that is where I started up the first road on my list the Cherohala Skyway. 21 miles in Tennessee, cross the state line in to North Carolina and end in Robbensvile 15 miles later. The most expensive highway construction project in history at $100,000,000.00 dollars bit at least they spread it out over 34 years because that is how long it took to complete. The road is made for sports cars and motorcycles and what a road it is.

Even the rivers have a smoky foggy steam emitting from them.

What a great ride that was, I stopped often to take in the views, do a little exploring and reflect on the ride so far. After Robbinsville, I took a road that followed a river full of rafters and lots of quaint little towns.

Can’t leave out trains!

I ended up in Maggie Valley which was also another major target on my map that is host to the Wheels through time motorcycle museum. Hey Jason is this your motorcycle, it has your name on it?

Nascar, the beginning.

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

Looks like a forest fire up ahead, I am not surprised since it is so dry around here although not near as dry as it was in most of Arkansas. I climb a grade and when I get to the top it no longer looks like smoke but more like a steam cloud, maybe a saw mill or something.  Still can’t quite make it out with all the trees and hills in the way. Finally trees and hills and curves, have been waiting for these roads. I coast down the hill, round the curve and damn, wasn’t expecting this. The free map at the tourist center didn’t say this was here, it did say Watts bar but sure looks like a lake on the map. I don’t think I could ever get use to this view in my back yard.

Not sure what it is that scares me so bad about nuke power plants, maybe it was my army training and I had a lot of it on nuclear warfare, maybe I know too much. I just don’t think this is the future, there really is no safe way to dispose of spent fuel. It never goes away, it is always there waiting. I want to keep going now and get as far away as I can but I stop to look at the dam anyway. I’m walking around reading the signs, looking over the edge at the water and the dam, watching the boats when I stumble across this sign.

 Hmmm,, testing of the sirens the first wednesday of every month at noon huh. Wait a damn minute that is today, I quickly look at my blackberry to see what time it is and it shows 10:30 am but wait a minute, I still have it set on mountain time, I determine it is 11:30am and sure enough those sirens are located directly above me. Adios, I am out of here, I don’t need to hear those things go off. I need to get as far away and as fast as I can from this place. I escape what in my mind is danger only to find a new danger.

Log trucks and lots of them dropping crap all of the road for me to dodge. I don’t know how they do it, I thought I was carving these curves pretty good and going pretty damn fast but a beat up semi pulling logs catches me going down every hill riding my ass. All I can see in my mirror is a no tooth grin and a big ass grille about 10 foot of my butt. I don’t think Nascar started with moon shine drivers like the local folklore wants you to believe, I am sure it all started with log truck drivers!

I escape the logging area and I am pretty sure I didn’t get ran over. Not sure though because this is my view tonight, did i really get ran over, is this heaven?


Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

Hermitage? I had always referenced it as Andrew Jackson’s home in Tennessee but I never knew what a Hemitage was or why his home was called that. I looked it up; a hermits dwelling place; a place of relaxing retreat. After the heat and crazy of Nashville that definition sounded appealing and a good place for me to hang out for awhile. I walked right up and knocked on the front door.


.They let me in and offered to let me sit in Andrews chair. Hey this furniture looks just like the stuff in the picture behind it.


Of course Andy wasn’t there, you see he died a few years back.


.And they buried him here beside his wife in the Hermitage Gardens.

.I also toured the museum and the grounds, it was a wonderful place. Andrew Jackson positions and policies as president were controversial then and still are now but has always been an interesting person to me as well as I have always thought him to be a great leader. 

It was time to get to some backroads



Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

Almost Nashville and plan on stopping and hitting 16th street, I have a couple of songs to sell them, get rich and famous and make my mark on the country music scene. Damn. its hot and I really hate to get off the main road and have to do the stoplight traffic right now, but hell, Nashville can’t be that big, afterall it is just a little country music town in Tennessee. All these thoughts running through my head as I pull of I 40 at one of the first Nashville exits and head into the unknown. Must not be any drivers education in Tennessee and what brilliant highway engineer timed these stop lights, I hit red on everyone, they gotta have sensors for motorcycles? I can’t take this no more, have to find a place with shade to pull over and quick! Here, turn here, wow look at that!

 I was just looking for shade but this is what caught my eye from the road.


I invited myself in to John Harding’s horse trainers cabin but nobody was home.


I was in the back yard or the back 40 of the Belle Meade Plantation which was established in 1807 and became the heart of Tennessee Thouroughbred horse training, breeding and racing. As early as 1816 there were advertisements in the Nashville paper for stud service at the Belle Meade Plantation. Somehow during the civil war, now General John Harding’s horses were never commisioned for the war effort like all the other horses in the area.  I had my shade, water and tour so it was time to get back on it and head for town center. This place is crazy, there is no way to get in the right lane before it is too late and I am forced off the main road time and time again. Between keeping my traffic space amongst the crazies, the heat, the stoplights and the street and road signs covered by trees I was finally lost. This place was like a war, viet nam, viet fucking nashville.  Lost in Nashville. how the hell does that happen? Okay, follow the traffic and I did and it took me back to interstate where I gave up my idea of selling my songs and being a country music star besides the bum under the bridge told me that I needed to write songs for cash and not for the soul.

Think I will go see Andy


Tail of the Dragon

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

Go east a little north, more east, I picked a road through Arkansas that at first glance looked like a good one to carry me into Tennessee. I really wasn’t paying attention to the map, the road signs and the gps died early in the morning so it was kind of a no map day. I go through a little town with a lot of civil war history and was about to pull over when I crossed a small bridge and Holy Crap; Missouri? How the heck did that happen and oh yeah I better pull over and don the brain bucket. I pull over and look at the map, I am sure this was a show on “how the states were made” but wasn’t expecting this peninsula  dangling down in Missouri and I wasn’t thinking I was this far north. My first view of the great river happened in New Madrid.


It wasn’t long before I was in Tennessee;


The locals all came out to meet me!


Now it is time to hit some good old backroads and head for the Smoky Mountains.


About a week before I really knew I was going to be able to take this trip, I read an article about the 10 best motorcycle roads in the USA.  A road called the “Tail of the Dragon” in the Smoky Mountains that is in both Tennessee and North Carolina was number one. I knew then I had a destination. The blog is all about the journey but lets skip ahead a bit and ride the Dragon!!” Yep the camera was strapped to my head, this video was only the first few minutes of the road known as the Dragon. 311 curves in 11 miles and I did it twice so 622 curves in a couple of hours. Going to sleep good tonight!

I am going to enjoy the next couple of days enjoying the area so the blog will be spotty and I will pick it up again in a few days when the scooter does an about face and heads for the black hills of south dakota


The Arkansas Traveller

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

The blog is a couple of days behind by design and even though in blog world I am in Arkansas today; in the real world I am many miles away and it is late and I am tired so this post will be short and mostly just random pics and thoughts.

Every tuesday morning the greatest construction company in the world has a safety conference call with all the key managers, superintendents and foreman involved. It consists of the previous weeks incidents to learn from, a couple of key announcements, and a weekly safety related topic. This morning, the topic was dehydration causes and prevention. How timely since I am riding in 100 degree plus heat with indexs well above that. I learned the hard way a few years ago not to mess with it and even though I want a coke and more coffee, I drink water and more water. I drink a bottle and wear a bottle almost every 50 miles when it is this hot. During the call this morning I sent my boss this pic. I hope he enjoyed the hard hat sticker on my helmet.


Hopefully everybody reading this blog understands you can click on the pics to expand them. I know it is a hassle but I have been warned by the webmaster that downloading the blog with larger pics is a bigger hassle.

I am in the south, how do I know? I said it last year and again I try not to stereotype, but there is some close breeding going on around here, dueling banjos and all. Everybody smokes or at least it seems that way. Baptist churches outnumber the cows. Deer, what deer, they shot them all?  Every other mini van has a fat woman driving and a skinny guy riding, I am guessing the skinny guy lost his license a long time ago. The other mini vans are driven by younger fat girls texting.

The line at the chick-fil-a was longer than the line at starbucks this morning and I didn’t even know chick-fil-a served breakfast? Yep I am in the south. The  Chick- Fil-a CEO beliefs and comments might have backfired in the Denver market but down here it looks like he was a marketing genius.

I get a kick out of the political signs. I never knew you had to be elected to be a road supervisor or recorder of deeds? Tammi Warner wants to be elected as recorder of deeds and she must have a lot of money and be in a tightly contested race since her signs are bigger  than Gene Adams who wants to be sheriff.  Tammi also has more signs than all the others. One guy  has to go by the same name his mother probably calls him, “Johnny” Edwards for House of Representives.

I went searching for James McMurty’s second cousins Ruth Ann and Lynn in Baxter Springs Kansas, I never did find them though. (check out lyricks to Choctaw Bingo for the punchline)

I need to take up fishing.


 I have now been to Eureka Springs Arkansas on the motorcycle more than I have been to Waumsetter Wyoming on the motorcycle.

Best line I have heard so far on this trip. I was sitting outside a Pilot Truck stop store  and an old black man was sweeping up the trash in the parking lot . I spoke first. “How ya doing?”  “Oh, I am doing fine sir and how is it going for you?” I replied ” Hey I am doing great but I am not working as hard as you are today either.” His reply was one that will stick with me forever, “Oh I can tell you work, I don’t know anybody who has fun that doesn’t work somewhere.”  I might be in the south but those are words of wisdom you won’t find in a school book.

Did I mention I love rivers, especially the great Mississippi! The lowest level in the last 152 years, I have now witnessed something Mark Twain never did.

Gorillas and Trains

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

Okay so the statue wasn’t my brother Bob after all.

It is really Gus. For 30 some years I have known my brother Bob graduated from Pittsburg State University but I had no idea the mascot of the college was a gorilla! I was riding around the town of Pittsburg Kansas looking for a place to eat and these Gorilla statues were everyplace, Crimson and Red Gorillas guarding the bars, liquor stores and pawn shops and even a few in front of the places I wanted to eat. This demanded research on my part, I mean a gorilla for a mascot, who would have thunk it. Turns out there is only one university in the US with a Gorilla for a mascot, I think there should be more! It also turns out that Pitt State as it is called, has quite the football tradition with a recent NCAA division II national championship in 2011. They have the most wins of any NCAA Div II university in history. The school founded in 1903 started their football team in 1908 and they have been successful without any molesters as coaches. Other than my Brother Bob assistant chief of the Kansas Deleware Tribe, famous alumni’s include Gary Busey and H. Lee Scott former Ceo of Wal-Mart.

I have been the Route 66 Hiway from Amarillo to Chicago but there was a small piece of this eastern route missing from my travels. In the past when I got to Tulsa I decided to head straight east to Eureka Springs Arkansas and then went back north to catch 66 again out side of Springfield Missouri. This meant I missed the Kansas part of Route 66. It was time to make amends.

I did it right this time and parked on the most photographed spot of Route 66 in Kansas, the rainbow bridge. I had the place to myself and road back and forth across the bridge many times singing the “Asleep at the Wheel” version of Route 66 song which was also blaring on my ipod. When I got to the verse “Joplin Missouri” I headed north.

It is so dry in this part of the country. I remember it so lush and green but this year’s drought has everything burned yellow. I over hear farmers and ranchers in the cafe’s and gas stops complaining about the price of hay and where it is headed. It also lowered the humidity which is a bad thing when you are riding and it takes away the swamp cooler effect that I enjoy in humid areas. I also ended up in a part of Joplin that had been destroyed by the tornados with abandoned buildings and twisted tree tops that killed the trees. I was crusing down one of the main streets in Joplin praying I didn’t hit anymore red lights that was killing me when I stopped from the heat of the motor, pavement and beating sun on my neck when I started noticing cops parked at almost every intersection and parking lot. This went on for about 6 blocks and I started wondering if there was a sting about to happen and if I was in it? Maybe the president was coming to town? I was about to run a orange light so I didnt have to stop when sirens went off and two cop cars shot in front of me blocking the intersection. “You got the wrong guy! I am just passing through, really I didn’t mean to flip off that truck that cut me off officer!” What the hell, will you look at that!

Hundreds of motorcycles heading for me, its a parade of some sorts or they are just coming to greet me. Nope it was a parade and it had police escort. I still don’t know what it was for, but it lasted 15 minutes as I sat there in the heat waving.

I love trains, even when I have to stop and die again in the heat for them to pass. I have no clue what kind of train this is, does anyone?

I do know what kind of train this is and I also know that the Missouri Pacific Rail line was one of the first lines west of the Mississippi River, 1852 and also the first line in Kansas City, 1865.

Hmmm Mississippi River? Gotta Roll

Deister Road

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

I remember my dad having to  rescue me twice, but neither was due to a mechanical problem, both times was because I couldn’t stay on the road in the snow, however Brother Jim is another story. I’ve heard stories of the many times my dad had to go rescue Jim and even though I was very young I remember some of those times too.  Dad wasn’t there this time to rescue Jim with his dead mustang, but my nephew Shane was. Somehow Shane was able to make the Mustang run well enough to get it and Jim home and I was able to sleep through it all. The next morning I pull up to Jim’s house and there he is working on the car.

It still took Shane to put back together what Jim had dissasembled.

I was a consultant through the process and when I wasnt looking Shane’s kid Kanyon took over my motorcycle.

“You can’t stay in one place too long can you.” This was what brother Jim said to me after he saw me make motions that it was time for me to hit the road. He was right, I can’t and even though I did not know where I was going all I could think about was getting on the road to somewhere. I did my visit and I did enjoy it but this trip was about getting away from any obligations, accountabilities and anything that ressembled a plan. I wanted to be a bum; a road bum a vagabond.

Heading east seemed natural at this point and before I knew it I was in Kansas City. The last couple of times I have been in KC it was record heat and this time was no different. 104 with who knows what kind of heat index. The road took me to a familiar place that I have very fond memories of; “grandpa’s house.” My dad was raised in Kansas City and every summer we would make a journey back to see grandpa, uncles, aunts and cousins. It was always fun for me, so much to do and a small farm to explore. The land next to the house was grandpa’s pasture before he sold it and the new owners turned it into a golf course. The golf course is still there but the house is gone. It was right here.

The old house was torn down and the remaining pasture sold and later devoloped into a retirement home. Just parking there sure brought back all the good memories. I searched around in the brush and found the old storm cellar.

I really wanted to open it up and look in,  but I was sweating like crazy and burning up in the heat plus it looked like copperhead snake central! It brought back another memory that most wouldn’t think was a good one, but to me it was, afterall how many people have seen a flying golf cart! I was only about 10 and a bad storm had rolled in. I remember everybody headed for the storm cellar and I was next to last one because I was scared of the dark hole they called a storm cellar. I remember my dad grabbing me by the shirt collar and hoisting me down the hatch. As I looked up at my dad about to close the hatch I saw a golf cart flying through the air. It was dark by the time the storm was over but the next morning when the sun was up you could see golf carts everywhere thrown about. The tornado had completely destroyed the cart house on the golf course. Later in that afternoon, wood brokers were showing up and trying to deal my grandpa out of the uprooted walnut trees in the pasture. I got to tag along with grandpa down to the pasture with the brokers and remember what a wheeler dealer he was in the process. Yep that tornado was a pretty good memory but I am not going down in that cellar this time.

After I left the old house I turned right on what is now 69th street between Parallel and State Street but at one time it was called Deister road.

I headed to Moses Grinter’s house, the first white settler in the area of what is now the Kansas side of Kansas City. He and his Delaware Indian wife settled in the area and started Grinter’s ferry at Delaware Crossing on the Kansas river.

Hey grandpa Moses how you doing?


After Kansas City I headed south on Hiway 69. I just always wanted to do the road which borders the Missouri State line. Still not sure where I was headed and  what point I would turn east into Missouri, but I kept going south and good thing  or I would never have found the statue of my brotherBob!

Brothers in arms

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

There is a study on the effects of the brain when riding a motorcycle completed by Ryuta Kawashima at the University of Tohoku in Japan. The brain activity of 21 males was measured while riding. The study found that areas of the brain responsible for memory, information processing and concentration were activated. Riders scored better in cognitive tests, made fewer mistakes and felt happier and had less stress than non riders in the same group.

The late afternoon start yesteday only let me go 180 miles and I am still not out of Colorado. I am still wiped out from the overnight drive from North Dakota even though it already seems like it happened weeks ago. I awoke early, excitement set in and I can’t wait to get on the road again. I go through the mental checklist while walking around the scooter, kind of a job safety analysis for riding, just like we do every day at work. It is a routine I started on the very first trip 12 years ago and it works. I don’t suscribe to the Malcolm Forbes theory that you hear often in biker circles of ” There are two kind of bikers, those who have went down and those who will.” Nope Malcolm; you are wrong on that one, I am not ever going down on the bike. I do however suscribe to Malcolm’s views on riding. “when I ride, I see clearer and I feel stronger and younger.” (see study results above!!)

I keep promising to add a category to the web page on safe riding, maybe if I run into a rain day on this trip I will get it done.

My motivation for this morning is a certain truck stop in Colby Kansas that has a starbucks so off I go. When I get there the place is full of bikers only they are all headed west to experience the mountains before ending in Sturgis. I wonder if I should turn around and do the same. No, my mind is made up and I had a dream, two feathers is headed to a place he has never been before. Every stop along the way has bikers already there when I pull up. They want to talk, I am friendly but I am just not ready to talk yet. I need space and solititude, the kind you only get from the road where it is just you and nobody can talk to you. What I did learn at the stops though was that I am not alone, there are many bikers out there who go further than the local bar and the weekend cruise. Real travellers, real bikers, all kinds, all motorcycle brands,  out there on the highway and they are my brothers.

 My other brothers are waiting in Salina so I motor on. I learned at one gas stop that not only is there a large car show going on in Salina but also a small motorcycle rally and I was invited to speak at it. Okay, not really, yes really there is a rally but I was only invited because I stopped to help a couple of guys fix an old shovelhead that had broke down and they invited me so they could reward me with a brew for stopping. I always stop for broken down motorcycles, you would be surprised how many bikers don’t. The car show I already knew about and it was all part of the plan and reason for going this way. My oldest brother Jim with the help of my nephew Shane finally got his 65 Mustang fastback running after working on it for the last 20 years. My other brother Bob is driving up to join us and we are  headed to the “Run what you brung street drags” that is part of the Leadsled National car show. I get there, we meet at Jim’s work, Bob shows up and off we go.

 I hope this guy stays parked and doesn’t chase them down for crossing the double yellow line!  I doubt he could catch them anyway.

Once we get there the races are in full swing. No tree, no clocks, just an old fashion line them up and the flagman waves their arms. All kind of cars racing, street cars, rat rods, pure drag cars, leadsleds and my favorite a 70 chevy pickup with a camper shell. I don’t know what he had in it but what you could see was a rag for a gas cap, camper shell back glass that wouldn’t stay shut, rust, painted wheels, and a hill billy looking driver. He was kicking ass on everyone and I am guessing big block chevy with a little help under all that “I am just a farm truck outer appearence”.

We had a great time and somehow Brother Bob convinced Brother Jim to let him drive back to the office. I followed them as they took the long way and captured this pic. It could have been 1969!

I had a room at the motel much to Brother Jim’s displeasure but I also had friends there  so it was pre planned. I left my brothers and headed to the motel. The parking lot was full of hot rods.


Check out the shell casings welded together to make a grille, followed by the shell casing tail light. Some of these Rat Rods are true art.

 It was a great day with my brothers!

 A long hot day of fun and just as I was about ready to crawl in bed I get a  text from brother Jim. “Cole, after I let Bob off at his car I tried to go down Ohio street and the car died, I think it is the fuel pump.”


I’m From Kansas

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

A Hundred Years From Now My Great Grandkids Will Not Recall My Bank Balance, The Sort Of House I Lived In, Or What I Did For A Living………..But They Will Remember ” I Rode A Motorcycle”

“I hate to be the one who has to give you the bad news, but the plane is overloaded and we can only take 15 passengers so look at your ticket and it will tell you what number you have.”

That is what she said, but this is what she meant. ” I am the evil witch bitch and I enjoy telling you piss ants that the flight is overbooked and you poor sad looking overpaid oilfield workers are at my mercy!”

I had number 16 and now I am stuck in the Williston ND airport. The airline (Great Lakes)  answer to this dillema was to shuttle bus 10 of us to Minot, drop us off with no motel vouchers and leave it up to us to figure out what to do from there. Just what I want to do, travel 2 plus hours in a rattle trap shuttle bus with 10 other pissed off people, nope not me. I commandeered the local pool vehicle from the office and set out on a 12 hour over night drive. That bitch isnt going to stop this cowboy from going on his motorcycle trip!

While delayed and tired, I am off! New wheels this year, a true road bike with 110 cubic inches of v twin power! Tanner sure likes it. He better because someday it will be his.

Another change this year, I plan to camp out some. I just decided I am getting soft and a l true road warrior sleeps on the side of the road! Maybe a little off the side of the road, but still  in the wild with the stars and the animals and the sounds of the night. I recently read an article about a guy who camped when he road and it showed a picture of his miniture expresso maker. I couldn’t help myself, I wanted one and now I wanted to camp out. A trip to sportsman outlet and REI confirmed that camping gear, especially back pack light weight camping gear has changed over the last 30 years since I last camped out. For a total of 25 pounds, I now have a 2 man  all season hi tech pup tent, self inflating sleep pad, battery powered lantern, ground mat, battery powered fan (a must!), stove, mess kit, foam pillow, and 4 cup drip coffee maker! Best part is not only the 25 pounds but it folds up like a transformer, and it fits neatly in a small duffle bag!

The cost was a little steep but I couldn’t help myself and damn it was fun. I rationalize by saying I only need to camp out 5 nights out of 15 to pay for it, or 2 nights in sturgis. When I am done I still have all the gear and the grandkids can use it or I can sleep out in the yard, so see; it all makes perfectly good sense.  Whether I actually take it out of the duffle bag remains to be seen.

I spun the bottle and it said Kansas so off I go to find Toto, the tin man and leave that evil bitch witch in ND working at the Williston Airport!  ” I wonder if Dorothy is wearing that sexy school gitl outfit this year? “ I am from Kansas”, so off I go!

Airplane or motorcycle, I am not sure yet?

After Kansas, who knows? I do have some ideas and a general direction and then of course back to Sturgis. With this new scoot I feel like I can go further than ever before, but if I go too far, will I make it back to Sturgis in time? At least we are on the road now, the rest will come.









Boring ass motorcycle travelogue (2012 test post)

Written by admin. Posted in 2012 Stories from the Road

I left at 7am and went down I-81 towards the south until I hit the intersection and stopped and ate breakfast. I went 21.73 miles and got 45 mpg and breakfast cost me 6.73 for two over easy eggs and white toast and 1 small glass of orange juice.

Sucks, doesnt it! Over half of the motorcycle travel books or internet related sites read like the above.

Let’s try this again the Cole Motor Powered Stuff way!

“What the hell!” I am staring at the oil spot under my Harley at 7 in the morning. I had planned to be well down the road by now, but the last minute packing, checking the list and hell yes I overslept. Now I have to figure out what this oil spot issue is all about.

Thirty minutes later and I am on the road. The oil leak was………….; don’t ask, I am stupid.  It was only last night that I finally decided the direction I would be going today and now as I look straight into the sun I am already questioning that decision. It has been clear and high 90’s for the past 10 days and last night a cold front moved through and the 54 degree weather is cramping my style big time. I am thinking this year I may crack 5000 miles before I am done on this trip, but 30 miles down the road I need to stop and put on my jacket, gloves and leather rocky squirrel hat. Oh good there is a starbucks!