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Re: [ST] Devil Went Down to Georgia: The Report II



Steve:

  You missed your calling! A wonderfully crafted ride report, equal to Peter
Egan's best! I can't wait for the movie....

Denis Liakos
- ----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Steve Lawler" <slawler@xxxxxxxxxxx>
To: "ST" <ST@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Monday, May 10, 2004 4:53 AM
Subject: [ST] Devil Went Down to Georgia: The Report II


> I got through the Norfolk area without any problems. Rt. 13 to I-64 East
> to I-264 West to I-664 North to US 58 West. The 75 miles on 58 between
> Norfolk and Emporia is very much like the Del-Mar-Va Peninsula. Farm
> land and gentle curves and hills. I had to stop about 10 miles from
> Emporia to fuel up the Devil and my belly. It had been a little over 200
> miles since my last gas stop. After filling the tank, grabbing a drink
> and a snack, I paced around the Devil and tried to guess how much
> further I would push myself before calling it quits. The sun was hitting
> that angle at the end of the day when things take on that vibrant hue. A
> yellow swallowtail butterfly floated down and landed in the clover
> nearby. I crouched down to stare at it. I was mesmerized by this
> graceful insect. It took from my mind all the insects that I had so
> mercilessly destroyed with my face shield, my leathers and my steed as I
> had crossed the edge of the Great Dismal Swamp. I called the wife and
> told her where I was. She felt that I was making excellent time. I just
> wanted to get going further and faster. I hit the head, washed the
> entomological study from my tinted face shield, swapped it with the
> clear visor, started the Devil and the music, saddled up and rode off
> into the sunset.
>
> Emporia, Virginia is where US-58 runs into I-95, about 10 miles from the
> North Carolina border. I was past the halfway point on my journey. It
> was dark and the cars and trucks were moving along at a good pace. NRBQ
> was pouring out of my earphones. I felt like I could ride all night.
> Pearl Jam's "Last Kiss" came up. I started thinking about my son that is
> in the army and how he will probably be in Iraq in November about the
> time of his 19th birthday. I was feeling quite depressed and lonely.
> That was enough of a sign for me that I was fatigued. I made a vow to
> stop in Rocky Mount, NC, another 25 miles down the road.
>
> In Rocky Mount I pulled into the first motel that I found that had a
> restaurant and a bar attached. It was 9:00pm, 9-1/2 hours, and about 500
> miles after I had left work. The girl at the counter was amazed at the
> number of bugs on my face shield. When I told her that it was clean in
> Emporia she was shocked. I laughed and said that I was only doing my
> part to eradicate all the pests from North Carolina. I got my room,
> removed the panniers and top box from the Devil, changed my clothes and
> trotted off to the restaurant. I grabbed a stool at the bar and ordered
> a beer and some food. My posterior was so happy to on something that was
> not moving or about to move when the light changed. The Devil's stock
> seat is not made for touring. It's not as bad a Ducati 748's saddle but
> if I was to attempt a longer ride I would want to have a better seat.
>
> In the bar, there was a trucker and his wife, a lone trucker and a
> retiree heading for Florida. We were talking bikes and trucks and having
> a real pleasant time. The truckers left at about the same time. It was
> just me, the retiree and Sarah, the cute bartender. The retiree asked me
> where I was heading. When I told him, he asked me why I was riding a
> motorcycle from New York City to Savannah. All I could do was smile and
> shrug my shoulders. There is not enough time in the world to explain to
> those that do not know.
>
> The next morning, with a clean visor and a full belly I was on the road
> by 8am. The speed limit on I-95 is 70mph. This allowed me to make some
> better time. I would be on I-95 until exit 5 in South Carolina, 320
> miles away. I decided to start the day out with Pink Floyd's "Animals."
> "Pigs on the Wing" was half over by time I got to the bottom of the
> on-ramp. After a mile or two I noticed an incredibly obnoxious odor.
> "Did I step in something? Did I run over something? Did something climb
> inside my air intake and die? Did some nasty bug meet its maker at my
> helmets air inlet? My god, what is that awful smell?" About five minutes
> later I found the source, a livestock truck carrying pigs. Once I passed
> it the odor was gone. About 50 miles later it happened again.
>
> I didn't need to get gas until I got to Dillon, SC. Home of South of the
> Border, a gaudy tourist trap selling more cheap plastic crap than you
> could ever find in all the Wal-Marts in all the world. I had been there
> before and decided to steer clear of its filthy restrooms. I went west
> off of the exit and stopped at an Amoco. When I went to purge my bladder
> and rinse the morning insect collection off the visor I had one thought,
> "Wow! Somebody actually has dirtier restrooms than South of the Border!"
> I had 200 miles to go to Savannah and I wouldn't have to worry about
> dirty restrooms until the return trip. I continued on my merry way
> listening to
>
> One hundred and fifty miles later the effects of the achy butt, and the
> vibrations of the road made me stop to use a restroom. This one was OK.
> A state run rest stop. I called my son Colin and told him that I was
> about an hour away. As I stretched my legs and my gluteus maximus I
> gazed to the south. Storm clouds were off in the distance. I estimated
> that I would be fine. "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the
> wind blows."
>
> Fifteen miles the sky was looking quite impressive. The were four well
> defined columns of rain to the southeast. I hoped that they would be
> gone by time I got there. Suddenly I noticed someone on a Beemer heading
> north wearing his raingear. I thought nothing of it. Soon all the
> northbound car had there headlights on. "Uh-oh, this doesn't look good."
> The road curved to the left and when it straightened back out, there it
> was, a wall of rain. I started to zip up the right jacket flap. It was
> closed when I hit the deluge. By the time that I had the left flap up
> the rain had stopped. Another mile and the pavement was dry.
>
> When I arrived in Savannah at 1pm I rode straight to Colin's dorm. Here
> I was having ridden 850 miles on a beautiful bike, wearing my dark
> leathers and there is not a single coed in sight. "Damn!" Was it the
> bugs? We made arrangements to meet for lunch after I was settled into
> the hotel.
>
> I pulled the Blue Devil up to the hotel entrance and strolled in to the
> tastefully decorated, wood paneled lobby. I give my name to one of the
> clerks and he informs me that my room is not ready but they can get me
> parked. A woman behind the desk looks over, "Oooo. What kind of bike do
> you have?" I tell her. She says she wants to see it. I tell her its
> right outside. When the clerk is done poking keys on his keyboard he
> tells me that my room will be ready by 4pm. "Where can I park?" I had
> been in the hotel before But I figured if I asked they would let me park
> in the basement garage instead of the open lot across the street. Before
> he can answer the woman chimes in "I'll show you."
>
> After she comes around the desk and we're out of earshot of the clerk I
> whisper, "Between you and me, I know where the garage is. You just
> wanted to see my bike."
>
> "You got that right!" When she sees the Devil she says, "Wow! You're
> from New Jersey?"
>
> "Yep."
>
> "I'm from Connecticut!"
>
> "Well actually, I only live in New Jersey. I'm from Connecticut." We
> start talking about the UConn Huskies and how she was ostracized there
> in the heart of University of Georgia land.
>
> "Come here," she says. "I'll show you where to park. I take care of my
> motorcycle guests." Now I know that really sounds like a come on line
> but she really did show me where to park.
>
> http://home.comcast.net/~slawler/Triumph/SavPark.jpg
>
> To be continued, eventually, in part III "Devil! Get Thee out of Here!"
>
>
> -- 
> Steve Lawler
> Verona, NJ, USA, Earth
>
> 2001 Sprint ST "Blue Devil"
>
> "The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time."
>             -- Bertrand Russell
>
>
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