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Heading home up the Gulf Coast , after proposing to Susanna at Tulum in February of 1996, I was looking forward to the new adventure of planning life together with this very special lady. First we had to figure out who was moving where, who would work at paid employment and so on. Before that, I had to get home. After dropping Susanna at the Cancun Aeropeurto, I crossed the Yucatan Peninsula to Merida. Found a nice hotel with pool and safe parking for about $12 a night. Merida is a Mayan city, and is much mellower than most Mexican cities of that size. I always stop there, if only for a few hours, to buy guayabera shirts and Mayan hammocks. A good hammock is one of the ultimate Rally accessories (and no, I don't have any left). Next morning, I was rolling up the Gulf coast. Decided that since I was not in a hurry I would go right along the Coast, on Mexico 180. This involved a few toll bridges and ferries, but that was fine as I was curious about the new route. Looking forward to good seafood at roadside stands, too. Reached the fishing town of Champoton and, instead of heading inland, as I had always done before, carried on up the coastal highway. The road, as was known to anyone local who needed to know, had been destroyed in a hurricane two years earlier. The total lack of oncoming traffic should have tipped me off. I rolled on as the excellent two lane became a one lane which became a dirt road which became dirt and sand which became the beach! The old /5, with much clutch smoking and pushing and walking along side on my part, eventually turned around and headed back. This thirty mile round trip out of Champoton took about five hours. Got a room and crashed for the night. Next morning, I headed inland as I had done on previous trips. This route was fast and familiar, with the extra time spent in town squares resting and watching people.
Crossed into the U.S. at Brownsville/Matamoros and rolled across Texas toward Louisiana. Stayed in a hot sheet motel in Houston. During the evening, "Tweety," as in the bird, called up from an adjoining room, wondering if I was in the mood for a little company. Gee, sounds nice, but "No thanks." Texas was a fast run on the Interstate, with a couple of good barbecue meals remembered. Arrived in Crowley, Louisiana for the usual several day binge of music, dancing, wonderful food (even if the cold winter had done in the crawfish harvest), parades and chasing chickens across farmers' fields. Sleep was an optional extra. One really does feel ready for some Lentan moderation after all this, I was no exception as I headed north through Texas and New Mexico to home, enjoying warmer than usual February weather. I had planned on seeking work as a public health nurse, now that I had graduated with my four year degree. Decided to put that off in order to devote full time to the planning of the upcoming marriage. We decided that Susanna would quit her job, sell her house and move out here. After we were married in August, we would take off a year and tour, sort of in the old European "Grand Tour" tradition. I rode out to Connecticut in April, doing one of my 2,000 miles in 2 and 1/2 day runs. Strider, with 325,000 miles, performed without complaint. I arrived the night of the third day, in time for the planning meeting for the Charter Oak Rally, at Susanna's house; "Like a salmon swimming upstream to spawn," one of the club members commented, about the cross-country run. Left Strider there and flew home. In May, I flew back for the Charter Oak, my first East Coast rally. Great time: nice facility, good company, really good music (Ernie Williams and the Wildcats) and good food made for a pleasant time as I met Susanna's friends. Flew back to Colorado and rode La Vaca Guma (the "Mexico bike") in Strider's absence. A clutch tear down (I do this before every trip south) revealed no damage from the adventure on the non-existent Mexico 180. Back to Connecticut in time for the Forth of July Rubber Cow Rally. Excellent rally! A number of folks had stopped by fireworks stands on their way so things were livened up from time to time with pyrotechnics. Barbara, the Rally organizer, declared "If I am doing this again, you can all kiss my ass!". Whereon, a conga line of ass-kissers was immediately formed and fifty plus rallyers kissed ass. There was a 1997 Rubber Cow, so it obviously worked. From there, a bunch of CRV riders slowly headed south to the National in Morganton, North Carolina. An excellent layover, after a day on the Blue Ridge Parkway, at Turkey Tom's Cycle Camp was the high point of the trip. The National was fun, I entered Strider in the high mileage bike display, where he was overshadowed by some other road warrior BMWs with 400+ and 500+ thousand miles. A nice informal part of the Rally, no prizes or trophies, no proof other than one's word as to what you've really done; just a chance to display and hear good stories. Strider did embarrass me by refusing to start, while on display, so I bought a Boyer ignition to replace the points I'd been running my dual plug system on for the last couple of years. I just was not going to buy one more last-three-year Dyna III system! The Boyer sure cleared up the hard starting from the get-go (and is still running well Dec '98). Back to Susanna's, spent six days clearing out her house, the sale was closed on, we loaded everything, including her R100/7 and Strider on a rented Ryder truck and off to Colorado we went. Unpacked the truck, put her stuff in a storage unit and took off on the bikes for the Top O' the Rockies Rally. A lot certainly had happened since the last gathering in Paonia, when I met this friend of Deb Lower's named Susanna! The wedding went well on August third, a real gathering of family, friends from high-school on, and my hotline, nursing and BMW friends from here. On Tuesday, the 6th of August, we set off on the year long Grand Tour/honeymoon trip on our bikes. To be continued... Matt Parkhouse |
