Prescott to Nowhere

321 miles - a good day!

People make a huge deal about the road south from Jerome. Yeah, it's twisty and crazy. Kind of like a cirque du soleil. All twisted up, but who can do that? And, if you can get there without a Buick-driving tourist from Georgia taking pictures of the rocks, good luck.

I had a long day planned, and by the time I got to Jerome, I was itching to go. Most importantly, I was going to give my new spring a real test. Lot's of curves ahead, and I was determined to scrub a little bit of freshness off the edges of my new tires, while I was at it.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the saguaro's were bloom. If I thought last week was hard, well, this one was harder. So I went for a ride. Good choice. Nothing like a beautiful day and the need for concentration on fun to take away the edge.

Up through Payson (with a stop at Dreamy Draw for a run and Laura's Small Cafe for breaky), Jerome and beyond was my true objective. Remember, I was told to check my ass for wiggling with my new spring, and I desperately needed some curves for that test. Well, the Buick was there most of the way past Jerome, as well as a fresh coat of pavement, and I wasn't impressed. (Except for the guy on the side of the road selling photos of passerby. Genius! Hope to find myself there!). But, what I really needed was curves and bumps, and the curves needed to be faster than 15mph.

Isn't he cute?

Anyway, I had a great day and felt a little disappointed by the curvy road that was supposed to be the big draw. I cruised through Prescott, stopped for a cream soda, and was on my way. Lil' Trip was taking good care of me. He's always ready, and I like that.

I was ready for a cruise south and to enjoy the feeling of temps rising from 70 to 100. But I totally forgot what waited form me south of Prescott on 89. Curves, a little run-off to make me feel good, changing camber and an uneven surface. Wow. Prescott to Nowhere is my favorite 20-mile stretch of road in Arizona. It straightens out now and then, just long enough to make you think it's over, and then suddenly you're changing down again and holding on. And, amazingly, the vehicles on the road used the run off to pull over and let me pass. It was beautiful. (Yes, Nowhere is a town).

Pretty sure I deserve this.

Well, my spring held up, Lil' Trip held the turns tight, and I'm looking forward to the man inspecting my tires for signs of wear on the edges. It was a fantastic ride. That little 20-mile stretch out of 321 total miles made my day. Me & Lil' Trip felt like one, and I was leaning the with him rather than wrestling. I might go there again tomorrow.

Chic on a Liter Bike

Ridin' Dirty

So, I think this is supposed to be a big deal. My first ride on a liter bike. Ok, in the pic to the left I'm ridin' dirty. We left the 'Ville on a friend's FZ1 because, apparently, we didn't have any other way to get home.  I'm wearing his coveralls and helmet, and her boots. They could be the only couple we know who are smaller than us, and she's definitely the only friend I have who wears the same shoe size that I do! It was a pretty good ride home, but we had to get the FZ back to the 'Ville at some point. That's where I come in.

I'm nothing if else, I am deliberate, direct, decisive. So when I woke up the following Sunday and decided I was riding this thing 120 miles south, it was a done deal. I did my run, did some work, and informed the man that I was riding the bike back. Done. Besides, when I told him, he was going out for his second ride for the day, so it was only fair.

I'm not really sure why I wasn't worried about this. Usually I'm more cautious. But it had been a hard week and I decided it was time to have some fun. So I put on my old gear (since everything else is in Phoenix), jeans and my Doc Martens, which I wore for my first 6 months of riding because I was afraid of boots that are too constrictive. (If you're a newby rider, I still think Doc M's are a great place to start).

I told myself I'd go up the street and if I hated it I'd turn around and drive my diesel. By the time I changed to second, it was done. This bike was easy as pie. I thought liter bikes were supposed to be bad-ass? This was a kitten. What was all the fuss about? It was just as tame as my 675, and didn't feel heavy or overbearing.

I cruised through the 'ripple with a cop right behind me. Thankfully the man changed the expired KY plate to one of his many now-legal IN plates, so once I made it through the first couple of turns through the 'hood and didn't get arrested, I knew it was going to be a good trip.

I had two plans for getting there--one back roads and one freeway the whole way. I decided I'd see how the bike felt on I65 and decide as I was riding, and it took me about 2 minutes to figure out that the highway was the way to go. As I65 broke from 3 lanes to 2, I did a little wrist twist to get around some traffic, and looked down to see myself doing 97. Ok...now I know what all the fuss is about.

My little Street Trip squeals at 97 (which is nice, don't get me wrong), but this was a whole other animal. It soon became my mission to do the ton on the liter bike ASAP. I found myself looking for opportunities. Car driving slow in the left lane? No problem! I could have ridden the whole way without stopping, but I did stop once in Austin, just to hydrate and get fuel.

This bike was a blast. I don't think it would be necessary for me to have one, but the liter bike was pretty sweet. So, wow, what's next? Am I becoming jaded?