The morning began with me rising at 5:30a.m. I was looking forward to mounting the bike and going for a ride this weekend since the previous weekend was Thanksgiving and it did not afford me the opportunity to ride.
After the usual morning ritual, I grabbed my cell phone to check the current temperature. The app indicated it was 29 degrees outside. That bit of information was good to know. My initial plans were to don my usual cool weather gear and head out. However, temperatures in the 20s called for a reassessment. I grabbed the cool weather gear, PLUS additional layers such as an extra pair of riding pants, balaclava, hand and feet liners, and the trusty Chapstick. I had made the decision earlier in the week to ride the WeeStrom instead of the LT because I planned to complete an SS1000 on the smaller bike in the very near future and I needed to gauge how it might handle on a longer ride. Not having a fully-faired bike in temperatures like I was about to face on this day, I needed all the help, clothing-wise, I could get. Once I decided I was as prepared for Mother Nature as I could be, I mounted the bike and pulled out of the garage at approximately 6:30a.m. Once outside, I realized that having the extra layers was the right call. It was a bit frigid. Secure in the knowledge that I would not fall victim to hypothermia, I put the bike in gear and headed to the local station for a fuel fill up. En route to my fuel stop, I gave thanks for heated gear. I soon realized that on the Suzuki the cold air hit my lower extremities quite a bit more than on the BMW. Again, this was going to be one heck of a ride.
All fueled up, I headed to Interstate 85 north, then on to I-285, and finally to I-20 where the bulk of my trip would take place. As I merged on to I-20 I was thankful I was heading west instead of east. Having the sun behind me meant that I wouldn't have to battle cold weather and the direct glare of the sun at the same time. About 50 miles into the trip, I felt relieved at how well the layers and heated gear were performing. On previous occasions I had the misfortune of not wearing enough clothing and sans heated gear. Those trips usually required quite a few stops to thaw my feet and hands. I don't currently own a pair of heated socks or insoles, so I decide to give the silk liners a try. I read they do a half decent job. They did work pretty well until about mile 100 when I began to notice a bit of numbing. Having experienced this sensation in the past, I knew it would not be long before my toes would show me who's the boss. First, my toes would send a friendly message to my brain telling it to tell me they needed warmth soon. If that warning message went ignored they would send another, more painful message in short order. It was time for breakfast anyway, so I decided pain was not necessary for this trip. I asked Lady Garmin for the information to one of my favorite breakfast spots, Cracker Barrell. Lady Garmin obliged and at mile 125, my stomach and feet were both given the attention they richly deserved. After feasting on Uncle Herschel's Favorite, it was time to head back out into the climate and continue my journey.
Back outside, the rising sun was a welcomed sight. Living in the South for as long as I have, I knew the rest of the ride would not be met with numerous defrosting stops. The sun would quickly banish the frigid temps and keep my body comfortable.
The remainder of the trip proved uneventful. The ride through Birmingham took no time at all. Thankfully. Living in the Atlanta area, traffic is the bane of my existence. I continued riding somewhat comfortable in the knowledge that any traffic jams would more than likely be in my rear-view mirror.
About the only excitement for the remainder of the ride was watching the "low fuel" indicator on the Wee flash. It was exciting because it hadn't occurred to me to monitor it, and I wondered how long it had been flashing. I had miscalculated how far I thought I could go before the indicator began to warn me. I tried to clear the thought of being stranded along the highway from my mind. I told myself this wasn't the LT, and if I had to push the bike, it would be a lot easier without the additional 400lbs. that the Beemer carries. A little while later, I saw the sign for my exit. I think I let out an audible sigh of relief.
Upon arrival in Eldridge, I saw a lot of people on Harleys; a group of them were parked on the side of the road apparently assisting another Harley owner who had broken down. To be honeest, my first thought was, "Good thing they have Harley dealerships at every other exit." After scolding myself for such thoughts, I continued on to the gas station to fuel up the Wee. A few other Harleys were parked in the lot at the station. I nodded and gave the greetings of the day as I dismounted. The looks I received were, well, less than friendly. I guess they somehow overheard my previous thoughts. Served me right. I entered the establishment and paid for my gas. As I began fueling, another VStrom pulled along side of me with a tall figure at the helm. I knew instantly who it was. Russ Dickerson. It was nice to see a familiar face. We chatted for a while and then headed to the Children's Home, which was right down the street.
Pulling into the area of the Children's Home, a big smile came across my face as I saw all of the bikes and riders who had converged on this place. In the midst of it all was Don Norwood, greeting and ushering us to the proper area. Later that morning, Mike Brown would say it reminded him a lot of Moonshine. I think Mike had a point. The remainder of the morning and afternoon was spent talking to other riders, drooling over vintage cars, and just enjoying the goodness of people.
By the time I left Eldridge the outside temperature had warmed my body nicely. But being a part of this wonderful event warmed my soul.
