Black Star Moto: Michigan

Hmm...

The last format wasn't working out. I'm more a storyteller than a documentarian, so rather than trying to do daily updates, I'm going to assemble a few days' worth of info and pictures and package it into a pretty, coherent whole. Or that's the idea anyway. We'll see how it goes.

I went to Michigan.

Before ever leaving, I knew there was a good possibility that I'd be returning to Tennessee to hand off the shop truck to its new owner between Michigan and Colorado, rather than being able to make the hoped-for leisurely, northerly trip to Denver, so this could serve as a good shake-down run for the new rack and the substantial amount of maintenance I'd done just before leaving. The initial intent was to hop from place to place seeing people up there and making slow progress westward, but with a return south looming, I decided to forego that until the loop back through later in the summer when I'll have more time.

First stop was the post office, to drop various important items in the mail, and discover a coolant leak from a hose clamp I forgot to tighten. Very nice to discover this a mile and a half down the road, since I had about eighty miles worth of gas in the tank, and usually wouldn't have stopped 'til then.

Hit the road north and made the disconcerting discovery that after riding fast through the mountains on a hot day (almost 90 degrees ambient, so who knows what the pavement was) my brand new tires were pilling badly. That's a problem, since the rear won't make LA at this rate, and I'm really hoping to avoid putting on a new tire before then. They seemed to calm down shortly thereafter, so for the time being, I'm crossing my fingers.

I was greeted with this not too long after entering Kentucky:

Rain. And a quantity of it. At which point I made the second disconcerting discovery about the new tires: the don't stick to the stripes of tar used to seal the road AT ALL, and between every lane, there was a big, fat stripe of the stuff, which made lane-changing through traffic... umm... interesting.

I don't have any more pictures of that day, because shortly thereafter, I found myself in Ohio. I hate Ohio, because it has somehow managed to collect the most inept drivers from around the country- or perhaps the world- and concentrate them within its borders. Moreover, I'm fairly sure that there are border checkpoints where out-of-state drivers must surrender their driving skill and common sense as they enter, which would explain the horrendous wall of traffic I came across as I approached Cincinnati. The squid who sat in my blind spot "sharing" the lane for about twelve miles reminded me that sitting in my blind spot unnecessarily is actually a sport in Ohio, and one which many of the state's residents would get to participate on that day. Then it started raining again.

Needless to say, the whole thing did not go well, but I'll refrain from bitching about the rest of it. Miraculously, I didn't get a ticket after buzzing by an Ohio state trooper north of 90 mph while desperately trying to outrun a really nasty thunderhead. I eventually found myself in Akron at some friends' house, and everything was better. A decade's worth of catching up was done (or begun, anyway), meat was barbecued and consumed, and sleep was had. On balance, a good day.

The next day saw the ride to Michigan. Lapeer, Michigan, specifically, which is somewhat east of Flint. The weather was beautiful, and I was on narrow, straight roads with lots of passing zones, so I didn't notice the second phone of the trip (of three I was carrying) fall out of my tank bag somewhere in there. The Pirellis had finally found their groove (as it were) and seemed really comfortable. The new Carhartt pants I'd bought for the trip unfortunately did not. They slid around a lot, and they squeezed the knee/shin guards I was wearing in a weird way, so my legs tried to fall asleep. Not good. Those are getting a re-think.

Before any of that though, there was this:

The ground wire to my headlight, horn, GPS, and accessory outlet had lost a connector. Having just rewired the bike, I was brilliant enough to leave anything resembling an electrical tool at home. I didn't even have tape. A trip to Home Depot, in absolutely sweltering heat, provided the solution. See how happy I am to be stopped in the heat, fixing a stupid mistake like that:

I eventually made Lapeer and got to see my cousins, aunt, and uncle. The 90 hours or so that followed were nothing short of a blur. Pictures, in no particular order:

Jeep windshield frame after a few Michigan winters. Note the writing on the glass. That serves as the speedometer.

Yours truly riding in said Jeep, en route to Flint for a motorcycle helmet and middle eastern food.

It was actually really cold during that trip, and we'd been wise enough to remove the windows from the Jeep, so the back seat kind of froze. This is Katrina trying to hide from the wind.

Katrina again, showing off her new helmet and goggles. She needed them because she's decided to learn to ride dirt. I am hugely in favor of this, and just hoping that she doesn't end up busted-up and crusty like most other motorcyclists I know.

She says she doesn't text and drive. She does however text while doing most other things.

Digger! Rocky's has all sorts of cool old bikes hanging around (usually literally), but this is one of my favorite.

Corvair power.

And for completeness, the "Triumph Daytuna".

True to form, driving in Michigan involved plenty of gravel and dirt roads. And occasionally double track, like this.

A note there, too. The Pirellis were not good off of pavement until they were aired down. Not good at all. You're shocked, I can tell. You can't believe that a 500-some lb muscle bike with 100 lbs of gear strapped to the back didn't do well on gravel with wide, pseudo-dual-sport tires run at highway pressures, but it didn't. Down at 25 PSI, the bike was surprisingly manageable, even two-up, but pretty squirrely on the highway. A bicycle pump is going in the luggage for round two.

So I didn't mention, but my whole family are pretty big people (not "big" like "fat", "big" like "BIG"), and this clan in particular. That's Ben and Mary squeezed into the back of the Jeep for effect. Of the four of them, I think I only have Katrina beat. It's an interesting feeling to be surrounded by taller people.

Eventually, Mary broke down and had to try the goggles on.

Ivan (that's him in the back), rocking out some World of Warcraft (I believe?). LAN-party like WHOA! Between work and apartment hunting, he stays pretty busy, and I can't begrudge him a break, even though he really should be working on this:

That's a Toyota Paseo that he's threatening to stick a Celica GT-S engine in the back of. I asked him whether he planned to stick one in the front too, and his eyes lit up like Christmas. Whether this will happen is on him, and in the mean time he just needs to get it running again, but you can pretty well guess where my vote goes.

And here he is trying to cure his head cold with Toby the dog.

Our hair needed to get did.

See how pretty I am?

While ISO hair dye (or something like that), we went to the Dort Mall. Not so much a mall as a mostly-dead shopping center with a lot of old crap inside, and a giant hockey shop, like so:

(Okay, maybe that doesn't convey the giantness of it, but I liked the juxtaposition of stained glass lamps and an antique Zamboni.)

That, of course, only scratches the surface. Motorcycle rides, random games, long discussions of the fates of the various vehicles, and trips to get assorted, absolutely necessary fast food items were all given their due. Many talks of things of merit- some obvious, some not- were had. Katrina's boyfriend Andrew came around quite a bit and led us to a very good source for hot wings, so he passes muster, and Ivan's friends were in and out with such speed and at such hours that I couldn't really keep track. Somehow, I also managed to fit in plenty of sleep and replace the more-important of the two lost phones in the midst of the madness.

Eventually, sadly, I did have to leave, but only after promising that I'd be back later in the summer. The ride to Tennessee went without incident.