I never finished the story about my ride back from Alabama in August. Hell, since then, I made another ride down and back in February. That ride was supposed to include a few days in Daytona for Bike Week, but work cut the Daytona part of the trip out. I'll just have to rely on my memories of the beer tub girls of Daytona until next time. As for August, the ride from Alabama back home to Virginia was interesting even though I had to spend part of it outrunning Tropical Storm Fay.
Tropical Storm Fay was a tropical storm and the sixth named storm of the 2008 Atlantic hurricane season. Fay formed from a vigorous tropical wave on August 15 over the Dominican Republic. It passed over the island of Hispaniola, into the Gulf of Gonave, across the island of Cuba, and made landfall on the Florida Keys late in the afternoon of August 18 before veering into the Gulf of Mexico. It again made landfall near Naples, Florida in the early hours of August 19 and progressed northeast through the Florida peninsula, emerging into the Atlantic Ocean near Melbourne on August 20. Extensive flooding took place in parts of Florida as a result of its slow movement. On August 21, it re-entered near Daytona Beach, moving due west across the Panhandle, crossing Gainesville and Panama City, Florida. As it zigzagged from water to land, it became the first storm in recorded history to make landfall in Florida four times. Thirty-six deaths were blamed on Fay. Eleven tornadoes were spawned within the United States due to Fay. Damage from Fay was heavy, estimated at $560 million.
I made the trip to Alabama without any significant impact from TS Fay, but I still needed to make it through the weekend on the Alabama Gulf Coast and then sneak out of the state without her dumping tons of rain on me, like she did to Florida for the past few days.
The first order of business was to make it across the bay from my old hometown of Foley to Mobile to attend my high school reunion Saturday evening. I planned to head to Mobile around midday, but a patch of clear sky (not really clear, but at least it wasn't raining at the time) made me decide to hit the road early. At 10:00 AM that morning, Fay hovered about 100 miles east of Pensacola, Florida, but forecasters seemed to think she had every intention of hammering the Mobile area throughout the weekend.
As usual, I avoided I-10 on my way to Mobile and rode down US-90 instead. I made a stop in Malbis to grab some pictures of the Greek Orthodox Church located on the Malbis Plantation. The Malbis Plantation originally began on 120 acres (bought for $5 an acre) back in 1906 and was later expanded with another 600 acres in 1909. Jason Malbis was the founder and the plantation became home to Baldwin County's Greek population.
From Malbis, I made a quick run on I-10 to the overlook where US-90/98 and I-10 converged just east of Spanish Fort. Unfortunately, the gray overcast skies of Fay didn't provide much of a Kodak moment. It was difficult to see where the bay ended and the sky started. Still, this is one of my favorite places. The ride down to the bay from Spanish Fort on US-90/98 is particularly nice on a clear day.
I proceeded to cross the bay on the old causeway versus the I-10 Bridge. I can remember as a kid crossing the causeway in stormy weather with the waves breaking over the side of the road. It wasn't quite that bad on this day, but a good cross wind, every now and then, kept me on my toes. I entered Mobile via the Bankhead Tunnel and cruised down Government Street (with a short detour for a stop at Mobile Bay Harley-Davidson) all the way out to Tillman's Corner where my hotel and a Hooters awaited me.
I couldn't check in for a couple of hours, so I was forced to spend time at Hooters enjoying the scenery. My waitress, Gerri, took good care of me and made sure I got plenty to eat and drink. With the hotel only a block away, I was able to indulge without reservation. Plus, I had a ride to the reunion to keep me out of the saddle and out from behind the wheel. Life was good!
The reunion party hosted a couple of problems thanks to Fay. We were scheduled to take a cruise out of Bellingrath Gardens down Fowl River. But, with the weather deteriorating and the boat stuck in the mud, we had to settle for dinner, drinks and immobility. That didn't deter us from having a great time though. Once dinner was complete, we moved the party to a classmate's place on the bay or hell; it might have still been on the river. Since I wasn't driving, I didn't care. I just rode along.
The view of Fowl River from our stuck in the mud dinner cruise.
I won't bore you with details of the reunion or regale you with tales of our high school glory days, but we did have a good time. I believe the girls of the class have aged better than the guys, but I'm biased that way. I spent most of the evening gaga over a former classmate who shall remain nameless (I'll call her Julie to protect her innocence). She was cute in high school, but she's grown into a beautiful lady. I'm already planning for the next reunion just to see if she can get any prettier.
I hit the road for the ride back early the next morning, so we managed to call it a night before the party drug into crazy hours. Plus, I expected to awaken to a full blown tropical storm, since the last forecast I saw indicated Fay was continuing to slide to the west towards Mobile.
As I've said before, I'd rather be lucky than good. and Lady Luck smiled down on me overnight. Fay began weakening and I later found out that at 10:00 PM Saturday night Fay was 60 miles ENE of Mobile and downgraded to a tropical depression with sustained winds of 35 mph and gusts somewhat higher. When I woke up Sunday morning, I was pleased to see a slight rain and some wind, but nothing I couldn't handle on the bike. I hit the road about 6:00 AM and splashed my way along I-65 making for the north and east as fast as I could go.
If you ever read any of my ride stories you know I hate riding on the interstates, but sometimes speed necessitates that distasteful approach. I hauled ass up I-65 to Montgomery with nothing more than a little shower every now and then. In Montgomery, I headed northeast on I-85 toward Atlanta. I tried to roll north and hopefully avoid the bands of rain that seemed to be training between Montgomery and Atlanta. I hit the first one near Shorter, Alabama and it was enough to slow me down and get me good and wet. This continued off and on until I decided to stop in Newnan, Georgia and grab some lunch at Hooters (who could have guessed).
I kept cruising along I-85 and took I-285 around the south side of Atlanta. It was still raining, but not enough to really make a big difference. I was still cruising along at about 70 mph when I noticed a van approaching from the rear in my lane. He was really moving and catching me like I was out for a Sunday drive (it was Sunday, but that wasn't the point). I actually braced as I expected him to run my ass over, but he shot over a lane just as he thundered within 15 feet of me.
Needless to say, I was really pissed off. I gave him the finger and verbally expressed my advice on what he could do with himself. Once he was passed me, I saw the sign on the back of the van that read, "Greater Atlanta Evangelical Outreach Center." Apparently their new conversion to Christianity plan was to make you think you were about to get your ass run over so you would pray to God for protection. Either that or they just run you over and send your sorry ass to hell. Either way, I was not pleased with their approach.
I few miles down the road I exited I-285 to swing back on I-85 north toward South Carolina. The exit was concrete, wet and slick as hell. As I was leaning into the curve to make the exit the rear wheel slid out and I had to snatch the bike upright to avoid losing it. I kept the bike upright and twisted the throttle. Shit, at this point, I just wanted to get the hell out of Atlanta alive.
I made a couple of quick gas stops, but stayed on the interstate to see if I could scoot far enough north to avoid anymore rain from Fay. By the time I hit South Carolina, I was out of her range and the remainder of the ride for that day was smooth. I stopped in Concord, North Carolina for dinner (that's right, at Hooters) and then found a cheap hotel up I-85 a few miles and called it a night. The day ended with 595 miles, most of it with intermittent rain showers, under my ass and optimism for a dry day tomorrow.
Monday morning promised no rain, and I only had just 350 miles to clock to arrive home. I planned to pass through Appomattox Court House to visit the National Historic Park there. Unfortunately, the early ride meant more of I-85 to Greensboro, North Carolina where I picked up US-29 into Virginia. I veered off US-29 just south of Lynchburg onto VA-24 going northeast toward Appomattox Court House. As I rolled off the throttle, when I entered a small town called Rustburg, I noticed the bike sputtering and announcing my arrival with a loud backfire. That was new. I wasn't too concerned, but something was amiss with the bike.
I sputtered through the ride to Appomattox Court House and visited the site where Robert E. Lee surrendered to Ulysses S. Grant. I visited ACH when I was a kid, but this was the first time back. It is a terrific park to visit, if you are in the area. I'm a big civil war buff, so I really enjoyed the visit.
The McLean House at ACH. This is the house where Lee and Grant signed the surrender agreement to, for all practical purposes, end the Civil War.
The table where Lee signed the surrender papers.
I left ACH still noticing that the bike was acting strange when I backed off the throttle. I took some back roads through Appomattox-Buckingham State Forest and eventually hooked up with US-15. I steered US-15 north all the way home and rolled in late that afternoon. The bike continued to get worse. I even stopped at the Harley dealer in Orange, Virginia, but they were remodeling and most of the service bikes were sitting in the parking lot.
I knew they wouldn't be able to do much for me, so I decided to keep going. By the time I coughed and wheezed home, I knew something was wrong, but I wasn't about to stop.
I finished the trip with a total of 2117 miles and the bike, a little over 95,000 miles in four years and nine months. I hoped to hit 100,000 miles before birthday number five, but that wasn't to be. I wound up taking the bike to three different mechanics over the next couple of months hoping to figure out what was wrong. Each one of them fixed something on the bike that was legitimately broken, fried or worn out, but nothing they did seemed to dial the bike back to long road running condition. So, on November 4th, I made the decision to trade in the Fatboy for a 2007 Electra Glide Standard. Now to slap a hundred thousand miles in that bike.
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