A Passenger Joins the Trip

I’ve decided to take a passenger along with me on my crazy trip.  My passenger is a she.  “She” is joining us guys - us guys being Herm and me.  Herm is my bike.  Why my bike is a male, and why his name is Herm, is not quite clear to me, and I don’t care to spend a lot of time speculating on it.  That’s just the way it is.  The fact is that two guys cannot go 9000 miles in two weeks without a little female companionship.  So I’m taking along my new friend, Sigourney.  

 

Sigourney, as you can see, is a shark.   Why a shark?  I’m not quite sure.  Maybe because the Road Glide’s fairing somewhat resembles a shark’s nose.  Members on the roadglide.org internet forum have even been known to refer to themselves as the Shark Nose Society - a secret one, in fact.  But really, I just think sharks are cool. 

So why Sigourney?  I actually spent a great deal of time trying to come up with an appropriate name.  Names are hard. I figured that a shark’s name should have a shhh sound.  Seems natural enough, right?  Let’s see, there’s Cheryl, Shannon, Charmaine. Ugh, none of those seemed right.  Great name for a girlfriend/wife/sister, but not for a shark.  So it was off to the baby name directory where I decided that my passenger’s name should have some meaning behind it.  I considered Scirocco, which means “warm wind,”  hopefully what I will feel along the way.  But that went out the door because I once had a roommate who had a VW Scirocco car, and that was one awful piece of crap.  Bad karma in so many ways.  I liked Sasha, “one who defends.”  But defense is not really what I need (I hope).  Shamira seemed like a good name, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a stripper name.  And I don’t have room or a need for a stripper pole.  (Apologies to anyone named Shamira who might be reading this).  Then I came across Sigourney.  Sigourney is cool. Sharks are cool. And Sigourney rhymes with journey, and that’s cool.  An internet search revealed that Sigourney means “Conqueror.”  Perfect.  I should be riding with a conqueror.  This is a competition after all.  I thus christen my new passenger Sigourney. 

I suppose this all seems a little like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, who named his volleyball “Wilson,” and made an imaginary companion out of him.  But that’s what kept him sane, right?  Will Sigourney keep me sane?  I think it’s too late for that.  But hopefully she will give me some guidance and provide a little companionship.  But one suggestion from her that I ask for directions, and…well, let’s just hope that never happens. 

World's "Finest" Riders?

Friend and fellow enthusiast Rick alerted me to this dubious label that American Iron Magazine has bestowed upon those of us partaking of this little trip - 1,000 of the finest motorcycle riders in the world!

Now I don't exactly recall being asked my motorcycling skill level, but if by virtue of participating in the Guts and Glory Rally, I'm considered one of the world's finest, so be it.  However, the fact that they have the departure date wrong, a mistake that is repeated twice in the article, places American Iron's credibility somewhere between that of a North Korean Craig's List and that Nigerian prince that needs my help getting money out of the country.  Look American Iron, we are motorcycle riders, not New York policemen.  We may be 1,000 of the craziest motorcylists, we may be 1,000 of the dumbest, but I guarantee that we are not 1,000 of the "finest."  Thanks for the compliment, though.

The Genesis of the Journey

It was a leisurely day that found me browsing through HOG magazine.  I've been riding motorcycles and Harley's in particular for the better part of 27 years now.  On my third Harley now, I figured that would be pretty much it.  My main bike, a Heritage Springer, was to me the ultimate motorcycle. 

Nostalgic looking, shiny, loud, and powerful, it had carried me from California to Harley Davidson's 100th Anniversary, Sturgis (twice), and kept me happy and energized on weekends or the occasional trip to rallies within reasonable distance.  As I browsed through this particular copy of HOG magazine, I took in the cover layout that featured Harley's latest touring model, and inside a feature article on the new improved touring model frame.  Articles about the improvements, handling, capabilities.  Yeah, yeah, I remember thinking - more creature comforts for those "old" guys.  But something about the writeup struck me.  Claims regarding the handling, the comfort, the range - hey, a six gallon tank! - resonated with me for some reason.  And despite my denial, I had to admit that I had somehow become one of those "old" guys.  Hmm, maybe there was something to this touring model Harley after all.  Well, to make a long rambling short, I am now in possession of a 2010 Road Glide Custom, a bike designed to be both sleek looking (though some would argue that) and worthy of long distance rides with some degree of comfort.  

In search of a ride to justify the purchase of this new machine, I stumbled onto the Guts and Glory Rally Across America.  48 States.  9000 miles.  11 Days.  Leave Long Beach, CA on a Sunday and arrive in Bar Harbor, Maine, eleven days later.  OK, that was a little more than what I was thinking of, but after mulling it over for a bit, I decided, "why not?"   Thus I find myself planning a ride that few people would even consider.  Can I complete it?  I'm sure as heck going to give it my best effort.  This little blog is my attempt at sharing my adventure.  I'll post updates here, my thoughts, some photos, some videos, and whatever else I think might interest you as I make my trip preparations, and of course, as I make my way across the country on what the organizers bill as "The Ride of Your Life."  I (and presumably 999 other riders) depart on May 15th.